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kmomof4 · 3 years

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For the fic-writer meme: all of them! 😁 and if you wanna pick five to ask Hollye, I’ll ask the other five lol 😂😘

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Our secret is out!!! Yes, @hollyethecurious you were right! We conspired to get you to answer all 10 of the questions!!! There is more than one way to de-fur a feline, dontcha know! 😁

Anywho... Hollye also asked for #6, and @snowbellewells asked for 5, 7, 8, and 10.

I’m sorry it took me so long to get to these. It’s been a busy week and I really had to think about some of these! But without further ado, here we go! Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

1. What’s your personal favorite thing you wrote this year?

My personal favorite fic I wrote this year is a tie between Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates, The Moon... Tells the Sea, and State of Emergency: Code White. The first two both written for last summers CSSNS. I don’t have to tell you, Kayla, how much I loved your artwork that inspired TMTtS, but that fic was just so EASY to write. Your artwork just told the whole story and all I had to do was write it down. I want to say that it only took me a couple of weeks to write, once I really sat down and started writing, in the midst of lockdown and the school year coming to a close. And then had to wait like 6wks or something to post it!!!! That was REALLY tough!!! ODVS is a favorite because I loved the premise so much and how hard it was to actually write it. I started working on it in earnest in November of last year, but didn’t finish it until April. I came dangerously close to giving up on it several times but @hollyethecurious and @profdanglaisstuff were the ones who made sure I didn’t. So just by sheer fact of what it took me to finish it makes it a favorite. And finally SoE: CW was a favorite because I wanted to write it for a year before I finally sat down to do it. And while it was hard in that it was entirely out of my own head, I was so happy with how it turned out.

2. What’s your least favorite thing you wrote this year?

Least favorite fic was probably Chosen, Protected, & Saved, written for the CS Movie Marathon. I wasn’t finished with it when my posting date came around, and so I feel like the ending floundered a bit. I wasn’t overly thrilled with it.

3. Which of your fics was most different from what you usually write?

I will have to say Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates, linked above. Just about everything I had written up to that point was inspired and/or heavily influenced by some other type of media, either book, movie, or show canon. This was really the first fic that came entirely out of my own head. I don’t really count Arise, My Love because it was basically PWP, just with vampires. This was the first fully fleshed out and plot driven fic out of my own head. There we go, that’s better. It was also the darkest thing I had, and still have, ever written.

4. Which of your fics this year was most successful?

By kudos on ao3, The Moon... Tells the Sea, linked above, sitting at 75. I’m not gonna try and determine the most successful on Tumblr...

5. Which of your fics do you wish was more successful?

I wish that Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates, linked above, had been more successful. Of all the fics I’ve written, that one was the hardest and took the longest to write. So I wish that more people had read and enjoyed it. But I also know that supernatural and vampire fics aren’t on a lot of folks “must read” lists, so I try to keep a balance between that wish and that knowledge.

6. What’s your favorite piece of dialogue you wrote this year?

Off the top of my head, I’d have to say this scene from Ch2 of Chosen, Protected, & Saved, linked above. This scene in the movie, The Golden Child, is what inspired the entire fic.

Emma and Killian somehow made it through customs with the dagger after arriving back in the States. The only thing they could figure was that since the dagger itself was magical, it was magically shielded from anyone but magic wielders. As they exited the arrivals gate, he startled when he spied the man from his dream, the Dark One, coming toward him followed by several Boston police officers. He sauntered towards them, making a show of the gold tipped cane he carried. He was dressed differently than in his dream with a long greatcoat, in what looked like crocodile skin. Killian felt a chill run down his spine. The coat matches his smile, he thought.

“That’s the man. Killian Jones. If he doesn’t return my property, I want him arrested.”

Killian’s heart raced. He drew Emma’s attention to their adversary as his mind furiously tried to figure out how to get out of the coming confrontation. An idea came to him suddenly and he elbowed Emma, whispering to her to let him do the talking.

“Welcome home, Mr. Jones. You have something for me?” he asked, holding out his hand with a smug smile on his face.

Killian stared into the face that he had only seen in a dream. He looked at Emma, naked fear on her face, at the cops behind the Dark One, and then back at the man or demon before him. He couldn’t help the smirk that broke over his face as he anticipated playing the Dark One like a fiddle.

“I’m sorry, Rumple,” he loudly lamented, reaching for the lapels of the man before him. The Dark One stared at him, utterly taken aback. It only took a moment however, before his face grew red with extreme irritation as Killian released him and turned toward the crowded terminal. “Everyone,” he shouted, drawing the attention of all the people hurrying to catch their flights, “I should be punished. I have stolen from my brother, Rumple.” The Dark One’s jaw clenched with annoyance as Killian continued with his theatrics. Emma looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Officer,” he continued, pointing at the officers behind the Dark One, “It is your duty to take me in. Please,” he moved toward them holding his wrists out in front of himself, “I am ashamed of myself. I should be arrested.” He walked down the line of officers. “I should be flogged. I don’t deserve to walk among free men.”

Killian repeated his tirade until the Dark One grabbed his arm, motioning toward the officers in a placating manner. “Let me have a word with him, please.”

Killian felt himself being pulled away from the officers, so he turned his attention to Emma and raised his voice once again.

“Emma, I am a swine. You must know what kind of man I am, before we go any further in our dalliance. I am a wretch. I don’t deserve to live.” He winked at her and saw her fear and confusion morph into reluctant amusement. She shook her head as the corner of her mouth lifted in half a smile. He finally turned toward the furious Dark One before him.

“How long do you think you can keep up this miserable masquerade?” he hissed, his eyes blazing with his wrath.

“Well, until I get arrested.” He grinned cockily at him. “Or until you realize the rules of evidence in this country.” The Dark One raised his head slightly and Killian could just see a trace of unease in his eyes. He turned serious. “See, if I get arrested, they take me and put me in a jail cell. And then they take the knife, because it’s a stolen object, and they put that in a little room, and they put ‘Exhibit A,’ a little sticker that says ‘Exhibit A’ on it.” He mimed putting a sticker on something. “And the knife sits in a room and I sit in my room until the trial commences. And that can be anywhere from a month to a year. So if you get me arrested, there’s no telling when you will get your knife.” Killian broke into a wide grin at having the upper hand, thoroughly enjoying himself as he watched a vein pulse in the Dark One’s forehead. He could just imagine what the demon’s blood pressure was at this moment.

“You have no idea who I am, have you?” he sneered.

“Why, yes,” he exclaimed. “You’re my brother Rumple!” He let out an amused chuckle as the Dark One struggled to keep his rage under control. “Look, I know exactly who you are,” Killian’s eyes turned hard and his easy going smile disappeared, “Dark One.” The man before him nearly turned white in fury. Killian’s heart skipped a beat, but he plowed ahead, his own anger coming to the surface. “But, here’s the thing. I. Don’t. Care.” He punctuated each word with a poke to the demon’s chest. “I do care that you kidnapped Henry, though.”

“I could destroy you,” he snapped his fingers in the air, “just like that.”

Killian’s eyebrow raised in bored amusement. “Well, we’ll see about that.” He turned and looked back over at Emma and the officers still waiting off to the side. “Look, I am not going to be giving you this knife. And you do not want to get me arrested. And I will find Henry,” he sneered and snapped his fingers in the Dark One’s face, “just like that.” He patted the demon’s cheek. “See you soon.” He turned back toward the crowd, all smiles and held his arms out as if he wanted to embrace them all. “My brother has forgiven me! Emma, Brother Rumple has forgiven me!” He turned back to the seething Dark One and clapped him on the shoulder in an awkward embrace. “Dear Brother, thank you, thank you, thank you.” He then kissed him loudly on the cheek in a final taunt before releasing him and leading Emma into the crowd.

7. What’s your favorite piece of description or narration?

@searchingwardrobes betaed The Moon... Tells the Sea, linked above, and she told me that it was the most descriptive thing I’d ever written. That comment put me OVER THE MOON. And when I went back and read it the other day, I had to agree. I spent a lot of time describing the woods, Emma and Killian in their wolf forms, and just the general setting. It was so gratifying to hear that from a fellow author that I GREATLY admire and enjoy. I am also very proud of the Prologue of Chosen, Protected, & Saved, linked above, when I described Henry’s room before he is kidnapped.

8. Which fic this year was most fun to write?

I’d have to say that I had the most fun writing either The Moon... Tells the Sea, linked above, or the second chapter of Somewhere Out There. They were both relatively easy to write and I loved how they both turned out.

9. If you could go back and change something about one of the fics you wrote this year, what would it be?

I would change the circumstances around posting Chosen, Protected, and Saved and I’d probably work on the final battle more. I just wasn’t that happy with it.

10. What, if anything, are you going to try to do differently in your writing in the new year?

I’m gonna try and make more time to write. Since writing Chosen, Protected, & Saved, linked above, I’ve hardly written anything. I love reading and flailing more than anything so writing is very easy to set aside when I’ve got a lot of reading on my agenda, but I’m also bad about putting it on a back burner when RL comes calling. I think just setting the boundary of “I’m gonna write for one hour today” would go a long way toward keeping my mood up and help me get the fics I’ve got notes on in my docs actually written and posted. So we’ll see how that goes.

Thank you all for the asks @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713, @hollyethecurious, and @snowbellewells! Love y'all!!! 😘

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the-daily-sandstone · 4 years

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Life as I know it

Well, I come from a small college town in the Midwest of the USA. Home of many great thinkers and doers, to say the least. My first steps into life were brutal, my father lost our housing, and my mother was the only one working for as long as I recalled.

We drifted while I was an infant, for the first year of my life. We toured with the Grateful Dead, sometimes I have dreams about Garcia. The Tour of ’89, across the states. Years after the experiences I had all kinds of dreams, once life was less chaotic. Mother knows some of them really happened.

In ’91 my brother entered the picture, and sometime after we had an A-frame in the woods. I remember the woods always felt so magical, I was never afraid of them. I felt I belonged to them. Father seemed to always nap while mother worked, and he did not feed us until she came home. I would eat worms or sneak butter to try to keep my brother and I from going hungry.

Earth worms aren’t that bad, never chewed them, always swallowed them whole. Last time I had one I think I was 9 or so years old. Father used to abuse us, as I learned later, in more than just physical ways. It was often going from extreme emotions to the other, and I can’t recall every memory. The ones I do know aren’t the best to reminisce on. Though I have a few from then I treasure. Like the time I fell so hard in love with the neighbor girl, I told my cousin I was going to marry her when I was a full hand (5 years old).

She was beautiful, I used to play her music on my guitar, or run off around the neighborhood with her. One time we snuck into a horse field to try to talk to the horses. When we realized they did not speak with us, we were stuck, I felt foolish, but it did not matter, I was holding her hand.

My brother had a worse time with things. He was younger and had terrible luck with the woods. One time I was thinking we were warriors and needed to battle wasps. So, I talked him into fighting them with me. We threw rocks at a nest, he got stung a few times. Suppose it was stupid, but I was having fun for the time.

That’s how things went. I grew up wanting more of nature, and my brother wanting less of it. My girlfriend moved away and so did we. After the A-frame we lived in her basement on a sub-lease, and then off to apartments. First thing I tried doing was walking around naked like I used to in the woods. Had to learn the rules the hard way.

Used to get in trouble in school, and well, felt like no one was teaching me the rules. I was just expected to know them or something. Heck, first grade was spent in in school detention, without a teacher, doing all assignments for the year on my own. That year was awful.

Therapy did little to help. I was too young to know what was wrong with me anyways. I felt I was evil, and all I needed to do was accept what came my way.

It wasn’t until third grade I was diagnosed ADHD, but the meds just gave me tunnel vision and I don’t feel they helped me focus. Sometimes I would hear a crowd talking when no one was. Other times I would think people were talking about me when passing them by.

By the sixth grade I was moved up a grade in math and learned Boolean algebra. Taught myself Qbasic and started programming music apps, little trivia games and some basic text adventures. I remember one time I wanted to make my own operating system mockup. Back then, there weren’t tutorials. Google barely had relevant results, and YouTube wasn’t around, or heard of for me. Around the same time, I taught myself HTML with a manual from a friend. And then went and taught children at the Middle Way shelter.

By high school I started smoking weed, quit my medication, and was playing and composing for violin. I taught myself to read and write sheet music from a Beatle’s Anthology piano book. Middle school did not teach me that, everyone said they had private lessons for it. Took me about half a year before I stopped writing the names of the notes above the manuscript.

I graduated with a crap diploma, some blue core crap the Bush administration made up for no child left behind. Yeah, I had a few honors and advanced placement courses, but I never read the books in English, and never showed my work in math.

After high school I went off to work in Denali, Alaska. Washed buses, climbed mountains, and lost myself to some ladies. One I somehow managed to become friends with and stay in contact all these years.

I was 19, and well, I still managed to eat mushrooms, smoke weed, and drink wild turkey that summer. In fact, one night I was with a lady, reading the epic of Gilgamesh, on mushrooms. That was the night I decided I wanted to be a writer. I read one more work from sacred texts, the Romance of Antar. I wrote my first work of fiction as an adult under the pen name, Leon Sandcastle, with the tile, Epic of Aphromann. My friend was really captivated by the writing, as she put it. I wrote it on a free writing app trial, Zoho Writer. The files are lost officially, I’ve since tried contacting admin about getting the copy, but I couldn’t remember the email (plus the email is gone now) or the password. The printout I had I threw away when I moved back into my mother’s. I just felt then it was terrible because well, one reason. I had written the work and dedicated it to my brother, but he felt it wasn’t him in the story. I felt I had done my brother wrong.

College was a mixed bag. I really did not know for certain what I wanted to be. I had no job offers on any of my hobbies, and my only work experience was mostly manual/menial labor, what with fast food, construction, Denali, and some landscaping. I chose to pursue them all. Liberal arts, science, math, English, and more science.

I was working on contract for the Department of Natural Resources, on some youth program from the governor. Work, study. Over and Over.

I had to save up for a replacement violin. After I returned from Denali, my brother became extremely sick, he burned my violin and my mother had him committed. It was awful to feel and see him go through. His diagnosis changed so many times. His story got better.

Friend found a local luthier from the university program, when I played it, I felt I was amidst the ferns and pines and all the wonders of nature. He had named it Khimaera (not sure on spelling). I bought it on contract with a monthly rate based on my term with the DNR. By the end of the summer, I owned the violin.

I met a woman that year, showed her my family’s farm up north. Went to a talk at the university with her. The last time we were together, she took my hand, held it to her heart, and asked me to marry her. And I told her no.

There was a lot on my plate sophomore year, as to why I told her no. I had began having visions in my sleep, or so it felt. I would dream and see my dream in the headlines of the morning news. I’ve since googled some of them to realize it could not have been true. However, I dreamt my grand uncle Brokenfeather would die of cancer and the Mississippi river would flood. I dreamt my friend from Alaska lost her father after his voice went horse. I dreamt I met a woman in the desert and changed her life.

I still morn the passing of my grand uncle. And days after I emailed my friend about the dream, she sent me word he had cancer and his voice was horse.

The woman I met in the desert was a meth addict who for some reason believed I was Jesus Christ, and we were married. I told her some things, and last, I know of her, she called me to thank her. That I had in fact changed her life. She got off the streets and got clean.

I used to write Obama, and the MI-6, I even wrote Stephen Hawkings about some things that were later televised in his words.

I would be sitting there, seeing people talking and hearing their words, and if I followed up on the conversations, people would ask what I was talking about, that they weren’t speaking.

I was homeless from 2010-2013. Officially receiving permanent housing out in California, in 2013.

I moved back to my mothers after a long drawn out claim for disability was awarded. I now own two violins, classical guitar, electric guitar, wooden Cherokee flute, a ukulele, midi keyboard. Took on some more hobbies along the way. On contract to compose full orchestrations for a client making a video game.

My success? While I was homeless I did not pursue drugs or alcohol, it felt almost more a prolonged camping venture, fraught with me becoming a victim to theft at the end. If there’s one thing I can say, is that California is the worse place on earth.

Naturally I’ve not included every single event. But this should give you the gist. My official diagnosis is Schizoeffective Depressive. No I’m not two people, that’s a different type, (schizotypal).

Thank you for your time.

Leon Sandstone

The Daily Sandstone

#introduction #helloworld #firstpost #blog #biographical #self-interview

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karensfifthsense · 4 years

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How to Get Rid of Wasp Nest in Attic

Table of ContentsTop Secrets regarding Wasp Nest In LoftFinding the Best solution Remove Wasp Nest From AtticFinding the Recommended solution Deal With Wasp Nest In AtticAffordable technicians for Wasp Nest In LoftTop Secrets about Get Rid Of Wasp NestFinding the Relied on fix Get Rid Of Wasp Nest

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Is removing a wasp nest essential? Many individuals think that to get rid of wasps you need to eliminate the nest itself. Nevertheless, remarkably, this is not the case. To deal with wasps you do need to remove the nest. In truth, any effort to eliminate a nest prior to the wasp nest has been removed is not just extremely hazardous however is likewise ineffective.

( You can learn more about our wasp nest treatment here). After treatment has been used the nest be moved or the treatment will not work. If you eliminate a nest directly after treatment the employee wasps may return and potentially attempt to re-build the nest causing additional issues. It might seem to be sound judgment to eliminate the nest after the treatment is total and the wasp colony has actually been eliminated nevertheless eliminating a wasp nest is ruled out required First of all, wasps nests can not be recycled. Check more at pest-busters.co.uk

Queens will not recycle other nests and it is not likely that another nest would move into a currently constructed nest. Secondly, wasps nests do not rot or odor. On very uncommon events there may be an odor coming from a treated nest. This happens if the nest is dealt with mid to late summertime and the nest includes the queen and drone grubs.

However, this is extremely unusual. Do attempt to get rid of or treat a wasp nest yourself. A variety of DIY nest elimination guides and treatment items can be discovered online. These may seem practical and less expensive, but they are typically risky and inadequate. Wasps will sting if they feel their nest is threatened and will even require backup from the rest of their nest to safeguard themselves and the nest.

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Lots of people, usually children and family pets, can have severe allergies to wasp stings. At PESTUK we will not remove the nest after treatment. Nevertheless, we can come back at a later date to get rid of a wasp nest at an extra cost if you want. We recommend leaving the nest a month or two prior to any attempt is made to eliminate it.

Discover more wasp elimination on our website here. PESTUK are full members of the BPCA, the governing body for pest control in the UK. Using a BPCA member business ensures you have a qualified, fully insured company treating your pest problem. PESTUK have workplaces in Bracknell, Edgware, Salisbury, St Albans, Stevenage, Swindon, Thame, Wantage, Ware, and Watford. For an upgraded catalog for all of our services please click here.

Hastings Borough Council provides a pest control service for the treatment of wasp nests. You can reserve a consultation utilizing our online kind. Our pest control information and charges page has the costs for all our pest control services. Social wasps are typically seen in British gardens. There are a number of species of wasp in Great Britain.

The hornet is the largest British wasp. All wasps have a reputation for stinging, nevertheless, the needle-like sting is had just by females and is concealed near the idea of the abdomen. Queen wasps hibernate over-winter and emerge to construct a nest in the spring. The nest will usually lie either in the ground or in cavities in trees, walls or buildings.

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The nest is built up from wood pulp, which is moulded into the external shell of the nest and numerous internal chambers. The queen lays an egg in each of the chambers, which hatch into larvae. When fully grown the larvae pupate and become employees who assist in rearing new larvae and new queens.

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In Fall all wasps pass away with the exception of the brand-new queens that hibernate then emerge to build new nests the following Spring. Old nests are not re-colonised the list below year, although a new nest might be established beside an existing nest. Wasps can be helpful pollinators and are helpful in capturing and killing garden bugs (aphids) to feed to their offspring.

Nests from previous years will not be re-colonised and can be removed. Nevertheless, it may be necessary to treat wasp nests which present a specific danger to you or your family. Nests can be dealt with although care needs to obviously be taken in doing so. This can be done through the application of insecticidal dust at the entryway to the nest, ideally after dusk when the wasps have returned to the nest and are less active. wasp nest in loft.

Insecticidal dust is readily available from a lot of Do It Yourself stores and garden centres. You ought to make sure that the product you buy is specifically intended for wasps. The directions on the item label should always be followed. As old nests are not re-colonised, cured nests need not be eliminated. Foraging wasps can be a problem when they turn to food sources such as ripe fruit, sugary beverages, jam or honey.

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Such sprays are available from chemists, hardware shops, Do It Yourself shops and garden centres. Care must be taken when using such sprays and the instructions on the package must constantly be followed. Hornets are bigger than wasps and chestnut-brown and yellow in colour (rather than black and yellow). They are typically discovered in parks and woodlands however may likewise be found in domestic gardens.

The hornet life cycle is similar to that of the typical wasp. Newly-mated queens hibernate throughout the winter season, and emerge in spring to begin constructing a nest. They lay eggs that hatch into sterile female workers who finish the nest building and gather food for the developing larvae. Later in the summer males and fertile females hatch, mate and the women end up being next year's queens.

Old nests are not re-colonised the following year. Both grownups and larvae eat primarily insects and may supplement their diet with tree sap and windfall fruit. They also equip up on nectar prior to hibernating and can end up being an issue when they forage for sugary foods such as jam, fruit, etc in the late summertime.

This time of year, temperature levels in Texas frequently drop to 50 degrees Fahrenheit and below. When cooler weather condition gets here in the fall and winter in Texas, wasps can end up being an unexpected risk when they move to attics and other warm areas as the temperature dips listed below 50. Wasps nests in the attic can be an annoyance and a threat.

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It is essential that you take steps to securely eliminate wasps from your house and/or attic for both safety and assurance. Wasps construct nests during the spring and they might pick to do so in your attic, house or garage. They reoccur through holes, spaces, or fractures in your house's outside, developing the nest for the queen to lay her eggs. 24 hour pest control.

This may trigger you or your family to have an encounter with a wasp that you are not expecting. The finest method to remove wasp nests from the attic is to avoid them from being built there in the very first place. Seal all fractures, spaces, and holes in your home's outside that wasps might take a trip through.

If you have wasps in the attic or garage already, you can acquire wasp-killing spray and try to resolve the problem yourself. Make sure to dress in thick clothing, eliminate any crucial valuables, and seal windows and doors prior to spraying. Obviously, when you do it yourself, there is an opportunity you could be stung or inadvertently spray yourself, or even that something else may fail as you work out a confined and poorly lit attic.

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The better method to eliminate wasp nests from your house or attic is to call a professional extermination service like SafeHaven Pest Control right away. We train our pest control professionals in safe wasp removal practices. We'll rid your attic of wasps' nests in a swift and expert way. Contact SafeHaven Pest Control today.

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The old nests need to be eliminated where ever possible or they can end up being troublesome later down the roadway. We get lots of calls from plumbers, electrical experts and tradesmen who have actually stumbled upon nests in roofing spaces and have actually dropped tools and delayed works as they have actually come across an inactive or old nest.

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Stake Through the Heart (Branjie)- athena2

So this is based on an amazing prompt from @writworm42: “If anyone is looking for a prompt of late, a branjie fic where Brooke is an Extremely Serious vampire hunter who hears legends about Vanessa and turns out Vanessa is an ennui-filled, sarcastic, chaotic good vampire (a la what we do in the shadows) who is Not At All afraid of Brooke would be complete and total poetry xx.” I hope this is at least somewhat what you imagined, and I hope you like it!

Brooke first heard about Vanjie when she was 12.

A year after her parents were killed and she went to live with her grandmother.

A year after she was drafted into a war she had been groomed for her entire life, a war she quickly became an honored soldier in.

“The Mateo clan is one of the oldest, most dangerous clans of vampires in the world,” her grandmother had explained early in her training. “Some say they go back to the 1400’s.”

“Vanjie is one of the most feared. She’s the last of the line. She’s been a vampire less than a century, but she’s killed more than those three times her age. Four hunters have been killed by her in the last year alone. None have ever managed to kill her.”

Brooke shifts in the shrubs, eyes narrowing as a figure approaches.

The brunette is yapping on the phone, parading through the cemetery like she’s at a party. Doritos fall out of a bag as she walks, a trail of fake nacho cheese breadcrumbs. Her wavy brown hair flows behind her, shining in the moonlight.

Hand on her crossbow, Brooke stands, ignoring her screaming muscles, sore from 15 years of hunting.

Gotcha, she thinks.

—

It’s not the first time their paths have crossed, though neither of those times went according to plan.

The very first time, none of Brooke’s careful training could prepare her for finally seeing Vanjie. It was probably some sort of vampire charm, but Brooke couldn’t take her eyes off Vanjie and her smooth skin, mesmerized by her big brown eyes. By the time Brooke recovered her mind enough to take out her stake, Vanjie had already disappeared without so much as flashing her fangs.

She’d taken on Vanjie with junior hunter Plastique last winter, Brooke barely escaping with her life after Plastique knocked herself out with her own crossbow, but not before it misfired and an arrow lodged in Brooke’s chest, dangerously close to her heart.

The pain must have made her hallucinate, because she thinks she remembers Vanjie putting Hello Kitty Band-Aids over a scrape on her arm, then vanishing right as an ambulance Brooke didn’t call for arrived.

It was probably just a hallucination.

Though she never was able to explain the Band-Aids.

The arrow wound took months to heal and the scar tissue still twinges when she moves wrong.

She went back to working alone after that. She should have known it was dumb to take someone under her wing; she’s better on her own, has been since she was a kid. She threw herself into extra training, extra research. She won’t fail again.

Third times the charm, and all that nonsense.

—

“I know you in them woods, Blondie. Want some Doritos?” Vanjie’s voice sounds like a gangster from the movies.

Brooke stills, heart thudding painfully. A vampire had never been able to pick out her hiding place. Vanjie was as good as the legends said.

“Come on out,” Vanjie continues. “I don’t bite. Well, not on the first date, anyway.”

Brooke tightens her grip on the crossbow and moves silently out to the gravestones.

“You here to kill me? You could at least buy me dinner first. Seriously. Minimum wage is shit. A bitch is broke.” Vanjie stands with her hips cocked and inspects her crimson nail polish.

Brooke doesn’t say a word. She inches closer, her finger on the release. She should have already pulled it. Why hasn’t she? And why aren’t Vanjie’s fangs out?

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?” Vanjie demands. “You pretty impressive, I’ll give you that. But you can only be so scary when you smell like lavender. Are you, like, 90?”

Well, the lavender body wash was supposed to be calming, not that it’s working considering the way Vanjie is making her blood pressure skyrocket right now.

Vanjie sighs. “Look, if you’re gonna kill me, can we go to my apartment first? I should be allowed a last meal.”

This is against the rules. This is wrong. But this is the closest she’s ever been. She can feel it in her blood. Brooke shrugs. “Lead the way.”

—

Brooke was always a good student, bringing home A’s as soon as she was old enough to get letter grades. She didn’t go into her hunting career unprepared.

She started at 18, the earliest they would let her, though she’d been training and studying for 6 years. By then, she was too late to avenge her parents: the two heads of the Mateo line died mysteriously when she was 16, no hunter taking the credit for it.

But Brooke still worked. Within months, she was a top hunter, killing vampires that had been around for centuries. Each one was just practice, an appetizer before the feast.

Last year, after months of studying the Mateos, she set her sights on Vanjie.

She knows Vanessa Isabella “Vanjie” Mateo was born October 1930, the youngest of the Mateo line. She had been turned in the summer of 1958, when she was 27. She’d bounced around Puerto Rico and the United States, currently residing in Toronto.

Brooke’s heard the legends, the stories of horrible vampires and the brave hunters that fought them in her ear since she was a child tucked into bed with stuffed animals. Vanjie’s were always the most gruesome stories, the ones that made her stay up all night fearfully clutching her stuffed rabbit as Brooke vowed to become the thing that vampires feared.

According to legend, her kill count is in the thousands.

According to legend, she ate the hearts of those she’d killed when blood wasn’t enough.

According to legend, no hunter to engage in combat with her has ever walked away alive.

—

Brooke’s hands sweat. She’s not following the rules. She’s certain no hunter has ever been to a vampire’s home. But it’ll be worth when she gets revenge for her parents. When she kills the most dangerous vampire in recent history. When she becomes the brave hunter in the stories parents tell their kids.

“You mind if I change first? I always say my job is gonna be the death of me, but I’d rather not die in this thing.”

The blue polyester polo is ugly, though Brooke thinks it looks unreasonably good on Vanjie.

“Okay.”

Brooke takes in the messy kitchen with its checkerboard floor. Takeout containers are piled in the sink. None of the chairs match; one is a rocking chair, one is shaped like a giant hand, and one has ornate trim and red velvet lining. A goldfish swims in a soda bottle filled with water, while mysterious green liquid bubbles(?) in a fishbowl. The refrigerator has stickers reading “Meme Wall”, and is hidden beneath cut-out pictures of people and quotes even Brooke admits she can relate to. Strings of Pokémon cards serve as a pantry door, a lava lamp glows purple on the table, pink streamers hang from the ceiling light, just brushing the floor. Brooke forces her eyes down on the floor before her head explodes.

Something doesn’t add up. Where was the creepy dungeon stuff Vanjie had in the legends? This place looks like a bunch of stoned college kids decorated it. And why was Vanjie being nice to her? She can’t let her guard down. This is probably all a ruse; how Vanjie lures hunters in before she kills them.

She is still standing, bow slung over her back, stake in its thigh holster, when Vanessa comes back in black leggings and a sleeveless shirt made of flowy red silk.

“Stay a while, Blondie. Sit down and relax. You always so tense? Let me loosen those shoulders for ya.” Hands unclasp her bow and nudge her into a chair before clamping down on her shoulders and massaging out the aches.

“I don’t–I’m not–my shoulders are none of your business!” She splutters, wriggling her shoulders until the hands leave, refusing to acknowledge how nice they felt. She stays in the chair, the velvet one, which smells like Sour Patch Kids mixed with wet dog. “I’m here to kill you, if you haven’t noticed!”

“So do it. I’ll even give you an open shot.” Vanessa pulls aside her shirt, exposing the smooth skin over her not-beating heart, and Brooke forgets how to breathe. Vanjie definitely has some sort of charm power.

She makes no move for her stake.

“That’s what I thought.” She covers her skin, breaking the spell.

“I will. Eventually,” Brooke promises. “I want answers first.”

“You want coffee?”

“No. It makes me jittery.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t have any.” Vanjie reaches for a bright orange Frisbee, dumping in cereal and milk before crumbling chocolate Pop-Tarts and Fritos over the top.

Where was the blood of her enemies? The hearts she ate for dinner? Brooke thinks she’d rather watch Vanjie eat a heart than this monstrosity. “Who the hell puts that in cereal? And why are you eating out of a Frisbee?”

Vanjie drops into the rocking chair across from Brooke before speaking.

“Don’t judge me. I work retail and I deserve this. One, it makes Cocoa Puffs more chocolatey, and chocolate’s my main reason to live. Or well, to not die. Plus you get salty-sweetness. And two, A’Keria’s slacking off on the dishes.” She slurps up milk. “Why’s it matter? Who says cereal has to be eaten in a bowl? You know the shit I’ve seen? The earth is dying, bees are dying, who gives a flying fuck what I eat out of? You do. I bet you eat Raisin Bran with bananas.”

“Strawberries, actually.”

“So little soldier girl can tell a joke.” Vanjie grins.

Brooke has to hold her own smile back. She’s here to kill this bitch. She’s never broken procedure like this, ever, and she has to remind herself she’s only going along with Vanjie’s nonsense because she’ll do whatever it takes to kill her.

“So, why?” Vanjie asks abruptly.

“Why what?” Brooke sighs. She wishes this bitch would shut up already so she can kill her, because the more Vanjie talks, the farther away Brooke’s stake feels.

“Why do you hunt? Gotta be a reason,” Vanjie challenges with a smirk.

“My parents and grandparents were hunters.”

“Ah, family tradition. Hear that one a lot.” She crunches on a Frito.

“Your parents killed mine.” Shit. She had a strategy. She had plans, she had notes. She wasn’t supposed to blurt that out yet.

“Well, shit.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Brooke’s out of her chair before she knows it, stake pressing against Vanjie’s chest. “My parents died! I…I was only 11!”

Vanjie wraps her hand around Brooke’s wrist, her skin tingling. “I’m sorry. Can you give me a minute to explain? I know you’re all noble and stuff. Please hear me out.”

Brooke sighs and settles back in her chair, holding the stake tightly.

“I’m sorry about your parents. I really am. That must have been hard. You were just a kid.” Vanjie’s voice is impossibly soft and Brooke finds her grip loosening. “But you need to know, I was never part of their whole murder thing. My parents…they cut ties with me decades ago. I wasn’t what they wanted. I like girls, first of all. And I wouldn’t kill. I only drink animal blood. I’ve never killed anyone.” She takes a breath. “Well, except for them.”

“What?” She drops the stake. This could all be a lie, and Vanjie could kill her any second, but she believes her.

“Yeah. They said I could get back into their graces if I found myself a male companion or killed a newborn baby to prove my loyalty. You know, just basic things you do for your parents to like you,” she mutters acidly. “I just fucking had it. So I killed them.”

“Holy shit.” Vanjie’s voice is deadly calm and serious, eyes dark, and Brooke knows she’s telling the truth.

“Yeah.”

“But-but the legends about you! You killed more hunters than anyone! You’re one of the most feared vampires in history!” She shakes her head frantically. How could this all be going so wrong?

“My parents made that shit up,” Vanjie shrugs. “Couldn’t have people know their daughter was a disappointment. It wasn’t like anyone was gonna fact-check ‘em.”

“I don’t think you’re a disappointment,” Brooke says quietly.

Vanjie bites her lip and smiles sadly. She pulls her shirt open again. “So, we gonna get this over with?”

“Do you, like, want to die?” Brooke asks, making no move to hurt Vanjie, her mind still buzzing.

“I mean, I’m not exactly having a good time in this hellhole.”

“Maybe you should talk to someone.”

“That’s your advice? A fucking therapist?”

“Sorry. My grandparents made me go to one. After, you know.”

Vanjie nods. After a few seconds of silence she stands up and leans in, placing her hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “Did you heal up okay? After your little friend got excited and shot you? Too bad I didn’t have enough Band-Aids to cover all of you.”

“You-” Her eyes go wide. It wasn’t a hallucination.

“Yeah, I remember that night. Not everyday someone knocks themselves out with their own weapon. Couldn’t forget those eyes of yours, either.”

Vanjie’s hand slips underneath Brooke’s black T-shirt, fingers ghosting over the raised skin where the arrow pierced her. Brooke looks up at the exact second Vanjie looks down and then their lips meet.

Vanjie’s lips are surprisingly soft and strong, pressing Brooke firmly into the chair. Vanjie’s hands roam all over Brooke’s chest and Brooke hesitantly lifts hers up to Vanjie’s back. There is no heartbeat pulsing beneath her fingers but Vanjie’s body feels infinitely alive as Brooke’s hands move to tangle in her hair.

They break apart after what feels like years and Brooke tries to remember how to breathe.

“That was pretty impressive, Blondie.”

“Brooke. Not Blondie.”

“Vanessa. Not Vanjie.”

They both look at each other awkwardly. “So I guess that means you’re not gonna kill me?” Vanessa asks in a small voice.

“No. I’m not.” She gathers her bow and slips her stake inside its holster.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah. I-I should go.”

Vanessa nods. She gives Brooke a quick hug, hand steady over Brooke’s jacket pocket. Over her heart.

“Mind the streamers on your way out. It’s some jellyfish costume Yvie’s trying to make.”

Brooke feels something inside her jacket pocket once she gets home. She pulls out a tiny piece of paper with a phone number on it.

She falls asleep with the paper clenched in her hand.

—

The next day she dials the numbers that are unfamiliar to her but that she hopes become second nature.

“Vanessa? How about that dinner?”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #vampire au #angst #athena2 #tw mild mention of homophobia #tw implied depression #concrit welcome #submission

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writingonthemoon · 5 years

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Old Clothes Part 2

This is Day 18 of Tuck Month because it kinda makes sense

Part 1

Word Count: 3463

Disclaimer: Mentions of blood, slightly traumatising experiences

Old clothes have a way of piling up. There are two options to get rid of them. You can donate everything and allow someone to make themselves anew with the past you’re giving them. Or you can burn, destroying any trace of crimes you’ve committed or wrongs you have yet to right. Both actions eat away at you, destroying your soul and moral compass. You know you can’t fix what you’ve done once you grab a match and you slowly start to wonder how askew your thinking is. Donations are stressful, causing you to look over your shoulder every few moments to see if anyone was suspicious of your activities and strange giveaways. My father had forgotten that last sentiment.

My childhood was a strange one at best. Everything that seemed absolutely normal was slightly off when you examined it under a magnifying glass. When I was little and got dirt on myself, I would change into an entirely new outfit, even if there was no dirt on what I was wearing. If I got sick during the day, I would have to wait until the evening until I could have anything. My bedtime consisted of news stories and my mornings had me washing the surfaces any candle was resting upon. It wasn’t an abnormal upbringing, it was just a little strange.

Due to the oddities of the way my family lived, we got the attention of our neighbours. They didn’t necessarily do much about it, they just noticed it. They noticed it more than they should have. I was sick the day they stuck their noses in too far. My stomach wasn’t upset with the idea of me not eating until later in the day, but the Michaelsons next door were outraged. The two came over with a small basket of food and handed it to me without a word. All I got as an explanation was a sympathetic look shot in my direction. At the smell of all the delicious pastries and sweet fruits, my stomach started rumbling. I knew I couldn’t eat anything from the basket because I would have to show my parents and I wasn’t supposed to take anything from the cupboards. There was only one thing the mind of a hungry four-year-old though as a viable option. I go out and get some like my parents had always done.

I put on my shoes and marched out of my house towards the market where I knew there would be so much good food that would satisfy me. But, I was four and still a little dumb on society’s rules. I walked along the street, being oh so careful to keep my dress clean, and began pulling things from stalls, not knowing I had to pay. I had always become interested in something else by then when I was with my mum, so I never learned. Until that day, of course.

My mother came home first and, just by the look of me, could tell I did something wrong. My face was a little paler than usual and I was clenching my stomach. I can assure you I never ate until the evening when I was sick after that. She helped me prepare for bed, getting me in my sleepwear and braiding my hair for the night. Then, Father arrived home in a sweeping panic. His dark hair stuck out at odd ends and he kept straightening his jacket more than he needed. A thief had gone through the marketplace with red hair and small stature. He and my mother both knew what would happen at that time.

They hurried to pack everything we owned up, but I could tell by the different ways everything was gathered that we wouldn’t be taking it all. As we left with our cart behind us, my parents brought us to a field. The two of them grabbed packs and handed me a small one before turning to the mounding cart. My father took a flint to it. The flying sparks lit up my eyes as I watched in amazement. In only a few moments, our belongings were up in flames, the heat roaring against my face and the crackling of wood echoing in the sleeping village. We left, went to a different town and started again. Our reputation was built upon arrival. The three of us were a good family with no faults to us. Everything perfect. It was a mistake to keep our names and it was a mistake to drop our clothes in the donation box. They were mistakes that were replaced with inevitabilities. The ashes on our clothes were a sign of who we once were and the ease at which we started to move through different towns was flowing like our old coats in a breeze.

Jesse and I had seen the Wonders of the World together with the wind following our trail. We had been just about everywhere and it seemed there was a new place discovered each day. It was the ultimate life of adventure laid out for us to take. We were riding the wings of life for years with no plans to stop. Eventually, you do have to land, do you not? The decades caught up to us and we grew out of the fantasy we had been in. The time we spent together faded from moments to memories. Memories to remember forever.

The Brooklyn Bridge. I hadn’t actually seen it finished, just the beginning of construction. I was going to see it when it was finally completed, but I got caught up doing anything but. It might seem strange, but I knew who else was going to be there on the day, so I wasn’t there. Now, sixteen years after it was completed, sixteen years after I was to travel there with him, sixteen years after a promised return, I finally saw the outcome.

My internal thoughts were drowning in the sounds of the people coming from every which way, namely ahead. The doorway to the sixth-largest city in the world was a lot busier than I expected it to be on a Sunday. Well, the largest borough in the second-largest city in the world since New York absorbed all those other places. But I guess I can’t assume much when I haven’t been in America for ages. It was more civilized in Europe and Asia was extremely respectful and aware of others. Here, it was crowded and everyone was pushy and living in their own world, paying no mind to anything going on about them.

As I gazed at the structure in front of me, I felt a shove from my right, knocking me to the ground further from the foot traffic I hadn’t been interrupted in the first place. I jumped to my feet quickly, telling the man off with rude words from a few decades ago that had fallen out of poor light. They were still my favourite ones to use. Once I lost sight of him in the throng, my palms starting stinging. Turns out, they were cut up from the rough ground.

“Damn,” I muttered, resolving to not wipe my hands on my dress as they were slowly turning red, “Prick.” I spat at the invisible back of the man. Even if I was immortal, it had been faltering lately. Not by much, I could still survive anything that could kill me, but every now and then I would cut myself with a knife or I’d scrape my knee climbing a monument. These instances were few and extremely far between, but they still concerned me.

“Excuse me, miss,” I held my breath and turned to see an oddly familiar face that puzzled me, “you ‘lright?” Pieces of red hair poked out from under the cap on his head and his warm brown eyes brought me back to summers with my sister, Clara. Freckles splattered his face, though I couldn’t be sure if they were there all the time or just in the August sun.

My brain rebooted as he raised his eyebrows a little, “Yes, yes, of course.” I smiled at the boy whose soft face couldn’t be older than my look, “Thank you.”

“You sure? 'cause I’m just 'bout to head out for the evening and, sad to say, I know how to deal with stuff like that.” He pointed at my injuries.

“Sad to say I do as well.” I chuckled lightly and thought for a moment, “I hate to trouble you, but I might just take up your offer, seeing as I’m just visiting the city.”

The boy smirked with a mischevious look in his eyes, “I coulda guessed that. A beauty like you woulda caught my eye a long time ago.” I giggled at his blatant flirting and he offered me an arm, “Shall we?”

“Of course.” I linked up with him and he started leading me down the streets. The new sights of the city distracted me enough that I paid no mind to many of the people around or the boys beside me. A realization suddenly came upon me and almost caused another tumble into the street, “So, what is the name of my knight in shining armour?”

“Albert DaSilva. Age 16. And what about yourself?”

“Odette… Tuck. Age 17.”

“Odette, huh? That’s my great-something-aunt’s name. She kinda disappeared a while ago. I think she was your age, Dette. I’ve heard a lotta stories from my family 'bout her, but Nona Clara told them the best,” I struggled to breathe when I heard my sister’s name, “Even though I don’t remember a lot of her, I know they were the best.” Albert turned his head a little and saw my expression, most likely one of bittersweet pain and shock, “Sorry, I’m going on 'bout myself. What about you? Got anyone in your family named Albert?” He nudged my shoulder a little with a pairing of a chuckle.

“Oh,” my mind scrambled for an answer. This boy beside me might be my family and I couldn’t tell him, “don’t worry, it was alright hearing about yourself. Uh, I have a nephew. He was just born, so I only met him once before I left.” The lie rolled off my tongue like nothing and it was sorta true compared to how old I was, “I would love to get to know him better, but I guess I’ll just have to hear more about your Nona Clara and her sister for now.”

“Ah, I don’t think you’ll really wanna.”

“No,” I objected all to quickly and I silently cursed myself, “I would. I lost communication with my sister a while ago and hearing about Clara and Odette would be nice.” I paused before I wrinkled my nose, “I don’t like saying my name in that way. Makes it feel like I’m her.” I mean, I was 90% sure I was her, but I wouldn’t tell him that. I would confuse him too much and he would probably want to burn me. Or was that what people did when I was little? Or was it before I was born? Events I didn’t even go through blend into my memories nowadays.

“You don’t have to worry about that unless youse immortal.” He laughed, bringing me out of my mind, and I forced a matching tune. “Nah, they… they lost her in some woods in New Hampshire back in 1808. So unless you was hangin’ 'round back then…” he trailed off and watched his feet as we traversed the pavement. I bit my tongue to keep myself quiet, but soon I couldn’t help it. It seemed right to tell him a version of what had happened.

“I lost my family too,” his head turned in my direction and I could feel confusion radiating off of him. Why would I be telling him this? Maybe he’ll know the real reason eventually, “just like her, but I feel it was a little different. We moved a lot when I was younger. Travelled all over the place. But, heh, it wasn’t just because we could.” I swallowed thickly before continuing on, “Whenever we moved, we had to reinvent our family. I was never sure why, but we just did. We had a ritual where we burned everything extra on our last night in whatever town we were in. All we had were our names, the clothes on our backs, and whatever money we could carry in our pockets. I could barely remember where I was from after a while.”

“Well, ta jog your memory, where are you from?”

“England. I was the last of my siblings born there. I mean, my family was here before, but some of them went back and then we came back and-” I cut my rambling short, “It gets a bit confusing sometimes.”

“Eh, it’s alright. Just wait 'til you meet some a my friends, then it all gets confusing.”

“I hardly believe they can be that confusing.”

“Well, they ain’t confusin’, jus’ chaotic.”

“Chaos is my speciality.” The two of us walked a little further, Albert sharing short stories about myself and my sister until we reached a grand old building with shouting coming from inside. A grin came to Albert’s face that made me match him. It was nice to know these boys still had real happiness in such dismal times.

“Your friends in there?” I bumped shoulders with him, bringing him out of his euphoric trance. He nodded rapidly before pulling me up the steps to the door. Al rested his hand on the knob, his brow furrowing for a moment, “Something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just… I ain’t never brought a girl here 'cause we ain’t really allowed,” he shrugged.

“It’s not like I’m spending the night. You’re just cleaning up my hands because you’re a gentleman. And if anyone tries to mess with you, I can rough 'em up for ya.” I copied his accent and lightly punched one of my palms the way all tough people do. I regretted that when I saw the blood staining my knuckles.

“Heh, yeah, I betcha will.” With that final statement, the door swung open in front of me at Albert’s request and he led me in, a hush following my soft closing of the door. I positioned myself behind the buff redhead, which was slightly embarrassing since I was old enough to be the great grandmother of all these boys and I had fought men bigger and scarier than some scrawny munchkins.

“Look at that, Al’s finally brought home a girl.” A boy called, earning laughs from the crowd.

“No, he hasn’t,” I replied softly yet loud enough so my voice to projects around the room, “At least, not in the way you all are insinuating.” I held my hands up to show the blood off, “He’s just being chivalrous and helping me out.”

“Hey, she should meet Davey! They both use dem big fancy words!” Unclear shouting continued about this 'Davey’ person and I took the time to observe the motley crew. There was one with an eye patch, a few with various injuries, and most with dirt a permanent blemish on their complexion. Then I saw a matted flop of blond hair under a backwards cap that I recognized easily.

“Crutchie!” I yelled, waving my hand in the air to get his attention. He looked away from an older boy he was in conversation with—which made me feel a little bad ruining their flow—and spotted me, causing a smile to come to his face. He started making his way towards me after bidding his friend ado. There was a wolf whistle from one of the boys and some patted him on the back as he slipped by them. His face went a light pink and I got thrown back in time for a moment.

“Hey, Odette,” he greeted when he was closer. I was worried for his cheeks because of how much he was smiling, “what are you doin’ here?”

“I just said, dummy. Albert found me on the street and offered to help me clean up my hands.” I presented my hands to the boy so he could clearly see what I was speaking about, “It was a trivial fall, but they got cut up nicely I’d say.”

Crutchie’s eyes grew tenfold, worry covering his happy demeanour, “Are you sure you want Albert helpin’ you?” The emphasis he put on the name of my 99% sure great-grandnephew made me laugh. Clara could never clean injuries well either.

I covered my mouth with my hand, attempting to play it off like nothing, “I don’t care much. Help from any of you would be tremendous.”

“Well, then, I’ll bring ya to Buttons and grab Jack. Buttons’s the best at stitchin’ us all up. He’ll take care a ya. An’ Jack has been takin’ care of the lotta us for ages, so he’s picked up a thing or two.”

I nodded, “Fantastic.” I didn’t feel the word, though. I was stressed about my hands, more than any normal person would be. This was the worst any malfunction had been and I was becoming frightened at the prospect of time running out.

"Hey there,“ my worrying was cut short by a voice directed at me, "the name’s Jack Kelly." The boy in question was about my height and I could feel an air of authority about him. He was also the one Crutchie was speaking with earlier. His deep coffee eyes had a look in them I had seen before and could never understand the point of. Tangles were visible in the fringe of his hair that stuck out from under his hat. The hairstyle he had was too long to be respectable and his hat was crooked, causing something in me to cringe and recoil.

"Odette. I am to assume you’re the one Crutchie mentioned that can help me with my… predicament.” A sombre chuckle escaped as I looked at the scarlet flesh of my once unmarked palms, “I hope you’re as good as he expressed.”

"Gosh, Odette, you gotta let up with those big fancy words of yours. You sound like youse lying for your life.“

I skipped a breath and a heartbeat, "Takes a liar to know a liar, Mr Kelly.” I raised my brow at him in a challenge.

"Oohoohoohoohoo. Youse a good one, Dette.“ I honestly giggled at his compliment. It was a different one and one that I liked, "Now, let’s take a look at your hands.”

I was reluctant to put my hands in the care of the conman, “Should they not be cleaned first? I have a little experience with these kinds of things and I thought that was the first step.”

Jack stared at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, “You know Davey or Kath or anything?” The tilt of my head explained my confusion with the names, “Nevermind. But yeah, youse right. If Crutch went to Buttons, there should be some hot water ready so we can clean your hands. Come on.” He started walking away, making me rush so I wouldn’t lose him.

"Mr Kelly!“ I called, which made him give me a look of inquisition and exasperation. He must not like the title, "Sorry, Jack, can you just—” I reached up and straightened his cap, which made me relax a little

He chuckled, “Youse real strange, Dette.” After only a few more steps, we came upon Crutchie and a young boy with a tiny sewing kit sitting in front of him. There was something about his slouch and his thin fingers that unsettled me with familiarity.

"Hey, Odette. I sees you met Jack.“ The blond gestured to Jack with his crutch, "Anyways, this here is Buttons. He may only be thirteen or so, but he’s the best of all a us when it comes to fixin’ people up.”

The young boy—Buttons—looked up and I stumbled backwards, causing Jack to rush and catch me. I was shaking, my emotions starting to get the better of me. There was no way. It couldn’t be him, but it was the same face, same build, same everything. I started getting lost in the kind eyes I used to play with and the smile I would do anything to see. The smalls curls I would tie back peeked from under the edge of his hat. Everything was identical, maybe a year older than the last time I saw him. Except for the eyes. They were the same as Crutchies and Alberts. Jack even had that look, even if he’d gotten good at hiding it. I couldn’t help the name from slipping out, though. Just to see if I would get a reaction, “Elijah.”

#my posts are all so late now #anyways enjoy #old clothes

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stahlop · 5 years

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Once Upon a Time 1x11 “Fruit of the Poisonous Tree” Review

Reviews 1x01 1x02 1x03 1x04 1x05 1x06 1x07 1x08 1x09 1x10

I wasn’t a huge fan of this story. In the EF I found the king too gullible. In Storybrooke, Emma is too trusting and what the hell is up with her superpower, because it didn’t work at all this episode. I also felt they cast the wrong actor as the king and Genie. Richard Schiff usually plays lawyers and doctors. He did not make a very good king. Giancarlo Esposito is so much better than either Genie and Sidney.

Synopsis: Sidney asks Emma to bring down Regina by uncovering evidence that would expose her corruption. In the EF, a king finds a magic lamp with a genie and wishes him free. He falls for Regina, the king’s wife and they plot to be free from the kingdom.

Opening: Genie appearing.

New Characters:

King Leopold: Although he is never called by his name in the episode, this is how he is listed in IMDB. He is Snow’s father and Regina’s husband and he’s an idiot. He is granted three wishes by a magical genie and he just stands there thinking because he is so happy and his kingdom is so happy that there is nothing that he could wish for. I call bullshit on this. Even if he is so ridiculously happy, there has to be something he would wish for. Or, after Genie tells him that all wishes end badly, that he would still free Genie because he feels it is the right thing to do. If you have nothing to wish for, just don’t wish for anything. This whole scene rubbed me the wrong way (no pun intended). Later on at the king’s birthday party, he dotes on Snow. Ok, I can be on board with that. But then bringing up your dead wife while you’re new wife is sitting right there, making her feel like she doesn’t even exist? Who does that? And then, he gets pissed that, even though he doesn’t love Regina like she deserves to be loved, that she has the audacity to have feelings for another man. Well why wouldn’t she? Do you really expect her to be unhappy when you’ve told Genie that everyone else in your kingdom is happy? The king also mentions that ‘love makes people do foolish things’. Yes, it does, like Genie lusting after your wife. He seems to be the only new man in the palace. Come on, use your brain! I mean, killing him was a little extreme, but dude was an idiot.

Character Observations:

Genie/Sidney: This is the magic mirror’s origin story. Before he was trapped in a mirror he was the genie of the lamp. Apparently, he’s just meant to be trapped somewhere. He was trapped in the lamp, then he was kind of trapped at King Leopold’s castle, and then he became trapped in the mirror. I understand that Genie was new to love, and Regina was unhappily married, but did he really expect her to give up her kingdom for him? What did he do besides dispense advice to the king? Did he get paid at all? Did he really expect Regina to live poorly with him? For all that Genie has supposedly seen with his wishes, he really got duped pretty badly. When he does end up making his wish in a desperation to keep Regina, he says he ‘wishes to be with her forever, to look upon her face always, and to never leave her side’. Technically, that’s three wishes, but the lamp doesn’t seem to care, and that’s how Genie ends up trapped in the mirror.

Sidney is, well, Sidney is acting on Regina’s orders the entire time. He’s her puppet. He probably has no idea why he’s so attracted to Regina, but the curse has made him take orders no matter who it hurts. He pretends to be so upset about being fired from the paper and being made a fool of for losing the election that he wants to take Regina down, and Emma believes him. And because the audience believes in Emma, we also believe in Sidney until we see him with Regina at the end. We also get a lot of Genie and Magic Mirror sayings from him. He tells Emma he can ‘grant her wish’ when she and Mary Margaret are talking about taking down Regina. He, again, says to Emma ‘all we need is a crack in the mirror to show everyone’ when he tells her about the missing money.

Emma: She really made me mad in this episode. She starts off saying she’s the sheriff, she has to do everything by the book. Then when they’re looking through the public records for where the money supposedly went, they find that the files are missing and Sidney wants to get a warrant to search Regina’s office. Emma doesn’t think a judge will go against Regina, so when she decides to confront Regina about the records (yes, please, lets let the person we’re trying to take down know we are looking into their financials), she decides to plant a bug, something she would need a court order to do. She changed her mind pretty fast about playing by the rules. And then, when they miss the secret meeting that they follow Regina to, Emma decides to just break into Regina’s office and steal her files! Emma has a quick change of heart when she realizes she did exactly what she told Henry she wouldn’t do, stoop to Regina’s level, and that all their ‘evidence’ is illegally obtained, so it won’t hold up in court. Emma’s pretty much done at this point, so Sidney pulls out the box of photos Regina had him take of her when she came to town. He also says he’ll go after Regina if Emma won’t. Now, here is where it goes off the rails for me. If Emma had let Sidney confront Regina at the City Council meeting without her being a part of it, she would have been able to look into his accusations without it coming back that things were obtained illegally. It would have been Sidney, not a member of law enforcement, who had stolen the files, and then Emma could have confiscated them for evidence. But no, she decides to play her hand at the City Council meeting and ends up getting her ass handed to her by Regina when she reveals it’s a playground she’s building. So now Emma looks like a sheriff with a vendetta against the mayor because she accused Regina at a public forum and Regina tells Emma to stay away from Henry, so now she’s lost the one person who believed in her.

Evil Queen/Regina: I think I said in either episode one or two that the Evil Queen doesn’t know how to play a long con, that she only thinks in the short term, well, I was wrong. The way EQ manipulates Genie is genius. The moment she sees him she knows she can use him. We haven’t seen how Regina acted before she was the Evil Queen. We saw her in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter after Leopold died. She seemed at that point to be sweet and then we saw that she had been plotting all along. Snow seems to believe she is a sweet and loving step-mother, right up until she realizes that The Huntsman is meant to kill her under Regina’s orders. We don’t know how long Regina and Leopold have been married, so we don’t know how long she has been planning his murder. Did EQ ever love Leopold? Was this an arranged marriage? Was EQ nice at one point and morphed into the EQ because of this marriage? Hopefully, plot points we will learn in the future. But we see her skillful handling of Genie. She sees that he is taken with her, she uses it to her advantage. She makes him believe that she is lonely and unworthy of his love. She pretends she is going to kill herself with the Agrabahn Viper and makes Genie believe it is his idea to kill the king for her. Once his usefulness is done, she shows her true colors. Although, she has provided safe passage for him when she could have just let him take the blame and be killed, so it seems she had some feelings for him.

Regina uses Sidney in much the same way she used him as Genie, except, due to the curse, he doesn’t understand why he’s so devoted to her when he knows she’s using him. Regina knows just what to tell him to get him to do what she wants, and she tells him exactly what to say to Emma so she will do what Regina wants. Notice that when Emma accuses Regina of building a summer house in the woods with the stolen funds, Regina already has a slide presentation ready to go about the playground. She knew Sidney would steer Emma in the direction to confront her at the City Council meeting. And Regina uses the leverage she has over Emma making a fool of herself to keep her away from Henry. Game, set, match.

Snow/Mary Margaret: Neither are in this episode that much. Snow basically feeds into her father’s obsession with her. He calls her ‘fairest in all the land’ like her mother. She doesn’t seem to be bonding with step-mother dearest either as neither of them were talking to each other in the garden or the king’s party.

Mary Margaret is continuing her ‘affair’ with David. They are having secret picnics out by the old toll bridge, and she clings to Sidney’s advice that ‘sometimes doing a bad thing for a good reason is okay’ as to how she can justify her affair.

Henry: He’s sad that his castle is first destroyed by the storm, and then torn down by Regina. He also loses the story book when Regina tears it down, as he had hidden it in a toolbox in the sand. He later tries to recreate the story book from memory in his own notebook. Later, he’s playing on the new playground and tells Emma that she doesn’t have to listen to Regina when she tells him they can’t see each other for awhile.

The Stranger: He still doesn’t have a name. We only see him twice this episode. Once when Henry is trying to recreate the story book. Henry wants to know why the Stranger is really there, and he responds with ‘stuff’ (as was Henry’s answer when he asked what the book was about), and second when we see he has taken the toolbox and is now in possession of the story book. He seems in shock and awe and that this he knows exactly what it is that he is looking at.

Gold: Again, very little screen time, but he does give Emma and Sidney some good advice. He tells them that ‘emotional entanglements can lead us down very dangerous paths.’ Speaking from experience again I assume. He also tries to ally himself with Emma again but she turns him down. He has some agenda that he needs Emma for, we just don’t know what it is yet.

Henry, Sr.: We see the depth of his love for Regina, as he will do anything to help her escape her marriage. He even mentions this to Genie that the guards know he would die for Regina. He goes to Genie with the box containing the viper and tells him that it will help free Regina. Does he know how evil Regina is becoming, does he know that the king will be dying once the vipers get to Regina or does he honestly think she will use it to kill herself like she makes the Genie believe? I am very interested in Henry, Sr. and Regina’s background. He loves her very much, so how did he let Regina get into a loveless marriage. Why is he her manservant? Where is Regina’s mother?

Questions:

When was Sidney fired from the paper? After he ran an article about Emma being in jail? After he lost the election? Was that just part of the ploy to get Emma to feel sorry for him? Has this scheme of Regina’s been going on since the election?

How long was it between Genie coming to the castle and the king’s birthday?

Is there a judicial system in Storybrooke?

How did Genie get the mirror out of the lamp to give to Regina?

How does Regina not spot the sheriff’s car following her into the woods? They are the only two cars on the road!

Did Gold give Emma and Sidney a lift back to town or did they call a tow truck?

Didn’t Sidney say he was fired from the paper? Why do he and Emma meet at the newspaper office to look at the blueprints and escrow statements?

Did Emma even look at the blueprints? They clearly state the ‘mansion’ Emma thinks Regina is building is only 4 feet tall if she read the measurements.

Why is the playground being built in the middle of the woods?

How did the playground get built so fast? Henry was playing on it the day of or after the council meeting.

Is the Stranger the author of the book?

Observations:

Genie states that he’s granted 1001 wishes and seen them all go wrong. 1001 is not divisible by 3, so either he’s exaggerating or some people didn’t get to make all their wishes. Most likely this is a reference to 1001 Arabian Nights, the collection of stories Aladdin is originally from.

The lamp still grants wishes without the genie.

Regina’s name in EF is also Regina.

Not only does Regina’s computer not have a password, but it turns on immediately!

Emma types in ‘land, sold, Gold, property’ to find the correct files on Regina’s computer.

Regina has a large amount of skeleton keys in her office.

Even if Regina used the City Council funds to build a playground, it’s still illegal to take the money secretly and build a playground without the rest of the council’s approval.

The Agrabahn Viper has a head on either end and no tail.

The jewels in the lamp start out green. Once all the wishes are made they are now red.

Timeline Issues:

Sidney tells Emma that Regina stole the City Council funds at least 3 weeks ago (according to the records). Emma confronts Regina about it and plants the bug that day and then follows Regina to the meeting with Gold that night. Obviously, Regina is buying the land to build the playground on, unless she’s sending Emma on a wild goose chase. Then it seems as though Emma and Sidney go to break into Regina’s office later that night, or possibly the next night. Then the City Council meeting is the next day and since Regina so conveniently has the slide show presentation ready about the new playground, it would seem she was planning on bringing it up to the council. After the meeting, Regina tells Emma to stay away from Henry. We next see Emma watching Henry on the already built playground, most likely later that same day or the next day. How is this playground built already? Also, Emma wears the exact same outfit in every single scene in this episode even though it takes place over several days (black pants, dark grey turtleneck, grey beanie, and blue, leather, racer jacket). Regina has three changes of clothing throughout.

I didn’t like this episode. Emma is made a fool of by using her emotions instead of her instincts. She’s manipulated by both Sidney and Regina and makes awful choices. Regina is now attempting to play nice by asking Emma to do her job as sheriff instead of looking for things that aren’t there. She never once raises her voice or insults Emma as she had been doing. And Emma paid the price for her foolishness and can’t see Henry for awhile. Honestly, this episode should have been called Fool in Love or Foolish Heart for how foolish Emma, Genie, and Leopold were in this episode.

Please leave comments and reblog!

@searchingwardrobes @thisonesatellite @justbecauseyoubelievesomething

@laschatzi @profdanglaisstuff @mariakov81

#once upon a time #once upon a time review #once upon a time 1x11 #once upon a time fruit of the poisonous tree

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urlocalkpoptrash · 5 years

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Gods Gonna Cut You Down| Lim Jaebeom.

Gangleader!Jaebeom x Detective!Reader

Genre: Angst, a little bit of fluff, insinuating smut.

Warnings: Talk of death, and gang violence.

Concept: What if the man you loved so dearly, was the leader of a gang who took everything from you?

A/N: This is my first GOT7 fic, and I’m terrified to post it. I don’t know if I’ll actually make a whole series out of this. What do you guys think? Would you read it?

Song Inspiration:

- - - - - - -

Death followed you long before you were a detective, it stuck to you like your shadow in the middle of summer. Your parents and younger sister were killed when you were 12. Your father was the best cop on the force, he was known for infiltrating and busting big gangs and drug cartels. His reputation surpassed him, and gave him a massive target on his back. He knew the game he was playing, and the consequences that could come out of it. He lost the game, and you were the only one that was left to suffer, but he raised you better than that. He taught you to take your anger and channel it into something productive, so you did. You spent your life chasing after leads, and whispers of who could have orchestrated the murder.

You were close, and you could taste it. Whoever it was, was right under your nose. You were ready to end this, but this time the rules of the game would be made by you, and there was only one way for this to finish, and that was with you winning. You sat in your office at home, scattered paper work all over your desk, the only thing that stood out more than your mess, was the graph of suspects that hung on your wall. The red thread moving around the pictures, creating a road map that only you knew how to drive. You leaned back into your chair, crossing your arms. You were stuck, and you had exasperated all your informants. You needed something new, anything to push the investigation forward.

“Baby?” A calming voice entered from behind you.

You pushed your feet from your desk, turning in your chair to see Jaebeom standing in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the frame. A sleepy smile, matched only with his half lidded eyes. He always tried to stay awake till you were ready for bed, you had told him he didn’t need too, and that you understood normal people needed sleep. He would shake his head and say, ‘such an extraordinary woman, deserves anything but a normal man’ and you couldn’t say that it didn’t make your heart leap to life. He was the only thing that anchored you to reality.

“I’m almost done,” you smiled, tiredly.

He pushed from the frame, striding over to you, his grey pajama bottoms hung off his hips, swaying by his feet when he moved. The light from your desk, did his bare chest no justice. He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You took a deep breath, he had just showered, so he still smelled of his body wash, and his natural scent, which reminded you of camping and burning wood. You looked up, watching him disappear from your office.

You didn’t lie when you said you were almost done, you looked through a few more files, and you felt even more defeated than normal. You pulled on the gold chain that hung from your lamp, your room immediately going dark. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, removing your clothes, letting them pool around you. Your head hanging down, unable to face your own reflection. You kicked away your crumpled clothes, flicking the light off before you climbed into bed, covered in only one of Jae’s shirts. You sunk into your side of the mattress, your head hitting the pillow like a stack of bricks.

You felt an arm creep around your waist, pulling further away from the edge, and closer to Jae’s chest. A sigh of relief slipped your lips, causing a soft chuckle to press against your back. Jaebeom nuzzled his nose into the back of your neck, leaving soft kisses around your shoulders. His hand slipping from his waist, to rest on your hip, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your upper thigh. You reached back, running your hand over his arm, his muscles tensing under your touch. You pushed back into him, his hand now no longer spread over your hip, but it was gripping onto you, pushing you back even more, while he pressed his pelvis into you.

“Please,” was all you had to whisper before he was hovering above you, his knees on this inside of your legs, pushing them open.

———

4:48 AM -

Your phone had been going off for over twenty minutes, buzzing, and vibrating on your nightstand. You reached over, slapping your hand haphazardly around to feel for it. You were finally able to curl your fingers around it enough to pull it to your side. You opened one eye, while simultaneously keeping one squinted closed. The brightness from your screen made your groan, quickly turning it down so it was a dull yellow.

Detective Rays: We have something you need to see, right now. It’s about your parents murder case.

You practically sprung from bed, tripping over your own tired limbs. You looked back to make sure your abrupt loudness didn’t disturb your sleeping boyfriend. You were lucky he was just a hard sleeper, you stared at him for a moment, admiring the way he slept so soundly, one leg peeking from the sheets. You didn’t have time to think of how in love you were with him, you needed to get to the station.

You bursted through the doors of your office, several heads popping up from their desks. You didn’t bother to greet anyone, especially since detective Rays was right at your side, pulling you into his personal office, closing the door behind the both you. He looked over you, your bun barely sticking to the top of your head, one half of your shirt tucked in, the other hanging out loosely.

“You look like a mess,” he commented before pulling out a file from a locked drawer of his desk.

“Thanks,” you snapped, standing over his file, waiting for it to reveal new information.

“This is the son, and current leader, of the gang who contracted the hit on your family,” he looked up at you, waiting for your understanding.

“Open the damn file, Rays,” patience was not a personality trait that you had picked up.

He did, and you had wished that you wouldn’t have made him. There he was, the man who you had been waiting for your whole life, the person that had caused you so much pain and agony, the man you swore had to be the devil, but he wasn’t. This man was not evil, and there was no way he could be the person who took over the gang that ruined your life.

“There must be a mistake,” you shook your head, trying to make yourself believe this was a joke.

“It’s no mistake, Y/N. His name his Jaebeom Lim. He inherited the Lim Family Dynasty, which so happens to be one of the most violent and feared gangs this world has seen since the Gambino crime family,” he spread out more paperwork, new members popping up, people you had become friends with.

“This is the first file, of hundreds. They’re so dangerous, that we haven’t even put in an undercover cop to try and get information. They have an extreme vetting system,” he kept talking, but you everything felt like you were underwater.

Your mind was swimming with questions, and so much conflict. The one person who could finally bring you happiness, after you lived in a world of sadness for so long. His father was the reason for all of it, and now he was the man you had to take down. The game just got a lot more complicated.

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polaroidofus-89 · 5 years

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‘Lover’ song-by-song breakdown [part 1]:

Long before @taylorswift joined Tumblr (and a billion thousand of Swifties with her), when this website was still unknown to most of mankind, I always made a post about my first thoughts on the album, writing down my opinion and rating each song at the end of release week. The first time I did this was with Speak Now and I created a chart to rate Lyrics, Chorus, Bridge and whether the song is a Skip or not. The only time I skipped this post was during the reputation era because of reasons I explained back then - if you want, I’ll send you the link to that post.

This time, however, I must make this a two-part post because a) I just came back from my holiday today, b) I always listen to it three times before writing this post (right now I am on number 2) and c) this album is freaking long!

So here’s the charts (chorus and bridge rated 1-5; lyrics rated 1-3):

Chorus: 1- meh, nice; 2- good; 3- very good; 4- just magic; 5- PERFECTION

Bridge: 1- good, did better; 2- good; 3- quite perfect; 4- RIP ME. DEAD.; 5- BRIDGE CITY ALERT!!! (was previously BRIDGE HEAVEN... guess why it changed? lol)

Lyrics: 1- good; 2- great; 3- AMAZING

Also, since I have been more active lately and some very cute and amazing blogs started following me, I want you all to take part in this breakdown because I would love to read your thoughts and your ratings on each song!

So please, please, please join me in this adventure. Six months from this date (when we will all know the songs by heart), I’ll bring it back to see if anything has changed.

Anyway, here’s the first part of my breakdown... hope you enjoy it!

1. I Forgot That You Existed

Chorus: very good Bridge: good, did better Lyrics: good Skip? No Favorite lyrics: none in particular

Alright, say what you want but I am a sucker for sarcastic and provocative songs from Taylor; they always are filled with such irony and smart remarks… I just can’t help adoring them and memorize them from the first listen, going around humming the rhythm all day long. It happened with Mean, WANEGBT, Blank Space, Shake It Off, IDSB and TIWWCHNT… so it was obviously going to happen with this one too. I also think it would’ve made one hell of promo single – just sayin’. I am in awe of Taylor’s attitude towards people that hurt or badmouth her after being in some kind of relationship with her: she does not comment at first, letting them rant and have their little moment of glory. Then, when everything seems over and forgotten, she strikes back and I enjoy EVERY. SINGLE. MINUTE. OF. IT. This one I had been waiting for a long time because a certain someone DEFINITELY deserved it. The way a person behaves towards somebody AFTER their relationship ends says a lot about them and this particular individual proved to be childish, petty, arrogant and very immature – not to mention awfully mean. You can’t act that way about someone you’ve been with for ONE ENTIRE YEAR, someone you were supposed to be in love with. I hate this post-breakup kind of behavior and I had hoped so freaking hard that reputation would’ve had a song like this. But we have it now and secret sessioners were right: it is the most amazing way to start an album. What I love most about this song is the entire second verse: got out some popcorns as soon as my rep started going down, down, down/laughed in the schoolyard as soon as I tripped and hit the ground, ground, ground/ and I would’ve stuck around for ya/ would’ve fought the whole town for ya/would’ve been right there front row, even if nobody came to your show. I just know that it will make feel the person who inspired this song ashamed and won’t allow them any kind of response because it isn't hate, it isn’t love… IT’S JUST INDIFFERENCE. And I’m so proud of her for this.

2. Cruel Summer***

10/10 Chorus: PERFECT Bridge: BRIDGE CITY ALERT!!!!! Lyrics: great Skip? HARD NO Favorite lyrics: “Devils roll their dice; Angels roll their eyes” “what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more” “I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you”

Secret sessioners were onto something again: Out of The Woods stans would be suckers for Cruel Summer… I can confirm that is, indeed, true. This track feels like summer sunsets, road trips and a sequence of lovey-dovey moments straight out of a rom-com. I absolutely adored the lyrics on this one! I mean “what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more”, “no rules in breakable heaven”, “devils roll their dices, Angels roll their eyes”, “and if I bleed you’ll be the last to know” … what are we even talking about here? And don’t even get me started on the bridge: once again the Swift-Antonoff combination proved to be a winning choice. It’s Taylor Swift at her best and I have nothing more to add. This track is one of my favorites of the entire album and I am hoping it’ll be her next single.

3. Lover*****

10/10 Chorus: magic Bridge: RIP ME. I DIED. DEAD. Lyrics: AMAZING Skip? NEVER IN ANY LIFETIME Favorite lyrics: “have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?” “I’ve loved you three summers now honey but I want them all” “My heart’s been borrowed, yours has been blue all’s well that ends well to end up with you”

When Lover first came out, I asked my boyfriend ‘do you think this will be my favorite off of the album?’ and he said ‘no’. He was not wrong at all: Lover and Cornelia Street are battling in my head and in my heart for ‘favorite song’ on the album - I swear it has never been so difficult for me to decide! This track is just pure magic; every time I listen to it, I have a picture in my head of slow dancing during my wedding day and it always (always!) makes me emotional enough to shed a few tears. Honestly, it just gives me poetry vibes – it is that beautiful to me. I absolutely adore this one. This track is also one of my favorite songs – if not my favorite at all.

4. The Man***

10/10 Chorus: PERFECTION Bridge: very good Lyrics: AMAZING Skip? NEVER IN ANY LIFETIME Favorite Lyrics: “I’m so sick of running as fast as I can wondering if I’d get there quicker if I was a man”

When I read the interview in which Taylor played this song and explained it to the journalist, my excitement multiplied infinite times. Whoever said Taylor Swift is not a feminist should now go and sit in the corner, thinking about how idiotic such a statement is. This track perfectly summarized what a woman pursuing her goals in life has to go through daily and how hard it is when the world thinks you were born with the wrong attribute in the lower part of your body. It is very provocative and sarcastic, a real national anthem for women. I’m so very proud of her for writing this song, you have no idea. Of course, it has quickly earned a spot on my ‘top favorites’.

5. The Archer***

10/10 Chorus: good (pre-chorus is what I really love) Bridge: BRIDGE CITY ALERT!!! Lyrics: AMAZING Skip? NEVER IN ANY LIFETIME Favorite Lyrics: “All the king’s horses, all the king’s men couldn’t put me together again” “awake in the night, I pace like a ghost, the room is on fire, invisible ghosts”

Ah, the power of number 5! This song is life! The thing I love the most about this track is the way it speaks so much on an emotional level, using very little actual words. With track 5 we always got a very descriptive song: she wanted to tell us about an extremely delicate, heartbreaking moment in her life and walked us through the entire story with the lyrics. The Archer doesn’t give us a story, doesn’t talk to us about a distressing moment in her life… it tells us about a feeling – more than that, it gives us that feeling. The anxiety you have when you suffered one too many bad knockouts in life and you are always ready for something bad to happen, always ready for someone to betray you or leave you alone again. It’s a paralyzing fear, almost like you can’t breathe and the fact that Taylor was capable of putting it all into words… I just love her so much, you guys! Though not my favorite Track 5, it does get both a spot on my top three Track 5 (All Too Well and White Horse are number 1 and 2) and on my ‘top favorites’ for this album.

6. I Think He Knows

Chorus: meh Bridge: good, did better Lyrics: AMAZING Skip? Sadly, yes.

Ugh, this is a moment I hate very much. This is one of the only two songs I didn’t particularly like on this album. It breaks my heart to say this because I love both the lyrics (which I think are some of the best on the entire record) and the concept behind this song. But the rhythm just doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t speak to me like all the other songs do… something is just off. That being said, it is still a very good song. Let’s just say, I wouldn’t mind at all if it didn’t make it on the Lover Tour setlist. I know a lot of you love this song and I tried very hard to change my mind about it, but I just know it will be a skip for me.

7. Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

Chorus: very good

Bridge: magic

Lyrics: great

Skip? No

Favorite Lyrics:

“I’ll never let you (go), ‘cause I know this is a (fight), that someday we’re gonna (win)”

This one is absolutely incredible - also, my boyfriend’s favorite. It’s You belong with me older, more mature and melancholic sister. The bridge is what really made me fall in love with this track: one of the best she has ever written.

8. Paper Rings

Chorus: PERFECTION Bridge: quite perfect Lyrics: AMAZING Skip? Definitely no Favorite Lyrics: “I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this” “I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings”

OMG THIS SONG! This song is so so so cute! I love it! It’s fun and catchy and makes you want to dance so hard! I’m really looking forward to seeing this song performed live. And don’t even get me started on the chorus: I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings… are you kidding me? Tell me this is not the most amazing declaration of love you have ever heard! Once again, I agree with secret sessioners: it does give Stay, Stay, Stay vibes and I’m totally here for it. These are the kind of songs that I missed the most during rep era and I’m so happy that we got Paper Rings, you have no idea!

9. Cornelia Street*****

10/10 Chorus: PERFECTION Bridge: quite perfect Lyrics: AMAZING Skip? NEVER IN ANY LIFETIME Favorite Lyrics: (too many to count) “I rent a place on Cornelia Street I say casually in the bar” “that’s the kind of heartbreak time could never mend” “as if the streetlights pointed in an arrowhead leading us home”

When the tracklist came out and we found out about the Cornelia flowers Easter eggs I just knew that this song was going to hit very hard in the feelings: it was the only Easter egg she has repeated plenty of times, ever since Me! Came out. When we found out that she had written this one by herself, my expectation flew to the moon and back. It did not disappoint in any way: I LOVE THIS SONG! It’s so soft and romantic, my heart can’t take it! I also very much liked the production on this one. Seriously, one of Taylor’s best song for me. The reason I can’t decide which one between this and Lover is my ultimate favorite is that whenever I am finally convinced about one being it, I listen to the other and I’m stuck again. I don’t know if that was clear enough for everyone to understand but… yeah, I’ll let you know if I ever make up my mind.

#taylor swift #taylornation #Lover era #lover #westandbytaylor

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likethetailofacomet · 5 years

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let’s hear some fluffy anecdotes about Claire and Drake! Camera / Friends / Inside Jokes / Movies / Pizza / Soft / Vanity / X

Yes, Let’s!! Going to break this up into two posts for now because some of them got longer than necessary I planned.

Camera: (roughly 7 years from current LTLA timeline)Drake snapped a photo of Jacqueline, Cecelia and Claire as they walked towards the playground; a candid, one that he could take to work with him, to see his girls just as they are. He smiled to himself as he looked at it, saw the tilt of Claire’s head as she looked down at Cecelia, could hear the giggle in his daughters’ smiles as they excitedly reacted to what their mother was saying. He sighed and pocketed his phone, following his family over to the swing set. . . . . . “Momma! Pappa! Watch me how high I’m going!” Jacqueline called from the swings. Drake had just shown her how to swing herself by pumping her legs as the swing rocked back and forth, and she was extremely proud of how well she was executing her new skill. “Look at you, Jacq! You’re flying!” Claire praised her, adjusting Cecelia on her lap. The younger Walker girl was carrying on a conversation between two dolls in her pudgy little hands while Claire tried to wrangle her hair back into a ponytail. “Fearless,” Drake beamed at his oldest daughter. “Jacqueline Rose on the flying trapeze.” He knew this would spark a reaction, and he was rewarded when her deep brown eyes doubled in size and her nearly toothless grin popped wide open. Every time one of his girls smiled at him like that he thought he might burst with love and pride. Would you just look at that kid? he’d think. Can you believe she’s mine?“Like Amazing Esme!” Jacqueline squealed, citing her favorite bedtime story, her braided pigtails trailing behind her as she swung even higher in delight. “Mesme!” Cecelia piped in. “Jackie swings like Memsme!” She giggled in Claire’s lap. “That’s right,” Drake said. “The Amazing Jacqueline!” He stood a few feet in front of the swing and held his arms out.”Ready when you are, Amazing.” Claire set Cecelia back down on the bench next to her having finished with her hair, and pulled her phone out, opening the camera. She snapped a quick picture of Celia, her little eyes squinted all the way shut and her nose wrinkled up as she said “Cheese!” without being prompted. Claire laughed and bent to kiss her daughter’s head before turning the lens on Drake and Jacqueline just as her fearless girl jumped into her father’s arms. Claire’s heart swelled with joy as Drake’s big, strong arms came around their tiny six year old daredevil, as Jackie clung to his shirt, barely able to breathe for how hard she was laughing. She swiped back and forth between the two. How on this Earth did I get so lucky?. . . . . The girls were “racing” from one end of the playground to the other, Jacqueline intentionally slowing her longer, quicker strides so that Cecelia could toddle along and feel like she had a chance. “Come on, Celia, faster!” she urged as Celia’s blue eyes darkened with determination. Claire was watching them run, happiness and love written all over her face. Drake was watching Claire. He’d always love the way it looked when something flashed across her face. She felt his eyes on her and turned. “Hey, Walker,” she said, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. “Hey yourself, Berkley,” he said back, his lips smiling against hers. He ran his fingers through her hair, tucking a piece of it behind her ear before twirling her earring and dropping his hand to her shoulder. “Pappa! Kiss Momma again, hang on wait…”Drake and Claire both whipped their heads around to see Jackie holding Claire’s phone, trying to take a picture. “Yeah, okay,” she stuck her tongue between her teeth and gave a thumbs up. Claire bit her bottom lip trying to contain her laughter as Drake leaned in, a smile widening on his face. “Better do what she says, Momma. She’s fearless, after all.” he caught her lips with his as Jacqueline snapped the picture-crooked but somehow more perfect that way- and Cecelia clapped and giggled. Friends: (about 2 years after LTLA) “Drake,” she said through the speaker, her voice sounding nervously excited. Or was it excitedly nervous? He wasn’t sure, he was too busy figuring out which way it was going for himself. “I just… it’s cutting it close and I don’t understand who you could possibly be picking up right now, I mean…if anything, should someone be giving you a ride? I mean…how many grooms drive themselves to their weddings?” Her words were spilling out of her mouth and he knew that meant she was getting worried. Though he didn’t want her to worry today of all days, he felt real happiness at the fact that he knew that detail about her. He knew lots of little details like that about her, and he’d only keep learning them after today. For the rest of my life. “Just have to make one quick stop, Berkley. Last minute detour. But don’t worry, nothing could keep me from marrying you.”Claire relaxed a bit at the tone in his voice, at the sincerity. She looked around her, the sun glinting off of the lake and casting an other-worldly glow on the trees and surrounding wildflowers. She realized it didn’t matter if he was five minutes late, or ten. It didn’t matter because at the end of the day they’d be married and she’d be his wife. Forever. She sighed, looking over to Hana and Olivia, glad that they both were free on such short notice. She knew Max and Liam would be there shortly, and she felt her heart swell at the way Drake’s life, his friends, had seamlessly melded with hers. Brielle had even flown in the night before. If only Dan were here. Liam and Maxwell showed up next and not long after there were another set of tires pulling up on the gravelly road. Claire heard a door slam heavily and recognized it as Drake’s truck, and her heart skipped and flipped in her chest. He’s here. This is it. Then she heard a second door shut, and a familir voice call, “Hey, C, wanna take a short, aisle sized walk with me?”She spun around, tears already in her eyes. Drake had picked Daniel up from the airport after he’d called him asking if there was any way that he could come and make their wedding day more perfect. Claire knew that she wasn’t supposed to let Drake see her before the actual wedding, but she couldn’t help herself. As Dan hugged her tightly she looked over his shoulder and mouthed “Love you,” to her soon to be husband. Love you, Berkley, he thought, gazing at his forever.Inside Jokes:The kids were all asleep in their tent, exhausted from an afternoon of hiking through the woods in Seneca Falls, New York. Claire had grown up camping in New York’s beautiful upstate region, and the fact that she finally got to come back, not just with Drake but with their children, with Brielle and her family…she was one happy camper. They’d played word games to pass the time on the long hike up the side of Lucifer Falls, Elijah only getting frustrated once when he couldn’t figure out the rules to the game “picnic”. His letter was D. Claire had started off with apples, Jacqueline following with banana pie, Cecelia- ecstatic that she got the letter that her name began with- brought cookies, and when Elijah said he wanted to bring their dog, S’mores, the girls had giggled and used the phrase that the game called for “you can’t come to the picnic!” S’mores barked and wagged his tail at the idea of getting to go to a picnic, trotting along beside his family. Drake had scooped up his scowling son and said, low in the boy’s ear, “Me, you and S’mores’ll have our own picnic.” He tickled Eli’s ribs until he squirmed in Drake’s large hands, and his father set him back down as he ran to catch up with his sisters and their dog. Now, it was just Drake and Claire…and a flask of whiskey…sitting by the fire, music from a camp radio playing softly. Claire was sitting in Drake’s lap in the canvas folding bench, his thick arms around her. She was wearing one of his thermal shirts as even though it was summer, the nights were chilly, and she took any chance she had to steal one of his flannels. Drake passed her the flask and she took a long pull before passing it back. “Drake,” she hummed, and he realized what was happening as she swayed a little and kissed his neck. Fireworks erupted there and he let out a heavy breath as his wife’s drunken lips left three more deliciously languid kisses along his throat. His hands pressed her flat against his chest, and he marveled at the feel of her, her curves, her breathing, her hair tickling his ear. Suddenly a song that he knew she loved came on the radio and she pulled back and looked at him with that look…and again he realized what was happening as she stood up and laughed. “I…LOVE this song, Drake!” And she proceeded to sing along, flubbing some words, skipping over others entirely, almost stumbling, and covering it by ending up in his lap again to close out her number. “I love it when you go Gaga on me,” he bit the air in front of her nose before kissing it, referring to the first birthday he spent with her, when she sang him drunken karaoke. He’d lovingly called her tipsy, vocalist alter-ego Lady Gaga ever since. “Come on, Gaga, let’s go hit the hay,” he said, scooping her up over his shoulder like he’d done over a decade ago, still just as much in love with her. No, more. More every day.

tagging: @zaffrenotes @ooo-barff-ooo @brightpinkpeppercorn @sleepwalkingelite @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @gardeningourmet @thequeenofcronuts @mfackenthal @mkatschoicesblog @drakewalkerisreal @jlouise88 @drakesensworld @stopforamoment @gibbles82 @iplaydrake

#drake x claire #fill it with love #fluff abc #ask me for fluff #part two of these asks coming soon!

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nightlyarrows · 5 years

Text

GHOSTS OF HIS RELATIONSHIPS PAST (1/4)

each night for the next four nights tristan was visited by a ghost of his past relationship. a dream encompassing all the details and making him feel heartbreak for the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth time again when it came to love. how stupid was he to think that it wouldn’t end this way? he was cursed not only when it came to being a beast, a natural hunter, but also someone who would never be good enough. while the dreams were all different, they were extremely realistic. anyone that could peer into his mind or would hear about them would wonder if his heart was shattered into that many pieces. after a while wouldn’t he no longer have a heart anymore? no one was finding out because he locked it away in a vault when it came having the title of being someone’s boyfriend.

freshmen year of high school on december 21st was the happiest day of his life. not only was it the last day of school, but it was also his birthday. he had already worked his way up to popularity and everyone was celebrating. tristan felt like a king and he had finally found his queen. that same day he grew enough courage to ask cassandra out. she was the first person that he felt close to after losing his best friend. he couldn’t be completely honest with her, but he didn’t have to share that part of himself right away. was it lying if you just didn’t say anything? either way the whole school knew that these two were going to reach greatness when they came back the next quarter. slowly working their way up on the social chain they were even a threat to the senior couple of the time.

they spent the summer still in the honeymoon phase, but it was finally time to get serious. tristan was the one that brought up their next steps. he was never afraid of commitment. he told her that he was going to join the lacrosse team and that she should join the cheerleading team. at the beginning of sophomore year both of them made varsity which was almost unheard of until junior year. now they truly had their thrones when it came to power and popularity. tristan couldn’t believe that his first relationship seemed so easy, that it would be the last one he ever had. cassandra seemed to want everything that he wanted and she was perfect for him. everyone seemed to want to be them, especially junior year of high school.

both of them had made captain and practically secured the spot for the next two years. he was head over heels, but also blinded by love. the second half of this year was when cass started to distance herself from him in private. whenever they had to go to a party or game, she was there. yet whenever he asked her out privately something always seemed to come up with her family. ❛ i have to babysit my cousin, my aunt’s in the hospital, i have to feed the dog... ❜ how many aunts and cousins did she have that those were her first excuses? tristan was still holding on. as hopeful as ever he didn’t think that this was a sign of any trouble. the honeymoon phase might have been over, but they still loved each other. didn’t they?

senior year came and there was no doubt that they ruled the school. she was the queen bitch, but he was the soft jock on her arm. he didn’t pick on nerds or shove people into lockers. instead he was the type to do community service and make their rep look even better. flash forward to their last quarter together and everything hit the fan. ❛ stop being so obsessed with me! so what if i don’t want to tell you what school i picked? it’s not like i’m going to let you follow me there. ❜ thank god that this conversation was in the confine of her own room and no one was there. cassandra wasn’t wearing the ring that tristan had got her after they had sex. she was being even colder than before. he was starting to feel like she was just using her.

hope, hope, hope. for someone that thought this was the person he was going to spend the rest of his life with he couldn’t just give up. prom season came around and they were a shoe-in for king and queen. she seemed to be in a better mood that month, so he was feeling much better about the whole situation. tristan decided to go to his best friend’s house before their prom to see if he was picking up his girlfriend or they were going to carpool. isaac was dating irene, cassandra’s best friend. it was normal for him to let himself in because isaac’s parents were never around and he knew where the spare key was. so he went upstairs and walked right into his friend’s room.

he froze at the door when he saw two people on the bed together. his friend’s head was shoved under a woman’s skirt but it wasn’t irene, it was cassandra. tristan’s breath hitched, his heart stopped beating, and his body felt cold. if he didn’t know any better he thought that he was having some attack of some sort. she saw him and pulled isaac up. the archer could only slam the door shut and run away. he got back into his car and sped back home. what hurt him the most was that he never saw either of them running after him in the rearview mirror. he made it all the way back home and didn’t feel any disturbance from them. they were probably fucking right as he cut through the side of his house and walked into the woods.

tristan didn’t even have enough effort to climb up the tree this time. tears were building up, eyes already red, as he slid down and sat against his favorite tree. knees were pushed up to his chest and he finally let it all out once he buried his head in his knees and arms. he had to muffle the cries, no one could know that he was there. this was too embarrassing to let anyone see him this way. he spent four hours there. sometimes he was crying, other times he was just staring into nothing, other times he was punching the ground. that’s when she found him.

❛ god, you’re so pathetic. ❜ cassandra through the king’s crown at his feet once she saw the tears were dried up. she was actually holding back a laugh. ❛ did you think that i actually liked you? i was only using you because i knew you were going to be popular and hook me up when it came to the others. ❜ she shrugged her shoulders as she looked down at her manicure. thankfully she didn’t chip anything on her way her, on the way to their spot. ❛ isaac and i have been doing it long before you grew the balls to fuck me yourself and he’s much better than you are. now that we got the crowns i guess this means we’re done, right? ❜ how was she saying this with a smile on her face?

tristan woke up the same way that he was in his dream. tears were dried up on his cheek as he sat up on his bed. it was like staring into the darkness of the woods again. he didn’t know why he had that dream, how long had he been asleep for, or what was going on, but he didn’t want to find out....

#ya'll get the dark icons for this #cause i don't plan on any of them being happy #ghosts of his relationships past

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master-sass-blast · 6 years

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Wade. No. Stop.

Sometimes, I write fluff. Sometimes, I write angst.

Sometimes, I write crack

Welcome to the drug trip.

Summary: Wade finds out that Piotr grew up on a farm and teases the two of you relentlessly about enjoying cow play. He crosses an unforgivable line, and you decide to get revenge.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, and Ellie Phimister x Yukio.

Rating: M for utter sexual inappropriateness, vague descriptions of vomiting, and strong language.

Many thanks to the CACAT discord for helping me come up with some of Wade’s various pranks.

Being best friends with Wade Wilson comes with a number of advantages.

First, if you ever need someone to help you hide a body at 3:48 in the morning during a tornado watch, he’s your guy. He’ll even take you out for pancakes afterward.

Second, his extensive knowledge of the Internet and all things Golden Girls makes him a surprisingly valuable ally on trivia night.

Third, he always has a vast supply of junk food on hand, hidden in little stores around his room --in airtight containers to keep bugs out, thank you Nathan. Snack nights with Wade are the best.

Fourth, he’s genuinely everything you’d ever want in a big brother. Severely inappropriate sense of humor with a gun collection he’s happy to let you borrow from and the best taste in spike heels? Uh, yes please!

You know, not to mention the fact that he loves on you at any given opportunity like the touch-starved octopus he is, will happily waste a day watching YouTube or movies with you if you’re feeling down, and always checks before each shark week to make sure you’re stocked on everything you might need --even though he knows that you and Piotr manage that just fine, he says you deserve to have someone checking in on you.

Which is wonderful. He’s wonderful. In his own weird, mildly stabby sort of way.

However, there are times where being friends with Wade comes with... challenges. Let’s call them challenges.

First challenge: Wade is a purely destructive force of nature when he gets bored.

And not in the ‘I-tried-to-do-wood-shop-things-and-broke-a-few-power-tools’ kind of way.

He’s most liable to go to Blind Al’s and get high on cocaine. Which was unnerving the first couple times he did it, admittedly. Wade gets extremely wound up when he’s on coke, and while his dust bunny catching skills are impressive, the French maid’s outfit he prances around is not.

That particular incident had been a distinct feature in your nightmares for several weeks. You’re still not sure you’re over it.

Fortunately, though, now that he and Nathan are together, most of Wade’s coke episodes are handled by the time-traveling cyborg. He simply scoops Wade up with some telekinesis, takes him to their shared room, and stays in there with him until Wade comes down from his high.

Unfortunately, however, Wade’s boredom fits don’t always involve coke --and, when they don’t, Nathan’s ability to circumvent Wade’s destructive tendencies runs out pretty quickly.

When Wade isn’t coking himself out, he’s shooting things. Or blowing things up. Or lighting them on fire. Or... doing unspeakable things to them.

And, since none of the telepaths in the mansion can read Wade to figure out what he’s doing ahead of time, there’s no stopping him beforehand. It’s always follow the sounds of destruction and clean it up afterward.

Which is what the ‘flaming pool incident,’ the ‘juggling chainsaws incident,’ and the ‘whipped cream in the fire suppression sprinkler system’ are all categorized as. As are the ‘carpet of actual kittens, Wade how did you even get this many kittens, oh god Remy’s allergic to cat hair someone get his Epi-Pen,’ the ‘mac and cheese overflowing from all the toilets,’ the ‘how did Poptarts get glued to the ceiling?’, the ‘wait, you aren’t actually barbecuing a person, oh shit you are, WADE NO, I don’t care if it was for a job and you only need a picture and you weren’t actually going to eat it,’ and the ‘en masse tp-ing’ incidents. Not to mention--

Perhaps the list ought to be left for another time. You know Scott has a file cabinet or two devoted to Wade’s exploits, and there’s no way you’re going to make it through all of them right now.

(Though, in Wade’s defense, if he had known Remy had allergies to cat hair, he wouldn’t have brought cats into the mansion.)

Second challenge: Wade will argue with anything.

True story. It doesn’t even have to be breathing. You’ve watched him carry on a two hour argument with a plastic ficus at Sister Margaret’s. And he lost.

Admittedly, this comes in handy when the game of the night at the X-Mansion is ‘debater’s table.’ You and Wade have an unbroken winning streak.

Unfortunately, that winning streak is only a total of one because everyone decided --aside from you and Wade--that ‘debater’s table’ would be banned henceforth. Possibly maybe definitely because you tried to supplex Scott through the table when he called one of your points ‘uninspired.’

In your defense, Wade tried to help.

In both of your defenses, they really should’ve known better than to put two of the most combative people in the house on the same team --let alone play such a competitive game with them.

Extra unfortunately, Wade’s argumentative streak is the literal biggest pain in anyone’s ass at any other given time.

Especially when rules are involved.

“Wade!”

“Hang on! Hang on!” you shout as you hear your boyfriend tromp through the mansion in defense mode. You grab your bag of insta-popcorn from the microwave and run in the direction of Piotr’s angry stomping, swearing as you toss the searing bag from hand to hand. You sprint towards the clinic room Wade is being patched back together in and dive into your chair, perched between Ellie and Neena.

Neena opens the bag without burning herself, somehow. “Thanks. These are a pain in the ass to sit through without a snack.”

Ellie reaches across you and grabs a handful for her and Yukio to share. “Try to get the Parmesan cheese kind next time. The generic flavor is boring.”

“I tried, but I think we’re out. We’ll have to restock.” When you realize Piotr is watching you four with a mildly exasperated expression, you wave your hand at him. “You can start now. We’re ready.”

He shakes his head, then refocuses on Wade --who’s still regrowing a leg and several bullet holes. “Wade. How many times do I have to say--”

“You can say my name as much as you want, you big silver stud,” Wade interjects before your boyfriend even had a chance to work up a head of steam. “I never get tired of hearing it.”

“Down, boy,” Nathan mutters in his seat next to Wade’s hospital bed.

“What is first rule?” Piotr asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“Label everything in the refrigerator.”

You wince internally as you watch Piotr restrain himself from yanking Wade out of the bed and slamming him against the nearest wall. “Why does he keep opening with that?” you whisper to Ellie. “It never works.”

“Because he’s hoping it will someday,” Ellie whispers back. “Pass the popcorn.”

“You know that is not first rule,” Piotr growls --and damn if that doesn’t do something for you--accent thickening with his anger. “As much as you play idiot, you are not one.”

“Oh, honeypie, I’m touched! But not in the way I’d like to be, if you know what I me--”

You cough pointedly, and Wade relents with an apologetic gesture of his hands.

“Point stands, Tin Man on steroids, I genuinely don’t know what I’ve done wrong or what I’ve done to deserve this raging Russian display of restrained passion --not that I’m complaining, mind you--”

“Rule One: No killing. Ever.” Piotr’s jaw flexes, and there’s a slight metal scraping noise as he grits his teeth. “How is that so hard to understand?”

“Uh, because some people deserve to die. Specifically, the actual child traffickers we were fighting today. Because they’re actual. Child. Traffickers.”

“You do not have right to take lives!”

“Uh, like hell I do! Did you miss the part where they were child traffickers?”

“Who’s winning?” Yukio asks quietly as she scoops more popcorn into her mouth.

“Unfortunately, I think Wade is,” Ellie murmurs.

“You can’t honestly look at me and say the world is worse off for me having killed those guys. Honestly.”

Piotr’s hands clench into fists. He’s on the losing side of the argument, and he knows it. “Your actions reflect on all of mutant kind.”

“Not a mutant, my comrade. I’m a reject science experiment. Come on, the first movie literally covered this in extreme, nude detail!”

“Your actions still reflect on X-Men. We can’t afford to have easily misconstrued actions on our hands.”

Wade shrugs. “Hey, you asked me to come with. You know how I handle people like that, and you asked me anyway. Frankly, I’m not sure I like that you’re willing to let fuckers like that live for the sake of your image.”

Piotr’s jaw tenses.

“Holy shit,” Neena breathes. “He’s winning. He’s literally regrowing a limb. How is this even possible?”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you mutter. “Wade fucking Wilson.”

“Need I remind you that staying at X-Mansion is privilege,” Piotr says, tone icy. “Those who cannot follow rules cannot stay.”

“Fine. I know where the door is. Say the word and I’m gone. I’m still gonna deal with the irredeemable assholes of the world the way I always do whether I’m here or not: scrub them out, one at a time, until there aren’t any left and I can finally retire for the rest of eternity.”

You’re starting to see just exactly why Nathan fell for Wade.

Piotr glares at the mouthy merc for a moment before turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

Wade flops back against his bed with a wince and sighs. “I take it that one goes to me?”

“Amazingly, yes,” Ellie says as she stands, hand already wrapped around Yukio’s. “Stop killing people, dipshit.”

“No can do, Negasonic Beetlejuice. Bye, Yukio!”

“Bye, Wade!”

You toss the empty popcorn bag into the trash and brush your hands off on your pants. “I’m gonna go find Piotr before he implodes on himself.”

You could technically add in Wade’s less than lucid days and grumpy pain-slash-feeling suicidal days in as challenges, but you don’t think there’s anyone in the mansion that would have the heart to assign that to the him as a consequence of his own behavior and choices.

Which, by default, only leaves one other challenge: Wade’s perverted sense of humor.

Wade’s sense of humor is like a fire hydrant: all or nothing. Unstoppable once it’s started. Overwhelming in every sense of the word.

Unlike a fire hydrant, it’s also largely sexual.

Which happens into some less than stellar moments where Wade hits on anything in sight --including your boyfriend--not so much because he wants to fuck whatever he’s laid eyes on, but because he loves the reactions his increasingly horrifying innuendos get.

And, admittedly, he’s funny ninety-nine percent of the time. He has a mouth that won’t quit and he’s not afraid to use it.

However, he does happen into that one percent of the time where it’s just. Too. Much.

Cue the cow-play incident and your revenge on Wade for all his related wrong doings.

You’re all sitting around the kitchen table when the fateful bit of information comes out.

“Wait, hold the fucking phone for a minute.” Wade stares at Piotr, shocked. “You grew up on a farm?”

Piotr nods. “Da. In Siberia.”

“What did you farm? Ice?”

That gets an eye roll. “Nyet, Wade. Cattle, mostly. It was easiest to maintain.”

“Well I’ll be darned,” Wade says in an offensively hickish Southern accent. “Ol’ Petey-pie’s jus’ a regular cowboy, ain’t he?”

“Stop it,” Ellie says flatly as she scrolls through Tumblr. “You sound stupid.”

“That was the point, Negasonic laser canon, thank you very much.” He refocuses on Piotr with a familiar glint in his eye. “So, is it stereotypical of me to ask if you two do the cowgirl position a lot?”

You flick a Cheeto at him while Piotr sighs heavily. “Stop it. Stop being gross.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I don’t want to know about all your cow-play activities anyway.”

And that’s... not a term you’re familiar with. You dig your phone out of your pocket and type in the term into your search engine.

Across the table, Ellie sucks in a breath. “Y/N, no!”

It’s too late.

It’s all too late.

Your precious brain will never be the same.

You stare down at the Urban Dictionary definition, unable to tear your gaze away as your brain tries to comprehend the horrors of Wade’s implications.

Next to you, Piotr drops his head into his hands. “Wade, no--”

“So you do know what it is! You kinky fuck! Here I thought you wouldn’t want to be milked--”

That mental image makes you scream. You drop to the floor and cover your face with your hands. “Oh God, why? Why! Wade, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey, no kinkshaming! As long as you two are both consenting--”

“Shut! Up!” You roll to your feet and glare at him. “I didn’t need to know about any of that! I was fine just the way I was without learning about that corner of the world!”

“Oh, but you so weren’t!” Wade cackles. “Man, your reaction was priceless--”

You charge after him, hellbent on beating the ever living shit out of him.

You do, but it’s too late.

Wade’s hooked on the joke.

It starts with texts. Usually late at night, when Wade’s still up and normal people are trying to sleep.

The first one comes in the same night at two in the morning.

It takes a moment for your eyes to focus on the small lettering, but when they do you wish they hadn’t.

Bro: So, how did the milking session go tonight?

Piotr groans when you toss your phone across the room. “What?”

You flop down next to him with a huff. “Don’t even ask.”

From there, it just gets worse. Not only do the texts become at least a daily feature in your life, but Wade starts tormenting you and Piotr in other ways.

Bro: Question. Does Colossus ‘moo’ when he climaxes?

You: Fuck. Off.

You hadn’t thought anything of it other than Wade was hellbent on being an annoying prick, and had shoved your phone into your pocket.

Until later that night, when Wade loudly, dramatically shouts “I can’t find my phone!”

And Piotr, being the kind and gentle soul that he is, says “I can call it.”

You spy Wade’s phone on the kitchen table, in very obvious and plain view, which isn’t anything suspicious because Wade could lose anything, anywhere.

What is suspicious, however, is the devious grin Wade’s wearing.

You almost tell Piotr to hang up, but the call connects before you can say anything.

Wade’s phone vibrates across the table, playing the distinctive sounds of cows mooing in chorus.

You smack your palm against your forehead, while Piotr merely sighs and hangs up. “Just stop it already!”

After that, it’s just unstoppable.

You find cow everything everywhere. Black and white pictures taped inside the covers of books or tucked in your shoes. A bundle of cow fridge magnets addressed to your boyfriend in red crayon --not subtle, Wade, by the way. An email with a couple’s Halloween costume set of a farmer and --you guessed it--a dairy cow.

The subject line of the email reads “Because milking should be an equal opportunity pastime,” which really should’ve been all the hint you needed.

And the texts. Holy fucking tits, the texts.

They’re horrible. Obscene. They use entirely too many emojis in ways that the app creators never intended!

Bro: philly cheesesteak all in that order, chili cheese fries as a starter got the steroids keeping me stronger bitch im a cow, bitch im a cow, i am not a cat, i dont say meow bitch im a cow, bitch im a cow

Bro: ca$h rules everything around me ice cream ice cream you a calf bitch, you ma daughter i ain't bothered get slaughtered got the methane, i'm a farter with my farmer mcdonald and they feed me real good, it's a honor

Bro: I took the liberty of doing a little redecorating before leaving town for my job. Hope you like it!

Okay, that last text isn’t necessarily obscene, but it is... concerning.

You meet Piotr right by the main staircase. He looks just as panicked as you do, which means he got the text, too. “How bad do you think it’s gonna be?”

He looks up the flight of stairs, expression fearful. “Probably worse than what I could imagine.”

The two of you climb the stairs in silence, proceeding like prisoners to their slaughter --execution.

Dammit Wade.

There’s a trail of straw in the hallway that leads to your shared bedroom.

“Oh God no,” you whisper. “Please. No.”

Piotr groans. “This will be impossible to clean up.”

“I think there are other priorities to think about here.”

“I can’t. If I do, I might go insane.”

You walk together to the bedroom door, which has a note attached to it.

You’re welcome for fulfilling all your kinky dreams! --Wade

Piotr tears the note off and crumples it. He put his hand on the door knob, then looks at you. “Like bandaid, da?”

You take a deep breath, steel yourself, then nod. “My body is ready.”

He pushes the door open, and--

It’s worse than you could’ve imagined.

The floor is covered with straw, from corner to corner. On the desk is a machine that looks extremely suspect--

Piotr groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “...blyad.”

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Da.”

“Dammit, Wade.” You spy a Hello Kitty sticky note attached to the side and peel it off.

Fun fact! You can buy Dairy Cow milking machines at Walmart! Who knew? --Wade

Perhaps most suspect, however, is the massive cardboard box sitting on your bed.

With a sigh, you walk over and tear it open. “May as well get it over with. How bad could it be?”

So much worse, is the answer. Apparently.

Sitting right on top are a cattle prod and a branding iron.

You close your eyes and try to breathe through the aneurysm you’re suffering from right now. “Life Lesson Number One: It can always get worse, especially when Wade’s involved.”

There’s also a pack of gloves that go all the way up to the shoulder, a coupon for a free septum piercing, and a book.

On.

Artifical. Fucking. Insemination.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, and it takes all your will power not to chuck it out the window. You inhale deeply and look down at the screen.

Bro: You like it?

You: FUCK. YOU.

The final straw, believe it or not, actually comes a few weeks later. Because you draw the line at being made to vomit.

You’re in the kitchen, innocently pouring yourself a glass of milk to go with a few cookies you’d swiped from one of Wade’s snack stashes when the merc himself walks in.

He stops, waits for you to eat one of the cookies and drink half the glass of milk, then cocks his head to the side and says, “You know, I may have not expected you to milk Pete, but I sure as fuck didn’t think you would store it in the fridge and drink it.”

And that sentence --along with the mental image it conjures up-is enough to make you gag. Your eyes water and your stomach churns, and you have to set down your glass of milk to keep from spilling it all over yourself.

Wade’s waiting, grinning deviously, clearly expecting you to give him hell for what he just said.

Except you don’t. You can’t. You can’t get the mental image of... that out of your head, and it’s making you nauseous.

You sprint past Wade and to the nearest bathroom. You throw open the door, flip the toilet lid and seat up with a resounding smack, and brace yourself for the oncoming storm.

Halfway through puking everything in your stomach, Piotr darts in and pulls your hair away from your face. “Myshka, is everything alright? Are you sick? What happened?”

“She can’t talk,” Ellie says somewhere in the background. “She’s puking. And Douchepool’s looking pretty guilty.”

You can almost hear the glare Piotr gives Wade. “Wade. What did you do?”

“I wasn’t trying to make her puke!”

You dry heave once, twice, and then when you’re sure nothing else is coming up anytime soon you glare over your shoulder at the merc and point an accusing finger at him. “This means war. I’m going to fucking murder you.”

Wade, at least, has the decency to look sheepish. “Yeah, I probably deserve it.”

You’re in the middle of plotting what exactly you’re going to do to Wade --high road be damned, Piotr, some things just required a strong response--when you happen upon a calendar and realize what’s coming up in three days.

It’s perfect. Fated by the universe. There was never a better time for revenge than now.

You fish twenty dollars out of your wallet and go in search of Nathan.

The older man’s in his room, sitting at his desk while he glares down various monitors with findings about various corrupt politicians, black markets, and skeezy billionaires.

You knock on the door frame. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.” He swivels in his chair and takes off his reading glasses. “What can I help you with, kid?”

You hold out the twenty dollars to him. “I made a deal with you about six months ago. You helped me escape Wade’s rant on Halloween in exchange for me promising to help you prank Wade. And twenty bucks.”

He accepts the cash with a sly smirk. “You did.”

“I take it I don’t have to bring you up to speed about Wade’s latest bullshit?”

“You don’t.”

“So, here’s what I’m thinking: I help you prank Wade, and I also get my revenge. Sound good?”

He grins. “Mutually beneficial. Good way of thinking.”

“Great. Do you have a driver’s license?”

“I have a fake one.”

“Close enough. We need to get some supplies.”

There are, of course, a few ground rules.

“One, no destroying anything. Two, nothing about Vanessa; I don’t want to give him a mental break down. Three, nothing I can get in trouble with the Professor for.”

Nathan nods. “Sounds reasonable.”

The first stop is Whole Foods, where the two of you get the blandest, healthiest, boring-est stuff you can find.

Quinoa. So much quinoa. You never want to see this much quinoa again in your life.

The next stop is Home Depot. You clean them out of leaf blowers.

The stop after that is Lowes. You clean them out of leaf blowers, too.

The average person might find it suspect that your plan requires so many leaf blowers. You really don’t care about what average people think.

After the hardware stores, you stop at a craft store and buy as many plain t shirts as you can and enough fabric markers and puff paint to stock a summer camp.

When you drag everything into yours and Piotr’s room --sans leaf blowers, you leave those in the trunk of Nathan’s car for the time being--you boyfriend gives you a puzzled look. “Myshka? What is all this for?”

You grin up at him. “Revenge. Duh.”

He sighs. “Moya lyubov’, I thought we talked about taking high road.”

“I promised Cable I would help him prank Wade for April Fool’s! You wouldn’t want me to go back on my word, would you?”

It’s a bullshit argument, granted, but it’s not one he can technically out talk you on without giving himself a headache. He sighs and gives you his patented “dad look.” “Y/N.”

“Piotr. We’re not destroying anything, we got our own stuff to make sure we weren’t damaging X-Men property, and we’re not doing anything that relates to Vanessa. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He relents with a sigh. “Very well. Since you are being responsible about it, I will not complain.”

You lean up on your toes and kiss his cheek. “Thank you, honey. Can I ask one little favor, though?”

“...Da.”

“Can we use your forty-eight hour or less delivery thing with Amazon? There’s some stuff we couldn’t find at the craft store that we still need to get.”

The night before April Fool’s, you and Nathan put everything into motion while Wade’s out of the house on a job.

You switch out all his snack stashes with the healthy, delicious, bland shit you got from Whole Foods; you commandeer the food, hiding it in yours and Piotr’s room.

“It’s just for a day or two, and then I’ll give most of it back!”

“All of it.”

“Ugh, fine!”

Next, you hide all his shirts and replace with them blank ones you’d gotten from the craft store --after writing “I hate Bea Arthur” on all of them with fabric markers and puff paint.

The cherry on top, though, is the death gauntlet you and Nathan construct in the backyard. You tarp off the sides and the tops, put a spraying rig at the very front filled with aerated spirit gum, and attach the leaf blowers at regular intervals down the length of the gauntlet.

And then you fill the barrels of said blowers with glitter.

“Where’d you even get this idea?” Nathan asks as he eyes the fruits of your mutual labor.

“Wade,” you say as you pull the final piece of the puzzle out of your backpack --Wade’s unicorn, Mr. Fluffykins. “He wanted to do this to Scott.”

Nathan chuckles, sharp and gravely. “Nice.”

You carefully carry Mr. Fluffykins down the gauntlet, careful not to disturb any of the glitter canons on your way. You set him on a pedestal out of range of the canons, give him a pat, then creep back down the gauntlet again. Once you’re free, you exhale and grin at Nathan. “I think we’ve got April Fool’s day pretty well in hand, don’t you?”

He grins back. “I’m inclined to agree.”

The day starts, delightfully enough, with Wade wailing at the top of his lungs.

You snicker as you sit down at the kitchen table while Piotr rummages around in the fridge --having anticipated the absolute hell today would bring, he’s already in defense mode. “Do you think it’s the shirts, the unicorn, or the snacks?”

He shakes his head, but you can just barely see the corner of the amused smile he’s wearing. “No comment.”

Wade storms into the kitchen, looking pissed off. “What the fuck did you do with Mr. Fluffykins? Where is he?”

You smirk. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Perfectly fucking fine, until I realized that my one and only unicorn love was missing. Where. Is. He.”

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

Wade flips you off and storms upstairs. Less than five minutes later, you hear him shriek again. “Quinoa? I hate quinoa!”

You revel in self satisfaction as Nathan’s cackling and Wade’s bitching float down the stairs. Strap in, bro. It’s gonna be a rough fucking day for you.

Wade throws an absolute shit fit when he finds the shirts --“How dare you! How fucking dare you!”--but largely spends the whole day searching the mansion for Mr. Fluffykins.

After a quick confer, you and Nathan decided to not tell Wade about the outdoor gauntlet until he notices it or gives up.

It isn’t until three in the afternoon that Wade finally notices the giant tarped structure outside, which is a record even for his track record of obliviousness.

You and Nathan stand a safe distance away as Wade scampers around the construction, looking for a quick way in and out. “You remembered to hide his knives too, right?”

Nathan gives you a look that says ‘yes, what kind of idiot do you think I am?’

“And you can handle the glue sprayer and the leaf blowers with your telekinesis, right?”

“Relax. It’ll be fine.”

“For us. Not for Wade.”

By the time Wade figures out just what he’s looking at, a small crowd including the X-Force, Logan, Remy, Scott, Jean, and Hank has gathered by the back door.

Wade jabs an accusing finger at you. “You! You did this! You traitor!”

“This is what happens when you take your jokes too far!” You retort. “This is what happens when you joke about things that aren’t meant to be joked about! You dig your grave, and you lie in it!”

Nathan simply holds out a pair of lab goggles and a dust mask. “You might want these.”

Wade gapes at him. “Et tu, Brutus?”

“Take them now or spit up glitter for the next decade. Your choice.”

Wade snatches the goggles and mask before Nathan can take them away. “Just for this, buster,” he grumbles as he puts on the goggles. “You’re sleeping on the couch for the next two weeks.”

Nathan chuckles. “Sure thing, princess. Whatever you say.”

Wade flips him off as he adjusts the mask over his mouth, then walks over to the front of the gauntlet. He inhales deeply, stretches, then mutters “maximum effort” before sprinting down the gauntlet.

There’s a series of screams as Wade flails around inside. They pause when he reaches the safe zone and procures Mr. Fluffykins, then start anew --with added vigor now that his unicorn is being exposed to the glitter death run--when he bolts for the only exit.

A chorus of laughter erupts behind you as Wade emerges, covered head to toe in every conceivable shade of glitter and a sheen of glue.

You smirk triumphantly at him as he tries --and fails--to brush the glitter off him and Mr. Fluffykins, then spin on your heel and strut inside.

Victory to you.

Later that night, when your sitting in a pile of Wade’s snacks, watching YouTube videos and shoving Keebler Fudge Stripes in your mouth, someone knocks on the door.

“Come in!” You smile deviously when Wade shuffles in. “Ah! Have we learned our lesson?”

“I had to take a three hour shower before I stopped rinsing glitter out of my ass! How is this fair?”

“You bought us a milker, a book on artificial insemination, and covered our floor in straw. We’re still finding pieces of straw everywhere.”

Wade grimaces. “Okay, fair enough.”

“Also. You made me vomit!”

“I said fair enough!”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Wade, I’m serious. I love you like a brother, but there are times where you go too fucking far--”

Wade holds up his hands in a calming gesture. “I know. I figured that out when I made you puke. I’m sorry.”

“I just... I really don’t appreciate you joking about my sex life to that extent. I know it makes Piotr uncomfortable on any level, but it really crossed the line after the cow magnets.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be funny, not traumatizing.”

“I know.” You smile fondly --albeit somewhat exasperatedly--at him. “And I forgive you. I really do. But Piotr needs to hear you say that, too.”

“What do I need to hear?” Piotr asks as he walks into the room.

“I’m sorry for taking the cow play stuff too far,” Wade says without prompting. “I took it too far.”

Piotr blinks, clearly shocked by the freely given apology, and then he smiles and pats Wade’s shoulder. “All is forgiven. Just... don’t do it again. Please.”

Wade nods. “Trust me, I won’t. I know when I’ve had my ass handed to me.”

You smirk triumphantly. “You mess with the bull, you get the horns.”

Wade opens his mouth, closes it, then groans. “I can’t comment, can I?”

“Nope. Suffer, bitch.”

Wade looks like he’s about to physically explode, but manages to contain himself. “Can I at least have my snacks back?”

“Da,” Piotr interjects before you can say anything. “Please. Take them.”

You sputter, outraged. “What? No! Not fair! My tastebuds are in heaven.”

“Myshka, you promised you would give everything back.”

You continue sputtering as Wade starts scooping his goodies back into his boxes, then start squawking when Piotr starts helping. It devolves into a tug of war over a box of Cheez-Its that end with Piotr holding you out of reach of the snacks and with the three of you laughing.

Yeah, being friends with Wade comes with challenges.

But, for as many downs as there are, there are at least as many --if not more--ups.

It’s a friendship you wouldn’t trade for the world.

134 notes · View notes

adolphuslongestaffe · 6 years

Text

Park Ranger America

My piece for the R76 Summer Event! This piece is rated mature for language and some references to adult situations. The explicit version will be posted on my AO3 page here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adolphus_longestaffe/profile.

Enjoy!

Gabe has just laid down the ground cover for his tent, when he hears the low hum of an engine, followed by the crunch of wheels over coarse, rocky dirt. He stands up and scans the treeline, till he sees the glossy white paint of a late-model Chevy Tahoe flashing between the trees, a hundred yards or so down the hill. He can see a broad, bright-green stripe on the side, and the words “U.S. Park Ranger” emblazoned on the door below it.

He resumes setting out his tent gear as the vehicle approaches his site. He expects it to continue on, but it rolls to a stop beside his black jeep, which is parked off the trail about twenty yards away. Gabe gets irritably to his feet and digs out his backcountry permit as the engine shuts off. He’s in a sour mood and doesn’t relish the idea of being hassled by some government civilian, but it’s best to just let the man do his job so he’ll move on. His expression changes as the Park Ranger climbs out of his vehicle.

“Fuck me,” he says under his breath.

The man looks like fucking Captain America. He is over six feet tall, and his forest-green uniform jacket fits snugly to his broad shoulders and trim waist. His drab-felt campaign hat, complete with the embossed leather USNPS band, sits sharp and commanding over his symmetrical, square-jawed face. He’d look more like a drill-sergeant than a civil servant, but for the large, brilliant blue eyes that sparkle below the brim of his hat and seem to smile on their own, despite his serious expression. He is, for lack of a better term, gorgeous.

“Afternoon,” Park Ranger America calls out, as he strides toward Gabe’s site. His voice is deeper than Gabe expected for someone with such a youthful face. “How’s it going?”

“Afternoon,” Gabe calls back. “Very well, thanks.”

He remains where he is and waits for the man to reach him—a good habit when dealing with armed officials—and he keeps his hands in plain view rather than stuffing them into his hoodie pockets against the cold.

“Park Ranger Morrison,” the absurdly handsome man says as he steps up, holding out his hand to shake Gabe’s.

Gabe shakes it briskly and hands him his backcountry permit and ID. “Gabriel Reyes.”

“Thank you,” Park Ranger Morrison says, glancing over Gabe’s documents. He hands them back and smiles like a toothpaste ad. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Reyes. We’ve had some reports of unauthorized camping lately, and we’re required to check for permits any time we come across someone using a backcountry site.”

“No problem,” Gabe says, less gruffly than he would’ve if the ranger’s smile weren’t so bright. “You’re not really interrupting. I’m just, uh…trying to pitch this tent.”

Ranger Morrison glances over at Gabe’s tent gear. “I could give you a hand, if you’re having trouble.”

“That’d be great, thank you,” Gabe says, before he can stop himself.

He doesn’t need help setting up a tent any more than he needs help brushing his teeth, but the ranger is looking at him with those extremely blue eyes and it’s making his head fuzzy and his ears hot. He’s pretty certain he’s actually blushing, but Park Ranger Gorgeous doesn’t appear to notice. He just flashes another incandescent smile, and goes over to inspect Gabe’s gear. The tent is a simple, two-person backpacking model, and despite Gabe’s attempts to appear incompetent, they have got the thing erected and are attaching the rain fly within five minutes.

“Good job placing the stakes,” Ranger Morrison says, stepping back to survey their work. “Good tent, too.”

“I just wanted to keep the bugs and rain off me without having to haul around twenty extra pounds,” Gabe says modestly. “This one seemed to fit the bill.”

The handsome ranger nods handsomely. “It was an excellent choice. Light, sturdy, and it looks like it’ll hold up to the weather well.”

As if on cue, a gust of wind tears through the camp, making Gabe’s tent flutter and flap loudly, but failing to disturb it otherwise.

“Let’s hope so,” Gabe says, eyeing the tent doubtfully. “Thanks for your help.”

“My pleasure. So, what are your plans while you’re in the park?”

“Spending the night here, then hiking up to Llao Rock at first light, then Watchman Peak. Maybe Wizard Island, depending on the weather. If it’s bad, I might wait and try it the day after.”

“You never know. It’s been hit and miss this season. We’ve already had two more inches of rainfall than usual.”

“Wow,” Gabe says, as if he finds this mundane comment about the weather to be literally the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. “Gets pretty cold up here, too, huh?”

“It still gets into the forties at night this time of year, but you should be fine. Once fall comes around, you don’t want to be caught out without your cold-weather gear, though.”

“I’m literally already freezing,” Gabe laughs, chafing his hands together and shivering. “I’m from LA. Anything below seventy-five and all my blood goes into hiding.”

“Well, if you freeze to death in July, you’ll be the first. Speaking of which, you need help getting that fire started?”

“Oh, yeah thanks. I mean, if you’re not busy. I’m kind of an idiot about outdoorsy stuff.”

“Happy to help,” Park Ranger Charming replies, looking sincerely happy to help. “I’m not that busy, to tell you the truth. You’re the first camper I’ve seen out in the backcountry today.”

“That normal?”

“Not really. It’s been slow this season, with the weather and the late snow melt. I’m gonna grab my gear. Be right back.”

Gabe apologizes silently to his SERE school instructors as he watches the very athletic, very attractive blonde walk away toward his vehicle. No one could really blame him for a little harmless fib, right? Certainly not if they saw this particular Park Ranger. He doesn’t want to make it too obvious that he’s watching him, so he busies himself peeling the plastic wrapper off one of the cords of wood he’d purchased at the supply shop.

“What, you carry that stuff around with you?” Gabe laughs, as the ranger returns with a little spade in one hand and bundle of kindling tucked under his arm.

“Yes,” Ranger Square-jaw says seriously, clearly not seeing the humor. “It never hurts to be prepared, Mr. Reyes.”

“I didn’t mean any offense, Ranger Morrison,” Gabe says. “It’s just a pleasant surprise that I don’t have to trudge around collecting twigs for an hour. And call me Gabe, please.”

“It’s my pleasure, Gabe. And you can call me Jack,” the ranger says, his sunny smile returning. He sets down the bundle and holds up his little spade. “I’ll clear the fire pit, if you want to get your tinder ready.”

“Got it. Thank you, Jack.”

Gabe goes to his bag and pulls out a little rectangular tin, along with a black lanyard that holds his flint and striker. Ranger Jack is scooping old ash from the circle of stones and smoothing the fire bed. He eyes the tin and lanyard, then glances curiously at Gabe.

“There’s some dead grass over there,” he says, nodding toward a little hillock. “Might make a good nest for your char cloth, if you want to grab some.”

“Sure thing,” Gabe nods.

This blonde ranger is turning out to be unexpectedly observant, as well as hyperbolically handsome. He’d recognized what was in the tin right away. It must strike him as odd that a man who is a professed idiot about outdoorsy stuff makes his own char cloth and owns a waterproof fire starter. It’s not illegal to express a low opinion of one’s own outdoorsmanship, though, and he doesn’t seem to mind helping, so Gabe figures it’s best not to mention anything about it. He sets the tin on the ground by the firepit and stuffs the lanyard into his pocket as he hurries off to collect the dead grass. It turns out to be much too damp to be of any use, but he gathers enough to make a show of trying, and presents it to Park Ranger Perfect.

The ranger squeezes the yellow-brown fibers and shakes his head. “No good. It’ll make a lot of smoke, but there’s no way it’ll light properly.”

“Well, if it’s not against any rules…I’ve got a newspaper.” Gabe offers.

Ranger Jack squints, as if he’s considering it. “New York Times?”

“Of course.”

“Ok, I’ll make you a deal. We can use the newspaper, but only if I can have the crossword.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Jack,” Gabe laughs. “Ok, deal.”

When he returns from his jeep with the hefty Sunday paper, the unreasonably attractive National Parks Service employee has taken off his campaign hat. He is running his fingers through his silky, golden-blonde hair (which is miraculously free of any evidence of hat-head), and is frowning up at the sky. Gabe glances up, too, but the sky is exactly the same toneless grey that it’s been since he’s been in this stupid, rainy state.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“National Weather Service reported a thirty percent chance of rain for today,” the ranger says. “It’s starting to look like we’ll beat those odds. Hopefully your trip won’t be spoiled.”

“I’ve slept in the rain before. Nothing I can’t handle,” Gabe shrugs. He leafs through the paper, till he finds the crossword, which he holds out to him. “Here you go. One New York Times Sunday crossword. It’s a pretty good price for all your help.”

“It’s no trouble,” Ranger Jack replies. “I’m always happy to assist anyone who needs it.”

Gabe thinks he detects something odd in the man’s tone this time, but there is nothing readable on his face but sincerity. He folds his crossword and sets it on the smooth log near the firepit that serves as a bench, using a small rock to ensure the breeze doesn’t carry it away, then goes to work making a nest from a few sheets of the newspaper. There’s far too much, of course, so Gabe stows the rest in one of his waterproof bags for later use. Meanwhile, Ranger Jack has set aside the char cloth nest and is sticking pieces of kindling into the ground in the fire pit like a little circle of fence posts. Gabe squats down to help, and very quickly, they have built a neat little teepee out of dry twigs.

Gabe digs his flint and striker from his pocket and holds them out to Ranger Jack. “Do the honors?”

“Sure,” Ranger Jack says, smiling his Colgate smile again.

He holds the flint over the char cloth and rasps it a couple of times. The cloth ignites instantly and begins to smolder. He picks up the little nest and bends the sides inward, blowing on the center till a little orange tongue of flame leaps up from the paper. He slides the smoking bundle into the center of the kindling teepee and blows on it some more, then steps back to let Gabe add some smaller pieces of fuel wood to the outside. When the kindling has caught pretty well, they add more fuel wood, then sit on the log-bench to watch as their fledgling fire blazes up brightly.

“So, you’re from Los Angeles?” Ranger Jack says.

“Yep,” Gabe says. “Neighborhood called El Sereno.”

“What brings you all the way to Oregon? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Buddy of mine was born and raised up here. He was always talking about Crater Lake and how it was one of the most beautiful places in the world. We made plans to take a trip here after we—after the job we were doing was over.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Ranger Jack says. “Is he going to meet you here, then?”

“No,” Gabe says, keeping his eyes on the fire. “He, uh…I came up for his funeral. I figured I’d honor his memory by taking that camping trip we talked about.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Jack says gravely. “It sounds like he was a close friend.”

“Yeah, he was.”

They sit in silence, listening to the soft rush of wind in the high branches of the ponderosa pines above them, and the crackling of the dry wood as their little fire grows brighter and hotter. After a while, Jack rises and holds out his hand. Gabe stands up too, and shakes the proffered hand.

“It was nice to meet you, Gabe,” Jack says. “If there’s anything else I can do for you, let me know, ok? You can reach me by the park’s main number. Just ask for Ranger Morrison and they’ll forward the call.”

“Thank you, Jack, but I think I’ll be alright. You’ve already been more than helpful. Oh, don’t forget your crossword.”

“Thanks,” Jack smiles. He picks up the folded sheet of newspaper as he turns to walk away. “Take care, Gabe. Stay safe.”

He waves again as he climbs into his white Tahoe, and Gabe waves back, wishing with every fiber in his being that he could think of some legitimate reason to ask the man to stay. He glowers up at the trees as Park Ranger Amazing drives away, cursing them for their failure topple onto his tent, or at least drop a heavy branch or something. Fucking traitors.

As the flat grey of the afternoon sky darkens into the muddy grey of evening, Gabe begins to get unreasonably annoyed by the cold. He carries another cord of wood from his jeep and is adding some to the fire, when little drops of water begin to plop down and hiss in the embers. He stows the rest of the wood to prevent it getting wet and attempts to keep the fire alive, till the drizzle strengthens into a steady downfall, at which point he gives up and climbs into his tent.

He cracks an MRE and eats it cold, not wanting to bother with the messy oxidation heater. When he’s finished, he has to puts his boots back on and carry the remnants to the bear-safe receptacle, though he pities any bear that might encounter him in this mood. He loves the outdoors and is more than competent in field survival tactics, but cold and rain are his least favorite weather conditions. It’s coming down in earnest now, and his jacket and knit cap get soaked on his way to dispose of his trash, which further irritates him. He hangs them up inside the tent, so that they can pretend to dry overnight and still be cold and wet in the morning.

He wants to get out of camp around dawn, and there’s nothing else to do, so he wraps himself up in his sleeping bag and extinguishes the lantern. The bright blue eyes and perfect, pouting lips of the Park Ranger flicker in his mind’s eye. He imagines what that mouth would taste like. Imagines those blue eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy. That broad chest dripping with sweat and those muscular legs shaking. Just…fuck. He’s got lube with him, but he’s too cold and tired and irritable to jerk off, so he consoles himself with lazy, half-baked fantasies involving himself and the blonde Park Ranger in an isolated cabin, until he drifts off to sleep.

Gabe wakes naturally just before dawn. A decade of military service has honed his internal clock to a fine point, and he hasn’t used an alarm in years. He is pleasantly surprised to find himself warm and dry, despite the rain beating on his tent all night, and makes a mental note to leave a good review for it as he pulls on his boots. He checks his jacket and knit cap to find that they are still damp. It’s a minor annoyance. He has a spare jacket in the jeep, and he can forgo the cap. It won’t get that cold during his day-hike.

The sky is miraculously clear and he’s eager to get going. Most of the trails he’ll be using are easier ones and the later he gets started, the more likely he’ll be to encounter the only wild creatures scarier than bears: camping families. He limits breakfast to a couple of nutrition bars, along with some raisins and nuts (also taking care to get well-hydrated), then begins to pack up his camp.

Within an hour of waking, he has breakfasted, dressed, got his camp broken down, and packed his gear into the jeep. He carries back his own spade to scoop out and disperse the cold ashes from the fire. He’ll be back later, but he wouldn’t want Park Ranger Perfect to happen by and think he’d been an irresponsible camper. He can’t help but laugh at himself for this, though. As if the man would decide whether or not to sleep with him based on his campsite hygiene.

He’s probably straight, anyway. Guys like that are never gay. Probably has a girlfriend, too. A sturdy, outdoorsy type with red hair who wears hiking boots with shorts. With a name like Sandy or Linda or something. This idea strikes him as immensely funny, and he entertains himself by constructing various absurd likenesses of Ranger Jack’s hypothetical girlfriend as he finishes scattering the ash.

The sun has risen above the hills on the eastern horizon when he straps on his pack and locks up the jeep. He departs camp, headed slightly southwest toward Llao Rock. The hike turns out to be more of a stroll. The trail is extremely easy and takes about fifteen minutes to navigate, including stopping for a piss. Llao Rock’s cliff-face rises two-thousand feet above the surface of the lake, but the terrain is not difficult, since it’s part of the rim of the caldera, and the grade isn’t too steep on this side.

He’s not foolish enough to make the descent down the narrow ridge to the actual overlook without a partner or at least a belay line, but the view from further back on the cliff is more than worthwhile. The volcanic crater that forms the lake bed spreads out before him like a titanic ring, rising thousands of feet above water so crystal-blue and pristine, it doesn’t look possible. He snaps a few photos with his phone, but he won’t really be able to get a good picture until the sun is higher, so he decides to continue on to Watchman Peak before all the day-trekkers do.

As he meanders down the trail toward his next objective, he begins to be soothed by the meditative sense of solitude produced by the open, airy silence of the natural world. Gabe has always found the term “the great outdoors” to be repulsively clichéd, but here it is all around him, and it is spectacular. The broad sky and bracing wind, the whitebark pines, gnarled and hoary with age, which stood centuries before he was born, and will stand centuries after he passes. And even these are infants in the presence of the ancient, sleeping volcano. When he thinks if the magnitude of the cataclysm that saw the birth of this place, he is filled with reverent awe, as if he is standing on sacred ground.

Just as this feeling is sinking in, an RV thunders past him on the nearby paved road, followed shortly by a Subaru containing a large family, and what he can only imagine constitutes the entirety of said family’s earthly possessions strapped to the roof. This shakes him from his reverie and somewhat mars the natural serenity of the wilderness. He checks his phone and finds that it’s just past 0800. He’s been dawdling along, enjoying nature and lost almost an hour. He speeds his pace, hoping to reach the fire lookout before it fills with tourists.

He is surprised to find snow still lingering on the ascent to Watchman Peak, and is less surprised, though much chagrined, to find that he is not the only one who has apparently sought to beat the crowds by arriving early. The parking lot at the trailhead is nearly full already, and there are people idling about in pairs and small groups. Well, fuck it. He came here to see the Watchman Peak fire lookout, and that’s what he’s going to do.

He grits his teeth and heads up the trail, trying not to look as snarly as he feels, which would certainly frighten the many children people have made and brought with them. On the apron of the third switchback, he has to stop and wait behind a family (probably the Subaru contents from earlier), while the frazzled mother collects a howling child who had gone darting ahead and slipped on the rough scree. Her male counterpart attempts to herd the rest of the brood to the side so that Gabe can pass, nodding apologetically as he picks his way around them. Gabe responds with a sympathetic smile.

The fire lookout atop Watchman Peak is a two-story blockhouse-style building erected in the 1930s. The first floor is constructed from heavy stone masonry and has a restroom, of which Gabe takes eager advantage. The top floor consists of a four-sided observation room entirely enclosed in glass, and surrounded by a broad, wood walkway with log railings. The three-hundred and sixty-degree view of the park comes in handy for the Rangers, who still use it as an active fire lookout, and for park visitors looking to take photographs with which to bore their friends back home.

Despite the fullness of the parking lot, Gabe is pleased to find that there are only a few people actually inside the observation room. Aside from the Subaru family, there is a group of five twentysomethings on the deck, taking selfies with the lake behind them. On the far end of the room, at the window overlooking the lake, a hardy-looking elderly couple in khaki shorts and windbreakers are chatting with a Park Ranger.

Gabe’s stomach does an odd little flip as the ranger glances in his direction. It’s Ranger Jack, because of course it is, and of course he recognizes Gabe immediately. Gabe nods in greeting, and Park Ranger Perfect smiles and looks perfect. His uniform fits his athletic body like a goddamned glove, without a wrinkle or a misplaced thread. His hat is in his hand and his golden-blonde hair is even more golden and blonde in the brilliant sunlight.

Gabe feels and probably looks like a bag of smashed assholes. He knows he has a good layer of scruff around his usually meticulously groomed facial hair, not to mention he’s all rumpled and dirty from sleeping in a bag on the goddamned ground and slogging around in the woods all morning. His instinct is to flee, but the Park Ranger politely excuses himself from his sociable elders and walks over to him.

“Nice to see you again, Gabe,” he says cheerfully. “We got quite a bit of rain last night. How did the tent hold up?”

“Nice to see you, too,” Gabe says, attempting ‘cheerful’ and achieving ‘not quite homicidal’. “Tent held up great. Thanks again for all your help yesterday.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ranger Jack says, looking genuinely glad to hear it. “And you don’t have to keep thanking me. It was my pleasure. Much better weather this morning. How was the hike over?”

“I wouldn’t really call it a hike, but it was excellent. Beautiful country out here.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Did you get a good view from Llao Rock? The lake is spectacular on clear mornings.”

Gabe can’t help but smile as the ranger’s infectious enthusiasm begins to soften his surly mood. “I did. I’m looking forward to the view of Wizard Island from here, though.”

“It’s really something. Eighteen-hundred feet down from here. You should go have a look!”

“I will, thanks.”

“Oh, Gabe,” Ranger Jack says, his expression suddenly becoming grave. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. The National Weather Service is predicting thunderstorms this afternoon, so the boat tours out to Wizard Island have been cancelled today. I’m sorry you won’t be able to get out there. I know you wanted to.”

“It’s no big deal,” Gabe shrugs. “I can see it some other time. Maybe—” he catches himself. He’d almost said, ‘maybe you can show it to me.’ Good god, what has gotten into him? “Maybe I’ll come back up here next summer,” he ends lamely.

“You should!” Ranger Jack shines, instantly all sunbeams again. “You can’t see half of what the park has to offer in one trip.”

There is a sudden clamor of footsteps and boisterous young voices, and Gabe turns to look toward the door. A female Park Ranger is leading a group of children of varying ages into the observation room.

“That’s the Junior Ranger program,” Ranger Jack explains. “I’m giving a talk about the history of the lake in a minute, so you’ll have to excuse me. Say goodbye before you go, ok?”

“I will. But…would it be ok if I wanted to stay and listen to your talk?”

“Oh, I didn’t think—are you really interested?” Ranger Jack says, becoming a little flustered. “I mean, it’s pretty much what you could read in the visitors’ guide.”

That faint flush of pink color in the ranger’s angular cheeks is enough to strike Gabe dead where he stands. He has no idea what he’s done that could have produced this reaction, but he would give a limb to do it again.

He grins mischievously. “Well, maybe I want to be a Junior Ranger.”

“You can’t be a Junior Ranger, Gabe. That program is for six to twelve year-olds. But you’re welcome to stay and listen.”

“I think I might,” Gabe says nonchalantly, as if any force of nature could tear him out of this building while the handsome Park Ranger is in it. “I happen to be extremely interested in the, uh…”

“The history of the lake.”

“Yes. The history of the lake. I look forward to being educated.”

“Well, good. I hope you find it enlightening. I’ve got to go help Ranger Molly.”

Ranger Jack goes to assist his female colleague in wrangling the fifteen Junior Rangers, who have scattered about the observation room and deck. Within a few minutes, they are gathered around and seated on the floor facing Ranger Jack, who stands before the window to deliver his lecture. Gabe leans on the wall behind the group of youngsters, watching the handsome blonde illuminate his topic with energetic interest. Much to his surprise, the formerly rowdy youngsters appear to be totally captivated by his tale, and they sit still and quiet, hanging on every word he says. When the talk concludes, Ranger Molly asks if there are any questions for Ranger Jack, and seven of the little hands go up.

“Is Skell the sky god real?” one of the younger children asks.

“That’s a good question,” Jack smiles. “I wasn’t there way back then, so I don’t know for sure. But the Klamath tribe has transmitted their account of Skell and his battle with Llao to save their people for many generations.”

“If the water gets in from rain, why doesn’t the lake fill up all the way to the top?” another child asks.

“Another excellent question,” Ranger Jack says. “The water level is maintained by evaporation and natural seepage, which just means it soaks into the ground.”

“How do you get to be a Park Ranger?” another child asks.

“Well, there are a lot of ways, depending on what kind of ranger you want to be,” Ranger Jack answers. “Volunteering in the parks is a great way to start. You can be a seasonal ranger, too, if you don’t want to make a career of it. If you want to be a commissioned ranger like me, serving in the military helps, too, since it’s a government job.”

“Were you in the military?” a slightly older one asks.

“I was,” Ranger Jack smiles. “I was in the Air Force.”

This seems to impress the children greatly. A number of them ask simultaneously, “Did you fly planes?”

“I didn’t fly planes, but I did work on them.”

“Why do you got a gun?” a little boy wants to know. “Is it for bears?”

“No, it’s not for bears,” Ranger Jack laughs. “I carry a firearm as part of my job, since I’m a federal law enforcement officer. That’s just like a policeman, but for the park.”

“Who shoots the bears then?” the same boy asks.

“Hopefully, no one. The bears live in the park because it’s their home. As long as you follow your safety rules and keep all your food and trash in the correct containers, you shouldn’t have any trouble with the bears.”

“Alright, Junior Rangers,” Ranger Molly cuts in. “It’s time for us to head back to the visitors’ center for our next activity. Let’s give Ranger Jack a nice big round of applause, ok?”

The Junior Rangers (and Gabe) clap enthusiastically, then the children get up to follow Ranger Molly away. Gabe gazes across the room at Ranger Jack for a moment, watching as he returns some rock specimens to a cabinet, then he strolls over to join him.

“So, what did you think?” Jack grins. “Did you learn a lot?”

“Yeah, I did,” Gabe says. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in the military?”

“It didn’t come up,” Jack says. “You didn’t tell me you were, either.”

“How do you know I am?”

Jack looks at him dubiously. “Are you serious? You’ve got Army written all over you. It may as well be stamped on your forehead.”

“Do I?” Gabe laughs. “Well, I wouldn’t have pinned you for Air Force. What did you do?”

“Guidance systems and SAT-COM. What do you do in the Army?”

“Oh…nothing interesting,” Gabe says, crossing his arms. “Just a grunt.”

“Ah, I see,” Ranger Jack nods. “Special Forces, then.”

“Jesus, how the fuck could you tell that?” Gabe says, too astonished to bother denying it.

“It’s a gift,” Ranger Jack shrugs. “Why don’t we check out that view of Wizard Island?”

Gabe follows the ranger out onto the deck, where they lean on the log railing and gaze out over the lake. Or rather, Ranger Jack gazes out over the lake. Gabe pretends to, while he uses the opportunity to surreptitiously study the man’s strikingly handsome face in the full sunlight. He thinks he could look at that face forever and never get tired of it.

A slight smile curls the corners of the ranger’s perfect lips. “It’s not polite to stare, Gabe.”

Fuck. He must’ve been less sneaky than he’d thought. “Oh, I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t—”

“Tell me something,” Jack interrupts, keeping his eyes on the lake. “If you’re Special Forces, you went to SERE school at the Mountain. So, why did you pretend not to know how to set up a tent or light a fire?”

Gabe had been entirely unprepared for this blunt question. His mouth goes dry and he feels heat rushing into his face. He is absolutely mortified, but really, what can Ranger Jack do to him? The worst he can do is reject him, which Gabe is pretty sure will be the result, no matter what he says. And if he’s offended, they never have to speak again, so fuck it. Fortune favors the bold.

“I didn’t want you to go,” he blurts out. “I know I wasted your time, but it was nice to talk to someone. I’m…an asshole. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” Jack says. “Just don’t lie to me again, ok? I am a federal law enforcement officer, you know.”

“I won’t, I swear. And I really am sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Jack turns his head and looks up at Gabe with those impossibly blue eyes. “Since we’re telling the truth…I knew you didn’t need help the minute I saw you.”

Gabe is literally dumbstruck. He stands there blinking like an idiot, trying to assess whether this extraordinarily attractive man is saying what it sounds like he’s saying. Because it sounds a lot like—but that can’t be it, right? He’s not even gay. What about Sandy, his sturdy, shorts-wearing girlfriend? He doesn’t have time to formulate a response. Just then, there is a blinding flash of light and an earsplitting boom. Gabe nearly jumps out of his skin. Ranger Jack does not. He replaces his hat on his head and looks up at the sky, which has been steadily filling with dark, roiling thunderheads while they’ve been in the lookout.

“Looks like that thunderstorm is early,” he says. “You want a ride back to your jeep?”

Gabe nods and follows Jack into the observation room, then down the stairs leading to the trail. Despite his survival training, he feels somehow far less competent and calm than this Park Ranger, who looks perfectly at ease. As they descend the slope, the wind kicks up into a gale, and blows dust into Gabe’s eyes, so he has to squint and blink in order to see where he’s going. Perfect. He’ll probably fall and embarrass himself some more. He is just thinking this, when some loose scree slides underfoot. His hands fly out to grasp at nothing as he loses his balance and goes tumbling backward.

He should have ended up on his ass, but somehow, Ranger Jack’s strong arms are already around him, seizing him mid-fall and steadying him on his feet. Gabe cannot understand how this is possible. He’d been a few paces ahead, and shouldn’t even have seen him slip, let alone had time to catch him. But his eyes had been full of dust and he hadn’t seen the rocks in the path either, so he isn’t inclined to question it.

“You alright?” Jack calls out, above the noise of the wind.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” Gabe calls back, heart pounding in his throat. “Let’s get out of here before I make any more of an ass of myself.”

Jack gives him a thumbs-up, and they continue down the incline. The storm clouds burst before they reach the bottom, and by the time they reach Jack’s vehicle, they are soaked to the skin. Gabe climbs in and tosses his pack on the floor behind his seat. Jack pulls the driver’s side door shut and removes his drenched hat, which is also tossed into the back.

“Well, you can’t set up your camp in this,” Jack says, peering up through the windshield at the deluge outside. “I can take you to your jeep and you can drive over to Rim Village or the lodge, or you can come back to my station with me and wait it out.”

“Am I even allowed in your station?” Gabe asks. “Isn’t that sort of an…official business only type place?”

“Keeping park visitors safe in severe weather conditions is official business, Mr. Reyes,” Jack says solemnly. “You are more than welcome to wait there till the storm clears.”

He’s talked this way since they met yesterday, but this time, Gabe definitely detects a twinkle in those blue eyes. It hadn’t occurred to him that the ranger might be fully aware of his stiff, Eagle Scout demeanor, and may even be capable of making fun of himself for it. Ranger Jack is turning out to be a very interesting man.

He crosses his arms and eyes him thoughtfully, as if weighing this proposition. “I don’t know. What’s the coffee situation like?”

“Fresh-brewed by yours truly,” Jack grins.

“Deal,” Gabe says. “Ranger station it is. Unless Rim Village is as fun as it sounds.”

Ranger Jack either misses or chooses to ignore this joke, and they engage in desultory chit-chat about the road conditions as they make the bumpy drive to Jack’s ranger station. Gabe can’t manage much more, since he is using all the energy in his body to will the rain to continue. It would be a literal tragedy to lose this opportunity to spend more time with this extraordinary man. Fortunately, Skell the sky god appears to be on his side. The rain shows no signs of letting up, and in fact, seems to have intensified.

They turn off the north entrance road onto a gravel drive, and Jack parks the vehicle in front of their destination. Gabe had expected the ranger station to be a square, ugly government building. Instead, he is looking at a quaint little stone-walled cabin with a peaked roof covered in dark green shingles. It looks so much like a gingerbread house, he almost laughs out loud. It even has white-paned windows.

They grab Gabe’s bag and Jack’s hat and jog to the front door, despite the fact that this a futile exercise, since they were already soaked. Jack unlocks the door and Gabe follows him inside, then stops short, blinking about confusedly.

“This is your ranger station?” he asks.

“Yep, this is it,” Jack says, flipping on a light switch. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…I thought a ranger station would be more like a police station or the lookout. This looks like—”

“A house?”

“Yeah.”

“It is,” Jack says. “It’s my ranger station and it’s my house. Well, it’s mine while I’m employed with the park.”

“You…live here?”

“I do. It’s pretty common for National Parks Service employees to be given a residence on site. Especially full-time, permanent employees who work in extreme climates. I’m not the only ranger who lives at the park.”

“Oh. Well, thank you for inviting me. I didn’t know you lived here, or I’d have been more careful about intruding like this.”

“It’s really no trouble, Gabe,” Jack smiles. “I keep telling you, I’m happy to help.”

Gabe stands there awkwardly, looking about him at what he now knows is Jack’s living room. The place is small, but cozy, and very neat and tidy. At the far end of the room, there are some tall bookshelves, which are very full, beside a desk with a computer and telephone on it. Before the large, stone fireplace, there is a rough-hewn log coffee table sitting on a woven rug of some Native American origin. The sofa bears the same red, black, and green pattern, as do the smaller rugs in the entry and hallway. The coffee table and end tables match each other, too, and there are several framed paintings of lake scenery on the walls. Gabe guesses the house must have come furnished. He can’t imagine a man of Jack’s age choosing this type of décor on his own. Jack throws a switch to activate the gas, and the fireplace blazes to life.

“It’ll warm up in here pretty quickly,” he says, hanging his hat over a peg on the mantel. “The fireplace has a backburner that heats the whole house. We should probably dry your clothes, while we’re here.”

Gabe is suddenly, painfully aware that he is dripping water all over Jack’s spotless dark-wood floor. He shifts his feet in the puddle he has created. “I’d love to do that, but I don’t actually have a change in my pack. I left most of my gear in the jeep.”

“That’s alright,” Jack says brightly. “I’ve got a spare bathrobe you can borrow while they dry.”

Gabe can’t help but laugh. Of course he does. He thanks his host again and follows him to the bathroom, growing increasingly suspicious that this is some kind of dream. A man like Jack simply can’t exist in this world. He’s handsome, capable, intelligent, kind, hospitable, and prepared for everything. He’s literally the perfect man. And now Gabe is in his perfect bathroom in his perfect little cabin, peeling out of his cold, wet clothes and putting on a soft, plushy bathrobe that smells like some kind of pleasant laundry detergent.

When he emerges from the bathroom, the fire is roaring merrily, the rich aroma of coffee is wafting in from the kitchen, and Jack is standing there in a white t-shirt and red plaid pajama pants, smiling and holding out his hands to take Gabe’s wet clothes. There’s only one explanation for this. He’s dead. He died in the night and this is heaven.

“I’m going to put these in the dryer and pour us some of that coffee,” Jack says. “Make yourself at home.”

Gabe sits down on the sofa and looks around. He notices the crossword he gave Jack yesterday sitting on the coffee table. He picks it up and is glancing over it, when Jack comes back with two steaming mugs of coffee. He sets one in front of Gabe and seats himself in the wood chair across from the sofa.

“Are you sure you don’t mind my imposing?” Gabe says. “I don’t want to keep you from anything.”

“Not at all. I’m not on duty today, anyway. I only went up to the lookout for the Junior Ranger talk.”

“Oh. It’s really kind of you to do all this for me on your day off.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jack says, gazing out the window. “It’s really coming down out there. I haven’t seen rain like this in July since…well, ever.”

“Yeah, it’s just my luck. Maybe I brought it with me,” Gabe says. He replaces the paper on the coffee table and picks up the mug. “You didn’t even start your crossword puzzle.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t have time. There were some hikers that needed help last night, and I was working pretty late. I figured I’d save it for a rainy day, ironically.”

“What did they need?”

“They were climbing in a restricted area and one of them slipped on the wet rocks and fell about twenty feet. Broke his leg and dislocated his left shoulder. I was on the scene first, so I called for search and rescue and waited with him till they airlifted him out.”

Gabe stares at him in awe. “Holy shit, that’s what you were doing last night?”

“Yes. What?”

“When most people say they were working late, they mean sitting at a desk. You were out saving lives. That’s…heroic.”

“You Special Forces guys are heroes, not me,” Jack says, frowning down at his mug. “My job must seem pretty trivial to you.”

“It doesn’t seem trivial to me at all. You were in the military. You know what we do isn’t that different from what you do.”

“It is, though. The most dangerous thing I deal with is bad weather. You guys actually fight real wars. I didn’t even do that when I was in the military. I had a tech job and I benchwarmed during the second Gulf War. Never even went overseas. I just did my tour and then I came home. There’s nothing heroic or even exceptional about that.”

“Did you do your duty honorably and to the best of your ability?”

Jack nods, still gazing down into his mug. “Every day.”

“Then you should be proud of your service, Jack,” Gabe says earnestly. “The most courageous thing you can do is sign on that dotted line and agree that, should it be required of you, you are prepared to give your life in service of your country. The fact that it wasn’t required of you isn’t up to you. You were willing. That’s all that matters.”

“I…thank you, Gabe,” Jack says, with a hint of a tremor audible in his voice. “That means a lot to me.”

Gabe gazes at the increasingly complex and fascinating man across the table. There is so much more to Ranger Jack than that blonde hair and square jaw and athlete’s body. He wishes he could dig down into the core of this man and study every particle of him. Find out everything there is to know about him and truly understand him.

“So, where are you stationed?” Jack asks, after a long silence.

“Fort Campbell, in Kentucky.”

“Wow, that’s all the way across the country. When do you go back?”

Gabe leans back and sips his coffee. “Well…I don’t, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“My tour ended and I didn’t re-up. I’m technically still on active duty, but I’m on terminal leave till the end of my term of service, which is in two weeks.”

Jack looks at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Was it—” he begins, but breaks off, apparently having changed his mind. “What are you going to do after that?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’ll be staying with my sister in L.A. while I look for a place, and then…who knows.” Gabe is fairly certain he knows what Jack had been about to ask, so he answers the unspoken question. “After my buddy was killed in Afghanistan, I didn’t have the heart to do it anymore. I’ve already seen enough death to last a lifetime, and I’m only thirty-seven. I figured I’d get out before I’m too old to do anything else, and see what’s out there.”

“I’m so sorry about your friend,” Jack says quietly.

“He agreed to give his life in service of his country, if it was required of him, just like we did. It was required of him.”

They sit in silence again, listening to the rain beating steadily on the roof and windows, and the low rumble of thunder in the distance. There is something so vivid and poignant in this moment, warm and safe in Jack’s little cabin, while the storm rages outside, that Gabe can’t shake the feeling that he’s being drawn toward something. As if some invisible force has been gently, irresistibly guiding him to this place and time. The idea thrills and terrifies him. He looks up to find that Jack is looking at him, too. Jack turns away quickly, with that soft flush of rosy pink rising into his cheeks again.

Gabe smiles. “You really love what you do, don’t you, Jack.”

“More than anything in the world.”

“Then don’t ever call it trivial. It isn’t. The world needs the kind of heroes who work hard every day to make it a better place to live in. That’s what you do.”

“Thank you, Gabe,” Jack says. “I’ll remember that.”

“So, hey, we’ve still got that crossword and it’s about as rainy a day as it gets. You want to do it together?”

Jack smiles. “Sure. That sounds nice.”

He gets up and moves to the sofa beside Gabe, and they set to work solving the first clue. As they are working on the fifteenth or thereabouts (they haven’t really gone in order), Gabe gradually becomes aware of something. Silence. He realizes that this means rain that has been pattering on the roof has stopped. Jack looks up at the ceiling. He has noticed it too. Gabe’s heart sinks.

“Well, I guess I better grab my clothes,” he says reluctantly, setting down the pencil.

Jack’s gaze drifts down from the ceiling to meet his. “I…don’t think it’s safe yet.”

Gabe’s heart skips about a dozen beats, but he manages a smile. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jack says gravely. “It’s always better to err on the side of caution. I mean, you could slip in the mud and injure yourself, and then I’d just have to come right back out and help you. You should definitely stay a little while longer.”

Gabe can hardly breathe. Everything inside him is screaming for him to grab Jack and kiss him, but he can’t take a risk like that while he’s sitting here in the man’s house wearing his robe. It was one thing when he could have just walked away. It’s entirely different now. There would be awkward apologies and changing clothes and weird silences and Jesus Christ Jack’s hand is on his knee.

Gabe looks stupidly down at Jack’s hand, then back up into his beautiful blue eyes.

“Gabe, this may be totally inappropriate, but…I’d really like to—”

“Yes,” Gabe interrupts.

Jack blinks, then laughs. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I don’t care. That’s a universal yes. Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, Jack.”

“Wow. I was just going to ask if I could kiss you, but anything? Now I have to think about it.”

“Jack, kiss me,” Gabe says. He takes the the blonde Park Ranger by his wrists and pulls him closer. “Kiss me right the fuck now.”

“That’s not very polite, Gabe,” Jack grins, letting himself be encircled in Gabe’s arms and pressed into his chest. “Didn’t your mother teach you please and thank you?”

“Please,” Gabe breathes. His lips are almost touching Jack’s now. He can feel his warm breath on his face. “Kiss me, Jack.”

Jack’s soft lips barely brush his, lingering on the very edge for an excruciating moment, then their mouths are pressed together ravenously, wildly, with all the desperate abandon and exhilarating newness of a first kiss. Jack swings his leg over to straddle Gabe’s lap, and Gabe’s hands slide up under his t-shirt, clinging tightly to his smooth, muscular back, as they kiss and caress each other.

When Jack pulls away to catch his breath, his pupils are blown wide, almost swallowing the color in his blue irises. His cheeks are flushed and he smiles shyly, with wet, pouting lips. Gabe is gazing dreamily into his face, thinking that this is the most beautiful human being he’s ever seen, when Jack cranes his neck and looks down between them.

“Wow,” he says. “You have a concealed carry permit for that?”

Gabe follows his eyes to find that his robe has slipped open and he is rather indecently exposed.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, reaching down hastily to cover himself. “I didn’t mean to—the robe just—”

Jack catches his wrist and stops him. “Let me get that for you.”

Gabe watches in breathless astonishment as Jack slides down and pushes his knees apart to kneel between them. “I…Jack, you don’t have to—”

Jack grins up at him, with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. “I keep telling you, I’m happy to help.”

*****

The summer season at Crater Lake National Park has always been Jack’s favorite, for many reasons. The snow melts, the sky clears, and the sun shines down on the pristine waters of the impossibly blue lake, set like a sapphire in the center of its massive volcanic caldera. He loves the lake, the trees, the sky, and the mountains. Most of all, he loves the people.

The park is a lot less lonely when it’s full of enthusiastic visitors, all come to enjoy the natural splendor of the place that is so dear to Jack’s heart. Last summer, one of those people had been a man named Gabriel Reyes, an ex-soldier mourning his deceased brother-at-arms. Jack had never expected to meet someone like Gabe, and he’s certain he never will again.

Today, Jack is leaning on the log railing outside the fire lookout on Watchman Peak, gazing out over the majestic lake, and thinking fondly of that day last July, when he met Gabe at the backcountry campground on Grouse Hill. The memory fills his chest with a tender ache. They had stood here together on a morning just like this and looked out at the lake, after Jack had talked to the Junior Rangers. Then the thunderstorm had driven them into Jack’s ranger station, and then…and then.

His reverie is interrupted by the clamor of feet stomping up the stairs, and young voices chattering boisterously. Jack steps inside to greet the Junior Rangers, who have come for his lake history talk.

“Alright, everyone,” the ranger who is attempting to keep them organized says. “Let’s all sit down and say hello to Ranger Jack. He’s going to talk to us about the history of Crater Lake. Pay attention, because this will be on the Junior Ranger quiz later.”

Jack stands before the window and waits politely as the children crowd around and get themselves seated. When they’re reasonably quiet, he begins.

“Good morning, Junior Rangers,” he says cheerfully. “I hope you’re all very good listeners, because Crater Lake has a very interesting history. But first, how about we all say a big thank you to our Junior Ranger trail leader.” He smiles across the room at his colleague, who is leaning on the wall behind the group of children. “Thank you, Ranger Gabe!”

#Reaper76summerevent #reaper76 #gabriel reyes #Reaper #soldier 76 #Jack Morrison #mature #r76 #AU #Jack is a Park Ranger

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aroundtheworldin18years · 6 years

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APARTHOTEL DES ALPES

Italy has become a firm favourite of ours in the last couple of years. Whether we are lazing on the soft golden sands of the Adriatic Coast, or meandering through the cobbled streets of Florence; we simply adore this beautiful country. So, why did we choose Aparthotel Des Alpes in Cavalese for our first family ski holiday? Easy! Unable to drag ourselves away from Italy, we chose a ski resort almost unknown to the British and Irish…Alpe Cermis in Cavalese. In Summer, Eagles soar high above the Dolomites on the rising warm thermals. In Winter, deep snow attracts skiers and snowboarders from across Europe and beyond.

Alpe Cermis – a skiers paradise

LOCATION

Located in the beautiful Val di Fiemme region of the Italian Dolomites, just one of the many properties owned by Trentino residences; Aparthotel Des Alpes is perfectly situated for exploring the outstanding natural environment of Alpe Cermis. A brisk 20 minute walk or a 5 minute drive will take you to the heart of the picturesque town of Cavalese. Unfortunately, the town is up a steep hill so we always took the easy option and drove. Cavalese town began with a small settlement in the Bronze Age. During the late 16th and early 17th centuries, Cavalese became the holiday destination for the regions bishops and aristocrats. Many of whom greatly contributed to the development of Cavalese.

Palazzo della Magnifica Comunita di Fiemme

A view of Alpe Cermis from a balcony in Cavalese Town

A view of Alpe Cermis from Cavalese Town

Over the years the town has grown to what it is today with traditional restaurants, bustling bars, fashionable boutiques, gift shops and a thriving tourist trade in both summer and winter. We found an amazing little shop where Lily-Belle was able to personalise the gifts she was purchasing for Nana and Granda. Cavalese is also very well-known for its local craftsmanship (iron, wood and marble) and a very social cheese factory. Who knew cheese was social? Does this social cheese have a Facebook page?

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SELF CATERING APARTMENTS

The main reasons for choosing Aparthotel Des Alpes was the price and the locality to Alpe Cermis which was just a 5 minute drive away. Plus Aparthotel Des Alpes ticked several other boxes. Close to Alpe Cermis for skiing, a short distance to Cavalese Town for shopping and sightseeing, indoor swimming pool for relaxing in at the end of a ski day, fantastic views of the surrounding Dolomites and a really modern fresh looking room. Aparthotel Des Alpes houses 200 apartments ranging from studios to 2 bedroom apartments, all recently refurbished. For our stay we booked a Superior Studio Apartment.

READ ALL ABOUT OUR HOLIDAY AT ALPE CERMIS IN CAVALESE

ARRIVAL AND RECEPTION

Check in at Aparthotel Des Alpes is from 16:00 to 20:00. Upon arrival we were warmly greeted at the reception by Cinzia. Cinzia was extremely helpful in telling us all about the hotel facilities, what the local area had to offer, including supermarkets for groceries, restaurants for dining and of course, the best gelateria’s for ice cream…a must for our girls when we are in Italy. One thing to note is that the local supermarkets close very early in the evening, it was a little after 19:00 and they were already closed. Thankfully Cinzia was able to take an order for fresh croissants to be collected from the restaurant the next morning.

A warm welcome awaits at Aparthotel Des Alpes

Come in, sit down, relax

THE ROOM

Credit where credit is due, Mummy definitely excelled on the room front this time. The Superior Studio at Aparthotel Des Alpes was spacious and modern with storage space galore. A must if you saw how much Lynne had managed to pack! The apartment was split into 4 areas; bedroom one with bunk beds, main lounge area/2nd bedroom with a dining table and chairs, spacious bathroom and a small equipped kitchenette. Outside there was a balcony for watching morning sunrises and evening sunsets. Lily-Belle and Matilda immediately fought over who was sleeping on the top bunk. A bit of a no-brainer for Mummy and Daddy, but try telling 3 year old Matilda the dangers of falling out of a bunk bed and see where it gets you!

BEDS, BATHROOMS AND BIDET’S

Open the apartment door, and you walk immediately into the hall/bunk beds. Directly opposite the bunk beds was the bathroom; a large walk-in shower, toilet, wash basin with under-storage, bidet, mirror but unfortunately no bath. Daddy loves soaking in the bath, bubbles overflowing. A very decent sized bathroom indeed. We’re not ‘posh’ and this was the girls very first experience of a bidet, much to their amusement and ours!

The battleground of children

Bathroom Rules: wash, brush, floss, flush

LOVING THE LOUNGE

There was a small kitchenette with a hob (no oven), microwave, kettle, cutlery, plates, cups (plus other kitchen items), perfectly adequate. In the main lounge area, which also served as the second bedroom, there was a huge pull down bed that could have (and did on 2 occasions) accommodate all 4 of us. Plenty of wardrobe space beside the bed. Inside the wardrobe there was a safe for keeping your valuables, well…safe. The lounge also had a dining table and chairs, with a flat screen TV on the wall. The room summed up in a word…perfect!

Photo credit: Aparthotel Des Alpes

SUPERIOR IT DEFINITELY IS

One thing we loved about the Superior Studio at Aparthotel Des Alpes was the dividing door between the bunk beds and the main lounge-come-bedroom. The divide allowed Mummy and Daddy to sit and enjoy a glass of wine in the evenings without disturbing the girls when they were in bed. The apartments have all the equipment required for having an excellent self catering holiday. Superior…it certainly was.

WELLNESS CENTRE

SWIMMING POOL

The pool, just like many others, had a deep end and a shallow end with the addition of a shallow children’s splash pool at one end. Around the poolside a few loungers for those simply wishing to sit and relax. As is the standard in most European swimming pools, a swim hat must be worn. Having a head like a billiard ball, Daddy did manage to negotiate not wearing one! The pool is ample for a few lengths, or in our case, a splash about with the girls. The kiddies pool was perfect for Matilda to enjoy.

Life is simple if you sleep, ski and swim

JACUZZI

The Jacuzzi was by far the biggest we had ever seen and even better that there wasn’t the typical ‘No Children Allowed’ sign, so were all able to enjoy the bubbles. Definitely a bonus to be able to soak aching muscles after skiing….and that was just Lily-Belle and Matilda. Has someone been eating beans, there’s an awful lot of bubbles! We are normally ‘all systems go’ throughout our holidays and this one was no different, especially with so many things to see and do within our short period of one week, so the pool and jacuzzi were very welcome.

Eat beans…make your own bubbles

SPA

Beside the pool is a stylish modern spa which offers adults the chance to unwind child free. Seriously luxurious and free tea, great if you’re a tea drinker but I (Daddy) much prefer coffee. The spa has outstanding facilities; Finnish saunas, Turkish steam room, sinks full of ice for cooling off, showers and a large relaxation area with loungers. Do expect full frontal nudity if you visit the Spa.

READ ALL ABOUT MY NUDITY EXPERIENCE IN OUR ALPE CERMIS POST

Mirror, mirror on the wall…

Dip your face in at your peril

Slippery When Wet…but not Bon Jovi

PLAY ROOM

There is a very colourful Play Room at Aparthotel Des Alpes. Although we didn’t avail of this facility we did pop our head through the door. From what we saw the large play room is aimed at younger children and toddlers.

Photo credit: Aparthotel Des Alpes

WI-FI

Very important. On holiday we take lots of photos and videos. Rather than clog phones and cameras we tend to upload everything to the cloud each evening. Wi-Fi is free in the main reception area, and also free if you book your stay at Aparthotel Des Alpes direct with Trentino Residencies. Otherwise Wi-Fi costs €15.00 per week for a password (available at the reception). We use Sky Go to watch movies when we travel and not once did we experience any poor signal or dropouts in our apartment. Excellent Wi-Fi which we utilised to the full during our stay at Aparthotel Des Alpes. Just a note to say that reception is open from 08:00 – 22:00 (close for lunch).

Free Wi-Fi in the reception area

RESTAURANT

Right next door to Aparthotel Des Alpes is Restaurant Des Alpes. Although the restaurant isn’t very modern with its decor or styling, it was clean and the food was always exceptional. One evening Lily-Belle and Matilda ordered a pizza and they were ecstatic when the pizza arrived at the table in the shape of a bunny. The menu is typical of Italy; pasta, pizzas, select meat dishes and my favourite Italian dish, risotto. We ate in the restaurant on a few occasions and always had a wonderful meal, plus the odd glass (or two) of Aperol Spritz. On the odd occasion we also took advantage of the available take away service. Fresh croissants and breakfast can be ordered from reception the night before.

Get in our bellies Mr Rabbit!

Daddy’s absolute favourite…risotto

Food of champions…stew

Aperol Spritz, the thirst quencher of giants

SKI STORAGE

There is ski storage available at Aparthotel Des Alpes but no drying facility for boots and clothes, best to take these to your room. We didn’t need to use the ski storage at Aparthotel Des Alpes as we hired the girls skis, boots and helmets from Sport Cermis at Alpe Cermis. Thankfully we could leave the hired equipment at Sports Cermis each evening, then collect them again the following morning. Very handy!

SKI SHUTTLE BUS

There is a free Ski Shuttle Bus to the regions main ski resorts such as Obereggen and Latemar. Pick up-drop off is directly outside Aparthotel Des Alpes. For our Alpe Cermis holiday we hired a car therefore we didn’t use the bus.

LOVELY CINZIA

We have to give a special mention to our new friend Cinzia. Cinzia worked on the reception at Aparthotel Des Alpes and was always polite, courteous and smiling. Always at reception with a warm smile when we left each morning and the same friendly smile when we returned each day. Chatting with this lovely young lady we found out that Cavalese doesn’t get many visitors from the UK and Ireland. Cinzia was interested to hear all about us, where we were from and all about our travels. Equally we loved chatting with Cinzia each day and we were keen to find out more about her and life in this region of Italy. Lily-Belle and Matilda enjoyed picking up a few Italian phrases from Cinzia each day. Cinzia was a wealth of information and we were truly thankful to her for making our stay very memorable.

WOULD WE GO BACK

Without hesitation. Aparthotel Des Alpes is a fantastic hotel with self-contained apartments. Perfect as a base camp for exploring the Italian Dolomites, and in particular, Alp Cermis, which is right on the doorstep. The local town of Cavalese is not too far away and is a lovely town for exploring and looking at the local heritage. Aparthotel Des Alpes gets our seal of approval.

LILY-BELLE (age 9) SAYS I loved that I was allowed to go in the jacuzzi. Our room was really comfy and I enjoyed sitting out on the balcony. Do people really wash there bums in the bidet…eurgh, that’s gross!

MATILDA (age 3) SAYS Mummy wouldn’t let me sleep on the top bunk, she’s so mean, it’s not fair! I liked going into the swimming pool and the bubble bath. Daddy: the bubble bath is the jacuzzi.

Aparthotel Des Alps

Date of stay: 21st – 27th March 2018 Flights (2 A + 2 C): Ryanair – Belfast to Milan Bergamo – £152.00 (plus £30.00 for 1 x 20kg checked bag) Car Hire: Firefly – €59.22 for 7 days (plus €350.00 refundable security deposit) Price: Aparthotel des Alpes – €668.29 (plus €150.00 refundable security deposit)

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REVIEW: APARTHOTEL DES ALPES, CAVALESE, ITALY APARTHOTEL DES ALPES Italy has become a firm favourite of ours in the last couple of years.

#alpe cermis #Aparthotel des Alpes #cavalese #Ski #Trentino

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