#Jetstar Awful

[bigangrytrev]

How a Bad Airline ruined a Good Holiday

This is the tale of how a bad airline can really f*ck up a good holiday. This is the 100% true and factual recount of how it took us 8 hours to get from home to our destination, yet FIFTY FOUR AND A HALF HOURS to get home.  All with two small children in tow. We were travelling from rural New South Wales to have a holiday with relatives in northern Queensland.  This meant a 3 hour drive to the…

[be-my-ally]

Crash Landing

(aka Big Bunny 4)

Wheeew, only 6 months later than I intended! it's 4am and somehow, despite spending forever on this, I fear the grammar may be janky - so apologies for that. This follows directly from The Lisa-Marie, and the masterlist for the series is linked here!

This is the last of the planned ‘main’ chapters, but there are some time jumps in this and the last chapter, so if anyone has any requests for any bunny/elvis one shots pop them into my inbox and I’ll see what I can do. I have a few little plans to fill out some of the gaps, but no promises on when they might appear. 

warnings: 18+, some mild sexism, p in v, oral (v receiving), afab!reader, skiing, allusions to poor health, Elvis is swearing like… a lot in this chapter. Make of that what you will. References to drug use. THIS ENDS IN JULY 1977 - AUGUST IS IMPLIED. wc: 14k I don’t know what to say - there was meant to be a brief skiing interlude and then all of a sudden I’m 10k in and they’re still in Colorado. 

Early 1977  

Linda is gone for good, finally some of the guys would say, and you couldn’t totally say that you disagreed. It had been stressful - the ups and downs of their relationship, being caught in the crossfires. You had enough experience to know it wasn’t really specific to her but nonetheless it had still been somewhat difficult to witness. It had been hard to face her on the jet, knowing what Elvis was saying behind her back; how adamant he was for them to be over. On the way between stops in the October tour he’d sat on the couch on the plane, glistening with the sweat from the show and still dressed in his white jumpsuit with red flames jumping up his chest, he’d tugged you over, uncaring of the others in the room. Telling you that you were the only girl he could trust to have his back, that he didn’t even know why he kept her around. He didn’t seem to remember, and you didn’t care to remind him that he’d told you the same thing back in June too. Every time she’d suddenly reappear - his desperation to be looked after superseding any desire he may have had to say goodbye to her. Why you couldn’t be enough for him you didn’t know. 

Then, almost immediately after Linda’s gone - and, admittedly, briefly before she was too - you’re meeting this new girl, Ginger, albeit rarely. Elvis for some reason putting her on the Jetstar with her family more than with him. In some ways it helps - the fact that she’s not there all the time, in others it makes you feel awful — his rush fiancee and her family seemingly not even willing or wanting to travel with him. It’s mostly a slow season over the winter though and for some reason Georgia is getting more hours than you and so, you’re forced to say goodbye to your examination of the inner workings of his private life until after the New Year break. It ends up being early February before you get a call to come in for one of his vacation whims.  

It feels like it’s been an age since you last saw Elvis even though it had barely been a six weeks, and you felt guilty that it had felt so nice to relax a little. It was hard when you spoke to your friends, and all their careers or mothering sounded so stressful all the time, they were all jealous of your ‘easy’ job, the extra benefits sounding all too impressive.  Where else would you get a new wardrobe paid for? A shiny new car sat outside for you, or an apartment rented? But it was hard to explain without giving away too much, how it was impossible for you to ever really turn off; how you thought about him all the time, worried about him all the time, even when you were at home.  

He hadn’t been difficult to manage the last couple of months of the year, at least, not as bad as the middle and start of the year, but his moods had turned almost overwhelmingly blue, and it had been tricky to level your tone and actions to appropriately comfort him. You’d started feeling on edge every flight, worried and insecure. So, the break had been nice. It had given you a chance to re-evaluate, take a breather and consider what was best for you to do.  

Elvis himself called to wish you a Merry Christmas, he’d been sweet and kind and promised you a gift even as he made small talk that you knew he disliked, even if he was good at it in that southern way, and it had made you hate him just a little. Your chest aching with the feel that he was treating you like a total stranger. It hadn’t improved when you’d returned to your Memphis apartment from your parent’s house and discovered a card had been delivered in your absence. “Season's Greetings, Elvis and the Colonel and Friends.” You’d allowed yourself the briefest of cries staring at yourself in the mirror while the blotchiness crawled up your neck. You were still an ugly crier despite your best efforts. It’s the final straw, you thought to yourself as you stared at your wild eyes and messy hair where you’d tugged your hands through it. You’ll see it through the summer. Then you’re done. That’ll be just enough time to work out what to do next - maybe you’d go back to school. You dried your eyes, patting yourself on the cheeks. That’s it. Decision made. You refused to give it any more thought. Especially, about why you didn’t just quit immediately if you were planning on it later anyway, not willing to admit to yourself you wanted to give him another chance more than anything else. It was just altogether too much, being the girl on the side of the girl on the side, having to balance being his friend, employee and lover. But you’d had your moment, and you were using your trusty technique of just not. thinking. about. it. anymore.  

You were nervous as you tied your little necktie and pulled at your hem from where you were sure your dress had shrunk over the past month, preparing to greet the men loading onto the plane. It was informal, as it normally was, and you looked back somewhat fondly to your days on Big Bunny, where everything was written and handbooked out with the proper procedure for every situation. Now it was just up to you to decide what to do for every eventuality. In this situation you made the brave decision to hide. So, you tuck yourself away in the galley on the other side of the little half wall, waiting until enough of them have boarded that you’ll be forced to peek out and say hello. There were more people loading on than during the last tour, and despite the extra numbers you knew you were handling this mostly alone - Georgia had been unable to come in under such short notice; something about a grandmother. So not only were your nerves shot worrying about when you should tell Elvis you were quitting and how it felt like you were harbouring some awful secret, you were also having to steel yourself to be overworked and run down by the time you were able to get off the plane. When you peek out around the partition you get the first glance of him and you’re a little embarrassed at how you can feel a flush start to rise just from that look.  

He looks not dissimilar to how he did that first day on Big Bunny - open collared shirt and jogging jacket on - this time a navy blue with a baby blue stripe down the shoulder and arm. He looks good - like you could just burrow into him, and you’re relieved that the sudden demand for your appearance isn’t for something panic-inducing from the way he’s smiling and chatting - laughing with Charlie and Joe. You’d been a little concerned that the rapidity of the request was hiding a more sinister origin after a similar call had preceded a rush to the hospital last summer. But he was looking good, really good actually. Somehow his face had lost some of its puffiness it’d been holding onto and he was a far better colour than you’d gotten used to - perhaps a high from the success of his New Year’s concert as he’d been pleased with the reaction and reviews or maybe even just high off the excitement of his, apparently, serious relationship with Ginger. Although, evidently not altogether that serious since she wasn’t joining them; you’d already decided you’d keep your thoughts about that to yourself. You shyly watch him from across the plane where he’s already sat himself down, comfortable in his own space and leaning against the back - his legs spread wide, retelling some story you’ve already heard once before. You take a deep breath before heading around the little partition, fully intending on acting as if you had an important job to do by the door. You managed to keep the ruse up long enough to shut the door and let Ron know you were all set to go, long enough to hand out drinks and cigars and let them all settle in,  but you couldn’t pass directly by him again without him noticing you, and his arm shoots out, grabbing your wrist as you go to walk past. You barely have a chance to notice his hold on you before he’s pulling you in, forcing you to bend over in order to accept a kiss on the cheek in greeting. You can’t explain why you’re so nervous, but you find your tummy flipping at the close proximity to him. With anxiety or excitement, you can’t quite tell. In some ways it’s slightly more forward than you’d expected from him for having not seen him in a month, but perhaps you had just gotten used to him ignoring you in the months prior.  

“Good evening, Elvis.” It’s a fine line between polite and aloof, and you can already tell you’ll be reliving this interaction all night. His eyes are bright with amusement at your formality when he gazes back at you, his thumb still gently stroking over your wrist.   

���Well, it is now.” He grins as you visibly cringe at his cheesiness, “Good evening to you too, honey.” He looks you over as he lets go of your hand, allowing you to stand back up, and eyeing your hemline, “‘re you ready for the cold?”  

“Hopefully it’s not gonna be too cold on the plane,” You stumble over your words in nerves, “but I can always turn the heat up a little - “Elvis shakes his head, 

“Nah, I’ll keep you toasty, hon, snug as a, as a bug.” You struggle to regain your composure as your mind flickers with images of just how he could be keeping you warm.  

“Hmm, I suppose you’ll have to since someone makes me wear this. But I’m pretty well covered anyway.” You grin in response to his smirk when you gesture down at your stockinged legs.  

“Well, that’s real good doll,” He runs a hand through his thick hair, letting a hint of the grey around his temples show as he pushes it back, and you find yourself missing the steadying warmth of his grip, “but you know - we’re stopping in Vail.”  

You pause, unsure how to put it politely, “Mmhmm, that’s what Elwood tells me.” He frowns, leaning back and settling even further into the seat, arm spreading across the back rest and he shifts so his thighs are encasing you.  

“Alright then miss know-it-all, tell me what I was gonna say next.” He stares at you, and it makes your insides twist even as you can feel heat pooling in your stomach.  

“Uhhh,” You struggle, to try and think of what to say that will maintain the teasing playful tone, feeling like you’ve been called on daydreaming in the middle of class with everyone’s eyes on you and simultaneously totally distracted by the feel of his legs against yours. He smirks as you flounder, “Well, perhaps, that you uh,”  

“You can say you don’t know.” He sing-songs it, “Silly little girl like you can’t know everything, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, and you can feel the frustration rise at his teasing,  

“No. I suppose not.” He smiles crookedly, pleased he gets to tell you the next part, even as he explains it like you’re a little slow.  

“I was goin’ to say that I hope you’ve got a coat somewhere…” He pauses for dramatic effect, “since you’re comin’ with us.” Your brain goes blank.  

“Me?”  

“Why not?” He straightens a leg, it, perhaps inadvertently, knocks against yours and you immediately feel your gaze pulled to it, the heat of his thigh against your knee making your head go fuzzy. “Been a while since we’ve been off this plane together.” He’s looking at you hopefully, eyes wide behind his shades and you can feel your insides fizzing with excitement - even as you feel the need to protest,  

“Oh well that’s very kind but -”  

“C’mooon, honey - it’ll be fun! Hot cocoa, and, and skis, and playin’ in the snow.” His leg moves again, the soft cotton blend of his jogging suit catching on your nylons, “Dashin’ through the snow…” Your mouth opens, about to make a Paul Anka joke but one look at his encouraging smile puts you off,  

“Oh, well, like I said, that’s very kind - but I don’t, I don’t have any clothes or coats or boots or -” He cuts you off with a tut, rolling his eyes and shaking his head like you were being particularly stupid.  

“I was only kidding before.” He sounds a little petulant at the suggestion, “You don’t needta worry ‘bout that - we’ll get you sorted out.” He nods, as if you’d already given him your agreement.  

“That’s very generous Elvis, but I don’t know how to ski.”  

“Don’t worry I’ll teach ya!” He seems overwhelmingly confident considering you and he both know he doesn’t know how to ski, “You can just be - hey!” He sits himself back upright in his excitement, knocking against you enough that you shift on your feet, “You can just be my little snow bunny, can’t ya?” He laughs as he says it, and his laughter is infectious - you find yourself giggling along with him,  

“I suppose that would be fitting.” 

“ ‘Sides what else were you gonna do while we were out?”  

“Well…what I normally do - fly home or stay in whatever hotel I’ve had booked for me.” He looks curious for a second, “Sometimes I visit people if we’re close to someone I know.”  

“Do I book ‘em?”  

“Uh. Well. I think maybe your daddy does? Or, whoever’s organising everyone on your behalf yeah, sure.”  

“Oh…” He looks contemplative, before with a frown, “Are they nice?”  

“They’re fine El - it’s normally the same place the band is.” It’s sometimes a shithole but you’re not about to tell Elvis that.  

“Would you - why… did you not wanna come with me?” He half-whispers it and your brain stutters to a halt,  

“What? That’s not, that wasn’t ever an option Elvis.”  

“Well. It is today. Come with us.” He holds out a hand, serious for the first time in the conversation and with his eyes looking at you like that even if you’d wanted to refuse you couldn’t. You nod in agreement, acquiescing to his demand. 

 “C’mere then.” He tugs you down against him and you wriggle into place on his lap, the fabric of his trousers catching on your nylons as you settle against his sturdy thighs. He rubs gently at your calf, his thumb and forefinger encircling your ankle and you feel yourself relax out of your self-consciousness to enjoy the closeness.  

You laugh at a terrible joke at Joe’s expense and Elvis’ legs shake underneath you as you collapse against him in a fit of giggles. Your giggles taper off as you feel him twitch against your thigh. You school your face but can’t stop yourself turning to look at him in surprise, and more than a little excitement. His expression is unchanged, and you wiggle almost imperceptibly, come out, come out and play. It twitches again, and Elvis shifts as if in discomfort, you glance around but no one else seems to be paying you any attention - already distracted by something or someone else so you feel comfortable you’re not about to get caught as you try to wriggle your hand down to him. He immediately clamps an arm around your waist, holding you tight in place - your arm caught between you both. He looks down at you amused and you bite your lip - a pretty pitiful attempt at seduction,  

“Shh.”  

You indicate to the bedroom, more than a little disappointed when he shakes his head. “Later baby.”  

He keeps you trapped on his lap, making it impossible for you to go and do anything, making the boys make their own drinks even when they try and ask you. Even when you try to whisper that you need to get up, he holds you there, gently soothing you back into compliance with a press of his lips, a whispered promise, a stroke of his fingers.  

“Elvis I really hafta get up - we’ll be comin’ down soon and I’ve gotta make sure - “ 

“It’ll be fine baby, don’t worry ‘bout it.”  

“Well, we can’t just sit here forever - at the very least I’ll have to go and open the doors.”  

“Shit baby, Ron or Jim or God, I’m sure even fucking Elwood can manage that. No offense doll but I think they might even be more qualified at it than you. Besides I ain’t payin you to open doors.”  

You push off his chest, turning to face him and interjecting before he can even continue that thought,  

“You sure as hell aren’t paying me to keep you ‘company’ either.” He rolls his eyes,  

“We’ve been through this, I don’t give a fuck about the plane or anything else. Your job is to care for me.” His eyes burn behind his shades, and the intensity of his frown takes you a little by surprise. You stroke the wrinkle on his brow,  

“‘m sorry but look - I have a couple of things I have to do and anyway you’re gonna have to put a seatbelt on in a second, because it’ll get bumpy - and if you hit your head, I’m not being responsible for it.” You wag one of the heavy gold seatbelts at him and he sighs,  

“Well, fine, but you’re mine soon as we land. No excuses then.” His hand strokes your thigh, and your tummy flips,  

“No excuses. I’ll be yours as long as you want me.” There’s a hum, and you both suddenly realise Larry has come a lot closer than before, “Your hostess I mean.”  

——————————— 

Ron patted your arm as you disembarked with the others. “Remember we’ll be there soon too,” He looks at you, “We’re staying at Betty’s aunt’s place, but I’m sure we’ll be invited round.” You nod, reading between the lines and you smile, 

“I’ll bear that in mind.” 

“You do that. Have fun.” He winks, disappearing back into the cockpit and you take a breath before rejoining the group dispersing into a collection of cars.  

“What’s she doin’?” The whisper travels as you climb into the car, Larry and Joe start to reply but Elvis jumps in before either could get their words out too.  

“Goddamnit,” He kicks the seat in front although it certainly wasn’t Joe who had piped up, “She’s coming too - so shut yer fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”  He shouts out the open door and slamming it shut. He slides across the bench seat to be pressed close against you, his hand curling over your thigh.  

You smile shyly, pleased when Shirley turns around to smile at you, you weren’t her biggest fan - she’d never been overly friendly, but at least she was now acknowledging you.  

A whirlwind shopping excursion ensued while Elvis sent the other car to scout out where he wanted to stay. You were a little taken aback, but not altogether surprised, that he’d demanded the trip on such a whim that he hadn’t even secured proper accommodation, but he did a fairly good job of explaining himself while you were being sent back and forth from different stores for the appropriate clothing.  

“The thing is …” You kind of zone out while he talks, the story leading from one to another, before returning to the actual point he was trying to get to, but you appreciate the rumble of his voice and the gossipy tone that makes you feel a part of his exclusive little group. You manage to capture the gist though; that he was pretty sure they could stay at the same lodge as last time, because it was a friends but he hadn’t actually asked - since the decision to go away hadn’t been made until yesterday, and that he couldn’t see any reason why not - but if they had problem with it there was surely other, bigger better lodges to stay that would be overjoyed to host him.  

You were tired by the time he decreed that you finally had a suitable wardrobe and he looked over the collection of bags with satisfaction, although - despite the three other coats he bought you, he still felt the need to lament that it was a; 

“Damn near trav’sty,  none of these backwater stores have white fur. Can’t be a proper little snow bunny,” He sighs, “Joe - make sure we order her one for next time.”  

Your chest glows at the nonchalant way he says it - like he just expects you to be there again. Like it’s no big deal. The other car returns with good news, and they all filter up to the same lodge as the year before. 

“I reckon Ron and Bob’ll regret being such fucking, well, they’ll regret it anyhow now - once they see this and know they could’ve been here too.” You don’t know what to say, so you stick with saying nothing and Elvis tuts and shakes his head, shifting to stare out of the window, although he doesn’t pull his hand away from where you’re making little circles on his palm.  

It’s dark and late outside, and yet Elvis demands everyone get suited up to go and play in the snow, and everyone is in high enough spirits not to protest. You’ve not yet had a lesson though, and as you pull on your brand-new ski suit you playfully refuse to even entertain the prospect of heading anywhere on actual skis - Elvis doesn’t seem to be disappointed, grinning at you under his mask and gesturing for you to clamber onto the back of his snowmobile.  

Despite his promises on the plane, things never did, that first night, progress past heavy petting in the bedroom - but it was something just to have his thick weight next to you in the bed, laughing and joking as he pressed kisses down your face and throat. His little huffs of laughter as you returned the favour tickling his chest made you feel the same pleasurable contentment as if he’d decided to fuck you for hours.  

It was rare, recently, for him to be in such high spirits and still lucid - and you couldn’t help but wonder whether Dr Nick had managed to work out the exact right combination of drugs to keep him perfectly stable, or if he was contributing more placebos. Either way, you weren’t privy to their intimate conversations, nor allowed to witness his daily dosing. The most you saw was the little pills he put into his palm, twice as many as he tipped into yours, before bed and in the morning alongside the occasional couple that he nonchalantly explained them away simply as “Jus’ a little painkiller.” Shrugging his shoulders.  But either he was being a lot sneakier - and you weren’t sure you should be viewing that as a good thing - or he was finally listening to concern and easing himself off a little.  

It felt like it had in those first few weeks after you’d met him - carefree and fun. And somehow you felt yourself relaxing from the tense feeling you’d had since the start of last year. The worries falling off of your shoulders. You spent the first two days joined at the hip - not even really partaking in the snow sports on offer; snuggling up on the snowmobile and then taking yourselves off to curl up in the lodge instead.  

The third day, or really night - since as always with Elvis you soon found your days and nights flipped around - he was ecstatic about the fresh, perfect snow and clear weather and you’d all been sent out to play.  

It felt like a long night by the time Elvis was happy to let everyone return to the house. He hadn’t even joined you on the slopes properly, instead choosing to order everyone about from the comfort of his snowmobile.   

“C’mon fellas - get into a line! Go on! I’ll chase ya!”  

“For god’s sake Billy, move it along! You nearly made me take your whole damn leg off!” A pause, before raucous laughter ensued, “Again!”  

Still, you hadn’t minded this turn of events since it meant you hadn’t had to try and remember your rushed and hurried lesson on the nursery slopes that afternoon. Instead, you’d given it one go accompanied by his shouts of laughter at your falling,  

“How’d a dancer get to be so goddamn clumsy?”  

“I wasn’t a dancer!” You’d protested from your position flat on your back in the snow.  

“You danced real pretty for me though doll.” You rolled your eyes, scrambling back to your feet, trying not to pout as you brushed yourself off, he shook his head laughing once more before shouting back at you.  

“Aw now darlin’, that ain’t a pretty sight. C’mon, better hop onto the back of here, it’ll be a bit safer for you.” He’d said it through giggles, and you felt the determination to get down by yourself rise up again,  

“That won’t be necessary!” You attempted to take off again, and just as you were attempting to straighten your skis, about 12 feet from where you had last fallen, you were on your side again in the snow. Elvis didn’t give you a choice this time, angrily killing the engine completely and storming over as best he could through the thick snow, yanking you up by your arm and dusting you off himself.  

“‘S not the time to be stubborn, C’mon now.” You can’t see his facial expression, obscured by his layers and the dark but you can hear that his annoyed words would be accompanied by tightly knitted eyebrows and a frown. 

“I can do it.” You angrily pulled your arm out of his grasp, the momentum immediately making you start to lose your balance again, and Elvis catches you before you could fall for a third time. 

“For heaven’s sake,” You can practically hear his eyes roll, accompanied by a sigh as he tries to change tact, “I’m sure you can, but it’s dark, and you’ve already tripped twice.” You frown, and he placates, a soothing hand rubbing down your arm, “I just, I just worry about you baby, c’mon, let me look after you - you’re liable to break - no no no, don’t look at me like that,” His hand comes up to cup your face, “I just care about you s’all, don’t want you to get hurt.” He says it so honestly and affectionately that you find yourself nodding in agreement, and truthfully, despite your obstinance, you couldn’t have agreed more - you probably would break a leg if he’d let you go on. He grins at you, “There we are, you know it makes sense, don’t you - there’s my good little bunny. C’mon then, hop to it,” He pats your ass encouragingly, although the padding makes the action redundant, and you slowly make your way over to the snowmobile. 

You climbed onto the back slightly awkwardly, almost reluctant to be too close in front of all the guys, despite your cuddling the days before - they’d always been a little more distracted by their own activities to spend much time assessing yours. But Elvis yanked your arm around at the first possible chance, patting your hand where it lay against his padded stomach and tugging you to press yourself against him. You were getting a little bored, and nervous, of all the commotion so you found yourself totally content to curl against his body for warmth and tuck your chin into his shoulder. Despite your brand-new base layers, and soft down ski suit, there had still been enough of a chill in the night air, and from laying in the cold snow, that you were eager to be as close as possible. Elvis’ figure was more padded than you were used to feeling him, his coat also puffy and filled with down. You took immense pleasure in squeezing him tightly enough that you felt the padding compress, eager hands trying to find his body underneath. You found yourself considering, as one hand came to play with the little hairs escaping his mask and goggles at the base of his neck, that it was a damn shame you were both so covered up, since you couldn’t smell him. If you’d been less love-drunk on him you’d have been amazed at yourself; at thinking it was a damn shame, you were unable to smell an undoubtedly sweaty man.  

You have no idea how long you spent on the back of the snowmobile, hands roving all over him; only that you quickly lost all sense of self-consciousness and instead felt a rising feeling of possession. A dangerous feeling if ever there was one, but enough that you felt your manicured hands staking their claim, rubbing over his arms and back. Elvis seemed to be enjoying it, shifting to be closer to you whenever you moved away, and patting at your arm.  

When he finally, at speeds far too reckless for the early morning night sky, drove you back to the lodge he barely said a word to the rest of the group grabbing your hand and pulling you straight to the master bedroom. It was exciting and, whilst you were almost reluctant to get your hopes up too high, your thighs had been clenching of their own accord for the past hour and you could feel the dampness of your underwear against your warm delicate skin - it was impossible not to; you’d been on edge for hours.  

He’s sweaty from his layers, his red face revealed when he pulls his ski mask and goggles off, there’s a hint of stubble coming through and his face looks alive, cheeks plump with his grin. You were happy to be back in the comfort of the wood-panelled bedroom, although its cozy feel belied the chill that seemed to remain in the air of the wintry cabin. Elvis doesn’t say anything as he concentrates on taking off layer after layer until he’s mostly down to his bare, pinkened skin. You smile when it’s revealed he hadn’t backed down from his childlike refusal to wear proper base layers, silk shirt coming into view but at least you can tell from the sweat patches and his damp skin that he’d certainly been warm enough. You feel like you’re melting from the inside out from the sheer fondness overtaking you until he tugs it over his head, an unusual lack of care shown to it.  You meet his eyes in pleased surprise, and you’re further taken aback at how he manages to make his eyes twinkle so much, playfully glittering in the low light of the room. You can see his smirk growing as your eyes travel down his bare chest, an involuntary noise spilling out of your mouth. It’s been so long since you had the chance to stare at him like this. Elvis gestures at you, disrupting your intense focus, and you suddenly realise you’ve been standing still staring at him for almost too long, so you rapidly start to unboot yourself. You don’t get any further than kicking your shoes off before Elvis is suddenly in front of you. He brushes your hands off of yourself, fingering at your zipper himself. He twirls it between his fingers, ever so gently with one hand - the other coming to distract you from the anticipation by cupping your face, drawing you around to look into your eyes.  

Elvis’ hair has always been long enough for you to run your fingers through, but it seems to have grown almost thicker, and you inch even closer to stroke his cheeks, pushing back his hair - frizzy from its woollen containment. Despite Larry’s accompaniment on the trip when you brush back the hair at his temples you can see the same hint of grey starting to show through as before, and you can’t resist stroking the strands there.   

He smiles at you, pulling you into him to kiss you, making you breathless. As soon as you were distracted, he was unzipping the jacket of your snowsuit, shoving it off your shoulders and down to your waist. It falls to your feet by itself and you immediately pull off your under layers. It simultaneously feels frenzied but also slower than before; like both of you couldn’t wait even though you knew you had the chance to take your time. You lean back so he can tug your undershirt over your head, barely breaking contact with his lips. He pulls back, grinning, after fiddling with your bra clasp, the straps falling from your shoulders. Soon you’re practically nude, your naked chest pressed against his.  

He feels solid against you; it’s been a long time since you both had the opportunity to take your time like this, and his body feels slightly different than before. He still had that uniquely Elvis feel but he was sturdier, and though you doubted it could possibly be true, it felt as if his soft carpet of chest and stomach hair had grown larger, trailing down into the swell of his stomach like a tantalising arrow. He’s surer of himself than he was the last time you found yourself naked with him, reminding you of how he was back on Big Bunny, his broad yet slender hands firmly spanning your sides. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were finding him so attractive because it had been a while, or if it really was just that he always looks good. Any thought was swept from your mind though when he recaptures your mouth, his lips soft and firm against yours, and his tongue insistently presses past yours in a way that could only be described as eager.  

The movement of your chests against each other is enough for you to gasp against him - desperately moving to be closer, trying to practically become one with him. You can feel him smile at your desperate noises, before he moves a little. One of his hands slide down to rest at your waist, the other encircling your wrist. He holds it at your side, your other arm is trapped between you, and you whine at him between gasping breaths that it’s not fair, “C’mon El, that’s unfair, let me touch you,” He grins against your cheek, his spare hand moving to palm up at you.  

Elvis presses a kiss against the side of your mouth, and as you start to voice your protests at his movement he mutters, “I just need - let me light the fire, hon.” against your skin, the vibration of his voice causing you to shiver. He pulls away with a final tug to your bottom lip, and you find yourself pouting at the loss of his heat. You fold your arms across your chest, a little self-conscious now he’s moved away and besides it was slightly chilly, but you couldn’t bear to let him leave you - besides weren’t you about to warm each other up? Although, maybe you were more ready than he was; as he was soft still, and the thought of him tending to the fire - the domesticity of the combination made your stomach clench perhaps more than if he’d been hard and ready to go. But still, you were reluctant to allow him to move away.  

“I’m sure I’m hot enough,” He shakes his head, kissing your hand as he lets go of you entirely, “Honestly - we-we’ll be under the covers in a moment anyway, and I’m, I’m already burning babe.” But he’s already wandered over to the fireplace; thankfully it had been left pretty well set-up, and all that really has to be done is the physical lighting of the kindling already in place and you console yourself with the knowledge that it should only take a few seconds.   

“Not gonna let my bitty baby bunny get cold, hims gotta take care of herses.” He mutters seemingly mostly to himself although he was more than loud enough for you to hear. It does the job he intended it to, and you can feel yourself start to melt in response. He glances back at you as he crouches by the fireplace.  

“Hadta do this in the army baby,” You start to laugh at his tangent, “Yeah I did!” He ardently refutes your chuckle, “- with none of these fancy tools,” He’s holding up a box of firelighters, “No siree, just two sticks and a rock and I could light anything up.” You giggle, finding the situation all the more amusing when you notice he seems to be struggling to light it now. He keeps trying with the book of matches from the side, but for some reason they just won’t seem to take and he huffs, swearing, standing himself back up from his kneeling position to storm over to his jacket, fumbling in his pocket for one of his lighters. Your jaw drops as you watch him reach inside the fire to hold one of the crumbling firelighters in his hand, and he lights it to the accompaniments of your shrieks and admonishments;  

“Elvis! Oh god put that down! You’ll set your - oh lord, you’ll set your chest on fire doing that!” He turns to grin at you, before swearing as the fire licks his fingers, throwing the flaming chunk into the fire, and finally - finally watching as the kindling starts to flicker.  

“Told you, honey, no problem at all.” He shrugs his shoulders, but your heart rate hasn’t yet levelled back out and you can’t help but continue to scold him.  

“Jesus, what would I have told everyone! I swear -” He stands up, away from the fire now crackling to life, holding his hands out placatingly,  

“No, no, no,” He grins, “No sweat, baby, I knew what I was doin’.” He’s got that boyish glint in his eyes, happy as only a man who has achieved a stupidly primal action like lighting a fire or setting off a firework can be, and when you continue to scold him he suddenly rushes at you, knocking you off your feet and sending you tumbling together onto the bed. His broad arms come around you, holding you like a movie starlet swooning in his arms.  

“Shhhh…. honey, bunny, I knew what I was doin’ ok? You see, I was just foolin’ around, pretendin’ I couldn’t light it - you know, just messin’ with you a little, just - just for fun.” You snort in disbelief, although you’re quickly distracted as he kisses the crook of your neck, following an invisible line down to your shoulder and back up to your neck, one of his hands coming to hold the back of your neck while the other traces circle on your stomach. You gasp, and you can feel his grin against you.  

“El—vis, oh - god, you can, let me get these off - please,” and you wriggle out of your panties, shoving them to your knees and kicking them off, when you manage to flick them off of your ankle  your legs return to the bed, slightly more parted than before, desperately inviting Elvis to do more.  

“You believe me don’t you honey?” His fingertips dance over you,  

“Wha-” He repeats the question, 

“You believe me, right, bunny? Y’know I could’ve lit it in seconds?”  his fingers trace below your belly button.  

“Uh, yeah, yeah, of course - who needs firelighters! Not Elvis!” He grins at you, and the sight of it makes you tease further, “Boy, you could, you could,” You giggle breathlessly, “You could make it a part of your show, you know - what can’t Elvis set on fire?!” You do a jazz hands gesture for emphasis. Elvis throws his head back in laughter, his head hitting the pillows and you wriggle in pleased amusement next to him for a moment before he sits back up,  

“Oh ho - you take that back, little girl,” His fingers prod into you, tickling your sides and you scrunch up as you giggle more,  

“I take it - oh! I take it back! You did, you did an excellent job.” He nods in self-satisfaction,  

“Now,” his hands soothe the pinkened skin from where he’d jabbed into you, “Let me make you feel good, baby.” Elvis leans up and over you, cupping your face to pull you into another, deep, kiss while his hand finally travels down past your navel, brushing over your inner thighs. Your hips jerk up, as if offering yourself up to him. You can feel his arousal growing against your thigh, twitching like the little bunny nose he claimed you had. 

“Lord, bunny, you’re so soft, can barely feel ya, s’like silk down here I swear to god.” Your eyes slip closed, your back arching at the feel of his soft pads sliding through the silky wetness of your folds, and your legs opening a little wider of their own accord in invitation, begging him to go lower or higher or something. When all of a sudden you feel a chill at the loss of his presence as he moves away. Your eyes flutter back open to see him, bare ass on show, bent over and poking at the fire - adding an additional log that immediately crackles and spits, onto the top.  

“El-Elvis.” The situation catches you by surprise; to be abandoned in favour of fiddling with a fire could be seen as a little offensive in some ways, but it tickles you and the giggles overcome you before you can ask what exactly he was playing at.  

“Ah, sorry honey, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging’ there but it was in danger of goin’ out.” He runs his hand through his hair as he stands back up, his hands falling to just below his hips for a second while he surveys the fire - making doubly sure he’d gotten it set up.  He stretches, and you admire the muscles in his back as they move with his arms for a moment. He turns and stalks back over to the bed - immediately jumping beside you, bouncing you up before he gathers you back into his arms. His hand reaching across you to cling you to him, arm over your waist, finger barely brushing a nipple.  

“You should worry about me going out at this rate -” He laughs at you, rubbing his thick fingers down your sides.  

“Ohh-ho, but baby, bunny, I thought you were burnin’ for me? “He does his famous lip movement, somewhat self-deprecatingly, “just a...” He moves his hips next to you, “burnin’ love. Uh-huh? Bunny love?” You bite your lip at him - it was funny, but more than anything you can feel the arousal growing again in the pit of your stomach. He smiles at you, not expecting a response before he shakes his head, leaning over to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before flopping back to stretch out on his back. You roll with him, lazily kissing his chest. It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt with him in months, maybe even in the past year.  

He slides his hand back down, one of his long, thicker but still fundamentally slender, fingers preceding the others. You’re more than ready for him, and while your hips move in response to him pressing it past your entrance it’s not enough for the desire burning inside you.  

“’S no good - can I - are you, are you ready for me?” He looks at you a little surprised,  

“Yeah, sure, just - how d’you want the pillows.” He makes as if to get up and move himself off of his back, but you stop him with a hand to his chest. Your fingertips tweak his nipple, just the tiniest bit and you take pleasure in his open-mouthed reaction; perhaps a little surprised at your initiative and he looks wide-eyed when you tell him,  

“Well, maybe I could…uhh..y’know,” You gesture vaguely towards his cock, he blinks at you, “Climb on?” His mouth stays open for a moment before he seems to remember himself, remember that such an offer shouldn’t seem a surprise to him. If you had the brain power to think you would consider it a little sad; the confidence he’d had on Big Bunny in comparison to now. He shakes his head, even as he settles back against the headboard, seeming to recollect himself, smirking.  

“Sure thing, honey, I just thought women didn’t like doin’ any of the work.” You roll your eyes, not bothering to mention that this wasn’t even the first time you’d ridden him, but still, you swing your leg over him and with a helping hand from him to position himself you settle down, your thighs straining over the breadth of his lap. You immediately regret your decision to face him when you realise it means he’s watching your face almost too closely, and you say a silent prayer of thanks that you had had enough experience with him that you weren’t overly intimidated.  He holds himself steady, letting you sink yourself down onto the sturdy length of him. His own face screws up, falling back onto the pillow behind him at the feel of the warmth of your wet heat pressing down onto him. You struggle for balance for a second, before your hands find their way onto his shoulders for a moment while you adjust to him. It’s been a while, a fact Elvis points out as he gasps at you that,  

“Oh - lord, Jesus, honey, you been waitin’ for me? Ain’t - God, takin’ me so goddamn perfectly; feels just right for little Elvie, such a good little bunny, all for me.” Your hands scramble down his chest to his, admittedly thicker and softer middle, to push back and hold yourself up.  

“Elvis - you feel, oh, I, I’ve missed this,” You shudder around him,  

“Can tell,” He huffs as you start to lift up on your knees, “Can tell you’ve been so good for me, huh baby,” He grips your hipbones, “just a itty bitty baby bun bein��� good for me, holdin’ on jus for me.” You moan at the feel of the different angle he hits inside of you from this position, and as you find your momentum rising up and rocking yourself back down you feel your confidence growing.  

“Oh, uh-huuh, good girl, oh lord that’s sexy…” You moan in response as you lean backwards a little, encouraging him to come up to play with your breasts. It amuses you how he still tweaks and pulls like a teen in the back of his daddy’s car, yet somehow, he manages to get the pressure just right, grinning at you knowingly as he licks his fingertips before bringing them back to your nipples twisting them just enough that the combination sends a rush of wetness. It’s a distraction for a second, but mere moments later and your thighs are screaming at you. Unlike on Big Bunny though this time you’re determined to see it through, and you blink through half-closed eyes at him, his own sweaty face staring back at you, mouth-open. Your hands paw at his chest, struggling to find something to grip to get the leverage you need, fingertips scratching at his chest hair, and Elvis eventually puts his hands back to your waist, his own hips moving to help you bounce on him.  

You can no longer bring yourself to care about how you look - entirely lost in the sensations - groaning a little in annoyance as your hair falls over your face and into your eyes. You struggle to try and brush it away while still keeping your balance and momentum but quickly you feel Elvis’ hands move from your waist, one large sweaty paw coming up to push your hair off your face, his thumb stroking down your cheek after it’s tucked back. You let him slip it past your mouth as you rock onto him, moaning against his soft skin. His mouth stays open watching you with heated eyes,   

“C’mon now, mama, finish the job.” You nod rapidly, his thumb tumbling out of your mouth, and he trails the spit-soaked digit down to rub along your thigh, letting his hips jerk into you, rolling with the movement. His hand sinks down, and your hands come to his shoulders as he starts to roll his thumb against your clit, his hand resting on the joint of your thigh and his other coming to back down to clutch at your hipbone. You’re almost there when you feel his hand suddenly pause as his hips thrust up more aggressively than before - more like how he used to perform and you’re about to shriek in protest, tell him off for stopping you right at the precipice, until you see his face screwed up, perfect lips open.  

“Oh - Oh, fuck, fu-fu-uck.” He stutters the word, relief palpable, as if releasing after an immeasurable time. His hand moves back to play with you, his thumb moving rapidly, rubbing exactly over the right spot and it’s almost too much, the overstimulation making you lose your words as he slips and slides it back and forth. You’re begging him for something, although you’re not sure what and he praises you as you grind against him.  

“That’s it, that’s it,” Elvis is breathless still as he encourages you, “C’mon bunny, you can give it to me baby, c’mon baby, c’mon.” He’s growling in your ear and you fall forward, his softening cock rubbing wetly against your folds as you land against his chest. His voice is enough to tip you over the edge, and you find yourself rutting against him, gasping into his collarbone before going stiff, stomach muscles and thighs convulsing as you twitchingly hurtle through an orgasm.  “Shit.” He swipes his thumb over you again and you flinch away, but he pulls it away himself, shushing you before he pats his other hand onto your back and you jolt at what amounted to a an unintentionally heavy thump, his thumb stroking and soothing you back to quiet. His lips press against your shoulder blade, I love you it feels like he whispers against your skin, and you shout it back to him in your mind.  

The next day you think to get ahead of Elvis, sending him to go and play with the guys while you rush back into the house, claiming a headache and a desire for an early night. You’ve lit the fire by the time he gets in and while you’d debated waiting for him naked and ready, you’d grown too self-conscious in his absence, so you were tucked under the covers; supposedly reading his book he’d left on the nightstand although you’d done more listening out for their return than actual reading.  

You can hear him shouting to the boys on his way through, no regard for the idea that you might be asleep. He comes bounding through the door, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of you. The door falling closed behind him with a clunk.  

“You waitin’ up for me, bunny?” You swallow, trying your best at seduction, shoving the covers off to unveil your lingerie clad body,  

“Uh-huh,” You nod, “Waiting and waiting just for you.” He grins, unzipping his jacket and starting to stalk towards you. The fire crackles and he pauses, his head turning to look at it.  

“Oh. You lit it without me?” Your mind runs in circles as you try to work out his tone,  

“Um, yeah - it was cold, so…” He frowns, looking back at you, huffing as he shoves off his jacket entirely, you come to the realisation that he’s actually a little annoyed, “I, I, just thought it would save you a job - you know, it would all be done, and you could just…” You gesture down yourself. He doesn’t respond, finishing stripping himself off and collecting up his pyjamas to take them into the bathroom with him. 

“Elvis? You’re not, don’t be mad at me - I really was just trying to be helpful.” He shakes his head,  

“I’m not mad, baby.” Elvis disappears into the bathroom leaving you to squirm on the bed, your tummy in knots. You’ve put his book back on his nightstand and have tucked yourself back under the sheets, feeling too exposed to stay as you were, by the time he comes back out clearly ready for bed himself. He throws back the sheets, climbing in,  

“I-I like doin’ it honey, honest -” He opens up his arms for you to curl into, “I know the place has proper heat and all, but it just feels more, uh, atmospheric, doesn’t it?”  

“I know El, that’s, that’s why I lit it?” He hums against the top of your head,  

“I know sweetheart, uh, thank you, but I like taking care of you.” You nod in understanding, trying not to be too disappointed that your attempt at doing something nice seemed to have derailed your night. “So, what did you think?” He nods towards his book, 

“Oh, I- I barely got a chapter in, I didn’t wanna lose your place,” You settle against his chest, 

“Oh no, honey, I’ve - I’ve read it over and over, not got a place to lose - you go right ahead.” You mumble a thank you, but make no attempt to move, “Or I could read it to you?” His hand strokes your back, and you nod your head against his chest,  

“That would be nice - yes, thank you.”  

“Did you like it?”  

“Mmhmm…. what, what do you like about it?” He never picks the book back up and you happily drift off to the sounds of his deep voice rumbling on about his spiritual conclusions from the text.  

——————————— 

The next morning you find yourself waking up much earlier than everyone else, and you end up unable to fall back to sleep. You eye the bottle of pills on Elvis’ nightstand, but you would be too nervous to take something without waking him up and he looks so peaceful, gently snuffling beside you. Instead, you end up pottering about in the kitchen, making yourself a drink and curling up onto the couch in the living room with his book. An hour or so later Billy stumbles across you on his own hunt for a cup of coffee, and it’s almost awkwardly silent for a second as he stares at you from across the room. You’re just about to ask if there was something he wanted you to do when he breaks the silence first,  

“You know…he’s really going for Ginger.” He looks you up and down, “But, you could - well, what I mean to say is that the boys like you.” You’re taken aback, unsure what he even means by that, and you stumble over your response,  

“Oh, I don’t - I don’t wanna step on anyone’s toes or anything, you know I’m just - I’ve never been skiing so Elvis asked and -” He cuts you off mid-sentence,  

“Look I’m not saying you’ve gotta go around acting like you’re off the streets, but just you know. If you wanted,” He gestures in the general direction of the hallway and Elvis’ bedroom. “I’m sure… well I know I wouldn’t protest.” You swallow hard as you try to consider the correct response.  

“That’s very kind of you to say. I appreciate it.” You’re a little nervous this is a test and while part of you wants to bombard him with questions about what the issue is with Ginger - and does he really think you have a chance with Elvis? Like his girlfriend? You’re not sure how much will get back to Elvis and you’d rather be painted as cold than desperately vying for Ginger’s spot.  Part of you cringes at the implication that all the guys were out discussing his relationships; that they all thought they knew best, on the other hand the little you’d seen of Ginger did little to change your perception from the same as theirs. She seemed nice enough, but Elvis certainly seemed a lot more hot and heavy than her. Even if there hadn’t been a lot of hot and heavy lately - except, apparently with you.  

Later, when everyone but Elvis was up and despite everyone else’s protestations (and Billy’s attempts) you stayed firm in your resolve not to let them light the fire in even the main room. If Elvis wanted to do it and liked doing it, you were going to be damn sure it was there for him to do. It was storming quite heavily outside, and while you waited for Elvis to wake up, you’d all decided it was best to hang around inside.  

You settled down on the floor by the coffee table to set up some cards, pretending to be nonchalant about where you’d placed yourself even as you hoped your position would put you exactly by his legs, and the perfect distance for optimum warmth from the, soon to be lit, fire. Elvis chooses that moment to walk in from the bedroom, in yet another strange silk shirt and tracksuit combination.  

“Hi doll,” He bends over to press a kiss the top of your head, and you lean up into it. He rubs his hands together in an exaggerated motion as if for warmth when he stands back up.  

 “Shit. It’s fucking freezing in here.” He looks around, “Why’d no-one light the fire?” They all turn to glare at you, and you start to explain, stumbling over your words.  

“Yesterday! Yesterday - you, you were offended, when I - I just thought you’d enjoy it!” You protest, and Elvis stares at you, eyes narrowing as if you were the white witch putting the cabin into permanent winter. 

“Offended! Lord, the whole goddamn world will be fuckin’ offended when I can’t sing for shit b’cause I’ve caught pneu-neu-monia and my throat’s scratched to all hell!”  

“Oh, I didn’t - I mean, the main heat is on - I didn’t think…” He ignores you to plop himself down opposite to where you were sitting, miles away from where you’d been planning and anticipating for him to sit. Elvis angrily gestures towards the fire and both Ed and Dick rush towards it, making sure it was lit quickly. You can feel the other girls look at you sympathetically, even as you desperately try to avoid everyone else’s eye, annoyed and upset at being publicly scolded. It’s bad enough for Elvis to be pissed off with you in public, you didn’t need their pity too. It felt like you were being judged for not knowing how to deal with him like this, you can feel some of them - Joe and Shirley for sure - rolling their eyes at you, but you didn’t know better; every time he’d been annoyed in the past you could escape with the excuse of needing to get something from the galley or you were alone in the bedroom together - and you could use other methods to soothe him. But to be in this situation in public was completely unchartered territory, and though you knew everyone there had to be aware of your relationship and situation, it still made you uncomfortable to be having an argument out in the open. At the first opportunity you have you excuse yourself, claiming another headache and shaking your head at Dr Nick’s offers of painkillers you head off to the bedroom. 

Elvis comes barging in an hour or so later, and you flinch at the bang of the door against the wall, already bracing yourself to be accused of sulking or some other continuation of the argument but you remain where you lay in bed, on your side facing away from the doorway and try to concentrate on the words on the page of his book again. He sighs, and just as loudly as he’d opened it he slams the door closed. He makes his way over to you, sitting on the other side of the bed and looking over at you.  

“My little bunny isn’t mad at me is she?” His tone is almost contrite, and you immediately roll yourself over to look at him. He’s got a boyish look on his face and you can feel yourself starting to melt, but you’re not entirely ready to forgive him yet.  

“I’m not mad at you Elvis.” He frowns, titling his head like a confused golden retriever. He lets his head flop into his shoulder as he peers at you.  

“Come on baby, you know I didn’t mean it.” You hum back at him, trying hard not to be swayed by his expressive blue eyes. He clambers up onto the bed, to cuddle into the side of you, running a finger down your arm, “Oh you can’t be mad at me, bunny can’t be mad at him - not when he yuvs her so so much,” He curls his arm around you to tug you closer to him, and you struggle not to smile as he continues baby-talking you, “not his bitty bunny,” He presses a kiss into your arm, shifting himself to place several leading up the back of your neck, and then leaning over to press them against your shoulder, he murmurs against your skin, “she wouldn’t ever be mad at him, his bitty, baby, bunny who he yuvs…” Your heart clenches. You know he’s manipulating you, and you’re still embarrassed, but he sounds so sincere. Even if he’s only saying it so he doesn’t have to outright apologise Elvis suggesting he loves you in any way is enough to make you forgive him.  

“I’m not mad at you, I promise.” You roll around to look at him, staring into his eyes, “I swear Elvis - I’m not. I’m sorry for trying to control the situation.”  

“Nah, nah you were just, you were just tryin’ to take care of me - I see that, let me, let me make it up to you baby,” His fingers glide over your stomach and sides, toying with the waistband of the corduroy trousers you were wearing. He looks deep into your eyes, searching for something, and he smiles a moment later, “C’mon bunny, lemme make you feel good. Let hims make it up to hers.” His fingers wriggle under the waistband while the other pops the buttons and you lift your hips to allow him to take them off.   

He presses his lips to yours, ever so briefly, and you try to chase him even as he pulls away, his palm holding you down while he moves his mouth down your neck. He sucks a bruise onto your collarbone, and you shift in his grip, rubbing your thighs together as he laps at the little maroon mark. He sits up, settling himself between your legs but keeps his hand on your stomach, its wide span pinning you against the bed. No rings this time to dig into your skin, just the intimate feel of his fingers flexing against your abdomen. He brings his other to pat your legs apart. You flop onto your back, unable to stay in a crunch staring at him, the look on his face as he stares at your pussy too much to take.  

You’ve been tense waiting for him, and though you feel yourself automatically relax into his thick hands you still worry momentarily that it’s going to be hard to get you to finish. You don’t want to disappoint him, and you open your mouth to tell him as much when his rough tongue laps at your soft folds, twirling around your clit. His tongue has lost none of its finesse, and he has no difficulty, with the help of two of his fingers to bring you to the brink within a few minutes.  He laps against you, sideburns tickling your inner thighs, for what feels like forever and you’re struggling to keep your legs open and not wrap your thighs around his head, contenting yourself with tangling your fingers into his hair, holding him into place with the little strength you could muster. He’s not quiet when he does this - Elvis never is, uttering his own pleased little hums that seem to harmonise with your own, much louder moans and curses, the vibrations rebounding around your core. It’s not long before he sits up, mouth glistening - clearly ever so pleased with himself while you pant away the white spots behind your eyes.  

“There’s a good girl now.” He pats at you, “C’mon back out now - ‘s no good sulking in here.” And though you never were sulking you find yourself tiredly nodding at his instruction, more than willing to do whatever he asks of you, boneless and biddable.  

——————————— 

It’s strange when you get back home - It felt like you’d been away for months, wrapped up in your little Elvis vacation bubble, and yet it had scarcely been two weeks. It’s absurd that it’s such a struggle to adjust again. You’d let yourself get so close during the trip that it was painful to have to force yourself to watch and listen as he calls Ginger before you take off on the way home, or to be totally ignored as they all clamber out of the plane when you hit the ground in Tennessee. The trouble with Elvis, you thought to yourself as you finally sunk back into your own bed, was that he was everything. More than everything - everything revolved around him, like planets orbiting the sun and it felt near impossible to escape his gravitational pull. You knew your mother would say, “Baby, finish on a high; keep the memories.”  The issue with that is that now you’ve had a little you want more. There’s no way in hell you can quit now. Not before you’ve had just a little taste more, just one more fumble, one more heated look from him, one more whispered I love you into your neck. But you have no idea if the desire is reciprocal; it’s hard not to read too much into it when your presence is conspicuously absent in March. You didn’t even know they were going to Hawaii, or that they had gone until Georgia told you about it while mentioning their rushed return home. Did he think you’d have a problem flying him and Ginger somewhere? Or did he think you wouldn’t be able to be discrete; a laughable idea since you’d been proving yourself in that department for the past three years. Elvis doesn’t mention it to you, so you keep quiet too, and almost immediately after regular service seems to resume.  

You weren’t pleased for long, when it became clear that while he hadn’t looked much worse for wear after the apparent ordeal in Hawaii, and his voice sounded as good as before - none of this was to last. The monotony of the road, the easy habits of most of a decade immediately flooding back to him.  

Despite having spent as much, if not more, time with him than a girlfriend would have done in the past three or four years, the long days and nights spent together you can feel him drifting. You had been there when other girls were there, there when they weren’t - watched over him awake and asleep. But you weren’t. You weren’t his girl, you were, at your core, essentially an addition to his jet. An amenity. So, when you get the call that a couple of tour dates were cancelled and that your services weren’t needed, before an almost immediate redaction and urgent request for your services, to get him ostensibly home, and in reality, quickly to the comfort of a hospital. You were at once concerned - you weren’t allowed to be worried, that was for family and friends - for Ginger and Vernon to pace back and forth in a waiting room. Your job was to remain calm. Professional and calm, even if you knew that had he been more conscious he’d have demanded your presence. He’d said as much after Linda had left - that you were his first choice. Maybe not just an amenity after all. That you would have been the one with his head in your lap, dabbing at his forehead - rather than Ginger’s hesitant pats to his arm. But it’s not you, and you have to simply take a deep breath, hoping that you’d at least get an update. 

There were, by May, so many signs that things are going wrong, even to your untrained eye. Maybe because you saw him less and less, the flights short between tour stops, the requests to see you at the hotels suddenly lacking, that it doesn’t feel like a gradual change in the way the men describe it to be. The paranoia, the fear, and the sheer absurdity of his behaviour all seem to hit you all the more because you were able to directly compare to when he was doing alright, to how, mere weeks ago, you’d been having a grand time in Vail together.  

The guns. The guns had become a symbol of his sheer level of turbulence. He’d threatened you before, at a time where it had seemed so out of the blue it was laughable - now, if he’d done the same thing you’d be more worried - he wasn’t as careful as he had always been. You weren’t a pilot, you didn’t have the same responsibilities, but even so the guns at Binghampton had almost cost you your job and would have certainly cost you your reputation had it all gone south. Had Elvis not somehow, despite his state, been able to effectively charm the officer in charge into forgetting his apparent oversight; although how, considering the guns had tumbled out right in front of them, was anyone’s guess. The ramifications were awful though, you and Ron and Elwood stressed about the ‘cargo’ on the plane, while Elvis shouted to anyone who would listen that he could do what he goddamn liked, waving his narcotics badge at anyone who tried to tactfully protest. You hated it.   

It’s a long flight, at the end of a long week. It’s been trying for all involved, although Elvis has spent a lot of the time that you’ve seen him in a half-asleep state, desperately trying to recover from the strains and stresses of the brutal tour schedule he’s been put on again. You’ve corralled him into the bedroom on the Lisa-Marie, it’s a six-hour flight - not nearly long enough for him to recuperate properly, but enough that you actually have a fighting chance for once. He’d been playful and handsy the day before, the way he was sometimes - likely having taken one too many uppers, but you could tell from the lines and bags under his make-up that, though it’s been ages - to try and tease or play with him now would be borderline cruel. Instead, you focus on making him comfortable, tucking him up with you under the soft covers of the large bed, petting him exactly as he likes it. He’s just starting to calm himself down and you continue to murmur to the top of his head when he suddenly starts talking,  

“I don’t, don’t wanna marry-marry her.” His speech is slurring, and you can’t be sure if it’s from sleep, or the effects of the palmful of pills he’d taken an hour ago, or some combination of it all. Oh, so maybe that’s why he’s gone off the rails?  

“You don’t, - you don’t have to El- if you don’t want to,” You murmur back to him, acknowledging internally that he must be both absolutely exhausted and feeling miserable if his immediate response wasn’t to tell you to mind your own goddamn business.  

“I’ve gotta take care of it - get the boys to take care of it…. Daddy'll do it for me. He should.” He nods to himself, but his eyes stay closed.  

“Elvis, sweetheart,” You whisper to him, “you can’t make your daddy do that for you, you’ve… gotta do it yourself.” You pat his back, and he burrows his head further into your lap, your fingers finding their way into his scalp, curling around and into the hairs at the nape of his neck as you gently stroke his head and back. “She’s, she’s a reasonable girl - I’m sure she’ll understand-”  

“That’s…” There’s a long enough pause as his breathing evens out that you’re fairly sure he’s asleep, but then he mumbles back, “’S not her ‘m worried about…’s her, her folks.”  

You try desperately to reassure him, muttering about how no-one could judge him for making a sensible decision, and better to cool it off now than later, but it’s too late, and the only response you get back is the sound of him snuffling in his sleep, his eyelids and forehead relaxing as he curls his legs into you, snuggling against your warm heat, tucked against the thick gold comforter.  

You try to relax yourself, but your mind is whirring at a thousand thoughts a minute; all too many of which were imagining poor Vernon being gifted with the unfortunate task of breaking up with his son’s girlfriend.  

You feel sorry for him, you never believe when the husbands of your friends make jokes about how they’ve been ‘trapped’ - it’s a man’s world, and it seems absurd to suggest that someone’s womanly wiles were solely the root of their relationship crisis and yet, his description of his relationship is starting to sound less like young fun and more like a calculated entrapment. For perhaps not the first time in his life. You sigh again, and jump when Elvis pats your arm,  

“Shhh, s’ok, s’ok baby, I got you,” He’s fast asleep, eyes twitching being their lids — but still, his hands swipe over your side as he clumsily pats at you, shushing you while he does. The notion makes your eyes fill with tears, how could he still be so utterly sweet and dependent? 

The next morning he made no reference to the night before, or his whispered confession and you dressed and continued on as normal. Your mind though kept floating back to the words Billy had said to you back in early February. Should you attempt to make a move? Or at least, make sure Elvis knew you were totally available? Before you have the chance to act on any of these impulses though there’s a rumour spreading across the group - that Elvis wasn’t coping, that he needed a break, that the tour was going to have to be cancelled. You’d pushed it out of your head, hopeful he’d just need a decent rest that would be enough to rejuvenate him to get through the tour. But tragically, the rumour had turned out to be true and you’d delivered him home to Memphis amidst cancelled shows and runs to the hospital. He’d looked terrible when you’d left him, looking back at you at the top of the plane steps. You want to turn up, check he’s ok, check that he’s sure about Ginger, that if he’s not going to end things then that she knows how to take care of him. That she’s doing the best she can.  

It had been radio silence since that last flight and perhaps you should be assuming that no news is good news, but you find yourself thinking about him most days. Worrying and waiting. You wonder if he would let you in if you went to Graceland to see him, or if that was altogether too presumptuous, hell you’d heard all about how he hated girls that were too forward. But he loved to be taken care of - you supposed it all came down to control, and though you were desperate that he be well looked after, and you wished you could supervise that yourself, you were otherwise happy to let him take the lead – it was just altogether too scary to do anything else.  

——————————— 

Finally, in the middle of the third week of July you get a call reminding you of the upcoming tour, and then, almost immediately after you agree, an unusual call from Elvis himself. The phone ringing insistently less than 5 minutes after you’d agreed to the tour details.  

“How’re you doing baby?” He’s talking in that slow drawl he does when he’s sleepy, worn out from the day - from rehearsals maybe, or just life in general. “My bitty baby doin’ ok, huh?” 

“I’m just fine,” You’re impossibly hungry for details, but reluctant to sound too eager, 

“My yittle bun-bun lookin’ after herself?” You’d basically already told him this, but the wording makes you blush, and you don’t mind repeating yourself for him, “Of course. I’m ‘cited to see you.”  

“That’s good, well, that’s reeeall good honey, because, uh, you see,” His voice takes on the explanatory tone he so enjoys, both didactic and gossiping, “I don’t know if you’ve heard… or I suppose you wouldn’t have yet, but uh, Ginger’s not, she’s not coming on this tour with me, we’re, uh, we’re well…” He trails off, and there’s little breathy noises down the phone to you, which lets you picture the way he would have just taken off his glasses, rubbing his fingers along the bridge of his nose.  

“Oh,” What else is there to say? ‘Oh Elvis, I’m glad you’ve ditched your fiancee?’ Hardly.  

“She was just, just a lil too young, jus’ a baby, not, she just - it wouldn’t be right to make her settle down with me right now. Not, not when I don’t know if she really…well you know.” You don’t know what to say, and Elvis waits only for a brief second before filling the silence himself,  

“The thing is - I wasn’t sure, I don’t know if you’d heard, I’ve uh, I’ve been, well, I’ve been real sick to tell you the truth. Weren’t sure I were gonna make it out to this tour and we thought for sure we were gonna have to cancel but well, here we are.”  

“You’re not… you’re feeling better?”  

“Yes ma’am.” At least that sounds confident, “Got myself a new doctor, and ‘m, uh, on some new, uh, treatments and uh stuff.” He pauses, “Playin’ a lot of racquetball.”   He sounds slightly sheepish, and while you’re endlessly curious you don’t press the point.  

“Were you just ringing to confirm I’d be around?”  

“Well, here’s the thing, the thing is, honey, the thing is - I know you’ve already had a call, but you see, I was sorta hoping maybe you’d be happy to cancel them plans?”  

“Oh. You don’t want me on the plane?” There’s a moment of silence before he swears to himself, muttering down the phone that he’d learn to have some balls one of these days.  

“No, No, you misunnerstand - I want you on the plane, and off the plane - I just want you to come with me.”  

“Oh.”  

“If you can’t, well, I understand.” He sounds resigned, and your heart breaks a little, “But, I want company baby, and I want yours.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, breathless in your excited agreement, 

“I want yours too! I’ve been - Billy said, well I’ve been hopin’ for months El, I miss you so much when we’re at home, and oh, I’d love to.” Somehow you can hear him shaking his head through the phone,  

“That meddlin’ shit.” You giggle back at him, and he laughs in response before he keeps talking, “So - pack your bags, honey, and I’ll send a car to get you at the usual time?”  

“So, am I - like working?” He huffs at you, 

“No - no, not workin’ for me no more - just being there for me. Want you to be my girl baby - be good just for me - not chasing down the other guys to make ‘em drinks.” You shake your head, brain skipping over the important part of the statement to the last part for a moment.  

“I don’t believe I’ve ever ‘chased’ the other guys,” He huffs down the phone,  

“Well lemme tell you they’ve been chasin’ you, wolves chasin’ their lil bunny,”  

“Hmm, there’s only one wolf I want to eat me though Elvis.”  

“S’that right?” 

“That’s right.”  

“Well then, I’ll have it all ready for you, s’probably easier, y’know this late notice and all,” You read between the lines that Ginger’s still at Graceland, “that I’ll uh, you’ll be waitin’ for me on the Lisa-Marie?” You cringe, but he does sound more like himself than he has in weeks, and hopefully - unlike with Linda and Ginger he’ll keep to his promise and actually get rid of her before you get on board.  

“Mmhmm, that should be fine.” You hear him move away from the phone for a second, talking to someone else for a moment,  

“Right, honey, I’ve - I’ve, I’m bein’ told I’ve gotta go now - got a meeting in a minute, but don’t be afraid to call - anytime, you’re to be put straight through to me, y’hear?”  

“Yep, Elvis, I hear,”  

“Alright then, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, then - you take care of yourself baby,”  

“You too El,” You’re about to say something stupid, like I love you, but with one last,  

“Ok - buh-bye.” The line’s gone dead.  

——————————— 

TAGLIST:

i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last three chapters -

@lookingforrainbows @ooihcnoiwlerh @ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1 @amydarcimarie @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @i-r-i-n-a-a @saintomie @literally-just-elvis-fics

[kaiyonohime]

Safely in the US. I have many, many comments to make about the issues with the airline industry.

First, Jetstar Japan does not allow babies to use car seats on their plans. At all. And the baby seatbelt that I was given to use was broken. That should NEVER have happened.

Second, American airlines conveniently forgot to load the baby meals on an international flight. I had snacks, but nothing as solid as a meal. Also, as a 183cm tall woman, I know for sure I can't evacuate from the economy section in case of an emergency. Nor could I even brace. The source allowed is now so little that my baby spent half the flight entertaining himself by using his feet to screw with his screen. And my stroller was destroyed, which is even more fucking awful.

Third, LAX. Burn it down and start over somewhere else, there is no saving it.

Fourth, put the smoking areas away from just outside the doors in Denver. No one likes smelling smoke while waiting for their ride.

Fifth, all American airports need baby strollers with luggage area. Japan has them for free, just get them. Also, child play areas. If the kid burns off steam before the flight everyone will be happy.

On Wednesday I get to see if we can make a thirty minute transfer that American booked. I really hope so.

[vintagecomputer]

thanks @untitledrockshow for tagging me <3

posting my lockscreen (and homescreen because i want to) & the last song i listened to & the most recent photo of a celebrity on my phone

my beloved felix and goldy are celebrities to me so you get a pic of them instead of that awful frank iero bus invaders photo which was actually the last celebrity pic i saved . also shoutout to felix's cat drawing that my mom named methcat

i don't remember who felix tagged on his post so some of you have already been tagged but uhhhh @jetstarred @midtownrock @mikeywayclitpiercing @paramoreworld @gayslutraytoro (if you even use tumblr anymore) @lifted2002 @0vercastgirl

[flightofficeuk]

Discover Low-Cost Flights to Singapore – Book Your Trip Now!

Singapore, a bustling city-state located at the southern tip of Malaysia, is a remarkable destination that seamlessly blends tradition and innovation. Known for its stunning skyline, rich cultural tapestry, and vibrant culinary scene, Singapore has something to offer every type of traveler. If you’ve been dreaming of exploring this dynamic city but are concerned about costs, now is the perfect time to discover low-cost flights to Singapore. With a bit of planning, you can book your trip without straining your budget!

Book cheap flights to Singapore with Flight Office and enjoy exclusive deals, competitive fares, and a seamless booking experience.

Why Choose Singapore as Your Next Destination?

Singapore is often celebrated for its iconic attractions and unique experiences. From the magnificent Marina Bay Sands to the lush greenery of Gardens by the Bay, the city is a feast for the eyes. The Supertree Grove, with its towering tree-like structures, lights up at night, creating a magical atmosphere that leaves visitors in awe.

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Moreover, Singapore is renowned for its cleanliness, safety, and efficient public transport system, making it an ideal destination for families, solo travelers, and business travelers alike. With so much to see and do, it’s no wonder that Singapore is consistently ranked as one of the top travel destinations in the world.

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Subscribe to Alerts and Promotions: Many airlines and travel agencies offer newsletters that provide exclusive discounts and promotions. Signing up for these alerts can keep you informed about flash sales and special offers that can help you score low-cost flights.

Making the Most of Your Trip to Singapore

Once you’ve secured your affordable flights, it’s time to plan your itinerary. Take advantage of Singapore’s excellent public transportation system to explore the city easily. Visit iconic attractions, stroll through picturesque neighborhoods, and sample delicious local cuisine—all while staying within your budget.

Consider exploring free attractions, such as the Singapore Botanic Gardens or walking along the Marina Bay waterfront, to make the most of your trip without overspending.

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Discovering low-cost flights to Singapore is the first step in planning an unforgettable adventure in this incredible city. With its stunning sights, diverse culture, and delicious food, Singapore promises an enriching travel experience. Don’t wait any longer—book your trip now and get ready to create lasting memories in the Lion City!

[tripwisatabromo-blog]

Mount Bromo Tour from Singapore: A Complete Guide

Traveling to Indonesia from Singapore looking for a unique and amazing adventure then the right first choice is Mount Bromo Tour located in East Java, Indonesia. Mount Bromo is one of the most popular tourist destinations for foreign tourists from Asia, especially Singapore. A majestic volcano with easy access without requiring much climbing but the stunning views that will leave you in awe. Mount Bromo is a popular tourist destination located in East Java, Indonesia. Famous for its stunning sunrise views and Bromo Crater, making it a must-visit location for nature lovers and adventurers alike. Although Mount Bromo can be accessed from various locations from abroad, the most Singaporean tourists come to visit, moreover there is an international airport that is well connected and close to Mount Bromo. In addition, there are several tour packages from Singapore that make it easier for tourists to plan their trip to Mount Bromo.

Mount Bromo Tour from Singapore A Complete Guide

If you're traveling from Singapore, you're probably wondering how to get to Mount Bromo easiest and what to do once you get there. Here's a simple guide on how to plan a Mount Bromo tour from Singapore to make the most of your trip.

The Best Time to Visit Mount Bromo

Before planning your Mount Bromo tour, you need to know the best time to visit. The weather on Mount Bromo can be unpredictable, and the scenery varies depending on the season. Weather in Mount Bromo Mount Bromo has a tropical climate with an average temperature of 20–25 degrees Celsius. However, it can get quite chilly at night, especially during the dry season. The rainy season starts from November to March, while the dry season is from April to October. Peak Season in Mount Bromo The peak season in Mount Bromo is from June to August, as well as during the Christmas and New Year holidays. During this time, the weather is generally good and the scenery is stunning. However, it can be crowded, and prices can be higher than usual. Off-Peak Season in Mount Bromo If you want to avoid the crowds and save money, you can visit Mount Bromo during the off-peak season. The best time to visit is from January to March or September to October. During this time, the weather is still good, and you can enjoy the scenery without the crowds.

How to Get to Mount Bromo from Singapore

The most convenient way to reach Mount Bromo from Singapore is by taking a flight to Surabaya Juanda International Airport. From Surabaya, you can book a Bromo tour package or arrange your own trip by taking available public transportation to Mount Bromo. Flight to Surabaya There are several direct and transit flights from Singapore to Surabaya, and the flight duration is approximately 2 hours 30 minutes. Airlines that provide flight schedules to Surabaya include Air Asia, Batik Air, Singapore Airlines, Scoot, Jetstar, Garuda Indonesia, Malaysia Airlines. Private Tours If you prefer a hassle-free and comfortable trip, you can take a private tour service from Surabaya to Mount Bromo. The trip from Surabaya to Mount Bromo takes about 3 hours. There are 2 choices of private tour packages to Bromo Tang available with departures from Surabaya, namely the 2 day 1 night Bromo tour and the Bromo midnight tour. Mount Bromo Tour 2 days 1 night is a package that offers 1 night stay at a hotel near Bromo, while the Bromo Midnight Tour is a trip to Bromo with a midnight departure without the need to spend the night at the hotel because you can directly visit Bromo by jeep to see the sunrise. Public transportation / Private Car Rental Taking public transportation is the cheapest option to get to Mount Bromo. From Surabaya, you can go to the station or bus terminal in Surabaya with the aim of going to Probolinggo / Pasuruan, then transfer to a minivan to Mount Bromo. The journey can take up to 5-6 hours, but it's a great opportunity to experience local culture. It's different if you rent a car, it can shorten travel time, but it's a little difficult because you have to leave a guarantee with the car rental provider and also need a driver's license. The choice of renting a car to Bromo is rather difficult unless it includes a driver / guide.

Accommodation on Mount Bromo

There are several types of accommodation on Mount Bromo, ranging from budget hostels to luxury resorts. The most popular place to stay is at Cemoro Lawang Ngadisari Probolinggo which is located closest to the Mount Bromo area. Here there are several hotels that offer direct views of Mount Bromo. Accommodation Type Hostel: There are several cheap hostels in Bromo that offer basic facilities, such as shared dormitory rooms with outside/public bathrooms. Guesthouses: Guesthouses are the more comfortable option, with private rooms and en-suite bathrooms. They also offer additional services like breakfast.Villas: If you want to splurge, you can stay in a villa with a stunning view of Mount Bromo. Villas usually offer modern amenities. Hotels: There are many choices of hotels ranging from 1 star to 5 star luxury resorts. Adjust your budget to get the right hotel. Recommended Places to Stay Bromo Terrace Hotel: Luxury hotel with views of Mount Bromo. Offering comfortable rooms with modern facilities and a restaurant serving local and international cuisine. Lava View Lodge : is a hotel with the most strategic location in Cemoro Lawang. This hotel offers views and is the closest location to Mount Bromo while the standard facilities are like other hotel rooms around it even though the price rate is slightly higher. Jiwa Jawa Resort Bromo : is a beautiful resort with stunning views of the hills around Mount Bromo. The hotel offers comfortable rooms with modern facilities, a restaurant serving local and international cuisine and a spa. Plataran Hotel : is the most luxurious and most expensive hotel on Mount Bromo with super complete facilities. Situated in the highlands of Bromo, it offers views of the countryside of agricultural plantations nestled in the surrounding hills.

What to do in Mount Bromo

Mount Bromo offers some amazing attractions that you should not miss during your tour. Here are some places that must be visited on Mount Bromo: Sunrise Viewpoint One of the most popular activities on Mount Bromo is watching the sunrise. The best spot to watch the sunrise is at Mount Penanjakan which offers panoramic views of the entire Mount Bromo area. If the top of Mount Penanjakan is 1 walk too far from the jeep parking lot, then another alternative is to see the sunrise at Kingkong Hill, Bukit Cinta, Mentigen Hill and Eruni Point. Bromo Crater Bromo Crater is the main attraction in Mount Bromo. It is an active volcano with a crater emitting smoke and sulfurous gases. You can climb to the top of the crater and witness the stunning views of the surroundings. Savanna and Teletubbies Hill The Sabana and Teletubbies Hills are located near the Bromo Crater. Sabana is a vast meadow with stunning views of Mount Bromo, while Teletubbies Hill is a small hill with a unique shape that resembles the shape of a house in the Teletubbies children's film series. If you go to this place, choose during the rainy / flowering season (January - March) because the scenery is very beautiful, but if you come here in the dry season, you will only see a stretch of arid, dry and dusty land. Whispering Sand Whispering Sands is a unique desert-like area on Mount Bromo with stretches of fine sand that make sounds when the wind blows. This is a great place to walk around and feel the unique atmosphere.

Mount Bromo Tour Packages from Singapore

If you want a tour to Mount Bromo hassle-free of arranging accommodation and well-organized, you can choose a Bromo tour package that can be booked directly online from Singapore. Here are some of the most popular tour packages: Types of Tour Packages Private Tour: A private tour offers a personalized itinerary, complete facilies and with a private transport. It is the most expensive option, but it offers the most flexibility and comfort. Group Tour: A group tour is a more affordable option where you will join with other travelers. The itinerary is usually fixed and you must follow the schedule of the travel agentcy so that there are no additional costs., but it is a great opportunity to meet new people.

The Best Tour Operator to Mount Bromo

tripwisatabromo.com offers several tour packages to Mount Bromo, ranging from private tours to group tours. Here also offer additional services by request, such as add visit tourist sites around bromo, transport transfers to hotel or airport, train station and meals. Mount Bromo is a stunning natural wonder that should be on travel bucket list in East Java Indonesia. You're a nature lover, an adventure seeker, or a culture enthusiast, Mount Bromo offers something for everyone. From watching the sunrise at Mount Penanjakan to hiking to the top of the Bromo Crater, there are plenty of activities to do on Mount Bromo and with several tour packages available from Singapore. Also Read : - Mount Bromo Ijen Crater Tour 3 Days 2 Nights - Mount Bromo Sewu Waterfall Tour 3 Days 2 Nights - Mount Bromo Ijen Tumpak Sewu Tour 4 Days 3 Nights - Mount Bromo Semeru Trekking Tour 3 Days 2 Nights - Yogyakarta Bromo Ijen Tour 3 Days 2 Nights - Yogyakarta Bromo Ijen Bali Tour 5 Days 4 Nights What is the best time to visit Mount Bromo? The best time to visit Mount Bromo is during the dry season, from May to October, when the weather is clear and sunny. What should I wear during my tour to Mount Bromo? You should wear comfortable and warm clothes, as the temperature can drop significantly in the early morning. You should also wear sturdy shoes for hiking and bring a face mask to protect yourself from the dust and sulfuric gas emitted by the Bromo Crater. Is it safe to hike to the top of the Bromo Crater? Yes, it is safe to hike to the top of the Bromo Crater as long as you follow the guidelines provided by the local authorities and wear appropriate gear. Can I bring my drone to Mount Bromo? Drone flying is not allowed in the Mount Bromo area due to safety reasons and regulations. What is the best way to get to Mount Bromo from Singapore? The best way to get to Mount Bromo from Singapore is by taking a flight to Surabaya Juanda International Airport and then taking Mount Bromo tour package. Read the full article

[thespacehound]

I think I need to start making jetstar and megastar content for myself bc yes there’s lots of content for both of these ships but apparently the dynamics I like for them aren’t super popular 😔

[zachbiller]

Keith Akira Kogane: Keith is depicted as a 26-year-old anti-social character in the beginning. Born to a Japanese father and a Chinese mother, his father trained him in kung fu until Keith’s parents died tragically in an accident. Keith continued to practice many other forms of martial arts until he turned 18 and enrolled in the United States Marine Corps. When he was 24, he met and proposed to Beverly Hagel, who died seven weeks before their wedding date in a plane accident. During the course of the series, he begins to form a comradeship with his teammates, and begins to develop feelings for Princess Allura and vice-versa.

Lance Charles McClain: Lance is a 24-year-old with a criminal record. For most of his life, Lance grew up as an adolescent daredevil and drag-racer. His life changed forever when he won a gift certificate for ten free flying lessons in a radio contest. These lessons displayed that he had a natural talent for flying. At age 18, he joined the navy, and flying became his obsession, but his hot-headedness landed him in deep water when his jetstar buzzed the penthouse of a vindictive senator.

Tsuyoshi “Hunk” Garrett: A 24-year-old Japanese/American mechanic. His nickname “Hunk” comes from his 4 brothers, of whom he’s ironically the smallest, despite his own great size. He was not very social, though, and would spend most of his time tinkering in garage workshops. Later he put himself through college on the G.I. bill, and after gaining a Master’s in engineering, he discovered the equipment that fascinated him most was military in nature. However, he remained rather anti-social, establishing himself as someone who it was unwise to harass.

Darrell “Pidge” Stoker: A growth-stunted 16-year-old, and as an Earthling (as opposed to his cartoon counterpart hailing from the planet Balto). He’s also depicted as an orphan abandoned outside a convent when he was six weeks old (however, he may yet have a family because later he talks with Vehicle team member Chip about the similarities that exist between the two of them, he remarks that they’re one DNA test short of discovering they’re brothers’ which is a nod to the cartoon establishment of Pidge and Chip as twins). During his years at the orphanage, his scores on a state-mandated IQ test caught the eye of the New West Point military academy, who promptly enrolled him to put his awe-inspiring understanding of computer systems to good use. However, his life at NWP turned out to be worse than at the orphanage, and was the subject of regular beatings by his intellectually-threatened peers, until he was approached by Colonel Hawkins to join a team of outcasts to search for the legendary robot Voltron on the distant planet Arus. Pidge didn’t have to be asked twice, and promptly agreed.

Sven Holgersson: The comic book version of Sven depicts him as 27, the oldest member on the team. Much of Sven’s past remains unknown, except that he was a former member of an elite Navy squad similar to the SEALS. During an insurrection in a small South American country, a serious miscommunication caused a foreign national Sven was supposed to extract to believe Sven was an assassin and opened fire. Sven was left with no choice but to fire back, protecting himself and eliminating the extraction target. He was then placed on “administrative leave” until he was approached by Colonel Hawkins to join a team of outcasts to search for the legendary robot Voltron on the distant planet Arus. Sven was possibly the most anti-social of the group, but this is possibly due to being the oldest and most mature. Unlike in the cartoon, Sven never got a chance to properly form Voltron, or even get to wear his classic black uniform (the only comic book image of Sven in his uniform is in a promotional picture in the back of Issue #0, although Allura did offer to find him a uniform, possibly in black, when the team plus Allura finally attained their own familiar uniforms). This is due to him having a brain defect that caused the magic of Voltron to somehow reject him. This brain defect caused him to fall under the influence of Queen Merla and Haggar, under which he betrayed his friends and Arus by stealing files from the Castle of Lions’ control room. He was then placed on a mission alongside Prince Lotor, during which the two found themselves having to survive together and try to trust each other. During a conflict that erupted later, Sven apparently crash-landed on planet Pollux, where he was discovered by Princess Romelle. Due to the comic’s hiatus, what path Sven’s tale would have taken from that point remains a mystery.

Princess Allura: The comic book version of Allura places her at age 19, and depicts her with a much stronger backbone than her cartoon counterpart. When her home planet Arus was ravaged by the forces of Zarkon and her parents murdered by Zarkon’s own hand, she was taken in and raised by Coran, a retired combat instructor in the royal army, and was forced to grow up much too fast. Years later, she would renounce her title of “princess,” answering only to “Allura,” until her people are liberated from Zarkon’s tyranny. Visions while she slept showed the spirit of her father King Alfor promising that five young men would come to Arus in search of the legendary robot Voltron. When Keith, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Sven arrive on Arus and speak of the mighty robot, Allura instantly knows that they are the ones spoken of in her visions, and helps them to find the five hidden lions that will unite to form Voltron. When Voltron fails to combine properly due to a brain defect within Sven, Allura mans his Blue Lion, and with her royal Arusian blood, the unification of Voltron is finally a success, and she becomes a member of the Voltron Force. During the course of the comic, she begins to develop feelings towards Keith and vice-versa.

[ratherashleigh]

Ooh, how about top 5 airports you've been to? Is that weird? Is that a weird question? I'm both fascinated and terrified by the chaotic mix of international and local that airports have. I'd ask train stations too but I don't know how much experience you've had with those.

airports is easy: cdg, doha, incheon and then everything else is just a battle for least awful, but the winner is the gold coast airport, which is literally the worst airport on earth. actually melbourne domestic is worse if you’re flying jetstar because it’s literally a 10 minute walk from the main terminal to the gate. i also have a soft sport for atlanta because of the train, even thought that place is chaos. sfo is the calmest international airport i’ve ever been in, and adelaide airport is like being in a nice quiet hospital, which is pretty chill.

90% of my train experience is the brisbane-gold coast train, which is the worst, but they introduced quiet carriages after i moved to melbourne, and that was nice to experience when i was back there for a few months and working in brisbane. my favourite subway stations are the dc metro ones that look like a cylon ship, although there was this one station in paris that was literally like descending into a nuclear bunker that i really dug. but the little gold subway token dudes in the 14th st/eighth ave subway stations in nyc are my very most favourite.

[gaywrites]

A queer couple traveling overnight on New Year’s Eve endured hours of homophobic harassment from a man on their flight, and the flight attendants reportedly did nothing to help. 

Cat Franke, 23, and Julz Evans, 26, were on a three-hour Jetstar flight from Melbourne to Perth in Australia. They kissed at midnight to celebrate the New Year, and the man sitting behind them began ogling and harassing them.

"He put his face up to the gap in the chair and started mumbling about how he wanted to watch lesbians kiss," Franke wrote about the incident on Facebook, according to the Sydney Morning Herald.

The man became increasingly angry when the couple refused to oblige him. He called them epithets and punched the back of Evans’ seat for the duration of the flight, Franke wrote.

“Unfortunately because we had not met his request he began his homophobic slurs, singing loudly and also mumbling about how we were faggots, dykes, and poofters,” Franke wrote. “He then began to kick and punch my partner’s chair while saying how we weren’t equals and rambled about his beliefs about marriage.”

Franke said that flight attendants did nothing about the man’s outbursts and instead “giggled” at his behavior, but a representative for Jetstar, who confirmed that the man was served three drinks while on the flight, said the crew was only made aware of his harassing Franke and Julz upon landing.  

"I feared for mine and my partner’s lives on that plane, we were physically trapped with someone who wanted to hurt us and make sure we had a terrible time," Franke wrote. "When I spoke up to ask him to stop, he only got more aggressive and louder with his homophobic hate speech and began boxing the back of my partner's chair."

The airline gave Franke and Evans each a $50 voucher for their trouble, but they’ve asked for full refunds and for the man who harassed them to be banned from the airline for life. Going through this type of harassment is awful anywhere, but trapped in the small space of a plane must be even worse. I hope they’re recovering and get what they’ve asked for. 

[yourghastlycloseness]

went to an indie bookstore with a focus on celebrating women writers (had an awkward moment with the cashier); then went to a korean café with an autumnal ambience, where i ordered a dry and crumbly matcha scone, and i had to be extra careful cutting into it because it could fly off my plate and onto the floor any second; then went to the basement floor of orchard gateway (?), where don don donki was, and toured the whole place while pretending i was in tokyo, with the endless range of products sitting on shelves — and the many variations, which are really just minor modifications to every product type: matcha mille crepe cake with adzuki, matcha mille crepe cake, cream mille crepe cake, hokkaido cream mille crepe cake — the result of hyperconsumerism. not that i’m complaining.

all the while i was kind of stressing over work e-mails and replying them along the way. this was why i left the house first thing in the morning.

started the day with a good lunch with mom and dad. i love my family so much that i’m afraid to quit this world sometimes; i want to be invested in their lives, but i also have no interest in how my own will develop.

picked up frances cha’s ‘if i had your face’ at the bookstore. currently reading it. it’s entertaining as hell.

got a haircut. i’ve been losing hair since i was 15. i was able to hide it until this year though, when my crown just thinning out like crazy some time in february; it looks awful. it feels like my body is giving up on me and i want to die.

that said it’s not to a point where i’m not even worth a glance on the streets yet. you know, i’d trade true love for the gaze of 10000 pairs of adoring eyes? it’s awful how i hold onto memories of people i have eyefucked on the streets or on the train more than real people i have actual connections with.

made a dental appt too. what else? tried to call jetstar but they were closed because australian timing~

said no to some outings with friends. texted another friend because i want to treat her to dinner. said no to some outings with other friends because of work schedules/prior commitments/plain exhaustion.

i know i’m tired and miserable, but i’m not sure i can even really feel it anymore. it’s just a state that my mind and body are in, but i’ve stopped having a proper emotional response to this.

[editorialsonlife]

October 4

And delightfully today I'm flying air nz to Auckland instead of the usual Jetstar which meant I got koru lounge plus cookies plus lollies, #winning.

Went to counselling again yesterday afternoon which was actually really good. Not because there was anything I wanted to discuss but because here was nothing I wanted to discuss which meant we just chatted. Principally about my office and my role, and how I am literally a support person, but also how most people don't end up as involved in all their managers personal lives let alone deal with their professional rants which we knew, but also discussed why I always end up in situations like this and then I basically got a mini counselling education of how to turn it around back on them to sort their own shit out.

And the other interesting part was actually, why am I pushing back on all these people, and why now? What's the point of all of it? And life is just very full right now, and my priorities are all out of whack.

I ditched Dave this weekend to go out for lunch with a friend and that interrupted Saturday which was annoying and just a solid lack of quality time and connectedness with him (aka why I've been crying during sex because I just feel so utterly disconnected). I've spent a while bunch of time going out with other people and catching up with them and have some quite deep and intimate relationship with them but it means all that emotional energy is going to other people not him which is not where it should be going. And I do try and shield him from some of my crazy because I dont want to freak him out but in turn now I feel like I hardly talk to him about anything which is in a way even more stressful.

The clouds look so fluffy and happy today!

So there's that! Then we started talking about what we're freeing up space for which was to be able to focus on myself for a change (lol so many self centred blog posts) but to actually create time for the deep thinking and considerations and existential crises of what I actually want because I've been struggling with my identity a lot lately and not having given myself much time to actually think deeply about these things. And again, discussing them with Dave.

We also talked about how to reframe these conversations because I've been nagging Dave to work out a five year financial plan but actually like, that sounds god awful and horrible but if it was 'what awesome shit do we wanna do over the next five years and what do we want our lives to look like together?' then that's a whole different ball game really isn't it? So that was also useful to have as a discussion.

So that was an entirely useful session. (yay no tears) and then I went and smashed my PT session and just about took out my face with a 12kg dumbbell which was funny. Poor Heather was like I AM NOT FILLING OUT HEALTH AND SAFETY FORMS DO NOT DO THAT!! It's been so good working with her and actually being able to feel like I'm nailing things again. Haven't bothered to weigh myself and don't really care but my image obsessed workmate says I've lost weight and changed shape so I'll take that! 6 months to our Cairns holiday today which is pretty exciting!

We painted a wall at home over the weekend and it's now teal and looks pretty awesome and makes me happy! We also planted some more veges (f u slugs the war is real and I'm so mad they keep eating my plants so I've given up on organics and drowned the garden in slug bait) and swan plants.

Dads back at home and bored so he mowed our lawns for us yesterday and sorted out a bunch of things around the house which was awesome. Hopefully they find out about the house they've got an offer on today because I'll be so happy for them if they get it. I've never seen either of them so relaxed about buying a house it's kind of amazing. Never have they ever been so much on the same page. It's beautiful to see to be honest.

I got to write my own job description last week which was fun. No pay rise though, sigh. Might need to start looking for another job that pays more at some point. Money is a tricky one right now and learning to live on half my income is really hard work. Particularly since the last 6 months has been living on 100% of it and now that swinging far far back the other way. Anywho. We'll get there. Especially now I have my super fancy coffee machine to play with and I'm SO CLOSE to making work buy me a rocket coffee machine to play with there.

I have also rediscovered Vance joy lately and it makes me quite happy to have this music back in my life.

Weeeeeeeeeee turbulence. It's been such a gorgeous flight. Not sure I packed enough clothing tho lol I only bought a cardi because the weather forecast looks fine but apparently it's only 13 degrees. Heartbreak. Left beautiful clear blue skies in Wellington and it's just solid cloud cover up here. RUDE.

I think that's all for today. 😊

[pinelife3]

Businesses I Worry About

When thinking of get rich quick schemes, good ideas might include:

Dropshipping 

Chill hop radio streams on YouTube (there has to be some money to be made, right?)

Automating the set-up of Wordpress sites (actually cool themes, basic pages, get rid of shitty blog post format so a business can use it, etc.) and charge ~$20/site

ATM skimmers 

Buy the domain www.jetstor.com and make it look exactly like JetStar’s site. Sell fake plane tickets. Use elaborate VPNs and darkweb security stuff to avoid detection. Once the scam ceases to be profitable repeat with virgon.com and any other business where a user might mistype the website’s URL. I’d suggest this scam works best for businesses with a ‘u’, ‘i’ and/or ‘o’ in the name as these three letters sit beside each other on the keyboard (facilitating fat-fingered typos) and also people tend to pay less attention to vowels 

Not high at the top of anyone’s list: opening a restaurant.

You may not think this wandering through Chinatown, perhaps on account of the the hand-written BYO WINE ONLY signs or perhaps because of the waiters killing fish in the alleys*, but the choice to open a restaurant is indicative of the kind of pure human energy which has nothing to do with wanting to get rich. 

(*I swear they do this at New Kum Den - when someone chooses one of the depressed barramundi from the tank, they fish it out, put it in a bucket and then sneak off to kill it in the alley so the kitchen doesn’t get all fish’d up.)

Just think of everything that could go wrong:

Ruinous upfront and ongoing costs

Unfair reviews

Unreliable twenty-something staff

Think about how much chairs and plates and mops and cutesy pot plants and signs cost. How many tea towels do you need? How many forks? Think about how hard it must be to find a full staff of people you trust. Think about opening for the first day and no one buying anything. Same deal on the second day. Your vegetables start to go bad in the fridge. Did you make a mistake?

This is basically my opinion on restaurants: they are risky investments, shouldered by the courageous so that the whole community has places to go where they can eat delicious ramen or dumplings or fried chicken with blue cheese sauce. With that in mind, why would anyone risk it all to open the establishment pictured below?

Falafel Place opened on Smith Street around 6 months ago. As you can see, it is not stylish - that’s why they called it Falafel Place rather than Palace. It already looks tired and it just opened. It doesn’t beckon. It doesn’t repel. It just exists (for now).

The Smith Street area is already home to many kebab/Lebanese cheap eats joints:

The only angle I can see that Falafel Place may have is that they specialise in vegetarian food (i.e. no kebabs here - only falafel, tabbouleh, etc.) but there’s nothing to recommend this place beyond being vego-friendly.

Something about this place has really gotten under my skin. None of the kebab joints (with a possible exception of Lamb on Brunswick) I’ve highlighted above is especially creative or adventurous in what they’ve opened. I don’t feel a glow of human courage and pride emanating from those businesses - but they do have one thing going for them (beyond the meat): the baked-in grease in the walls, the ravaged staff who have become canny to the ways of the local drunks (getting your kebab is like a hostage negotiation - you’ll have to hand over the cash before you get your food). There’s just something grotty but dependable about the local kebab joints. Like the raw onions in a kebab, it brings a tear to your eye. Not so with Falafel Place. I feel so much pity for the owners. Why would you risk so much money (Smith St rent can’t be cheap - how much fucking falafel will you need to sell to make ends meet?) on a place which looks so disinterested - disinterested in falafel and disinterested in selling us falafel. Do you people even like falafel? Nothing about this place suggests even a passing interest in falafel. Falafel PLACE?! 

INTERVIEWER: Excuse me Mr. Proprietor, could you tell us something about what inspired you to open this establishment?

PROPRIETOR: Huh?

INTERVIEWER: Could you spare some time to -

PROPRIETOR: Are you talking to me?

INTERVIEWER: Yes, aren’t you the genius behind this fine falafel restaurant?

PROPRIETOR: Ah yeah.

INTERVIEWER: So, could you tell us a bit about what inspired you to open such a -

PROPRIETOR: Look lady, falafel just spawns here. Every morning we come into the office and find all our desk drawers full of falafel.

INTERVIEWER: You mean you don’t lovingly cook this using a recipe your great-grandmother left you in her will?

PROPRIETOR: No we don’t cook it. We’re accountants. We just sell falafel out of the office reception so it doesn’t attract ants where we’re trying to work.

INTERVIEWER: But why not just eat it yourselves - I don’t understand.

PROPRIETOR: Eat the falafel? I can’t stand the stuff. So dry. It’s awful.

INTERVIEWER: I have to say this is one of the more candid interviews I’ve conducted for Made Up Falafel Magazine. Could you explain the thinking process behind the name?

PROPRIETOR: Falafel Place? Well, yeah we didn’t want to lay it on too thick with superlatives or -

INTERVIEWER: Or even a name which wasn’t a statement of fact.

PROPRIETOR: Look, this is a place where there is falafel. Buy it or not - I really don’t care.

Meanwhile... not too much further along Smith Street, is another newish business: Sen Storm, a Veitnamese fusion restaurant. This premises used to be occupied by a New Orleans po boy joint which seemed to be perpetually closed. A few months ago, I saw that they were re-tiling the shopfront - like so, I think it actually looks really nice:

(It’s closed in this pic - it normally looks a bit more welcoming)

Maybe it’s because I was dimly aware of the failure of the po boy place, but I am very stressed for Sen Storm. Every time I walk past, I look in to see if they have enough customers. Are the staff busy? Are people eating there? Is it being enjoyed? I desperately want the people of Sen Storm to have made a good investment. I can feel the care radiating out of this place - they want it to be nice, they want people to enjoy it. They’re trying something new. Vietnamese food is typically pretty cheap in Melbourne: $12 bowls of pho, $4 banh mi on Victoria Street. Sen Storm is edging their way into fancier restaurant prices ($25 mains, nice cocktails) - there are not many other places in Melbourne doing nice napkin Vietnamese.

I read this interesting article on why noodles are cheap compared to pasta - it has a lot to do with our biases relating to the hierarchy of cuisines:

The other issue in all of this, is us, the dining public. What prices are we willing to pay for pad Thai, ramen or a plate of dumplings? All the chefs interviewed acknowledged a cultural hierarchy that makes noodles cheap and pasta expensive.

"Why would people pay $30 for cacio e pepe, which is really just pasta, black pepper and cheese, but they won't pay more than $10 for three amazingly made har gau or xiao long bao, which probably require a whole lot more skill than making pasta?" asks Dan Hong.

Narada Kudinar, co-owner of Sydney's Yan, sees this play out in his Chinese-style smokehouse.

"We get people who walk into the restaurant, after Googling we are the top-rated Asian restaurant in the area and walking out after seeing the menu prices."

Mr Bayad feels the same frustration running his inner-Sydney Filipino restaurant.

"Customers frequently come in claiming they ate the same food for 43 cents at a street market in the Philippines.

"I deal with that fairly often here and it's an old conversation — I'm just sick of it. The production [of food] here is completely different."

It's an expectation rooted in mainstream experiences of Asian food — from chicken chow mein in suburban Chinese takeaway restaurants with the lucky cat figurines to $1 pad Thai on Bangkok streets.

Even those with Asian heritage can hold the same prejudices. "The easy stereotypes are very ingrained — the idea of yum cha being a 'hangover food' and Chinese being a 'quick, cheap option' — that is ingrained in me as well," says Dr Lee.

^^ This graph is from an Atlantic article from a few years ago which also looks at our biases around food, like why we will pay more for Japanese and French food than Chinese or Thai. Anyway, I do believe tastes and expectations are changing, but the point I’m trying to make is that Sen Storm is part of a new wave - they’re taking a risk and they care.

After months of anxiously peering into Sen Storm, wondering what it was like, I finally went with Matt. We ordered:

Duck curry: orange duck leg curry with egg noodles

Pepper venison: venison seasoned with Vietnamese mountain pepper served with parsnip puree and chilli chutney

Nice, right? I did photograph the food but my pictures were awful (my proud tradition of producing vomitous food photographs continues) but you can see a bit of the venison in the pic below and a corner of the curry as well. Both were very tasty and it felt like a surprising meal. Again, they’re trying something new.

I can understand why the people at Sen Storm took the risk - they had an idea, something to share, and they opened a restaurant which is still not bustling but is slowly accumulating positive reviews and will hopefully grow into a successful business. But if restaurants are risky investments - does it make sense to gamble on something you care about? Is Sen Storm more likely to do better than Falafel Place because the Sen Stormians are passionate? Maybe - but the margin by which Sen Storm has to do better is huge because building something special has cost them a lot more. Falafel Place is built on a foundation of plastic takeout containers. 

In short, I am still worried about Sen Storm.

[marlaluster]

emptying clipboard w items numbered

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Australia holidays Australasia & PacificAustralia OverviewRegionsHotelsCruisesThings to doInsider reviewToursInspiration Unearth unique experiences in the land of adventure Appearing high on wish lists and in once-in-a-lifetime travel plans, Australia is vast and iconic. Awe-inspiring landscapes of rugged Outback and glorious beaches can be reached from cosmopolitan cities; and colossal natural wonders sit both at the heart and offshore. Watch as rock formations change colour in the light of the day, glide through glistening waters alongside whale sharks and dolphins, and drive along one of the world’s most scenic coastal roads.  Whether it’s a first time tour of the major cities, an extensive campervan expedition or a world class escape, this is the ideal destination for unique holiday experiences, half the world away. Snorkel the Great Barrier Reef, and swim with whale sharks and dolphins in Western AustraliaLearn all about Aborigine culture in the red centre and visit iconic UluruAn ideal self-drive destination with scenic roads, and great for families - especially with one of our campervans 10. https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=V4NDQjV4&id=C45AF2234853A8953D68842F06B0698649EEB086&thid=OIP.V4NDQjV4LyJjVKZ17yE4PwEsDN&q=russell+crandall+in+the+movie+vacation&simid=608016841511209343&selectedIndex=45 11. https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=jK4LXSwi&id=BC83F8A5D17C70873E137853D1FA69B169048E11&thid=OIP.jK4LXSwi-cIq5sGxydIJUwHaLH&q=russell+crandall+in+the+movie+vacation&simid=608005386858791734&selectedIndex=128&ajaxhist=0 12. https://www.gq.com/story/chris-hemsworth-character-names-hunk-thor-haha 13. SSL connection error Unable to make a secure connection to the server. This may be a problem with the server, or it may be requiring a client authentication certificate that you don't have. 14. https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=Cv8TyW1Q&id=AF10D446E090F2689AE4DCC055FF3A4202A342B4&thid=OIP.Cv8TyW1QoQ9cPSRTfVWwlAHaE8&q=russell+crandall+in+the+movie+vacation&simid=608019551632625578&selectedIndex=68 15. https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=NkAL4Fv2&id=720C6373FBE92BECC0035DD3BFFF2A60908F91E0&thid=OIP.NkAL4Fv26KzlKevuwi6kcAHaEQ&q=russell+crandall+in+the+movie+vacation&simid=608036684263981576&selectedIndex=86 16. https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=gA1IddrZ&id=9249D388BA10689BF30DDE87BC469869E7E100CC&thid=OIP.gA1IddrZ8MJZ1tZeorSlrgEsEi&q=russell+crandall+in+the+movie+vacation&simid=607997441158677534&selectedIndex=111 17. https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=VECkEQn1&id=2F3012A0FBE84D38F0A8BF2072EEEDCFEB1AEDF6&thid=OIP.VECkEQn18zsTLs6KmYuubgHaKX&q=russell+crandall+in+the+movie+vacation&simid=608025783608215447&selectedIndex=138 18. https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=FsiiJBU6&id=30E5FF2A271ED1B7CA8DF92D0A36F5B43C6A9D04&thid=OIP.FsiiJBU6IOUeFtqR1PExEAHaE7&q=russell+crandall+in+the+movie+vacation&simid=608025869509331254&selectedIndex=158 19. https://hollywoodlife.com/2015/07/31/chris-hemsworth-fake-penis-vacation-movie-2015-trailer/ 20. Chris Hemsworth Talks About His Giant Penis In ‘Vacation’ It you thought that Chris Hemsworth’s package looked a little too good to be true in the new ‘Vacation’, that’s because it is! The hunky actor has revealed that he actually stuffed his underwear with a giant fake penis for the film saying, ‘We went big and bold.’ Whoa — we don’t remember THAT being in the original movie! On top of stripping down to show off his incredible abs in the new VacationChris Hemsworth, 31, also forced paraded around in one scene in nothing but a pair of underwear that — get this — was actually stuffed with an enormous fake penis hand-selected by the actor himself! Looks like size really doesmatter in some cases. The member in question comes into play mid-way through the movie, when Rusty (played by Ed Helms, 41) makes a pit stop to visit his sister (played by Leslie Mann, 43) and her well-equipped husband (Chris), the latter of whom carries on half-nude, almost oblivious to the size of his own monstrous package. “It was embarrassing,” the Thor star admitted to E! News at the Vacation premiere in L.A. on July 28. “It was hilarious and probably more for other people than me…I was intimidated by that set and scene.” Thankfully, Chris did have a say in the size and feel of his character’s goods, as he reportedly worked with the film’s co-directors and writers, John Francis Daley, 30, and Jonathan M. Goldstein, 46, to find the perfect match.  “It’s part of character development,” explained Chris, “We went bold, ya know—big and bold.” Turns out the crew had no choice but to go with the biggest faux penis available, as Chris is well, just that hunky. “The morning we shot that sequence, we went into another room in the house we were shooting in, and Chris modeled the eight-inch and the ten-inch options for us,” Daley toldVulture in a separate interview. The eight-incher was quickly vetoed: “As big as it would seem, it did not look that big on him. I think it was just because Chris is such a big, hulking dude.” “He makes the normal-size penis look small,” Goldstein concurred. Hot dayum! Are You Excited To See Chris In 'Vacation?' Much like the classic film on which it is based, VacationChevy Chasereturn for more Griswald family fun, only this time, his son is the one leading his family on a vacation that they will likely never forget– yup, they’re once again going to Walley World. Of course, like that other vacation, things here go immediately and hopelessly awry. Not to give too much away, there are examples of bathroom harassment, inaccurate sexual education and – brace yourselves – a sewage bath. Thankfully, there is that swoon-worthy Chris Hemsworth appearance to look forward to — you know, just in case awkward family road trips aren’t really your thing. Tell us HollywoodLifers — are you excited to see Chris and all of his manly glory in the new Vacation movie? — Alyssa Montemurro 

[willswalkabout]

Sydney, Melbourne

This post is fairly delayed, as I departed Melbourne last Sunday, 20th. For reasons to be explained later I was extremely tired on the way home, followed by a pretty busy schedule while in the UK. I'm writing this entry during the last 2 hours of my Singapore to Auckland flight. The journey from hell to Sydney took its funniest twist when Melbourne airport informed me that I'd actually booked my 4th, and final flight of the last 36 hours, from their smaller more remote airport, Avalon. It was also to be the airport I would fly back into, and to this day I cannot work out the point of it. I could only laugh at this information, and was lucky that JetStar agreed to put me on the next flight from the airport I was standing in, for only £30. It would have cost me ~£100 to get the taxi to Avalon in time to catch my flight. I met Madeline, my aupere of 7 years previous, near her home in Bondi, where she had generously let me stay for the next 2 nights. After a pretty awful last 3 nights, spent ill, in a cell, and on a cramped plane, it was an incredible relief to have my own room, and the ability to wash clothes. That night I joined her at a cookout/dinner party hosted by some of her friends. The next day, and do forgive the details being a little weaker, this being two weeks back, I started out with an incredible brunch. Google had recommended it, and I since found out Sydney is well known for its brunch culture. It was also a wake up call to food prices, something I had come, well warned of. The meal with coffee was $24 Australian, for something that was delicious, but wouldn't come to £17 in the UK. This sadly meant that other than a few token occasions, I mostly ate pretty badly while in Australia. I then did the coastal walk from Bondi beach to Coogee beach, before getting a bus to Watson's bay. From here you can get a commuter/tourist ferry into Circular Quay. Monday was my only warm day, so it was nice to get the ferry into the Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge area. I walked to St Mary's cathedral, and then got the train back to Madeline's flat. That night I went for a great burger with Madeline and her boyfriend Morgan. The next day the weather was horrible so I lied in as long as possible so I'd be able to go straight to my hostel and check-in immediately. There's very little else to say about that day. In the evening I tried to find a couple of bars that I'd read about, but due to Sydney's ludicrous lockout laws they were closed. I walked to Mrs Macquarie's chair, a good viewpoint of the harbour. I was having quite a nice reflective moment when Sydney's heavens opened and I got absolutely drenched, before getting an uber back. The next day it was grim again but I managed to fill it by going up Sydney's sky tower, and then a tour of the Opera House. The tour is great, and the magnitude of the auditoriums is impressive. Sadly the one photo in this blog is the only photo I was able to sneak. With productions on the whole time photos were banned and the tour guide was quite scary, watching everyone leave before he left the room. That evening I hung out with an American who was on his 2 week break from an eight month tour of Afghanistan. He was clearly fairly senior and there was quite a bit he couldn't tell me about his life, but what he could sounded horrific, tiring, and a lifestyle you've got to believe in to take part in. On my last day I had to leave at 4 for a flight, and so I just went to the NSW art gallery, which was alright, and then made my way to the airport. I also had breakfast with Viv, who you'll find in the Thailand blog, and who had told me I simply had to visit Sydney. She then told me I simply had to come back as I hadn't seen enough sunny days. On arrival in Melbourne, which took a while cause the bus at the stupid rural airport was delayed and so it was two and a half hours from landing to hostel, I took a short walk around Melbourne river before finding myself the only person in my hostel room at midnight. A clear sign that Melbourne had a vastly different nightlife culture to Sydney. It did give me an opportunity to continue my addiction to the Netflix serial drama, 'The People vs OJ Simpson'. The next day I met up with Kitty, who was at forest sixth form. We went to Hosier Lane, famous for its street art, then to the library, and onto Brighton Beach, which is a warmer, cleaner, less busy, version of the British version. I also got pretty badly burnt there, something I'm still suffering from today. That night I went to see the Melbourne Rebels vs Waikato Chiefs (Rugby Union). The Rebels were supposed to get taken to pieces, given they had shipped 80 points the week previous, and this game was 18th vs 5th (in an 18 team league). The Chiefs did receive 2 yellow cards, but it was still impressive that the game was 14-14 with 10 minutes to go. Although Melbourne went down 27-14, the local papers the next day practically treated it as a victory they were so in shock. I then had a pretty late St Paddy's day night with some people from my hostel. This meant that the next day checking out at 10am was a struggle, and I didn't have a huge amount of energy to achieve much. I did walk around Melbourne's CBD for a bit, I had intended to go to St Kilda beach but in too much pain from the previous day's burn. Luckily I had Adele tickets with Kitty that evening, at the 75,000 seater Etihad Stadium. She was incredible, and came with her trademark self depreciating stories, and quirky mid show events, such as shooting t-shirts into the crowd, and revealing that she had hidden a letter behind the seat of the person she believed to have the 'worst seat in the stadium'. Despite buying the cheapest seats in the stadium we actually had a great view as the pictures hopefully show. It's taken me a long while to complete this blog, the plane landed and then I was busy etc, now sitting in the tent near Lake Taupo, NZ. So to cut a long story short, I wandered around Melbourne for a few hours that Saturday night, before going to the 24 hour casino to watch England lose to Ireland in the rugby. Then, heavily sleep deprived, I slept in the hostel's lounge room for the majority of Sunday, before flying home. At home I played in the old foresters hockey game, and was with family on Thursday for Granddad's funeral. I am so pleased I was fortunate enough to be able to get back for it, and I feel we did him justice. I'll try and post again after 10 days in NZ with a roundup. I will also add some photos to match these words, tomorrow night, when I will have better wifi.

[mehmetkali]

HAVAYOLU GÜVENLİĞİ SIRALAMASI 2018 http://ift.tt/2gGOXdj

JACDEC HAVAYOLU GÜVENLİĞİ SIRALAMASI 2018

1 Emirates UAE United Arab Emirates 93,61 %

2 Norwegian AS NAX Norway 93.26 %

3 Virgin Atlantic AW VIR United Kingdom 92,87 %

4 KLM KLM Netherlands 92,77 %

5 EasyJet EZY United Kingdom 92,75 %

6 Finnair FIN Finland 92,67 %

7 Etihad Airways ETD United Arab Emirates 92,56 %

8 Spirit Airlines NKS USA 92,18 %

9 Jetstar Airways JST Australia 92,12 %

10 Air Arabia ABY United Arab Emirates 92,09 %

11 Vueling Airlines VLG Spain 92,02 %

12 Cathay Pacific AW CPA Hong Kong 91,88 %

13 EL AL ELY Israel 91,84 %

14 Singapore Airlines SIA Singapore 91,78 %

15 EVA Air EVA Taiwan 91,55 %

16 Eurowings EWG Germany 91,41 %

17 jetBlue Airways JBU USA 91,40 %

18 Capital Airlines CBJ China 91,36 %

19 Oman Air OMA Oman 91,28 %

20 Air Canada ACA Canada 91,20 %

JACDEC is announcing the release of our new risk-based Airline Safety Ranking 2018. This year's ranking comprises an expanded analysis of 100 airlines. Get part 1 on our website: https://t.co/xjSbGVayiD http://pic.twitter.com/FMtWIuL0u1

— JACDEC (@JacdecNew) January 4, 2018

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