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dorminchu · 3 years

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Insult to Injury: The Director’s Cut — Chapter 02

Fandom: James Bond Characters: Madeleine Swann, Lyutsifer Safin, various OC(s) Relationships: Madeleine Swann & OC(s), Madeleine Swann & Mr White, Madeleine & Lyutsifer Safin Warnings: Aftermath of violence, PTSD, implicit sexual content, moderate language. Rating: M Genre: Crime/Drama Summary: A troubled psychologist desperate to escape her past criminal ties finds herself drawn into a far more insidious schism. [Post-Skyfall]

[Ao3 | FFNet]

— Episode II: GRATITUDE —

Behind closed eyes it was impossible to tell if the Jeep was approaching or departing the source of violence. Slowly, Madeleine let her hands fall into her lap. They were travelling up the main road. In front of her, the driver whom she did not recognise. In the passenger seat, going by the voice and distinct gloves, Safin.

As they pulled onto the main road the vehicle merged into a convoy. In the opposite lane, several more unmarked cars headed back the way they’d come. Her mind made the connection her emotions wouldn’t.

“Don’t look," said Miller quietly, "it won’t do you any good.” Madeleine attempted to shrink deeper into herself but could not. Even now, thinking of her own survival. Who could say how many of the Psychosocial Unit or the remaining MSF were still alive? What of the doctors? What of their patients? And what had become of the FSP?

It could have been her brain matter spattered over the vehicle. Each time she undertook a mission she accepted the inevitability of violence and prolonged emotional duress. Easier to coldly recontextualize the events in the aftermath, never so intimately.

Madeleine tried to focus on something else. Just the hum of the engine and her own breathing. A few indistinguishable words exchanged between Safin and the driver. Morris's hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Pulling into the lot at Conakry International Airport, the Jeep came to a stop. Ushered out of the vehicle, asphalt beneath her feet, cleaner air in her lungs. After a standard security check Madeleine was directed towards a side room away from the main terminal. The Project Coordinator came over and put an arm around her and offered her a place to sit and some bottled water.

Miller was called away to confer with the surviving team members. Madeleine surveyed the room. The door that she’d came in through was currently flanked by Kerberos. With the exception of the Medical Coordinator the other mission heads had survived. There were only about thirty of the fifty members of the operation present. She didn’t recognise anyone from the Psychosocial Unit.

Unfamiliar hand on her shoulder causing her to flinch. Looking up into the face of a hospital aide, male. Probably Arnaud's age. Fresh latex gloves. Arms recently scoured. “Dr Swann, right? You were with the Psychosocial Unit.” Voice slightly muffled by respirator mask.

Madeleine gave a curt nod. The aide studied her face. Attention drawn to her hands caked with dry blood, throttling the plastic bottle. She let go. Jaw tight.

"Okay.” Brief, pitying look before his attention diverted. Madeleine unclenched her jaw, kept her head down.

“The situation has changed,” announced the Project Coordinator. “A few days ago, following the initial attack on the hospital, we received intelligence that Donka Hospital would be targeted directly. Thanks to the combined efforts of Kerberos and our Logistics Unit, the majority of our patients and remaining MSF were moved to a safer location over the last several nights and have not been harmed. The motive behind the attack on the hospital and MSF staff this morning has not been determined. But due to misinformation spread about the nature of this virus, and the circumstances surrounding the previous incident at Donka Hospital, many civilians are ready to place blame upon the MSF for complicity in tampering with the vaccine.

“Now, the details are still murky. I can assure you, there is no causation on part of the MSF. And it is fortunate that we've minimised the casualties of the patients as well as our own. But we cannot continue operations without a proper Medical Unit. All non-essential members of the mission will be discharged.”

After the briefing, the Project Coordinator took Madeleine aside. “What is the duration of your assignment as psychologist consultant, Dr Swann?”

“Three months. I started in May.” Her voice was dry, brittle.

“Well, they’ll have to find another consultant.”

“How soon will you be able to find a replacement for the position?”

His face became stony. “You are the sole survivor of the unit. It may as well not exist in its current state. There's no sense in forcing you to remain on-site.”

Two Kerberos escorted her outside while Safin exchanged a few words with the Project Coordinator. Catching up, he said nothing to her as they walked across the lot and into the car. When the driver pulled out of the lot she was given the following information: Her flight home departed later in the evening. In the meantime she'd have a room to herself at Hotel Palm Camayenne. Her luggage had been accounted for. “You'll be collected from the room an hour in advance; the party will ask for White's daughter. Don't open the door to anyone else.” He looked over at her in the mirror. “Is that clear?”

“Of course.”

⁂

In the tastefully lit lobby of the Hotel Palm Camayenne, the attendant behind the desk sized Madeleine up and informed her she'd been marked down for a Prestige Suite. Madeleine, still reeling from the chaotic morning but wise enough to roll with the situation, asked if her things had been collected.

The attendant's eyes went quickly to the Kerberos in the background. She gave Madeleine the room number and gestured brusquely towards the young-faced bellhop waiting beside the elevator. “He's got all of your things from the other hotel. Enjoy your stay.”

The bellhop wasn't for conversation. He stole a couple pointed glances at Madeleine as if she were wearing something ostentatious. The elevator door opened, and he asked curtly if she would like him to help her into the room with the bags. When Madeleine accepted, he wheeled the trolley ahead, unlocking the door and unloading her valise, quickly muttered: “Have a nice day,” and left without looking back.

On her own, Madeleine was taken aback by the scale of the room. Closer to a small suite; complete with living room, an elegant dining room and desk. Classic furniture. A view of the Atlantic Ocean through panorama windows. Carpet at her feet. Air conditioning. After two solid months of living in a small, stuffy room at the Grand Hotel de L’independence this was much closer to home.

All of her clothes and additional items were in order. Afraid to touch anything or sit down for fear of sullying it. With that settled she wandered into the bathroom; Carrara marble. A shower and bathtub. French cosmetics by Chopard. Artificial floral scent permeated her nostrils. She finally got a look at herself in the mirror and imagined the look on Arnaud's face if she showed up at the gate in her current condition. Smirked.

The staff here probably didn't see many dishevelled, bloodied socialites. No wonder she'd garnered such a reception. She laughed. Caught her eyes in the mirror. She wasn't laughing anymore. Difficult to breathe. It was the perfume.

Her throat tightened. Dry-heaving. Collapsing over the toilet. Exhuming whatever was left inside of her stomach. A convulsion worked through her body. Her voice warped, mutating. Not a sob but a guttural sound clawing its way up from her lungs. Animal distress, unable to escape. Head clutched in her hands. Shaking, shaking.

Breathe.

Clutching the porcelain.

Just breathe.

You’re going home in a few hours. This will just be another bad dream.

She turned on the fan to air out the room, had a shower, redressed. The operation in Conakry would just become another failure written off as a fluke. In a matter of hours the tragedy would breach headlines in the interest of garnering military attention and drop within a week, after the government stepped in. In a month she’d reacclimatise to her career too substantial to be dead-end, Arnaud and her sham of a social life, until the cycle repeated itself.

She had a few hours left until her flight. There were a couple restaurants on the ground floor, and Safin's instructions didn't preclude her from leaving the room. Might as well see if she could keep a meal down.

⁂

Later that night, confined to the plane's cabin with no tangible distractions, unable to sleep. Her arrangements at the hotel provoked an extreme reaction and it wasn't only a result of recent trauma; the quality of the room itself, the collection of her possessions without incident, and even the window of time before her collection and escort to the airport, were all characteristic of her father's tacit interference.

From the time she was ten until seventeen he would send her off to Ermatige International School for the lion's share of the year. Abroad, Madeleine felt for the first time a sense of emptiness her young heart understood yet failed to quantify. She had never been close to her father but in his absence, something was lost that could not be remade.

The first day she was shown her room, her roommate introduced herself as Alice and shook her hand. Alice had a firm grip for an eleven year-old. “It’s nice to meet you, Madeleine. Can I call you Maddie?”

The nickname brought to mind her father’s voice, but there was no dissuading certain people from habit. “I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Alice let her go. “So, the counsellor’s going to have us all meet up in the courtyard in ten minutes for a basic tour. I could walk down with you.”

“I know how to get there by myself. It’s just down the stairs. The instructor provided a map.”

“Oh… well, if you have any questions about where to go or what to do, don’t think twice about asking me.”

“I won’t.” Madeleine made a point of straightening out her bedsheets, then noticed Alice was in the doorway waiting up for her. “Thanks.”

For the next several months falling into the façade of the aloof, privileged girl who led an unassuming life at Maisons-Laffitte. Classes were stimulating enough to take her mind off her own problems. Extracurricular activities; horseback riding, hikes in the summer, touring the town in winter. Enjoying the sights and sounds as like a tourist.

The instructors found her obedient and diligent in her studies but expressed concern about what they referred to as antisocial tendencies. Her classmates speculated about her in English and then talked to her cordially in French.

Even in the mess hall, she couldn’t catch a break. “Hey!” Madeleine tensed. Expecting another round of condescension masquerading as kindness—but it was just Alice and her own circle of friends. “Come on, sit with us!” Alice's friends were all a year older. Charitable enough, giving Madeleine the obvious questions—where are you from, what classes are you most interested in, et cetera. Madeleine endured their kindness without complaint.

At night, there were no more diversions. Dreams experienced in abstract. The old home in Altaussee. The front door unlocked. Lake frozen over. She could run, but never fast enough.

Ice beneath her feet giving way. Turning from the water at her back made no difference. Submerged. Gloved hands reached for her, an iron grip that pulled her toward the water’s surface.

Madeleine screamed, taking in water. Clawing at bare hands, softer arms. A girl’s voice, calling her name.

Opening her eyes. Alice’s young face tight with horror. Her eyes wet.

A few minutes later Madeleine was sitting in the nurse’s office, who attempted to pry more than a monosyllabic answer out of her for twenty minutes before leaving to talk with someone higher-up, and Madeleine sat there, deliberating. Act too stubborn and they'd label her psychotic. Too hysterical and they’d kick her out. So when the nurse returned Madeleine grudgingly confessed the truth. She’d been having bad dreams ever since her maman was gone, and that her father didn't know how else to deal with it beyond sending her here.

The nurse's demeanour shifted. She asked Madeleine a few more questions about the situation. Madeleine gave rote, easy answers. In the end, the nurse concluded that there was nothing technically wrong but she'd have to be isolated from her roommate if this behaviour persisted. She gave Madeleine some names and a pamphlet about grief counselling and advised her to look it over in the morning. Madeleine thanked her.

It was Alice who waited outside and walked her back to their room, finally breaking the silence: “Are you okay?” Madeleine averted her face to the window, squaring her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?” Madeleine walked over to her bed, sat down, looking at the pamphlets without processing the printed words. “Enough of that—you need to try and sleep.”

“I can't.” Madeleine pulled the sheets tighter around herself.

“Okay. May I sit with you?” Madeleine shrugged. Alice's weight flumped down on the mattress. Their shoulders touched. Listening to the other girl's even breathing, Madeleine gradually relaxed in the same way. “My mother died earlier this year. My father sent me here.”

“Oh.” Alice turned her face towards her. “Uh—I'm sorry about your mother. Was she nice?”

Madeleine began to shiver again. Alice's arm came around her and Madeleine shut her eyes, turning loosely into the gesture without reciprocation.

For the rest of the year Alice kept Madeleine stabilised while Madeleine kept her at arm’s length. The closest thing to a best friend she’d ever had.

When Madeleine came home on holiday, her father was suddenly a different man. Never once would his disposition thaw into true warmth, but all of a sudden he wanted to know; how were the other students, did she enjoy her classes, and did she have any particular school in mind if she wished to continue studying abroad after graduation?

Who was this stranger? Since when had he ever offered to get to know her on a personal level? That had been mother's concern. Ten year-old Madeleine wanted to laugh. She’d wanted to dig down into her tiny adolescent heart and find the right string of words to destroy him for such an affront. As if he could simply earn her respect and affection through negotiation. Instead, she just shrugged her shoulders and said: “It's not bad so far. I liked my instructors. I promised this one girl I’d write to her over holidays.”

“It’s my understanding that you had a rough start?” Madeleine froze. Her father’s eyes cold. “If you had told me as such, I could have set aside a psychologist for you to speak with.”

“It wasn’t my first choice. I just told the psychologist that my mother had died, and I was upset about it.”

“And what did he say?”

“She told me it wasn’t my fault. People process their grief in different ways.” She shrugged. “These things happen.”

Raising her eyes to meet her father’s. His expression softened a fraction but not for her sake. The best way to destroy a man like this was to let him go on thinking he was forgiven. No sense looking a gift horse in the mouth. She'd take his money and whatever else he saw fit to bestow with a rudimentary thank you. And she would work as hard as possible to step out of his shadow and have something to call her own.

The next year Alice transferred to a different academy, so they kept in contact through epistolary means. At fifteen, Madeleine stopped responding to her letters.

⁂

Arnaud picked her up from Air France airport. Diligent enough not to greet her with an interrogation, only a hello and an unexpected one-armed embrace. Normally Madeleine would have tried to squirm out of it, but all she could think about was how alive he was in her arms—even the smell of him. She hadn't gotten a lick of sleep on the flight. Without thinking she let him take her arm as they walked out of the terminal into the sunshine.

On their walk to the car, driving away, Arnaud was quiet. Something which Madeleine had always appreciated about him before but only recalled the horrible stillness in the drive to the airport. Her hands wandered towards the radio dial and turned it up sharply. Arnaud turned the volume down low at the next stop, glancing over at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Couldn’t he just ask if she were okay? “There’s not much to say. I did my job to the best of my ability. There were drastic complications and the mission was ultimately a failure. Now I am back here. Does that cover it?”

He frowned. “No one is blaming you for anything.”

Madeleine sat back and waited for the pressure to ease up in her head. Disconnected from the familiar sights and smells of ordinary civilian life after two and a half months living in Conakry. When she stepped out of the car her gait was unsteady. If she even sat down a little longer, let her guard down, she’d nod off. Going up the stairs, Arnaud helped her with the luggage and asked if she needed anything else. Madeleine shook her head. Flopped down on the bed like a corpse, into dreamless sleep.

⁂

Opening her eyes, expecting the cracked peeling paint of the hotel room. The lack of humidity gave her pause. A gentle floral scent persisted, alien to the room. Arnaud must've left the window open.

Turning into the warm body at her shoulder, cradling her. After so many days of running herself ragged the promise of empty stillness and domesticity brought no comfort. She laid very still without closing her eyes. The ochre light cast onto the room might be dusk or daybreak. Her vision clouded over. An involuntary reaction incited by recent trauma. Trembling.

Arnaud made a soft noise into her cheek. The hand at her shoulder shifted. Madeleine froze. Unable to verbalise what she needed, pressing herself closer. Arnaud, running a hand over her back, said something gentle, indistinct.

Madeleine couldn't settle down. She was more alive in this moment than she had been in a long time. She turned into his chest. Threw her leg over his waist. His expression changed. She took his face in her hands, kissing him bluntly.

His breath released slow against her mouth. Slowly coming alive. Hands moving over her body like she'd break if he went any faster. Madeleine allowed him this courtesy. For the first time in months they couldn't get much closer.

Another round of dreamless sleep. She woke up in a start, unsure what time it was, before realising she didn't have to go into work anyway. Arnaud was still there. He kissed her temple and told her it was only evening. Asked if she'd like to order-in.

A pit heavy in her stomach, then an urge to cry. Trapped in a period of convalescence, what could she say to this man? “That's fine.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Your secretary called earlier in the afternoon.”

“Oh, yes. I'll get back to her soon.”

Arnaud smiled. “I think you could use a break from taking calls, don't you?”

Madeleine shook her head. A smile worked onto her mouth as if by reflex.

⁂

The next few days were relatively uneventful. Arnaud took time off work to keep her company. Madeleine accepted his presence in his life without comment. Once she’d rested and he was reassured she’d be okay by herself, she had full dominion.

When she could not busy herself in paperwork or other constructive activities, she would become despondent and start picking apart the heads of anyone who tried to dissuade her into optimism. Arnaud was a convenient enough target, but he was just as keen to make himself scarce.

Before she'd left for Conakry, they lacked the investment to like or dislike each other with any real commitment. Now he was a little kinder. Her recent brush with death had softened her up enough to let him talk her into going along to the L’Orriù di Beauvau, trying to assign significance to the sights and sounds surrounding her, in the voice of the waitress and the smell of coffee. She did not look around for inconspicuous men and women who might be sitting in the side-lines, observing.

Sleep was almost impossible now without Arnaud. Three months ago, the idea of relying on him, or anyone else to that degree, would have been disconcerting. Physical intimacy a decent enough substitute, only as a last resort. She’d misled him in that regard.

⁂

A discreet, anonymous enrolment into Oxford and the Sorbonne were her father’s last gifts to her before he cut off all official contact. During her time at the Sorbonne as well as Oxford, Madeleine relinquished any prospect of a social life to work as hard as possible. Only her college roommate was a constant in her life, so Madeleine made sure to keep their relationship cordial but never too intimate.

Her roommate and assorted friends were more socially conscious and made a habit of dragging Madeleine along to various functions as their designated driver. Efforts to invite her on group dates proved fruitless. Madeleine kept her answers non-incriminating and dull, quietly vetting what was offered. Well-groomed socialites jockeying for compatible mates. An ill-fitting distraction from the emotional void kept close to her chest. So the other women assumed she was too good for any of it, and the men were uncomfortable being scrutinised. Madeleine was the only one who found it amusing.

Other colleagues would come to her for advice in an educational context. Graduation was a quick, unemotional affair. Madeleine had no extended family to invite. Just her short-term friends, to be thanked politely, genuinely, and then discarded. The ceremony itself was lovely. Safe and boring.

In the middle of the commencement speech an individual figure in the stands caught her attention. An older man, perhaps in his early fifties, hidden partially behind sunglasses and a smart dress-hat. With a nauseating thrill she recognized his smile, the angles in his face a little more pronounced with age. If she seemed to balk, it was on account of the crowd and her nerves and nothing else. For the rest of the ceremony she wanted nothing more than to escape her own body.

Taking feeble comfort in the idea that he would not converse with her directly; but his presence was enough of an affront. Why give him further opportunity to wound her pride by acknowledging him outright?

⁂

Days in Paris bled into each other without further incident. Even after convalescing a sense of displacement remained. Whenever out and about, Madeleine couldn’t help casing the streets. Just in case. It couldn’t hurt. Arnaud didn’t even seem to notice at first.

Then he wanted to bring his friends. “They want to see you, too.”

It was easier to remain cold when the tangible fragility of her existence was as distant as her father. Now, trapped in a lovely room with people she did not trust in the same tenuous sense as Arnaud. What gave them the right to emphasise?

It would be so easy to dismantle any of them and their residential issues. Laughable that she should bother to relate to them after the problems she had been listening to for weeks on end.

Her eyes skirted around the room. Unable to enjoy herself. Arnaud took her hand; Madeleine realised she was trembling. The woman sitting across from her asked if she was all right. They’d all heard about Conakry. Polite enough to have restraint but their eyes betrayed them, itching to know more. Madeleine had nothing to say. Pretty soon Arnaud and his friends were scrambling for conversation topics and trying not to pay her behaviour any mind.

When they got home he accused her of making a scene. She assured him, patiently, that she was not trying to ruin anything. Just on-guard after weeks of living in what amounted to a warzone. Arnaud chewed on that. Apologised, he was trying to understand her situation, and all they could do was be patient with each other.

But he was frostier. That night, sleep was fitful. Waking from an intangible nightmare, she was ten—twenty-six, in Paris. Smell of fresh linen, coffee. The apartment was small and spare. Morning again. No one beside her.

“Madeleine?”

She sat up. Arnaud was dressed for work. He’d never looked his age before. Then again, their relationship had never offered so much duress.

“When are you going to see someone?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m worried about you.”

“I can’t.”

A sharp exhale. “Why can’t you?”

“I have my reasons.”

“I don’t know how you can go on living like this. You won’t even try to fix yourself.”

“What could you possibly understand about my life?” she spat. “You’ve never given a thought about—” jaw tight, she averted her eyes “—it isn’t as simple as coming back and pretending to be okay. I would never ask you to understand what I am going through. But if you want me to stay with you, I’m not discussing this again.”

“Do you hear yourself?” he hissed. “You’re acting like a child. All you have to do is take the first step to fix this.”

Madeleine straightened up. “If that’s how you feel, then I won’t bother you anymore.” He laughed, incredulous. “We’re both financially secure. You were convenient enough three years ago to get my father off of my case, but we have our own lives to consider. This arrangement was always going to be temporary.

Arnaud didn't laugh or raise his voice. He just went quiet. An awful, ringing kind of silence she’d never had to deal with from him. Then said, “All right. I've got work to do anyway. We’ll discuss this later.”

Leaving without another word. He’d never done that before. Arnaud couldn’t cut through the cruel veneer of indifference that her father's upbringing had instilled in her, and she wouldn’t force him to deal with her emotional baggage.

Madeleine did a quick self-assessment. The woman in the mirror looked like hell. She dressed for the day, made an effort to appear photogenic, phoned the secretary and informed her she would arrive at her office in half-an-hour, no further discussion.

On the way to work she was thinking of the weather, hoping it rained now rather than when she got off her shift so she wouldn’t have to come home in a downpour. By the time she got to the office, the conversation with Arnaud was just another bad dream.

Of course, everyone in the clinic wanted to know how she was after a week of radio silence. Madeleine acknowledged their concerns. It had been a mess abroad, and she was grateful to be back home. The awkward silence didn’t console her. She locked eyes with her secretary and coolly asked who would be seeing her today.

Fifteen minutes into her first session with a client, she received a call. Probably Arnaud. She ignored it without checking. A minute later the phone rang again. Madeleine glanced over at the number. Secretary. She picked up. “Yes?”

Men from the Brigade criminelle here to see her. They would not take no for answer.

With a contrite apology and a much colder vice in her stomach Madeleine escorted the client out while two men came to substitute. The first, Officer Blois, a middle-aged man with red hair and a mole on the side of his chin, introduced himself accordingly. “I’ll get right to the point. Arnaud is dead. He was found this morning outside of the apartment. Presumably he must have jumped but there are a few details that we’d like to run by you.”

Madeleine said: “That’s all right.” Her eyes drifted to the other man and her blood froze. She’d recognise him anywhere. As if he was brought into existence out of recollection and into reality. Safin wouldn’t look directly at her.

“He was found this morning?” Madeleine reiterated, forcing herself to focus on the situation at-hand. Officer Blois misinterpreted the nature of her unease.

“That’s right. Was he involved directly in your activities with MSF?”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Did he have any prior knowledge of your activities?”

“Only to the extent that I volunteered, nothing specific. We have—we had, our separate interests.”

“Do you have reason to suspect he would have any suicidal idealisation, thoughts of self-harm?”

“No.”

Was it possible he’d come back and decided enough was enough? Or walked into the apartment to find someone else waiting for him?

“Is there anyone in his life that would wish him or yourself ill?”

“No one, he had—colleagues, but we didn’t talk much.”

“I’ll take it from here,” said Safin coolly.

Officer Blois looked from Madeleine’s dubious expression to Safin’s unreadable one, frowned. “Are you sure there’s nothing—?”

“Officer Blois—” another woman opened the door, also in uniform “—we’ve got some new information, do you have a minute?”

Officer Blois’s eyes rested on Safin for a second before he left the two of them alone. Safin did not take a seat but walked over to stand in front of her desk.

“To ensure the safety of each client,” he began without invitation, “I have to follow through. In a case like yours I’m liable to investigate.”

“I’ve done nothing to warrant this.”

“You have been avoiding my eyes ever since Officer Blois brought up the topic of suicide, do you realise?” Madeleine forced herself to look at him. “When was the last time you spoke to your father?”

“Not for a long time. I stopped contact with him—"

“—has he contacted you at all this year?”

“We’re living separate lives.”

“Then, I’ll inform you. I am here because Mr. White has requested an audience with you. There is a safehouse set aside for you in Sion. Your HR manager has already been informed you’ll be taking two weeks off at short-notice. Once you step outside this building, you’ll be collected by my team and taken to the train station.”

Madeleine shot him a foul look that went unreciprocated. “And you expect me to just go along with you?”

“Your family’s reputation precedes you. You are no safer here in France than you were in Conakry. I doubt Arnaud was the first person you’ve had to sacrifice for the sake of security. But, if you will not come along quietly there are several alternatives.”

“Such as?”

He looked her over. “You would fit easily into a suitcase.”

Madeleine waited for him to elaborate. He looked at her. She broke the silence with a polite scoff. “You'd waste more time smuggling me out of the building. There are cameras everywhere.”

A flash in the dark eyes betrayed his initial veneer of detachment. Madeleine had her pride but she wasn’t about to test him. She stood up stiffly. A subtle, unpleasant smile that brought his scarification into relief. “Come along.”

That the situation would escalate to this level of severity was no surprise. A life spent not in paranoia but with an aggrieved awareness. Not stringent enough to start keeping a gun under her pillow; she’d have a hard-enough time explaining that to Arnaud. Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

She was guided out the door by two men who did not speak to her and steered discreetly into the black Mercedes-Benz Sprinter waiting quietly by the curb.

It was a twenty minute drive to Paris-Gare de Lyon. On the way it dawned on her that Safin was probably kidding about the suitcase. An empty threat to provoke her nerves, watch her squirm. The alternative was something she’d rather not consider. Not that she cared what a thug like him thought to begin with.

They provided her first-class tickets for Swiss Federal Railway and the appropriate gate number. Several suspiciously uneventful minutes later she was at the station, boarding the train, taking her seat closest to the aisle while the two men took up seats by the door and adjacent to her row respectively. Safin took the seat directly adjacent her without a word.

The train shifted into motion. Madeleine, jarred from thought, made up her mind. “You are protecting me under my father’s authority?”

“That’s correct.”

Madeleine huffed. “I should have guessed. You're another one of SPECTRE's thugs?”

Safin blinked slowly but his indifferent expression didn't change. “Counterintelligence.” Now he was scrutinising her more closely. Well, what had she expected? Even if he was one of theirs he would never admit it. “I'm sure you have a few questions about the situation. They'll have to wait until we're in a more secure location.”

“I didn’t ask for this life.” Safin simply held her gaze. “Moving around every couple years. Watching everyone around me wither and die or settle down while I live in the shadow of my father and the men he answers to.”

“But you accepted his money to get ahead.”

“What’s your point?” Madeleine snapped.

Safin said nothing. All right, now he was trying to be funny. He didn’t seem like the kind of man one called to lighten a mood. Madeleine wouldn’t be able to tolerate half-an-hour of this, let alone five. The look Safin was giving her would indicate that sentiment was mutual.

“I don’t want your pity,” she said, tearing her eyes towards the window.

“If we’re going to have a conversation, I would prefer your undivided attention.”

“You want to talk.”

“I’ve never had to point a gun at your head to get you to comply.”

Madeleine almost smiled. It was the first time anyone had been so straightforward with her. “Well, there’s no need to start now.”

#no time to die #multichapter #lyutsifer safin #madeleine swann #mr white #fanfiction #fanfic #crime drama #slow build

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outerjjbx · 4 years

Text

Jiara July Jubilee

Day 4, 29th of July- destination day

words: 1.6k

JJ had always wanted to go to Australia.

It started when he was 10 years old. He was spending the night at John B’s, and Big John had insisted that they had to see Point Break. JJ wasn’t one to turn down a movie, especially if it involved surfing, so he agreed. By the end, when he was watching Bodhi paddle out to the waves of Bells Beach, he decided that his one goal in life was to go to Australia and surf those same waves.

A quick Google search revealed that it wasn’t really filmed in Bells Beach, and that those were actually waves from Oregon. Still, that didn’t affect his dream- he was going to surf at Bells Beach, Torquay, or die trying, just like Bodhi.

That’s what he wanted to do with the gold. He hadn’t told anyone, mainly because he hadn’t believed they would actually find it, but it was still true. He could go ‘full Kook’ after, but the trip was a priority.

When John B called from the Bahamas and told the Pogues both him and Sarah were alive, and that they had located some of the gold, JJ couldn’t believe his ears. His best friend eventually returned to the Outer Banks, with 100 million dollars converted from gold to money. It was only a quarter of the original amount, but it was enough to set each Pogues (plus Sarah) for life. They split it five ways, ending up with 20 million each.

As expected, the first thing that JJ did was book a flight to Victoria, Australia. John B and Sarah were travelling by themselves, and Pope was studying to get into some Ivy League college, so that just left JJ and Kiara. She was just as eager as him to travel to Australia; not only for the waves, but also for the wildlife. JJ was shocked by that, since he was pretty sure everything there could kill a herd of elephants with a single bite, but he was fine with her doing what she wanted as long as it meant JJ got to surf.

It took at least three days to convince Anna and Mike Carrera to let their sixteen year old daughter travel across the world with her delinquent best friend. They still weren’t happy about it, but enough begging, a reminder that her mother had travelled to England by herself at the same age and a promise to call every single day sealed the deal.

They needed parental consent to legally fly by themselves, meaning they had to stop by to see JJ’s dad for a signature. Kiara has suggested forging it, but JJ just sighed and shook his head, claiming he ‘had to face the music’. He hadn’t seen him since he took the keys to The Phantom, and he knew there were going to be dire consequences. He made Kiara wait outside as he went in, returning with a busted lip and a collection of new bruises, but a signature as well.

The flight was probably the most difficult part. JJ had never flown before, let alone for 17 hours. They had booked first class tickets, which definitely made it better, but the turbulence still made JJ wish he’d stayed home. Kiara found it amusing at first, but watching JJ struggle to breathe for over half a day straight was enough to make her wish the same thing.

Landing was simultaneously the scariest and best thing JJ had ever experienced. Feeling like he was plummeting towards the ground was terrifying, and his ears hurt like hell, but being safely on the runway after being convinced he wasn’t going to survive was the greatest relief of his life.

The pair were jet lagged beyond relief, but that didn’t stop JJ from running around Melbourne Airport like it was a theme park. Kiara had made them stop in there first so they could do some sightseeing in Melbourne city, and JJ had begrudgingly agreed. She knew he would enjoy it once they were actually there.

They had brought luggage and their boards with them, so they found a hotel where they could drop it all off and stay the night in. JJ suggested a room with one bed, causing Kiara to roll her eyes as she ordered one with two. His playful flirting was annoying at times, but it was harmless. Kiara knew he didn’t mean anything by it.

Neither of them knew their way around, and JJ had never been in a proper city before, so they spent hours just roaming the streets. Kiara has experienced her fair share of famous cities, and she had to admit Melbourne was nice. It still had that distinct city smell, the mixture of rubbish and oil, but it was relatively clean. The oldish buildings and street art were mesmerising, and the coffee was insane. She regretted letting JJ try any, though, because he was practically bouncing off the walls after a latté.

JJ made her take a dozen photos of him in Hosier Lane, her favourite being one of him pretending to kiss a muriel of Mike Wasowksi. She giggled as he tried to speak to the locals with a terrible accent, watching them pull disgusted expressions and back away. JJ was buying all the food he could get his hands on, his meal choices ranging from Indian to Subway, and Kiara couldn’t help but wonder what kept him going.

JJ ran across the road, nearly getting hit by a trolley, or a tram, as a local had told them, for the dozenth time. Kiara jogged to catch up to him and hit him on the arm.

“It doesn’t make any sense!” JJ exclaimed. “They’re road trains. Australia’s weird.”

“We have them in America too, dumbass,” Kiara said. “And besides, they’re better for the environment. Easier than trains, and better than cars.”

JJ shook his head. “What’s the point of cities, anyway? They just created greenhouse gases and, like, burn shit. Everyone should live on islands.”

Kiara raised an eyebrow. “This technically is an island, you know. It’s surrounded by water.”

“No, little islands,” JJ quipped. “Like ours.”

“And what would happen to the rest of the land?” Kiara asked, amused.

JJ shrugged. “I dunno. Who cares?”

Kiara laughed and began to walk down the street. “Come on. You want to make it to Torquay, don’t you?”

That caught JJ’s attention. He basically sprinted towards her, skidding to a stop so he could walk by her side. They made their way to their hotel, watching movies and eating room service for the rest of the night. Not having to worry about spending too much money was definitely a luxury JJ was taking advantage of, but Kiara was trying to keep her spending on the down-low. She wanted to make sure it lasted her whole life, including more travelling, and spending recklessly wasn’t going to allow that.

The next morning, Kiara had to practically drag JJ out of bed. He groaned something about being paralysed as she pulled their luggage to the door. Eventually, after a difficult process she was not looking forward to reliving, she got JJ up and they went downstairs for breakfast. There was a buffet, and JJ took advantage of the unlimited pastries and cereal.

The trip to Torquay was a flurry of trains, walks and buses. Driving would have been much easier, but they unfortunately discovered that the Australian driving system was very different than their’s. Besides, they didn’t want to learn how to drive on the wrong side of the road.

They booked their accommodation at the closest resort they could find to Bell’s Beach. The day was nearly over by the time they arrived, so they just spent some time messing around by the pool and ordering mocktails. They befriended a boy their age that was visiting from New South Wales, and they were astounded to see his parents ordering him beers. He told them it was normal, since he was seventeen and close to the legal drinking age, but they still found it hard to believe.

Kiara managed to get JJ out of bed relatively early in the morning, and they stopped at a nearby café for breakfast before venturing off the Bells Beach. JJ was running ahead, surfboard under arm as he navigated the hills leading down to the shore and looked out at the waves.

JJ’s grin was a mile wide as he stared out at the sea. Kiara joined him, admittedly growing nervous at the sight of the giant waves. They were bigger than she’d ever seen, spanning at least forty feet. She watched as JJ bolted out into the water, moving expertly. If she didn’t know him, she’d think he was a local that had surfed there a thousand times.

The waves were nothing like the ones in the Outer Banks, and they wiped out countless times. JJ made it worth it, though, because he looked to be having the time of his life every time he emerge from the water, coughing around his laugh. Kiara caught herself watching him more times than she’d like to admit, his admiring him for afar.

JJ had never been happier. He had never truly believed his dream would come true, and it was so much better than he’d expected. The waves felt like home, and he never wanted to leave.

The sea softened as the sun began to set. Kiara joined JJ in a calm area and they sat on their boards together, just watching the horizon.

“Thanks for coming with me,” JJ spoke, his eyes shifting to meet his friend’s.

Kiara leant over and ruffled his hair, making him grin and swat his hand away. “Anytime.”

#jiara #jj x kie #jiarajuly #outerbanksedit #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #jiara fanfiction #fanfic

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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 4 years

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Across Seven Seas

Chapter 2

Description: This fanfiction series is set in the year 2022, after the horrid COVID-19 has finally come to an end. In this fanfiction, Chris Evans holidays with his family in India and meets Meera Shankar. The story explores their rollercoaster journey and raises a question, whether two people, from two contrasting backgrounds and cultures, can build their future together?

This series is Chris Evans x OFC with Chris Evans' family and friends having recurring appearances. Please find below a lot of Original Characters-

Meera Shankar - The female lead

Meera's Mother

Poppy - Meera's maternal grandmother

Rohan - Meera's elder brother who is 6 years older than her.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

FIND MORE CHAPTERS BY CLICKING ON MY BIO

This is a work of fiction. The names of the hotels and companies have been changed to avoid copyright issues. Meera Shankar and her family is based on the author and her kin. No offense is intended.

P.S- All the photographs used in the chapters are of the real locations mentioned. I clicked these photographs on my vacation.

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

...

Chapter 2

Same day, 5:45pm - Dehradun Airport, India

The airplane cabin was lit with soft evening sunlight as the plane descended on the runway. Resting her head against the window, Meera tried her best to soak up the warmth. After collecting their bags, the family of four headed towards the taxi stand, looking for the hotel cab scheduled to pick them up from the airport.

Meera spotted the handheld sign 'SHANKARS' in the sea of drivers. Waving her hand, heads turned in their direction as she called out to the driver. "Meera at least try to be a little lady-like, let Rohan deal with the driver," urged her mother. "Seriously Ma? Deal with the driver? We just needed to get his attention and put our luggage in the car," said Meera, rolling her eyes. As the driver led them towards the cab, Rohan and Meera grabbed the luggage from the airport trolley. After the bags were kept safely in the trunk of the car, Meera returned the trolley to the stand. Her mother chided as she walked back, "What was the need to do that? There are workers who are hired to do this work." "Yes Ma but we used that trolley for our work, right? So we can keep it back in place as well. It makes life a little easier for the airport staff." "Why do you need to make their life easier? They get salary for their jobs." "Ma they stand on their feet for almost their entire shift. Even if a few people return their trolleys to the station, it can offer them some respite na?" Meera tried to reason, but her mother scoffed. "At least you can try to walk normally." Turning to look at her mother, Meera cocked an eyebrow, her expression saying "Really?"

It would be incorrect to describe Meera's walk as 'dainty'. Keeping her broad shoulders wide and her back straight, Meera held her head high while walking, controlling the swing of her hands by her side. She made it a point not to sway her hips but instead walked with her legs apart. Moreover, the attitude with which she walked always gave the impression that she is charging towards her target. With a height of 5ft 7", she often loomed over other women, her extra weight adding bulk to her persona.

Being the closest city to the hill station Mussoorie, Dehradun was a hub of activity. Alive with modern shopping centres, fancy restaurants, malls and a buzzing nightlife, the beauty of it all was lost on Meera. For her, it were the heritage sites in the city that piqued her interest. She was longing to explore places such as the Watch Tower built in the 1930s, a 50-year-old monastery and the Forest Research Institution, built in the 17th century that housed 3 museums. These places of cultural interest seemlessly merged themselves with the crowded city.

It was almost 7pm by the time they reached their hotel in the city. The plan was to rest overnight, then leave for the hill station early in the morning. While Mussoorie was just around 3 hours away, Meera knew it would take more time for them to reach their destination in the hills, with her motion sickness slowing them down on the winding hilly roads. She looked through the hotel room window, her inner nerd itching to visit the museums, walk amongst the city dwellers, learn more about their culture, their lifestyles. But alas, her family had other plans.

While her brother had started drinking alcohol the minute he entered his room, Poppy and Meera's mother were already on the bed, surfing through the TV channels. "Bala," Meera's mother called her, "Why are you standing near the window? Are you feeling unwell?" "Just looking outside the window Ma," she replied. "Why?" her mother pressed on, "You even took a long time in the bathroom. Are you okay?" With that, Meera turned around, visibly irritated, "Ma how many times have I told you it is creepy to keep track of my bathroom schedule? I HATE it when you do that!" "What is creepy in that? I am your mother. I have every right to know what are you doing, and when and where are you doing it." "No you don't!" exclaimed Meera, "You cannot keep a track of everything that I do Ma. I am 30 years old now and..." "29 years old," corrected her mother. "How does it matter?" continued Meera, "Stop nagging me all the time!" "But why are you looking out of the window? There's nothing to see," her mother insisted. "I am just looking out of the window because that's all we will get to do here AND in Mussoorie! Just sit and look. Nobody wants to go out, nobody wants to explore. Just sit in the comfortable chair in cold weather and look outside. That's all we do on EVERY vacation! That's all we ever do!" "You can also watch TV or maybe read a book," suggested Poppy. "Yes we spent thousands of rupees just to watch TV or read a book. Brilliant idea!" replied Meera sarcastically. "I can't believe I have 2 weeks to either look at mountains or at TV." "We will also go out Bala," her mother tried to reason with her. "Yes, Rohan will go out to buy alcohol from the local shops, he will then keep drinking like a fish and fall sick, which will cause you to worry. After he recovers, all of us will step outside once to see a handful of tourist attractions. And that's it. That's all the 'outings' I will have. Because you will never let me go out alone na. So I will be stuck at the hotel," concluded Meera, "This is why I wanted to go to a beach resort for our vacation. At least there would have been something to do at the beach." "I don't like beaches," said her mother. "I know," Meera sighed in resignation, turning back to look out of the window into the darkness.

6th September, 4:45am - Logan Airport, Boston, USA:

Chris had his eyes closed, trying to breathe through the anxiety which consumed him. He had been wrong in thinking that the paparazzi would not catch up with them if they caught an early plane. The swarm of reporters who were gathered outside the VIP entrance of the airport had been out for blood, desparate to capture a snap of the infamous Chris Evans. While regular photographers could have still been managed, the reporters with cameramen and mics certainly did not make it easier for him to walk through the gates of the airport. "People are now calling you the Disgraced Captain, how does that make you feel Chris?", "Do you want to share a message with your disappointed fans?", "When are you going to apologize to the public Chris?" His breathing became laboured as the reporters' questions started playing in his mind like a playlist on loop.

Scott sat besides him, rubbing his shoulders gently. Chris' condition was worrisome for the entire family. Chris had been unable to handle his downfall, and it had taken a toll on his mental, emotional and physical health. He only ever smiled and laughed with Dodger now, and even then, his eyes wore a distant look. No amount of therapy had helped his elder brother. Things started slipping further when Chris had completely stopped grooming himself. His hair and beard had outgrown his face, with only his nose and blue eyes visible. Chris had even started giving up on the gym, barely trying to maintain his muscular figure. Where rock-hard abs once dotted his torso, now a small flab of fat replaced it. Luckily though, his sweater hid the tiny gut well.

"Hey... Hey c'mon now, you know how harsh the media can be right? I am sure this will all blow over in a few weeks. Just take deep breaths. 🎶Just keep breathing, just keep breathing breathing🎶," Scott tried his best to hum, hoping to bring a smile on the hairy meatballs' face. But instead, he was greeted with teary eyes. "They are right, aren't they? I disappointed so many people. I lost so much Scott. I can't even begin to..." "This flight is about to take off," interrupted the airhostess, "Tie your seatbelts," she left with that curt instruction. When Scott turned to look at his brother again, Chris had angled his body towards the wall, already looking outside the window, at the first pale yellow signs of the rising sun. This is going to be a long flight, thought Scott.

Same day, 8pm - Dehradun Hotel, India

It was finally time for dinner. Wearing 2 jackets and a skull cap, Meera looked at herself in the mirror once before heading downstairs. She looked comical. Her overweight body looking larger with the bomber jacket, the skull cap covering most of her head, her black hair and her ears. Her glasses snuggly resting on her nose and her hands in the pockets of the thick pants she wore. She was not sure of the material. But hey, those pants kept her warm and better yet, they came with pockets! If only we would have gone to a warmer location, thought Meera ruefully, I could have worn my dresses. At least I would have still looked like a woman. A dry, homeless laugh escaped her lips. Ma would sacrifice her limbs to get me to behave like a woman.

This was going to be a cold and long vacation, and Meera was not looking forward to it.

#chris evans x india #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chrisevans #India #Dehradun #Mussoorie #Boston #Chris Evans family #Scott Evans #evansedit #evansensations #Chris Evans vacation #chris evans x oc #chris evans x plus size reader #oc appreciation day 2020 #OCs Are People Too

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hellobengski · 5 years

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In Another World: Japan 2019

Maybe to love is to learn – and learning Japan for quite some time is just beautiful with all its chaotic yet fulfilling desire at heart.

December is the season for family and friends and having to spend it another country again is different – a very memorable one. It is such a good grace of embracing new culture from a 5 hour trip away from home – living a temporary life, what it’s like to live in a world where everything seemed to be provided. The place itself is an art, where you can experience the calmness of the streets although I had to enjoy the freezing weather in which I was forced to wear almost four layers of clothing, including multiple heat packs to keep us going along the way. Nevertheless, Japan has its own way of welcoming you to the best possible ways it could offer, making exceptional memories of more than a dream.

Japan is in the top of my bucket list yet the very least to make it happen when I was younger. Given that it’s expensive, it requires you to apply for visa in which chosen people are only given the opportunity to process it. Maybe timing wasn’t for us then hence watching anime films was an alternative way to feel it. Japanese characters itself with perfectly triangular shaped faces used to be my hidden desire, like there’s something mystical about their personalities. And maybe timing could be right too. It could be right when the High Power allows you – specifically when you’re ready.

I have no idea what to hate in a place where it appears to be perfect. Utopia, as what they say. I went with a group of twenty people with various ages and personalities so there were two things that needed to be considered in this trip; to conform and to be patient. I have watched some documentaries, travel vlogs, and even movies like Hachiko to prepare myself with an expectant heart.

From there, I know Japan would lead us to wander and be lost.

Upon arriving in Japan, our group was picked up by huge sized black colored van including drivers who were definitely dressed well with their coat and tuxedo. We were late. And there is something wrong with that. It’s a bad Impression for Japanese people to be late since time is valuable – unless you have reasonable excuses. The tension was starting to fire up so I decided to apologise. The family did too. During the one-hour travel from Narita Airport to the first place where we stayed, I was mesmerized. The overwhelming emotions from visual presentations turned into reality. Maybe this is love, like seeing a person for the first time letting your head turn into 360.

Fallen leaves, chirping crows, and whistling of the winds. So this is winter – I have never felt this in my life. It surprised me as I was enjoying the giant automatic buildings. We toured several of Tokyo’s places, all of which had their own unique culture.

I experienced the towering skyscrapers and offices of Shinjuku and the shopping and pop culture of Harajuku. I learned how diverse Tokyo was: three blocks from the Tokyo Skytree, an observation tower that symbolizes Japan’s cutting-edge technology; Asakusa, an ancient Buddhist shrine where people prayed under enormous red lanterns and burnt incense for their ancestors. I noticed that this dramatic juxtaposition between the old and the new is what most characterized Japan: pop culture and technology contrasted yet blended with traditional customs and culture. While polar opposites of each other, these two aspects of Japan coexisted in perfect harmony. I believe that harmony sends an important message: you do not need to disregard the old in order to embrace the new. It is possible to honor and accept both.

And the bikes were electronic. I grew up learning how to ride a bike but never got the chance to do it in Japan. Maybe if I was just a solo traveler, I could use it to explore the clean roads.

Every train is a safe space.

With Haruki Murakami’s novel Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage, fragments of imagination have conveyed my emotions to become a fan of train stations. I have seen some parts of myself through Tsukuru, how darkness made him feel as an empty person, lacking in color and identity. He was real to me. From millions of people that passed through me, he could’ve been there. That’s when I started to love the train stations even more.

They are always on time– and of course, a delay of even just one minute will result in profuse apologies from the conductor. Train stations are always staffed with employees who are ready to answer your questions and do so very well. Though we weren’t able to ride city buses, I believe they’re also great though I wasn’t sure if we can pay their fares with the same card we used to ride the train.

I have seen people coming in and out of the trains, like every person has its own story of why they needed to ride the train. On Tuesday, I remember some old man trying to stop his son from crying. On Friday night, I smelled ginger flavored beer from Japanese employees who just got off from work from Shibuya station. I liked the smell, it didn’t make me feel that I was in danger. Probably weekends are for Filipinos, like Saturday, who came all the way from Grandberry mall outlet to purchase almost half price of some original brands that are dying for.

It is just solely convenient. There were convenience stores that are open 24 hours a day and you can simply find one just about anywhere. We found some food, basic toiletry items and magazines. Another thing that’s a go-to in Japan is the vending machines. Vending machines are even more common than convenience stores, and you can find one by just walking a block or two. Most of them just sell drinks like water, coffee, tea, juice and soda. They’re usually quite cheap (100 yen at the cheapest), and you can get them hot in the winter or cold in the summer.

I personally bought drinks from vending machines almost all the time and they were worth it. And the food, oh the food. Japanese don’t have the highest life expectancy in the world for no reason. Never in my life have I tasted the best apple pie in the world until Japan let me. From its first bite down to last, it was beyond my ultimatum. No words could express it.

Even so with Ramen after a whole exhausting day, the warm soup with its perfect texture of noodles satisfied us. I believe that every food regardless if it’s in the streets or in a luxurious restaurant was served with love. They would want to make you feel like you deserve to be well treated with a quality of food that they could offer you.

Some things in life are too complicated to explain in any language but in Japan, it has brought me to both --- tranquility and complexity. The demeanor of place demanded me to breathe. It gave me the power of wanting to be alone, looking back to nostalgic feelings that I felt and decisions I have made in my life.

Until another Utopian world took me to the fun and excitement part --- Tokyo’s Disneysea, the most brilliant story world’s ever created: a living ode to Walt Disney’s love for storytelling, world-building, and lovable characters. You see, Disney isn’t just made of Story Worlds – it’s also a story world in itself, and its star is Mickey remains the most iconic character ever drawn. Mickey belongs exclusively to the world of Disney; his presence invokes the idea that all of these smaller story worlds are part of something bigger, something uniquely magical. Mickey Mouse is the linchpin to the whole operation. He’s the reminder that Disneyland is more than the sum of its parts – it’s an experience unto itself.

Ultimately, the story of Disney sea is the story of my visit. My presence with my family defines the day; we get to pick rides and shows. Disney Park will always be an “open world,” where you explore, collect things, and meet characters in whatever sequence you choose.

Until sooner I realized we have one more day left to pack things and luggage. Items that were bought in Japan were already sort out, from gadgets to food, fridge magnets and even branded shoes. My mom had to buy another big trolley to maximize all the stuff so we could all bring home the goodies.

Just before the plane took off from Narita airport, I met an amazing couple from Japan. The lady’s Filipina, Marissa Suzuki, who’s married to a Japanese and been living in Japan for 30 years. The old man, Mr. Nori Suzuki, was 20 years older than her, had 2 children who were left at home. I was sitting from the window seat trying to calm myself from my episodic anxiety. The first thing she asked me was if there’s any book to read while waiting. I told her that there were just couple of magazines but probably wouldn’t satisfy her husband. It was a budget airline. She was hardly putting her bags on the bin until her husband helped her. And then she sat beside me. They smiled at me like they wanted to know me.

The two hour conversation started.

I felt the joy from their eyes, especially from the Japanese old man as they kept asking my whereabouts. They insisted on buying coffee and oatmeal cookies for me. I wanted to be polite so I smirked. Of course I was very hungry and didn’t eat some breakfast. They even offered wasabi nuts and matcha flavored round shaped sticky bread. I had to appreciate it although I didn’t really like the taste too much.

For once in my life, I tried staring to someone while sharing personal stories. I felt bittersweet from her expressions, how she left our country when her older sister brought her to Japan. It was like she didn’t have choice. She was only 17 back then when she faced the reality. I know she wanted to make me feel what she has been through. I could see through her eyes how she learned to love her husband from the first few years of their relationship. The difference of the culture and language didn’t really matter to her, instead, she was challenged by it. Mr. Suzuki was quite a storyteller, I was pretty convinced that he loves the Philippines with its warm people and weather. I love his words of wisdom; to treat people equally because we all deserve it; to value time because we all work for it; to give as much as you can because there’s no better feeling than to serve.

Funny how they wanted me to date a Japanese guy, or at least I should’ve met someone in a span of week. I could always go back, but will be definitely choosing a different weather. I admit I didn’t really have good sleep from the entire trip but maybe travels are for people who seek for adventure and stories.

From what I have learned in this trip, through its any lifestyle, people have survived. And we will always be. And those who survive have a duty. Our duty is to do our best to keep on living. Even if our lives are not perfect.

With all my sincerity and respect, in another life, will always go back to you, Japan.

#japan #japantravel #japantravel2019 #holidaytrip #train #tokyo #tokyo disneysea #tokyojapan

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miscolliding-planets · 4 years

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Chapter 3: Deviating Far Out

I watch Caiden lift the last of my luggage up into the bed of his truck with Apollo sitting right by my feet. He closed the truck bed shut and turned to face me and Apollo as he pats off dust from his hands. "Are you sure you did not forget anything?" he asked, raising a brow at me. "Passport? Charger? Your ticket, perhaps?" he continued.

"Yeah, I have everything here with me. I checked. Twice," I answered, annoyed.

"I was just making sure that we would not have to go back again just because you forgot to get whatever it is you forgot," he chuckled.

I just rolled my eyes and started walking to the front of the car. He followed me and opened the door to the backseat of his brand spanking new Ford Raptor Ranger, that he got from his dad, to let Apollo in. I opened the passenger seat and stepped up into the tall vehicle. It's a struggle for me since I have short legs and only stand at a whopping 5'0" ft tall. I heard Caiden laugh at me as he closes the door to the back seat. I flipped him off and shut the door with more force than necessary which earned me a large 'HEY!'. Yes, I did that because I know it would annoy him. But, it was not as forceful and as heavily as I would have done if it were my grandpa's old pick-up truck. That needed a lot more extra force. He was shaking his head when he got into his seat which earned him a shake of my head and a scoff.

The drive to the airport was silent. There was music playing on the speakers softly, but none of us talked throughout the drive. It took us about 45 minutes to reach the airport and there was some traffic on the ramp at the entrance. Caiden stopped by one of the empty slots where cars can let off passengers and their luggage. I immediately grabbed a trolley as Caiden unloaded my luggage and Apollo's crate from the truck bed. Caiden first placed Apollo's cage onto the trolley. I let Apollo out of the truck and opened the crate for him to enter. He immediately stepped inside his crate and settled himself. Caiden finished loading all my luggage onto the trolley and helped me pushed the trolley to the entrance.

"Get inside and wait for me. I'll just park the truck," he told me as he successfully pushed the cart near the doors.

I nodded and took over the handle bars. It took me some great effort to push the trolley since Apollo's added weight makes it a little heavier. I got through entrance security and decided to head to Starbucks where there are chairs outside. I checked my watch and saw that I still have about a couple hours before the check-in counter closes. I sat by the outside seating and checked on Apollo who is happily laying inside his crate. It took Caiden about 20 minutes to finish parking the car and get inside the terminal. I told him that I'll just buy a drink and some snack inside and he should guard my cart. I finished my transaction within 10 minutes and we proceeded to the check-in counters.

I also went to the check Apollo in as cargo since he's too big to fit inside the cabin. Luckily, the airline I chose have a specialized hold where pets can be placed. The cargo hold is also in the same pressurized hold as the checked baggage, but the temperature is in the same control as the cabin. I still included a water bottle, which is attached to Apollo's crate, where he can take sips of water whenever he wants to. Luckily, I took a direct flight, though it still means that he stays in the hold for more than 12 hours—since it takes a little more than 16 hours on average.

I gave the pet travel assistants some specific instructions about checking on Apollo as he waits to get loaded onto the plane. After checking on Apollo a final time before he gets placed inside the holding area for transport, I said goodbye to Caiden and proceeded to the gate where my flight will be called. I searched for my gate and proceeded to secure a seat by the windows so I can clearly see Apollo as he gets loaded into the plane. I checked my watch and I still have a little over 3 hours. I took out my iPad and continued the painting that I have been working on.

An hour before my flight, I noticed my plane taxi into the gate. I watched as little trucks begin appearing, towing around trolleys full of different luggage and cargo. I saw one tiny truck pull three trolleys filled with pet crates of various sizes and other packages that need to be kept on the special hold. I can easily tell which crate was Apollo's since it's the largest of the bunch. I watch as he was placed on a conveyor belt like contraption and is whirred inside before I joined the slew of passengers that lined up to get inside the plane.

The process took a little bit of patience but I eventually got inside the plane and into my seat. Fortunately, I got my hands on a Business class window seat. That means I would not have any annoying seat mates and I can watch the clouds pass by along with the sky changing as we pass each country on our route. I situated myself comfortably, putting my phone on airplane mode and taking out my iPad again to continue painting and drawing. It took about 10 minutes from taxi to take-off just because there are a million other flights that went before us, but that was faster than I expected. I immediately took off my seatbelt and ran to the lavatory since I need to take off my make up and wash up. When I got back, I immediately reclined my seat to prepare myself for a movie marathon.

I was halfway through my third movie when my the flight attendants began handing out menus where we can choose our desired food. They offer three meals whereas the second one is relatively light and only good as a snack. The first meal offered was somewhat of a breakfast since it's about 4 in the morning back home. I took one of their selections of meat-filled sandwich and a glass of orange juice. The second meal arrived about halfway through the flight. I was offered a selection between a salad bowl, noodles or a plate of pie—I selected the noodle dish and lemonade.

After the second dish came, I figured I can get some shut eye to gain some energy when I land in Bangkok. The last meal is normally offered about an hour or two before the end of the flight, so that gives me plenty of time to sleep. I would need the energy to handle customs, baggage claims, security and getting Apollo from cargo. I reclined the seat further and got to sleep. I set my alarm for 3 hours before the flight lands so that I can prepare myself for the last meal and the deplaning (Yes, that is a word. Airline people say that getting off a plane is "to de-plane"). I only had about 6 hours worth of sleep, but I found it enough that my energy was immediately replenished.

I dashed for the lavatory again to begin preparing myself for deplaning. I washed my face, applied a minimal amount of make-up and changed into Bangkok-weather friendly clothes before going back to my seat. The attendants going around again presenting the menus and offering drinks by the time I got out of the lavatory. I took a seat and tidied my things, putting my clothes neatly back in my bag. I was just about done when an attendant came to where I sat. I took their antipasti, beef tenderloin and a bowl seasonal fruits as my selection for my last meal on the flight.

I put on another movie on my iPad and started on my meal. It was as exquisite as eating in a 5-star restaurant disregarding the fact that my ears feel like exploding every few hours or so. The meal was cleared away a few moments after I finished all of it. I thanked the flight attendant that took my dishes away and went back to my movie. Fortunately, the movie ended just in time for landing preparations so I immediately put away my iPad and everything else that need to be put back in place.

The plane smoothly landed and people started standing up, getting ready to crowd at the door and deplane. I waited until there are only a few passengers left before I told up from my seat and left the plane. I hurriedly walked to make it to the customs counter at the shortest possible time. The lines were moderately long, but it moved a lot faster than I anticipated. Soon enough, I was out where I can claim my baggage—that took a while since everyone's baggage came all together. I hurriedly took all my luggage and proceeded to where I can claim Apollo. I was tapping my fingers and my feet, not being able to stand still as I wait for Apollo to come out. I immediately let him out of his crate as soon as the staff placed him in front of me.

He happily hopped out of his crate and circled around me in protest. I hugged him, laughing as he whined about being cramped and bored. I patted his head one last time before I started walking as I look for the exit. It took me a few minutes before I found the doors. Warm summer breeze instantly greeted me as I took my first steps out the exit doors. I walked a little further to the edge of the sidewalk before stopping on my tracks and started breathing in deeply and taking in my new surroundings. A smile came on my face as new scents and new, but slightly familiar, sounds registered through my senses. I looked down at Apollo who is also taking in our new surroundings as he calmly sits by my feet. I was about to push the cart full of luggage again when I heard my name being called.

"Ms. Marquez?" called man standing beside a van. I don't know about you, but that kind of screamed 'SHADY' to me. He looks to be a few years older than me and a native. The man is also dressed pretty decently in a collared shirt and khaki trousers. He's also sporting presentable shoes though a little worn.

I reluctantly approached him, a hundred million possibilities running through my head. I know that no decent human being will commit a kidnapping in broad daylight, outside a busy airport where hundreds of passengers come in and out every minute. "Hi. Umm...." I greeted him as I got closer.

He smiled wider and gave a little laugh. "You don't have to worry, Ms. Marquez. I'm not a bad person. Khun Palm from Peraya Studios sent me to pick you up. You can call me Man," he politely introduced himself.

That gave me some sense of relief and also made me give off a hysterical chuckle, a proof of my being crazy paranoid and overthinking. I rounded the cart and walked closer to him. "Hello, Man. It's nice to meet you. But, you can call me Andie," I greeted him and offered my hand for a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, too, Ms. Andie," he took my hand and gave it a few firm shakes before releasing it. "I see your dog is big. Is he male or female?" he commented as he walked to the cart and started pushing it towards the rear of the van. Followed him so I can observe and continue the conversation.

I watched him as he walked to the back of the van and pulled the door to the trunk open. He walked back to where he left the cart and pulled the suitcase that is at the top of the pile. "I guess you expected my dog to be of a smaller breed," I retorted with a small snicker as I pat Apollo's head. "He's male, by the way," I added.

Man nodded as he walks back to the cart."The females I know prefer the kinds of dogs that are ugly-cute, noisy and/or aggressive," he replied with a dry laugh as he hauled a suitcase up the back of the van. That made me burst out in a loud, ugly cackle. He pulled another suitcase off the pile and put it with the earlier suitcase. "I normally see girls holding small dogs with pointy ears and very angry; one has short hair and the other is fluffy so they take them to salons for pets," he continued. This made me cackle a little louder, making me sound like a wicked witch.

I felt Apollo sit beside me, propping his body on my leg a little. "I got you. I think I know what breeds you are talking about. But, I've always preferred larger breeds. They're more reliable and sturdy though I also owned breeds like Shih Tzus and Bichon Frises before I had Apollo," I explained as he continues to load my luggage.

"I don't know what they are," he bashfully admitted as he closed the door to the back of the van. "If you don't mind, what breed is Apollo? I have never seen his kind," he continued as he guided me to where I can sit.

He opened the sliding door, stepping aside to let me through. I smiled a thanks and started unhooking Apollo's leash from his collar. "He's a Great Pyrenees," I answered as I signaled Apollo to get inside the van. I took a look at Man's face as I followed after my dog. I giggled at the confused look Man wore that did not change as he closed the door to where I sat. He got in behind the steering wheel still looking confused. "I'm guessing you have not heard that breed before," I opened the topic again.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Andie—" he started, but I interrupted. Man pulled off from the curb and merged onto the oncoming traffic smoothly.

"Please drop the "Miss", Man. Just Andie," I corrected him. The "Miss" before my name makes me feel like a some princess who's also snobbish and rude. I really don't like that feeling.

He scratched his head as he nodded. I smiled at him as a sign that it's okay. "I'm sorry, again. But I have not heard of that breed before," he admitted as he maneuvered the wheel, weaving through the cars that are also traversing the roads off the airport.

I watched as the scenery through the windows gradually change the further we are from the airport. "That's okay. It's normal. Their breed is not common in this parts of the world," I replied as Apollo positioned himself by the windows. "The breed was mainly used to watch over and herd cows, goats and other livestock in France many years ago. They're mostly seen in places where the weather can be a little colder," I explained.

"I see," he unconsciously replied as he got deep into his contemplation. We were a few minutes into what looks like a freeway when he spoke again. "You can take a nap, Ms. Andie. We're still a little far from the apartment where you will stay," he commented.

I gave him a reprimanding look jokingly. "I heard a 'Miss' again," I waved a finger at his direction in jest. He laughed as he scratched the top of his head again. I giggled and nestled myself deeper into the seat. "I hope you don't mind if I do. I'm a little beat," I added as I settled into a more comfortable position.

"I don't mind, at all. Please relax. I will wake you up when we get to the place," he promised.

I remembered mumbling a tired 'thank you' as I felt my eyes close in exhaustion. Plus, car rides also make me so drowsy that I instantly fall asleep; except when I'm driving, that is. I don't know, but there's something about sitting at the back with ease can easily lull me to sleep. I felt Apollo lay down by my foot. I guess he also felt tired because of the flight or because of the stress of it. However, I'm still not sure if I did thank Man for the offer. I better say thank you when we get to my apartment.

#Miscolliding Planets #story 1 #story #novella #storytelling #romance #love #discovery #growth #relationship #ideals #relationship ideals #ideal love

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thegingerwriter · 4 years

Text

The Light of The Telephone Box

A short horror story by L.J. Hanslow

Rated M for slightly disturbing themes

The high-pitched ring of my mobile phone filled the apartment, the sound bouncing off the cramped walls of my dust-filled loungeroom. With half a shoe on, a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, and my hair a rat’s nest on top of my head, I groaned loudly at having yet another task to add to my failing, late morning routine.

I spat into the sink quickly, throwing my toothbrush into the cup on my bathroom counter as I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve. I stumbled down the hallway, trying desperately to pull my other shoe on while I made my way towards the loungeroom. My phone sat on the coffee table in the middle of the room, happily screaming its dreaded sound while I made my way over to it, squinting at the name that stood out on my screen.

Noah.

What was his issue? I already knew I was late- I even told him I would be arriving late about 15 minutes ago, since I messaged him to cover for me with my boss as soon as I woke up. I was already imagining the scowling face of my boss that I would have to face as soon as I crept through the back door of the department store. It was often a difficult task trying to pretend I had been there since 7:00 AM that morning- I certainly didn’t have to be reminded by Noah of all people.

I turned away from the phone, choosing to ignore it rather than get even more annoyed at something that truly didn’t matter. Instead, I ran back down the hallway to grab my hairbrush from the bathroom counter, before running back to the loungeroom for my bag and running the brush through my knotted auburn hair. Throwing my keys, purse and my phone into my handbag, I turned on my heel and headed for the front door.

My hand had barely brushed against the cool metal of my door handle before the ringing of my mobile phone stopped me again. If that was Noah again…

The phone kept ringing.

“For God’s sake!” I yelled in frustration, reaching into my bag to pull my phone out once again. Noah’s name popped out at me again and I had to resist the urge to throw the phone against the wall as I picked it up. I tapped the green picture of a telephone on my screen and put it up to my ear.

“I’m heading out the door now, I’ll be down there in like 10 minutes, can’t you just cover for me?!” I exclaimed into the phone.

There was no answer, except for the sound of someone breathing softly into the microphone.

“Noah?” I asked, already even more irritated than before. I held my breath as three sounds came from the phone. The squeaking of trolley wheels. The cry of a baby. A strangled yell.

I hung up the phone.

No.

Not again. It had been months since I received another phone call. My hands shook as I recalled them, remembering all the times I failed to save people. There was always the sounds. And then, there was disaster. I thought it had stopped- I hadn’t actually had a phone call in weeks, and I certainly hadn’t answered in longer. I couldn’t deal with this again- the hardship. The guilt.

I threw the phone into my bag, trying to forget about it as I finally headed for my front door. I’d keep my ears out today. Maybe I could do something this time.

* * *

I scanned the customer’s items: an iceberg lettuce and some carrots. I had finally made it to work, approximately half an hour late, and arrived to an angry looking boss.

Like other times, I questioned Noah about the mysterious phone call. And just like the other times, I was met with confusion and annoyance.

“I didn’t call you, Harper. I sent you another message after you said you were coming and told you to hurry up. I couldn’t cover for you forever, you know,” Noah had said. Whether that was true or not, I didn’t know. Nor did I think I cared.

However, I was still listening out. Trying to, anyway. When you’re listening for specific noises, they all suddenly blend into one.

I remember… It happened around lunchtime. Noah and I were coming back from our lunch break, talking about my upcoming trip when it happened.

“Just 28 hours and then I am gone for a whole two weeks. No work calls, no family drama. Just me, my camera and the whole of London,” I said, smiling while thinking about the bliss of not having to deal with my angry boss each morning.

Noah laughed. “What made you want to go to London? That’s like an eight-hour flight from Chicago airport. Why not New York? Plenty to photograph there.”

I shook my head. “Already been to New York. And I don’t know… I just saw a lot of… advertising? Yea, I had so many ads pop up everywhere. On my phone, on my laptop… pretty much everywhere.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird, or maybe even creepy that you’re taking a trip because all the advertising you’ve seen told you to?”

Now that he mentioned it, it did seem a little odd. I opened my mouth to reply when the sound of someone calling my name caused me to pull away from our conversation.

“Harper! Come help me over here. I need you to hold the base of this ladder for me while I hop down.” It was my boss’ voice, and it came from high up on a steel ladder a couple aisles down from us.

I shot Noah a look before starting to walk towards the ladder, which shook ever so slightly every now and then. “Coming!” I called out.

I was almost there when suddenly I was forced to jump out of the way as a trolley came speeding in my direction. Somehow, I managed to successfully move out of the way before I could be run over by the trolley. However, it didn’t stop rolling, and continued on to crash directly into the ladder, the sound making my blood turn cold.

No! I was meant to stop this! I thought to myself. How could this have happened again!

It all happened in slow motion, the ladder falling over as soon as the trolley collided with it. The squeaking of trolley wheels.

Costumers in the store jumped back, a mother clutching her baby as it wailed at the clang of metal on the floor. The cry of a baby.

As my boss fell, he screamed, hopelessly trying to hopelessly grab the ladder, anything, to prevent himself from falling. A strangled yell.

But there was nothing I could do. There was nothing anyone could do.

* * *

I spent the next day in my apartment, procrastinating my packing by thinking about the previous day. I hadn’t slept that night, blaming myself for someone else’s death. Someone, I don’t know who, tried to tell me what would happen. I hear noises, and bad things happen.

Every time, I try and figure it out before it happens. And every time, I am too late.

“Harper stop doing this to yourself!” I exclaimed into the silent apartment. I sat there for a few more moments, before letting out a loud groan. “Why me? What did I ever do to have to deal with this?!”

I wanted it to stop. I thought it did stop. And then it happened again. More death. More guilt.

I glanced across the room at my half-packed bag. No. I decided. I wouldn’t do this to myself. I was going to London in a few hours. I’d catch my flight, I’d go to London, just like I was supposed to.

* * *

I settled into my seat on my flight, thankful for the aisle seat I booked myself into. It was a long flight, and I certainly didn’t want to be in between 2 people for the entire 8 hours.

I checked my phone, sticking my earphones into my ears while making sure I was ready for take-off. I pressed play on my music, but it was interrupted when a call showed up on my phone, a photo of my mother and the word ‘Mama Bear’ displayed on my screen.

I immediately pressed cancel on the call. If my mother needed me, she knew she could always reach me by text message.

The plane began to move as the phone rang again. I pressed cancel.

A message popped up on my phone. Honey pick up. It’s important.

When my phone rang again, I pulled my headphones out and took a deep breath as I cautiously pressed answer.

“Hello?” I said into the phone. A flight attendant appeared behind me in an instant.

“Miss, I’m sorry but you can’t be on a phone call while on the plane. Please prepare for take-off,” the woman said as sweetly as possible.

I ignored her, listening to the phone call. “Mum?”

An old-fashioned telephone ring filled my ears.

Not again.

“Miss, did you hear me?”

As soon as I heard the attendant’s voice again, I ended it, turning my phone off, throwing it into my bag. “Yes, yes. Sorry,” I said quickly, not even turning to her again.

She left again, and soon; we were in the air.

I spent the entire flight staring into space, wondering how I would be able to save someone this time. On the plane, at least I knew I didn’t have to worry about something happening here, since a majority of phones, were on flight mode. There were constantly telephones going off everywhere- there was no way I could even possibly warn someone. At least with more sounds I could identify it as soon as it happened. But a telephone ring? It could be anyone. Anything could happen.

I must have fallen asleep for a majority of the flight because the next thing I knew, we had landed, and people were loudly pulling their luggage from the overhead lockers.

It was all a blur for the next hour, finding my suitcase in the midst of thousands, leaving the airport, trying to find a cab to take me to my hotel. All one big blur.

When a cab finally pulled up in front of me, I sighed in relief, throwing my suitcase into the backseat with me.

“Where to?” The cab driver asked.

“The Royal hotel please.” I responded, staring out the window as he pulled away from the airport.

I watched the busy London streets roll pass, the commotion and lights slowly dying down as we neared where I assumed my destination was. When the cab driver pulled up on a corner, but not in front of the hotel, I gave him an odd look.

“Sorry, Miss. The road’s closed. If you just walk along down that street and turn the corner, you’ll see a red telephone box. Your hotel is right up ahead.” He said, and I let myself out of the vehicle.

I walked along the pavement, my boots clinking on the stones as I wheeled my suitcase behind me. It was another few minutes before I saw the light of the telephone box up ahead, and sped up, assuming the dimly lit building down the street was my hotel.

I was just about to pass the red telephone box, that luckily lit up a majority of my part of the street, when a flash of movement caught my eye in the darkness on the other side. I squinted into the darkness, searching for something. I told myself I had made it up. Just paranoid walking in the dark, I thought to myself.

I dismissed it, turning to start walking again when a noise made me stop dead in my tracks.

Slowly, I turned to the light of the telephone box as I heard the phone inside begin to ring.

#short horror story #original short story #original story #thegingerwriter

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the-honeydripper · 7 years

Text

A pleasant flight.

*This is purely a work of fiction, featuring an imagined version of 1988 Robert Plant. Thank you to @waywaydowninside and @firethatgrewsolow (who’s also my wonderful beta!) for inspiration and encouragement! ❤*

She’d stowed away all her luggage and was just about to start reading her book, as the plane was getting ready for take-off. In her head she was reciting her mantra: “Please let the other seats stay vacant, please let the other seats stay vacant…” hoping she’d be able to stretch out across them the moment they hit cruising altitude. So far, it looked very promising. The stewardess had just been down the aisle, checking the overhead lockers, making sure all seat belts were fastened.

She opened “Chain of Chance” – nothing like a bit of ‘70s science fiction to pass a boring flight – and was just getting into the reading groove when suddenly a bag being dropped into the seat next to her made her jump. Urgh! Just when she was certain this could be a pleasant flight with the whole row to herself! Annoyed, she sighed and with one eyebrow raised and a rather sour expression on her face, she turned to whomever had spoilt her plans. He’d just finished stowing his suitcase away. As he ducked his blond, curly head to sit down he smiled so disarmingly that she couldn’t help but let her sour expression fade. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I just made it by the skin of me teeth!” “No, no, that’s all right. I was just lost in my book,” she smiled back. The polite, conversational, civilized part of her brain made her reply politely and calmly. The music loving, rocker chick part of her brain was jumping up and down, waving its hands, shouting: “DO YOU REALISE THAT’S ROBERT PLANT?!?!?!!!” He took his bag off the middle seat, placing it underneath the seat in front, asking: “Do you mind?” As he made to sit right next to her.

“No, of course not,” she said smiling. Desperately trying to get her heart beat to return to its normal rate.

He buckled his seat belt and sat back in his seat with a contented sigh.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she picked up her book and started reading. Very aware that one of the sexiest men she’d ever clapped eyes on was sitting right next to her.

As they taxied along the runway and sped up for take-off, she felt herself relax. She always did when flying. There was something comforting about gliding along above the world and all its worries.

It also didn’t hurt that the book was really interesting and nearly impossible to put down.

She’d registered with half an eye that the man next to her had taken out a book as well, and was apparently engrossed in it.

After about an hour, the stewardess came down the aisle with the drinks trolley. Ordering a glass of white wine, she sipped it while continuing to read.

As the cabin crew slowly made their way with the food, a while later, she could feel a shift in the man beside her. She looked up and found him staring at her. Looking back at him, smiling, she said “What? Did I suddenly sprout a second nose?”

He laughed and said, no, he just liked how she looked when concentrating on her book. She looked so passionate in a quiet way.

She couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Thank you. I tend to lose myself in books I like, and this is really engaging.”

He leant over and read the title.

“Oh, yes, I remember that book. Never read it myself.” “What were you reading?”

He held up “Simarillon” and she smiled.

“I should’ve expected that from you.”

“Really? So you do know who I am, then?”

“M-hmm, you’re rather easily recognizable with that mane of yours, you know.” She raised an eyebrow teasingly.

He laughed and just as he was about to reply, the stewardess leaned over and handed them their food.

“Anything else to drink, sir? Madam?”

“White wi…” they both started saying and broke off.

“Two white wines, please,” he said and when he was handed the first glass, he put it on her tray with a wink.

After the stewardess had moved on, he said;

“Where were we? Oh, yes, my cover had been blown!”

She laughed and then, narrowing her eyes, said in a mock stage whisper

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

He smiled widely, and she could feel that tell-tale flutter in her heart again. He really was quite lethal.

After having eaten the surprisingly good meal and chatting a little, he asked her,

“So, London. Going for business or pleasure?”

“A little bit of both, I suppose. I’m going back home to check on the state of my family home and then plan on trawling some old book-and-music shops to hunt for treasure.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Well, I’ve been looking for good first editions of a couple of my favourite books, and I’m trying to find some good recordings of Skip James, but they’re really elusive.”

“Skip James?”

“Yes, he’s an American blues musician from the ‘20s and ‘30s. He made the song “Devil Got My Woman”…”

“Yes, I know, he’s one of my favourites.”

“Really?! Wow, I’ve hardly ever met anyone who knows of him!”

“I have an original ’78 of “Devil Got My Woman”.”

Her eyes went wide as saucers.

“No. Way!”

“Oh, yes, I found it a couple of years ago after having tried to track it down for ages.”

“That’s just… I mean… Oh, my god! I can’t believe it!” Grinning she said, “I remember hearing it for the first time. It set me on my journey of discovering and loving Delta blues! His voice is just so raw and full of emotion.”

“Have you ever heard it played on a ‘20s wind-up gramophone? It adds a whole different dimension to it.”

“No, just a modern turntable, sadly. I can imagine that would be great, though.”

“You want to come see my record collection?”

She laughed.

“Did you seriously just say, “Come see my record collection”? I can’t believe you!”

With a wink and a teasing smile, he said,

“Well, it is a very nice record collection…”

They continued to talk and flirt until the desserts arrived: strudel for her, chocolate mousse for him.

He took a spoonful and closed his eyes in pleasure, moaning softly.

“Mmmm… Oh, that just hit the spot. Here, you must try some.”

Holding a spoonful out to her. She looked at him like he’d just spoken to her in Greek. He narrowed his eyes at her and said

“Go on. It’s sinfully good.”

Keeping eye contact with him, she opened her mouth, allowing him to feed her a spoon of the fluffy chocolate treat.

She closed her eyes as her mouth closed around the spoon, not quite believing that she was being fed chocolate mousse by Robert-bloody-Plant!

He slipped the spoon from her and just as she was starting to moan at the taste, she felt something soft and warm against her mouth.

It took a couple of seconds to register that it was a pair of lips, but before she could properly respond, they were gone.

She opened her eyes, only to look straight into his. He had a look of such raw passion in his eyes, her heart nearly stopped and she momentarily lost her breath.”

“So, was it to your taste?”

“Hm?”

“The mousse?” He said, putting on an angelic face.

“Oh… oh, yes. It was, um… U-huh.”

He smiled at her temporary struggle with the English language.

“May I sample your sweet delights?”

“Huh?”

“Your strudel.” He said, innocently.

“Oh, sure. Here,” she said, holding the plate out to him.

“No, no, that’s no fun, you feed it to me,” he teased.

With a now slightly shaking hand, she took a forkful of strudel and brought it to his lips. He kept his eyes on her while closing his lips around it, taking his time, and licking his lips after swallowing.

“Mmm… delicious. Sweet with just a hint of… citrus…”

He held out another spoon of mousse for her and quirking up a corner of her mouth she opened for him to slip it between her lips

She swallowed and he beckoned her with a finger, saying “You’ve got a little…” and when she leaned closer he captured her lips with his again. This time snaking his left hand into her hair, caressing the back of her head, holding her to him.

Their lips moved slowly over each other, his tongue begging for entrance. She opened for him and their tongues snaked together in perfect harmony.

He was both gentle and firm, with the softest lips she’d ever felt. He tasted of chocolate and apples and the cognac he’d been sipping.

He moaned quietly, sending shivers down her spine, pulling slightly away from her, looking into her eyes with a mixture of lust and wonder.

He briefly captured her lips again, kissing his way down her jaw to her neck, latching on to her pulse point, making her eyes roll back into her head. She tangled her hands in his gorgeous golden mane, making him growl and take a small, playful nip at her.

“Ladies and gentlemen. We’re making our final approach now into London Heathrow airport. Please make sure your seats are in the upright positions, your bags have been safely stowed and your seatbelt is securely fastened.”

They reluctantly broke apart, breathing heavily, fastening their seatbelts.

He ever so smoothly placed his hand on her knee, sliding it slightly up her thigh.

She smiled at him.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear

“I have a car that’ll pick me up when we land, would you like a lift? I could show you my big instrument…

“My gramophone!” He said, batting his eyelashes innocently.

“Sure, I’d love to see your powerful horn…”

He broke into a big grin, making his laughter lines and dimples deepen.

#robert plant #robert plant fanfic #robert plant fan fiction #a pleasant flight

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amansi1502-blog · 5 years

Text

Asia Pacific Duffles Travel Bag Market is estimated to reach USD 24878.98 million by 2027, growing at a CAGR of 7.1 % between 2019 and 2027

Overview

Several factors such as improving travel activities, growth in population, rise in urban population and increasing disposable income will drive growth of the market in the coming years. Moreover, the growing affluence in the emerging economies and awareness of better brands has had a significant influence in the market. However, counterfeit products are always a major restraint acting in the handbag industry. Additionally, high import duties and falling store presence coupled with decreasing global GDP growth have been affecting the growth of the satchel and saddle market in Asia pacific region.

Asia pacific duffle travel bags is categorized into Rolling Duffle Bags, Expandable Duffle Bags, Upright Duffel Bags, Carry-on Duffle Bags and others. Rolling duffle bags comes with wheels attached to its base to move quickly on different surfaces. Maximum of them is made up of polyester material for the durability. They are easy to carry and available enough space for stuffs. Usually, there is a fixed handle on the top to carry in one hand. Expandable duffle type of bags is ideal for women. They are expandable to carry shopping stuffs. Typically, leather uses to make these bags. This is a perfect bag for women who love to go for shopping. Expandable duffle bags are fashionable and can be utilized for a long time with a little bit of care. They are also lightweight themselves.

Upright duffle bags have the upright design. It has enough space for carrying necessary business things and personal things. They come in a large size like a trolley bag. The built-in wheel allows the user to move bag anywhere without any stress. Carry-on duffle bags are designed in a perfect way for carrying things on a short trip. They can put up under the airplane seat, and there is no hassle to wait for your luggage in the airport. Comes with a handle and carrying belt. You can either take it with one hand or carry on your shoulder. Growing demand for hybrid rolling duffle bags (soft exterior; hard and high-strength construction), owing to their key features such as aesthetics, convenience, protection of belongings, and better security is further expected to drive the market growth.

Asia pacific duffle travel bags is segmented into Male and Female. Duffle bags are widely used by male and female in terms to travel long or short distance journey to carry stuffs in a safe and secure manner. Duffle bags are usually kept lighter and are spacious to carry good number of things at a go. Their unique capacity to adjust and hold on to the luggage makes it a popular travel bag that is used by both men and women. The strategic pricing of these products has attracted the customers with unique selling ideas and have contributed massively in the handbag industry.

Asia Pacific duffle travel bags market includes China, India, and Japan among the other regions showed the fastest growth during the forecast period due to the rising affluence among the middle class population coupled with rise in migration in these regions. Urban consumers in the Asia Pacific region are seen to contribute a large portion of the sales of travel duffle bags due to their rising consciousness regarding brand preference and increasing disposable income among the consumers. This in turn is expected to boost the demand for travel duffle bags in this region.

Asia-Pacific duffle travel bag market witnessed a rapid growth as duffle travel bags are increasingly becoming a fashion accessory with ergonomic designs, trendy colour combinations, textures, and clean contoured lines. In addition, design modification and innovative materials offering light bags has further fuelled the growth of the market. Owing to its rising demand, manufacturers are spending on preparing better quality duffle bags and using improved leather and chains. As more and more people are becoming globally exposed to international accessories, the need for travel accessories is shooting up.

Some of the major players of duffle travel bag market are VIP Industries, VF Corporation, Briggs & Riley Travelware, MCM Worldwide, Samsonite, Rimowa, Louis Vuitton, Delsey, Antler, Hermes, Crown, HIDEO WAKAMATSU, ACE, Tumi, Santa Barbara Polo, Travelpro, Eminent, Commodore, Diplomat, Winpard, Jinhou, JINLUDA and Powerland. These companies focus on widening their product portfolios to meet the varying needs of customers. Top companies such as Samsonite are facing significant competition from these smaller players, as the latter are focusing more on developing and introducing advanced, application-specific duffle travel bags for the consumers in the region.

Major players in the Market are identified through secondary research and their Market revenues determined through primary and secondary research. Secondary research included the research of the annual and financial reports of the top manufacturers; whereas, primary research included extensive interviews of key opinion leaders and industry experts such as experienced front-line staff, directors, CEOs and Marketing executives. The percentage splits, Market shares, growth rate and breakdowns of the product Markets are determined through using secondary sources and verified through the primary sources.

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Asia Pacific Duffles Travel Bag Market: Product Type

· Rolling Duffle Bags

· Expandable Duffle Bags

· Upright Duffel Bags

· Carry-on Duffle Bags

Asia Pacific Duffles Travel Bag Market: Application

· Male

· Female

Asia Pacific Duffles Travel Bag Market: Competitive Analysis

· VIP Industries

· VF Corporation

· Briggs & Riley Travelware

· MCM Worldwide

· Samsonite

· Rimowa

· Louis Vuitton

· Delsey

· Antler

· Hermes

· Crown

· HIDEO WAKAMATSU

· ACE

· Tumi

· Santa Barbara Polo

· Travelpro

· Eminent

· Commodore

· Diplomat

· Winpard

· Jinhou

· JINLUDA

· Powerland

Asia Pacific Duffles Travel Bag Market: Regional Analysis

· North America

· U.S.A

· Canada

· Europe

· France

· Germany

· Spain

· UK

· Rest of Europe

· Asia Pacific

· China

· Japan

· India

· South East Asia

· Latin America

· Brazil

· Middle East and Africa

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https://www.profsharemarketresearch.com/asia-pacific-duffles-travel-bag-market/

Asia Pacific Duffles Travel Bag Market Report delivers comprehensive analysis of :

· Market Forecast for 2019-27

· Market growth drivers

· Challenges and Opportunities

· Emerging and Current market trends

· Market player Capacity, Production, Revenue (Value)

· Supply (Production), Consumption, Export, Import analysis

· End user/application Analysis

About Profshare

Profshare Market Research is a full service market research company that delivers in depth market research globally. We operate within consumer and business to business markets offering both qualitative and quantitative research services. We work for private sector clients, along with public sector and voluntary organisations. Profshare Market Research publishes high quality, in-depth market research studies, to help clients obtain granular level clarity on current business trends and expected future developments. We are committed to our client’s needs, providing custom solutions best fit for strategy development and implementation to extract tangible results.

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livetofishdotcom-blog · 7 years

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Most articles on our blog are informative. The goal of such articles is to help our readers gain more understanding about fishing, boating, and the equipment available. This article is a break from that tradition. What you’ll read below is a true story about a recent fishing trip to Stuart, FL; the sailfish capital of the world.

Atlantic Sailfish Caught by Live to Fish team member

This was not your average fishing trip. In fact, if the entire trip could be reduced into one word, that word would certainly be an antonym for average.

Imagine having more disposable income than you knew what to do with. I don’t have to ask you to imagine enjoying fishing. That’s kind of a given if you’re reading this. You earned your wealth through the sale of a business you’d worked hard to build. One started out of your garage. Here you are now, a bit older and grayer than before, but well before that point in life when your physical state beings to fail you. You’re young enough to enjoy the fruits of your labor.

What follows is a glimpse into what that life would be like.

Many of us dream of being able to go fishing anytime we want, anywhere we want. Well, all that takes are two things: time and money. Some of us dream of having that boat big and stout enough to tackle the world’s oceans. We’d surely plot one course after another to coveted tropical locales known for being the best location in the world for whatever species we’d decided to wake up and target. Even for those for which money is not an issue, time on their yacht’s engines and the wear and tear of the trip is an issue of concern. Well, that makes sense. In those cases, yacht transport ships become an option. How much does it cost to ship a 60′ Viking from Stuart, FL to…say Costa Rica? As of December 2017, approximately $48,000.00. One way.

Now, back to the trip that actually did happen. This fishing expedition involved flying to Stuart, FL on a privately owned plane, staying at one of the most well appointed marina’s along Florida’s Treasure Coast, and fishing aboard a 60′ foot Viking meticulously maintained by a dedicated captain and crew.

There are a number of truly beautiful things about private air travel. When does your flight leave? When you get there. Baggage check? Nope. Security line? Nada. Flying with a knife? A firearm? Good for you!

I couldn’t tell you what airport we landed at in Stuart, FL. I can tell you the 236 mile trip takes up to 3 and half hours by car. Our flight consumed less than 50 minutes. Truthfully, I could’ve cared less about where we landed. I was on this trip to catch fish. Not learn about Florida’s private airports. That doesn’t mean you can’t be impressed by the logistical improvements. FYI, flying privately… it never gets old. Never.

It was a smooth landing. Thermals aren’t really an issue during a winter evening. The fuselage door opened. Stairs lowered. A gentleman stood smiling. His hand out to assist with luggage. I learned he was the Captain.

Standing a hair over six feet, he had a youthful, gregarious way about him. A crew cut revealed blond hair. A color I’ll wager came about through years under the sun. Clear blue eyes, an honest face, and an affable demeanor. All the qualities you want in a Captain. None you don’t. His actions revealed a truly genuine interest in ensuring every detail of our trip was taken care of. Every contingency planned for. Every system on the Yacht he commanded, electrical or mechanical, running perfectly.

Of course, one never knows how skilled a Captain is until the vessel leaves the dock. On the water, there’s no such thing as perception being reality. You can’t possibly “fake it till you make it.” You make it. If not, the cost is often much higher than mere loss of reputation.

Luggage stowed, we piled into a large extended cab pickup truck. The Captain parked conveniently a few feet from the plane. So much for walking down a cramped airline aisle made for runway models with full blown anorexia, piling into a trolley, managing not fall down an escalator, or feeling like a sardine in an airport. All just so you can navigate your way to either curbside pick up, or baggage claim.

A 10-minute ride took us to Pirate’s Cove Marina. More importantly, we arrived to board the vessel Aluminator. The remarkable 60’ Viking Sportfishing yacht. She sparkled though the sun had set long ago. Even the moon was absent from the night sky.

As if the vessel alone wasn’t impressive enough, a brand new, custom built 16 ft Dragonfly Boatworks, LLC Emerger model flats boat rested on the expansive bow.

Located in Vero Beach, FL, I learned that the iconic recording artist Jimmy Buffett owns a large share of Dragonfly Boatworks. Given the apparent build quality, I’ll comfortably speculate that Buffet’s involvement is more financial than hands on. I’ll also comfortably speculate that Dragonfly Boatworks has a drug free workplace policy. A potential hurdle of sorts for that certain “son of a sailor.”

Stern livewell aboard the 16′ Emerger Flats Boat.

Now, back to the Viking. I challenge the most jaded yachtsman to pass by this vessel without stealing a glance; if not a prolonged, jaw dropped, stare. You enter the main saloon is possible by passing through an automatic, push button, sliding door. The door closes automatically about 10 seconds after you pass through. Once through, the interior provides no shortage of eye candy.

Live to Fish aboard 60′ Viking Yacht, view from inside the main saloon facing the stern. http://www.livetofish.com

Live to Fish aboard 60′ Viking Yacht, view upon entering the main saloon, facing towards the bow.

Guest room aboard the 60″ Viking.

In Pirate movies, there’s almost always a scene involving a pile of gold, precious gems, and assorted treasures. Usually revealed in some deep dark cave, after much bloodshed and hardship. I didn’t see a pile of gold doubloons, but I doubt my reaction would have been the least bit different. My eyes absorbed what was both an exceptional feat of marine engineering and a true-life representation of the finest in interior yacht design. Counter tops. Granite. Couches and furniture – where do you find leather that soft? Precious hardwoods gleamed throughout. I wondered how many coats of varnish it takes to create such a glamorous sparkle? Nevermind. I don’t want to know.

My first impression of the Captain proved true. A walk through the Aluminator’s spacious kitchen, well-appointed stateroom, spacious master cabin, and twin guest bedroom, revealed food and drink stocked in an over abundance of supply and variety. You couldn’t have found a speck of dust or dirt if you crawled on your hands and knees with an ultra bright headlamp and magnifying glass. The same could be said for how well kept the engine room was.

The trip to the area where trolling for sailfish consumed about 20 to 30 minutes. Cruising speed was in excess of 30 mph. Trolling speed varied between 6 and 7 knots. We came prepared; trolling 4 hooks, 2 teasers, and two dredges. The hooks were attached to rods equipped with the to hell and back reliable Shimano TLD 25s and 30s. (LThe teasers were controlled by massive electric reels. A control box for the electronic reels could also be found on the second level helm station. Located in the ceiling above the Captain provided him with quick, uncluttered access.

http://www.livetofish.com

In addition to the Captain was a first mate. This guy ran the show in the stern. He watched every line, every rod, and every school of baitfish; simultaneously. It was as if he had a fish eye lens for vision. The first mate had a powerful build, dark hair cut short, and a full-grown beard. His attire, from head to toe, spoke volumes. A well-worn trucker’s hat, quintessential Costa Del Mar sunglasses with blue 580G lenses, and the ever popular white rubber boots. Despite a heavy Scandinavian type build, his reflexes were on par with an Olympic ping pong player. I’d put him up against the best the Chinese have, any day.

A teaser rig consisting of a recently caught mullet hung from an outrigger protruding from each side of the Viking Sportfishing boat.

As soon as one of the rods showed the tell tale bend of a sailfish, the first mate yanked the rod from the rocket launcher, yell to the Captain, and jerk back on the rod to keep the sailfish interested. Those of us aboard to fish took turns in an organized rotation whenever a fish was caught. Despite being in the sailfish capital of the world, a bent rod wasn’t a guarantee of catching a sailfish.

Live to Fish Shirt worn while fighting a sailfish

Each rod had 200 yards of 40 lb test monofilament on. At http://www.livetofish.com, we sell 104 different kinds of 40 lb test line alone. Overall, we offer 1,789 options for fishing line and leader material.

Reeling in the 200 yards of line was no easy task. Though the Captain would back down on the fish, the drag was set to no more than 8 pounds. This light drag was necessary to avoid a break off. 200 yards of line out, with a game fish on the end, creates a significant amount of stress on the line. What ensued was an extended period of fast paced reeling to recover all the line and prevent slack in the line. You wouldn’t know whether you had a sailfish, or a Bonito, until the fish was close enough to the boat.

There were a fair number of Bonito caught. They’re a smaller relative of the tuna. When caught, these fish quickly found their way down into one of the ice filled coffin boxes. They would be used as bait or perhaps to feed a hungry crew member.

We were after sailfish. To this end, the Captain did not disappoint. We fished for two days with sailfish being caught each day. The second day saw three sailfish caught. Hence, three sailfish flags were raised before returned to our slip.

Atlantic Sailfish Caught by Live to Fish team member

The sailfish is indeed an impressive species. It’s known as the fastest fish in the Ocean; exceeding speeds of 68 MPH. They are carnivores. Hence, our bait selection of mullet and rigged ballyhoo. At Live to Fish, we sell both artificial and frozen ballyhoo.

We’d fish until about 3:00 PM. With the days starting at 6:00 AM, there were no objections to heading in at this time. When fishing for the entire day, the question of lunch usually presents itself. What to bring is most often determined by what’s easiest to transport. Ready made sandwiches top the list due to the fact that they don’t require any preparation. Lunch on this trip consisted of sandwiches, but they were far from the ready made versions. Fresh deli meats of more types and varieties I can recall filled one of the numerous refrigerated food drawers in the beautiful galley. Fresh deli breads, different types of mustard, and other toppings were all available.

With the setup as it was, all you had to do was sit back on one of the overly comfortable seating areas, waiting for the first mate to shout, “fish on!” Though everyone agreed that this type of fishing in ultimate luxury is something anyone could get used to, there’s something about inshore fishing that will always be more appealing to me.

Pursuit of Atlantic Sailfish in Complete Luxury. Most articles on our blog are informative. The goal of such articles is to help our readers gain more understanding about fishing, boating, and the equipment available.

#sailfish #sailfishing #shimano tld #viking yachts

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asp1990 · 7 years

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China Day 14: Friday October 20th, 2017

Breakfast: Cinnamon donut & an iced coffee Lunch: wild rice, Chinese spinach & chicken wings Dinner: Aeroplane food

Steps: 8, 331

IT’S HOME TIME! But not before we taught 2 Year 6 classes first! I had a tiny sleep in until 8am, instead of 6am, had a shower and finished packing my toiletries & pyjamas. At 9.50am, we walked over the International office and gave our gift to George. I had bought some nice, Australian red wine before we left and then found out that George doesn’t drink – whoops! We gave it to him anyway (love a good re-gift opportunity) and also gave him some Australian animal coasters (nicer than they sound) and a card. He had bought us a large paper cutting, which looked stunning. What a guy ☺

Our two Year 6 classes were excellent. They knowledge of English words for Scattegories was outstanding and their energy and enthusiasm was through the roof when we played Name Bingo. They were an absolute pleasure to teach and it was nice to end our teaching time on such a positive note.

Clem and I ate lunch separately as we both liked the look of the buffet options at opposite canteens. She ate with the International students and I went to the staff canteen. I had a delicious blend of wild rice, Chinese spinach & chicken wings.

We went back to our rooms at 12.30pm to finish panicking about how heavy our bags were and then head down to the front gate with our stuff at 2pm. It was a beautiful, sunny day today, which was a shame as we were going to be spending half of it sitting in the airport.

At the airport we had a nightmare getting through customs. It took about 45 minutes and they took forever to look at your passport. When the officer was checking mine, she just started talking to her desk partner and helped to confirm her guy’s passport instead. It was very frustrating. We had a drink at the bar after the ordeal, did some last minute, over-priced shopping at the airport gift shops and then made our way to the terminal. I read my book and Clem decided to go for a walk to stretch her legs. While she was gone, an officer told me that we had been moved from gate D285 to D228. He would not let me wait for Clem, so I had to grab her stuff. He asked another passenger with a trolley to help me move my things and put Clem’s bag and laptop case with his stuff. I was anxious trying to keep an eye on Clem’s belongings, messaging her to tell her about the move and trying to find her as we moved through the airport. I found he in the gift shop and all was OK. We bought a pack of cards and went to the new terminal.

As we were boarding the plane, everyone was pushing to get in first. It was so ridiculous. There was literally a lady behind me, so close, I could feel her breath on my neck. The plane ride was much the same. The old dude behind me stretched his legs out so far that his knees were digging into my back. I did a few passive aggressive head turns, then try tried tapping his knees, but he ignored me until I called the flight attendant to ask him in Chinese. Later in the flight, as I was trying to sleep (how do people do it!? It’s impossible!), he swapped seats with his wife and kept grabbing the back of my chair (and my hair) to get comfortable. Mid nap, his arms twitched so violently that he punch the chair and woke me up. Then the wife started snoring. Brilliant. Flying will never by my favourite. I watched the latest Baywatch film (which was actually pretty good), started Pirates of the Caribbean and then stuck to watching TV shows on my laptop. Sleep was apparently not an option. 3 hours before landing, we were served breakfast. I chose the “Western” option, which consisted of scrambled egg, 2 hash browns and a chipolata sausage. While I was eating, I started feeling faint and lost my vision. I lent back and closed my eyes to let it pass, but Clem got worried and said that I was shaking. I’m not sure what happened, but she got me some lemonade and put jam on my croissant (what a gem) and I felt better before we landed.

Leaving the airport was surprisingly easy! I bought some tobacco for Tommy and a bottle of champagne at Duty Free and I had to speak to a person at immigration because the machine didn’t recognise my face. It was a battle to get our luggage off the carousel, as all the Chinese passengers give zero fucks about anyone’s personal space and all pushed to the front, but we made it happen. There were sniffer dogs there and I saw 4 people get “tickets” because they had something suss in their bags – uh oh! We got waved through customs because we didn’t have anything to declare and both Silvan (Clem’s husband) and Tommy were waiting for us at the gate – yay! Lots of cuddles and we said goodbye to each other and went home for naps and food that didn’t have rice in it.

My fondest memories of China will be working with the Year 6 students, who spoke the best English and were the most fun to spend time with. I also loved working with the English Club to put on a performance and going to all of the top Shanghai tourist attractions with George. One of my favourite outings was probably the Tianzifang market at night with Clemence and visiting the Pearl Tower.

I will miss how respectful the students are here and how cheap Bubble Tea is, but I am looking forward to drinking from a tap and being able to communicate effectively with everyone that I work with. I will definitely not miss being stared at or leered at by elderly Chinese men and will not miss the sewer smell that welcomes us every time we leave our building. I also look forward to Western toilets.

To any of the staff at my College who are reading this blog – DO THIS NEXT YEAR! It is a challenging and very unique experience, but it is worth every minute. I never thought I would be interested in doing a trip through work like this, but it has been so much fun. It has also been great to not be responsible for students and to focus on becoming part of the school community, but I think travelling with KSC kids would also be fun.

To Clemence, thank you for being such a wonderful travel buddy. You have been patient, kind, relaxed and a lot of fun to spend time with. Thank you for putting up with my swearing and competitive edge in seeing who had the higher step count haha. I am so glad to have had the opportunity to get to know you better in such a unique way. You are a wonderful teacher.

Thank you finally to Ganquan for hosting us for two weeks. You provided us with so many opportunities to be involved with your school and both your staff and students were welcoming, kind, enthusiastic and very supportive of what we brought to the classroom. It has been an honour and a pleasure to work with so many members of your school.

Xie Xie. xx

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sarahspringer28 · 8 years

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Mistakes you only make once. Hopefully.

A couple of times over the last 2 weeks I’ve kept saying that I really need to write a list of all our first time mistakes that we’ve made since moving to Brisbane. Mistakes that you definitely only make once and don’t want to make again. So here it goes...some were hilarious, others not so much.

1. Sydney Airport...we had literally been in the country for 20 minutes and we weren’t aware that we had to collect our bags after going through customs. As far as we knew, we had checked our bags right through to Brisbane. We had already been through security and we were in the queue to get on the bus to go to the domestic terminal when we were told this piece of vital information. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough time to go back. Lovely. We would have to collect our luggage the next day. This killed me a bit. I hated the fact that we would have to inconvenience our friends. And of course the husband hadn’t packed a spare set of clothes in his hand luggage. *evil laugh* Yes, I did say “I told you so”.The next day as we collected our luggage at Brisbane airport, my husband, the kind man that he is, decided to try help the lady put our luggage on a trolley. She firmly said, “Stay behind the line please”. Oops. Oh well. Don’t cut the red tape.

2. Ground floor...so we had been apartment hunting and we were on our way to sign the papers at the Real Estate office which we had never been to before. We couldn’t seem to find the office in the building, and the sign said that the office was on the ground floor, so we got in the lift and pressed “Ground floor” fast enough so that the strangers walking into the building wouldn’t have to get in with us. The doors closed. And then they opened. And there were the strangers. Yes. We had a blonde moment. Trying to go to the Ground floor when we were already on the ground floor. The floor could’ve swallowed me right there and I would’ve been very happy. We all had a good laugh. It was hysterical.

3. The bond...The bond in Australia has a very different meaning to South Africa. Basically the bond is your rental deposit. You’ll probably need 6 weeks rent as your bond payment. Just a heads up in case you need to budget. ;) Fortunately we were aware of this. The terminology was just different.

4. The bus lane...We purchased a car. Yay! An automatic. Yay again! We had walked the city flat and thought we had our bearings. Craig had bought a bike and I had to fetch him from work to go collect it. Yes I was driving. My words to Craig were “please get your phone GPS going so I don’t get lost”. Obviously he didn’t because it wasn’t far and we had walked there the other day. In peak time traffic we very quickly realised that the city is basically only one way streets. I ended up getting stuck in an inter section and the only way I could go was straight. Straight down a bus lane that is. Into the bus stop. Concrete blocks on either side. I was trapped between all the buses. I almost cried. A trip that was literally 2km ended up being about 12km. I wish I was joking. We made it in time and managed to find a parking. Thank heavens. That night we were watching RBT and someone was fined $300 for driving down a bus lane. So yeah, you could say I was on edge every time I went to the mailbox. Thankfully I didn’t get a fine. I definitely won’t do that again.

5. Kmart self service...As it turns out, the self service check outs at Kmart aren’t as smart as the ones at Woolworths or Coles. DO NOT try to be efficient and scan your item and then open the shopping bag to put your item in. The scale doesn’t like it. Alarm bells went off literally. A member of staff had to come and assist. Lovely.

6. Telstra and Foxtel...So we got super excited when Telstra and Foxtel had a “great special” on. $99 a month for unlimited internet and 3 months free Foxtel bundle of your choice. The husband was super happy to get the sport bundle so he could catch up on all the cricket and rugby that the free channels don’t show. Turns out, not once did we ever pay $99. Every month was an extra charge. They didn’t tell us that you have to pay $100+ connection fee for Telstra AND Foxtel. Thanks guys. That’s great. We did ask about additional charges...apparently connection fees aren’t classified as an extra charge.

7. Noise...Our first apartment was designed like a bit of a courtyard. All the apartments faced inwards overlooking the garden and pool. So pretty. So lovely. But unfortunately if you drop a pin it echoes like crazy. There was a “No noise on balconies after 10pm” rule. Fair enough. I’m normally in bed then anyway. This time though it was Christmas Eve. We had some friends over. We had a bit of wine. We weren’t ridiculously loud, I was very aware of that. Unfortunately I was not aware that it was 10:03pm. A very unhappy new dad came and told us to keep quiet. Oops. I felt like absolute crap and I wanted to cry. Firstly, it was an honest mistake. Secondly, it was my first Christmas away from home and I really needed to try not to think about it. The air conditioning inside worked out better in the end. Never again.

8. Bond clean...Before moving out any rental property you have to do a Bond clean. The place has to be better than you when you got it to get your bond back. (And you definitely want that 6 weeks rent back). Property managers encourage you to have a professional bond clean done, that way you just produce the receipt and they don’t have to inspect the property as intensely. We also had to have our carpets steam cleaned (even though we were only there for 3 months) and the bed mattress. I actually like this idea because I know that I will always be moving into a very clean place. Unfortunately we were called back to fix our cleaning. Apparently the fluff from my cloth and a speck on a door frame is not allowed. When we moved in, the place wasn’t spotless. The window sills were dirty etc. Unfortunately we lost the photos that we took because we both got new cell phones so we didn’t have evidence. I fixed what needed to be fixed and we got our bond back. It was highly annoying at the time, but now we know. I will ALWAYS take photos if things aren’t perfect and I will send them to the property manager immediately. If we had done that, we wouldn’t have had a problem.

9. IKEA...Such a fantastic place. So big. So many beautiful things. It’s a homemaker’s dream! Until that awkward moment when you decide that you actually want to purchase something. Um...what now? So after asking a couple shop assistants, we managed to print our items that we needed to collect and purchase. Which was great. Until we got to the self service warehouse and location 18 in aisle 17 didn’t exist. We checked about 5 times to make sure that we hadn’t got it wrong. We already felt like idiots not knowing how to buy something. As it turns out our item was on display at the tills. Wow. Thanks guys. Like I really needed to feel like an idiot yet again.

10. Telstra and NBN...Yes again. We haven’t learnt yet apparently. Me being the organised freak that I am decided to phone ahead and get our internet moved to our new apartment so that on moving day we’ll have internet and I won’t have to worry about phoning and trying to sort it out then. We were informed that we would have to pay a NBN $300 new building development fee because the apartment building is brand new. Lovely. We even googled this. It was legit. Upon arrival at our new apartment, we were told that we could connect to the internet that the building supplies in 2 minutes and we’ll get 6 months free AND even after that it would be cheaper than anything Telstra could ever offer us. Great! Yay! So the husband gets it connected and phones Telstra to cancel, which costs $359. That’s fine, it still works out cheaper to do that than to continue with Telstra. Until we phone them...unfortunately they are so damn efficient that they had already connected the NBN. The fact that we haven’t even used it doesn’t matter. BOOM!!!! $700. Thanks for coming. (I’ve rounded it up because I’m sure there’s another admin fee in there which we aren’t aware of).

11. The wrong queue...The first day that my husband decides to cycle to work would be the first day in weeks that it decides to storm. A proper Brisbane storm. Lightening, thunder, rain, the works. So after phone calls back and forth, we decided that the quickest way for him to get home would be to catch the CityCat. He has also worked a bit later than normal so the times in between each trip are now 30 minutes instead of 15 minutes. So the poor man is there in the queue with all his bags and his bike. What he didn’t realise is that there are 2 queues. He was in the wrong one. He missed it and he was there. *face palm* He had to wait an extra 30 minutes to catch the next one. Yes, it was still storming.

12. The wrong bus...Our darling cousin had a birthday party across the river. As the crow flies, probably 3kms. Great! We’ll catch the CityCat across and then jump on a bus and viola! we’ll be at her place. Too easy mate. So we get across the river, we spot the bus pulling up so we run for it, only to find out that the bus “isn’t in service” even though it doesn’t say so on the display. Awkward. So we walk to the bus stop and wait with all the other “normal” people. A few minutes later that exact same bus pulls up and we all get on. *eye roll* We have fun at the party, have a few drinks and then we decide to make our way home before all public transport stops. We check our app (a bit blurry eyed) and it says that we get on the same bus because it does a big loop. We jump on and the bus starts heading towards the city. Craig mentions jumping off at the first city stop because it’s so close to a ferry terminal, but I’m convinced that we’ll end up at the same ferry terminal that we originally used because it does a big loop. As it turns out, because it was late at night, the bus didn’t do the full loop. We ended up on the far side of the city. Luckily the bus stopped at a ferry terminal and the CityCat was pulling up and heading in the right direction. We had an hour ferry ride home. It was actually beautiful and peaceful and gave us some time to admire the beautiful sky and city that we live in. Sleep would’ve been good, but hey...sometimes life throws you a curve ball and you just have to relax and enjoy the ride. :)

xxx

#saffachicklostinbrisbane

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