#United Airlines baggage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

workbusiness · 1 year ago

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United Airlines Baggage Allowance for Carry-On and Checked Baggage

United has a fairly basic baggage policy, so you won’t find many surprises here. The overweight/oversize fees are a bit higher, but that being said, they are consistent with most other major US airlines.

Something to keep in mind: Economy fares are divided into Basic or Full Economy, which is important when considering the carry-on baggage allowance. Otherwise, in terms of luggage, the fees are pretty much the same in the two countries.

United Airlines Carry-on Allowance

1 Personal Item: FREE 1 Standard Carry-on Bag:

Standard Economy: FREE

Basic Economy: Does not include baggage (excluding transatlantic/transpacific flights where standard hand luggage is included*)

United Airlines Checked Baggage Allowance

All checked baggage must meet a maximum weight of 50 pounds (23 kg) for all Economy and Economy Plus fares and 70 pounds (32 kg) for business and first class fares, and must meet maximum linear dimensions of 62 inches (158 cm). .

Instead of providing a hard and fast table to assess baggage fees at a glance, United now encourages all passengers to use its official baggage fee calculator tool.

However, after doing some basic route searches, we found consistent fares, as detailed in the table below (you should, however, use the baggage calculator to verify your specific route).

For many routes, United now charges an additional $5 per bag when purchased at the airport instead of paying in advance.

United Airlines Excess Baggage

Sign in to your MileagePlus account to determine checked baggage service charges for an existing reservation, or select the “Any Flight” tab to calculate service charges for any United itinerary. See “Baggage Calculator”.

My Baggage — Airline Baggage Alternative

It’s no secret that airline baggage can not only be complex depending on the route being traveled, but it can also be expensive. Fortunately, that’s where My Luggage comes in.

My Baggage offers a great low-cost alternative to airline luggage, with an affordable, fast and convenient baggage delivery service that allows you to travel hands-free. It means you’ll save a lot of time at the airport by not having to check your bags, not having to wait on the baggage carousels on the other side, and ultimately one less thing to worry about while traveling. To give you that extra peace of mind, My Baggage offers compensation cover of up to £1000 on each shipment.

Book online and My Baggage will collect your luggage and deliver it quickly and safely to where you need to go. In addition to providing reliable door-to-door service, My Baggage offers baggage tracking, SMS and email notifications throughout the entire process. My Baggage ships to over 200 countries worldwide. For more information, visit our baggage shipping page.

United Airlines Oversized, Overweight and Extra Baggage

Additional service charges apply to any checked baggage that exceeds the size and/or weight limitations and to baggage that exceeds your allowance. Oversized, overweight and additional baggage are not accepted on flights to certain destinations and on certain flights during specific time periods. For a list of cities where excess weight or baggage is not accepted, see the Excess Baggage Embargo page.

Oversized baggage:

Baggage with total exterior dimensions measuring more than 115 inches (292 cm) will not be accepted as checked baggage.

Overweight baggage:

With the exception of assistive devices and musical instruments, baggage weighing more than 100 pounds. (45 kg) will not be accepted.

Musical instruments up to 165 pounds. (75 kg) will be accepted.

Extra baggage:

Assistive devices accepted free of charge.

Important Note: For travel between the US and Brazil, Puerto Rico, and the US Virgin Islands, no more than three additional checked bags are accepted.

Different types of United baggage fees

Checked baggage, carry-on baggage, overweight baggage, and oversized baggage are the four different types of baggage fees United charges. Your baggage allowance depends on many factors, including your elite status, which United credit card you pay with (if applicable), your route, and the type of fare you’ve purchased.

1. United Airlines checked baggage fees

United’s checked bag fees vary by destination and class of travel.

United Domestic Bag Fees

Barring waivers for elite-branded or co-branded credit cards, economy class passengers can expect to pay $35 (or $30 if paid in advance) for the first checked bag and $45 ($40 if paid in advance) for the second checked bag on domestic flights. Business Class and First Class passengers receive up to two checked bags free of charge.

United international baggage fees

On international routes, economy class passengers generally receive one or two free checked bags, depending on the destination.

Here’s a summary of what you can expect to pay for baggage fees, as long as your bag meets United’s size and weight requirements.

2. United Airlines carry-on baggage fees

Most flights allow passengers to bring one personal item and one carry-on bag on board. The personal item must fit under the seat in front of you and the dimensions must not exceed 9 inches x 10 inches x 17 inches. The carry-on bag must fit in the overhead compartment and its dimensions can be a maximum of 9 inches x 14 inches x 22 inches.

Exception for basic economy tickets

Basic Economy domestic tickets are an exception to the free carry-on policy. Those traveling on Domestic Basic Economy Class tickets may only bring one personal item, no free carry-on bag. If you bring a carry-on bag to the gate, you will need to pay the checked bag fee and a $25 gate handling fee. If you’re traveling with more than just a personal item, consider whether a basic economy ticket really provides cost savings.

However, there are some conditions under which basic economy tickets allow carry-on baggage free of charge:

Transpacific flights to/from the US

Transatlantic flights to/from the US, Mexico, Central and South America.

Elite members and companions traveling with them.

If you pay with a qualifying United credit card.

Star Alliance Gold Elites.

3. United Airlines overweight baggage fee

The maximum weight allowance for checked baggage is shown below, along with fees for overweight bags.

Economy class passengers, non-United elites, Star Alliance Gold elites, or passengers booking with a United credit card that allows one free checked bag: If you fall into this category, your baggage allowance is 50 pounds. If your bag exceeds 50 pounds but weighs less than 70 pounds, you may have to pay up to $200 per bag. If your bag weighs more than 70 pounds but less than 100 pounds, you may have to pay up to $400 per bag (depending on your destination).

United Premier Elites or those traveling in premium cabins. Those who travel in business or first class and/or have elite status with United can check one bag up to 70 pounds for free, even with a basic economy ticket. If you’re a heavy packer and your luggage weight typically exceeds 50 pounds, you may want to consider opting for United’s elite status.

If you’re a Marriott Titanium Elite, you’ll get an automatic match with United Silver thanks to the United-Marriott partnership.

4. United excess baggage fee

If your checked baggage measures more than 62 inches (length + width + height), you will be charged an additional checked baggage fee. The maximum size your checked baggage can be is 115 inches (length + width + height); anything larger than that exceeds United’s allowed baggage size and will not be accepted.

United Airlines Checked Baggage and Exceptional Items

Items deemed exceptional by United Airlines baggage allowance rules, such as sporting equipment, may be checked in the hold, often as standard checked baggage. However, there are some exceptions.

Musical instruments can be checked in at the warehouse, as long as they are correctly packed.

Oversize charges apply to musical instruments measuring between 63 and 115 inches in overall dimensions. Overweight charges apply to musical instruments weighing more than 50 pounds, but those weighing up to 165 pounds will be accepted. If the instrument is greater than 115 inches in overall dimensions, you must contact the United Customer Care Center.

Final thoughts on United Airlines baggage fees

When traveling with United, you should consider the different types of baggage fees you may incur. Depending on your cabin class, your elite status (or lack thereof), your origin/destination, and other factors, you may be required to pay a fee for checked, carry-on, oversized, or overweight baggage. Fortunately, there are ways to reduce or eliminate these fees.

#United Airlines Baggage Policy

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theadventurebuddies · 1 year ago

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8 Common Airport Mistakes to Avoid | The Adventure Buddies

Welcome to our informative video, where we delve into the essential do's and don'ts when it comes to navigating airports seamlessly. In this eye-opening guide, we'll uncover the 8 most common mistakes travelers make at the airport, ensuring your next journey is smooth, stress-free, and enjoyable. Stay tuned as we reveal the insider tips you need to make your airport experience a breeze!

Watch the video from here: https://youtu.be/esZWRdN3PdA

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runwayrunway · 1 year ago

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No. 15 - PSA (Pacific Southwest Airlines)

Thank you to @lobstersinmyhouse for requesting PSA! And, in all honesty, this is exactly my feelings too. Pack it up, post over.

...okay, no. I am going to write a post, but I make no secret of loving PSA's airplanes. After all, one is even my icon.

image: Piergiuliano Chesi

There was never an airline like it before PSA sprang up in 1949, and there has never been an airline like it since. Decades after its demise I still feel a real sense of grief about the fact that it's gone. Pacific Southwest Airlines hasn't existed for longer than its entire time in operation and it mostly only operated in a single state, but it remains one of the most beloved airlines ever to exist. I'm certainly far from immune to catching their smile. So I'm very, very excited to cover the iconic grinningbirds, one of the best-known airline liveries of all time even 40 years after the regional carrier which wore it ceased existing.

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PSA officially stands for Pacific Southwest Airlines. Unofficially, it was the Poor Sailor's Airline. According to a button they put out, it was this.

image: psa-history.org

But really, it can stand for anything you want. I think it stands for Pretty Smiling Airplanes.

You see, PSA's marketing leaned into the fun and casual as much as it was possible for an airline to do. They called themselves "The World's Friendliest Airline". Their branding was all bright, colorful, delightful. One aspect of it is particularly well known.

image: Piergiuliano Chesi

The name "grinningbird" is literal. PSA's fleet was lovingly painted with massive smiles directly under their noses. Their advertisements encouraged people to "catch our smile" across the state of California.

A preserved DC-3 in original Pacific Southwest livery

PSA was started as a single leased DC-3 hopping from San Diego to Oakland. Apparently their ticket office was literally a refitted military surplus latrine where they weighed passenger baggage on a bathroom scale. When they expanded with DC-4s they painted rectangles around the windows to make them look more like DC-6s. This was in 1955. And then, by the early 60s, they were taking off.

A pre-smile PSA Electra. The L-188 Electra is, of course, my favorite jet plane. image: Jon Proctor

It was in the 60s that their planes stopped saying 'Pacific Southwest Airlines' and started just being PSA, and it was in the 60s when they caught their smiles. This was the point when PSA became PSA, transforming from just another intrastate airline in the pre-deregulation era to a turning point in aviation history.

a 1972 promotional button image: psa-history.org

While the smiley faces are the most significant historical fact about PSA, also notable is the fact that they were the first low-cost carrier in history. Although PSA's routes were limited to Southern California, they charged $9.99 for a ticket other airlines would charge $13.50 or $22.05 for - and keep in mind that in today's money that's a difference of hundreds of dollars. Free of federal fare taxes and operating frequently, PSA grew at an intense pace with its new fleet of Lockheed L-188 Electras.

I love the L-188 Electra (not to be confused with the earlier L-10 Electra best known for Amelia Earhart reasons). Although Lockheed has long since moved over to exclusively making weapons for killing people, back when they were in the civil airliner market they made the most incredible planes which somehow ended up commercially flopping time after time. The Electra, for instance, was all but killed immediately by two early crashes caused by a sneaky design flaw. These were fixed, but the type's reputation had already been sullied. (Interestingly, similar early design flaws with far less prompt responses failed to kill either the DC-6 or the DC-10, despite the latter causing the deadliest crash in history at the time and the former having had the serious potential to give us a timeline where the President of the United States was killed because his presidential transport had a design flaw which encouraged going up in flames midair.) Ironically, the Electra is actually an insanely reliable and sturdy plane, and the example pictured is still in service as an air tanker under the registration C-GZCF, still doing her thing at just 63 years young. (Another Electra in Air Spray's fleet is a similar age but also survived being bisected across the belly by her own detached propeller, and she literally flew two days ago. These planes are on a level only shared with Nokia cell phones, especially for their size.)

That paragraph became about the Lockheed L-188 Electra. I did not mean for it to be, but I am leaving it in, because I love this plane. Looks great with the smile, too. The roundness of the nose gives the distinct appearance of something like a teddy bear snout.

From this point things only grew quicker. PSA continued to be PSA, acquiring more aircraft to fly more passengers. They did expand routes eventually, and once the 1978 Deregulation Act allowed they flew to some other states and even Mexico. Despite this, they remained an icon in their home state, and are often called "the unofficial flag carrier of California".

PSA stewardesses. I can't find an original source for either of these pictures, which have been widely spread without context or credit - although significant effort has been made to archive PSA's promotional content, a lot of it is, sadly, free-floating orphaned bits.

PSA's stewardesses wore bright pink and orange uniforms of miniskirts, hot pants, and go-go boots. They were encouraged to joke around with passengers, and so were the pilots. Other airlines at the time were still only slowly losing the unapproachable aura they had cultivated of stiff, sterile luxury and gravitas. PSA would get you where you needed to go without any fuss and they'd charge you half as much for it. And they weren't sloppy, either. Despite their low fares, PSA was incredibly safe, having one fatal accident in a span of time where American Airlines had 16, and even though nostalgia is obviously a factor I've only ever heard glowingly positive accounts of PSA, its service, and its staff.

image: Bill Larkins

PSA's fleet was...eclectic. Though they operated a few very popular models, like the Boeing 727 and McDonnell Douglas MD-80 series, a lot of their offerings were somewhat uncommon. The plane in my profile picture is one of their two L-1011 TriStars, another of Lockheed's underappreciated airliners and by far the most advanced wide-body aircraft of its time. PSA was unique in that it operated a jumbo jet, their "Mother Grinningbird", on a route that was not just domestic, but intrastate. They also apparently operated a single Bell 206 helicopter, which I can find no additional clarification on. Lastly, they flew one of the oddest airliners ever built in both function and appearance, the British Aerospace 146.

Just your regular high-wing jet. No thrust reversers necessary. Western-made but rocking the Il-76 wing anhedral. Super quiet because the powerplants are based off what you'd put on a helicopter. Seats less people than a 737-200 - six-across layout for maximum discomfort - and flies exclusively puddle jumps...yeah, I think four sounds like the right number of engines. image: Ted Quackenbush

Across all these planes, they found a livery that worked and they kept going with it. The reason this post is so long is to give context to just how important this livery is. The grinningbirds were what started low-cost carriers, paving the way for the silly names of jetBlue airplanes in a future its founders couldn't even have imagined. The shift to approachability over prestige in airline marketing was PSA's lasting gift to aviation, as were the low fares and the knowledge that a 'budget' airline didn't have to be dodgy or unpleasant - they just had to charge less than TWA and Western.

image: Piergiuliano Chesi

PSA's colorscheme was incredibly vibrant. The red and orange colors feel warm and tropical, complementing the California sunshine in which these planes spent their time. Earlier liveries also had a shocking hot pink shade above both, though it was eventually painted over due to issues with paint fading - I think the livery is vastly improved with its presence, but I suppose needs must. Despite the airline serving commuters more than vacationers it puts one in mind of things like beaches and ice cream stands - warm, high-energy things. The sorts of things one might smile about, if they like those things. I hate those things, but these planes make me like the idea of them, because they're just so darn happy to take me there!

The design of the fuselage is incredibly bold despite not using much more paint than any other airline of the day. While the striking colors definitely contribute to the overall look being more than the sum of its parts, I think there's also a few bits of clever design that really elevate the design of the plane.

The tail has a design almost like an inverse hockey-stick. Instead of following the cheatlines for maximum sleekness it chooses to diverge from it, creating a sharp angle that keeps the aerodynamic feeling while feeling fresh from similar designs of the time. By having the thin line from the tail trailing down towards the fuselage it prevents the block of empty space on a regular hockey-stick livery, where the forward portion of the empennage is fully unpainted, and creates a feeling of continuous color and excitement while keeping some staccato punch.

Similarly subtle yet effective are the stripes themselves. They aren't of an equal width - rather, the red stripe is thinner than the orange one, and in planes with the additional pink stripe this one is even wider. It feels a lot more dynamic than simple even-width stripes, feeling almost as if you can see the colors start to mix into each other. The 'mixing' feeling is helped by the fact that the cheatlines wrap under the nose instead of simply ending where they meet. The small painted white line under the main colored ones, above the unpainted metal of the underbelly, creates basically an extra two stripes for the price of one despite being so subtle many people probably didn't notice it.

On its own, the design of the bodies of PSA planes is already good, but it practically ceases to matter when you get to the face.

The way the top line of color wraps around the back of the cockpit windows makes it look almost like the plane is wearing sunglasses. And then there's the little painted black nose and, of course, the huge ear-to-ear grin. I don't really know what else to say about this because it's all been said time and time again.

I genuinely don't know how else to express it. PSA's livery was gorgeous and it was perfect for PSA. In all honesty, I don't think it's possible to improve it at all. My one slight criticism is that the actual PSA wordmark, though designed well, is a bit small and out of the way, but to be totally honest it's barely necessary. You see the smile and you know exactly who that plane is flying for.

PSA gets a PSA+.

So what happened to PSA, if they were so successful? Did an economic shift catch them off-guard? Did some demographic evolution rob them of their old customer-base? Did a change of management result in a new owner running the airline into the ground? Did it have anything to do with the fact that the one time they were involved in an accident it spent eight months as the deadliest crash in US history?

Nope. They got bought out by USAir because they wanted more routes on the West Coast.

Yeah. That's the story. Neither a bang nor a whimper. They left one morning and didn't come back. That was the end of PSA, the first-ever low-cost carrier, California's most beloved airline, and one of the best-designed liveries in airline history if not the very best.

There is, however, one final twist. USAir eventually was sucked into the gaping maw of American Airlines. With this merger American Airlines also inherited the rights to PSA's IP. In classic fashion, they created a wholly-owned subsidiary by the name of PSA Airlines, just to make sure nobody else could get the trademark.

Under the iron fist of first US Airways (USAir's eventual rebrand) and later American Airlines, we were allowed one last grinningbird - an Airbus A319-100 registered N742PS. It's strange, seeing the PSA livery on a model of airplane they never operated. It's a rare example of the design on airframes that have that rather distinct 'default' modern empennage, all sharp and tall with no t-tail or third engine. The implementation could take some notes and the colors look bizarrely plastic, but I will never stop loving her no matter how much they take from her. How could I not, with that smile?

Unfortunately, in April of this year she was re-painted to a standard American Airlines livery. Although the Allegheny and Piedmont heritage liveries were removed at the same time, I almost don't even notice their absence because of the loss of our very last holdout from a much more colorful time and place. Part of me feels a sort of ripping-the-bandaid-off relief at it. American Airlines shouldn't get to parade around the skin of a much better livery worn by a much better airline. That isn't theirs; they didn't earn it. And there's no way to rebuild PSA now that times have changed and the industry is unrecognizable from the days when a ticket from San Diego to Burbank cost $9.99. All the same, the loss of yet another smile hurts. There's no way it wouldn't. And at the end of the day it makes me feel a little dead inside just imagining the mindset of the American Airlines executive who walked by her in the hangar and instead of smiling back gave the order to paint her white. And that day, the sky got a little less colorful and a lot sadder.

Maybe, in a strange sense, the way it happened is better. Nobody ran PSA into the ground. They did not cause some sort of reputation-ruining accident through willful negligence. Their customer service did not decline until they were widely grumbled about. They didn't die infamous for poor safety and loose morals like Pan Am, or splitting at the seams and betraying their reputation like Chalk's Ocean Airways. No, I don't think an organic shriveled going-under would have held any more dignity than this. I think the ending PSA got is as graceful as the ending to something like PSA could be. There is no end to the glory days which forces itself into our memories. There is no decline. No sunset to fly off into. There is a loss to mourn, but no accompanying moment to curse. Lost at sea, ship never found, nothing to imply a terrible fate; all we know is the poor sailors aren't here anymore.

Maybe it's not universally known to people who aren't interested in subjects that bring them close to it, but to those of us who love planes PSA is truly special. Its quiet apotheosis has made it synonymous with the very best an airline could be. The joy of a time where a regular person could finally afford their first plane ticket and be greeted by colorful people who talk to them like friends, where even the planes are smiling, is encoded into the DNA of PSA's remnants, into every anecdote told by an aging former stewardess and into every Polaroid taken of one of those smiling planes parked on a sunny California tarmac. It was there, and then it was a distant echo of warm breezes and idle chatter that feels almost close enough to reach out and touch. PSA never died. One day it was flying passengers to their destinations, planes smiling their same smiles. The next day it was fond memory, already graduated to the distant sunny shores of nostalgia.

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#tarmac fashion week #grade: a+#region: north america #region: united states #era: 1960s #era: 1970s #era: 1980s #pacific southwest airlines #requests #defunct airlines #regional airlines #double sunrise #long haul #galley gala

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brianfrench1995 · 2 months ago

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United Airlines Baggage Chicago O'Hare Airport Postcard

@postcardtimemachine

#Avgeek #UnitedAirlines #ChicagoOhare #Airports #AirportArchitecture #Aviation #Airplanes #Planes #postcard #postcards

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emberkyrlee · 2 months ago

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Now that my neck isn't screaming at me, I'm able to get onto the computer and type this out properly and tell you how I was almost forced to miss my flight.

I got to the gate and as I approached with my boarding pass, the gate attendants wouldn’t let me board. Because as far as they were concerned I had four separate items which, regardless of size, exceeded the limit. I had a tiny backpack and a switch carrier, which can both EASILY fit under a seat together better than one normal size backpack. Fuck's sake...

They insisted I had to check something. I COULDN'T check my backpack, because I NEEDED it on the flight. It had foods that are safe for me to eat, and my medications, as well as compression gloves and other potential necessities. And I certainly wasn't checking my tiny-ass switch carrier. So I tried (begrudgingly) to check my laptop bag. BUT. The dollie to my laptop bag was considered a separate item (despite them both literally being designed for this purpose and move as one item) and they told me it couldn't be checked.

Guys, they were telling me I couldn't board, and talking about re-booking me and telling me I needed to figure something out as everyone else had already boarded and they were ready to leave without me. I was barely holding back tears, I was panicking. Like WTF DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO WHEN I HAVE LIKE 5 MINUTES AND YOU ARE REFUSING TO DO THE THING YOU SAID I NEEDED TO DO.

I ended up finally convincing them to check my laptop bag and its dollie as SEPARATE items, and got them separated and the dollie closed up. (I am unable to carry the laptop back on my shoulder due to a permanent neck injury, hence the dollie situation. Though it got flared up anyway thanks to this shit) They told me it'd be sent to the baggage claim people and to go to them with the claim tags. I was the last person on the plane, still barely holding back tears. During the flight I was squished between two people, and the pressure was HELL on my joints, so I was in incredible pain for 5-ish hours. Even while medicated.

Then we landed and I made my way to get my checked items. Grabbed my suitcase from the carousel, and went to the baggage claim office to get my laptop and dollie. But instead of sending the gate-checked items to the baggage claim office like they said they would, they put my SOFT LAPTOP BAG on the fucking carousel. Laptop and other contents seem ok, thankfully. Was only now able to check.

Anyway… FUCK United Airlines.

#whining #fibromyalgia #traveling is extra hell when you have chronic pain #rip my old love for traveling...

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octuscle · 1 year ago

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Help! I tried to use my Chronivac to apply a change to myself, "Hairy Turkish Powerlifter Complete Transformation Package", but the "apply changes" button grayed out when I clicked it, and my mouse is stuck on the loading cursor with nothing happening now. It's been about two days and I'm at my wits end, waiting for the changes to apply and my new life to start.

As a subscriber of the premium version you have selected the travel package. And the loading process did not hang. A window opened in the background, which also displayed your input "Start journey". Pack your suitcase, you're off to Turkey!

Two hours before departure, you drop off your suitcase at the counter and check in for the Chronivac flight operated by Turkish Airlines. And that's when your transformation begins. The security check takes forever. Only after an hour you are through… You don't have much time left to stock up on reading material for the flight. Even though you've been living in Turkey for a year now, you prefer to stick to English-language sports magazines. But you take the Hürriyet with you, you already understand most of it.

At the gate, you are one of the few non-Turks. No one would suspect that you speak Turkish. A few heads turn when you answer the stewardess' greeting almost without an accent, "Çok teşekkür ederim ve size de iyi günler!

Lanet olsun! You should have asked for an upgrade after all. First of all, the portions at the in-flight service are something for kids. And secondly, you barely fit in the seat with your back. And it gets worse during the flight. But you are slowly getting smaller. And hairier. Your family tree begins to change. When you land in Istanbul, six of your great-great-grandparents are already Turkish. There are still a few lighter strands in your hair. But your beard is already pitch black.

Your advantage is that you have accepted citizenship after six years in Turkey. With the Turkish passport the entry goes fast. You still have five hours before your flight to Ankara. Your connecting flight is delayed. Well, at least you can eat your fill now. And you use the break for a few units of push-ups and squats.

When your flight to Ankara takes off, it's already been eleven hours since you checked in. You are almost a real Turk. Only five of your great-great-grandparents are still from England. And you've already been living in Ankara for eleven years and are part of the Olympic weightlifting squad there. In fact, a few fans recognize you at the gate. And want selfies with you.

Baggage claim takes ages again… By the time you have your sports bags all together and are sitting in your car, more than 16 hours have passed since you checked in. It was a really exhausting day. But you are now looking forward to a few days in your summer house just outside the city.

The next morning, after a bath in the creek next to the house, everything is forgotten. And next week the preparation for the next competition starts!

#male tf #chronivac #muscle tf #reality change #race change

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j-eryewrites · 2 years ago

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It Was a Rainy Day

Part One of The Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221 B Baker Street

Word Count: 4.9k

Thanks to @bartokthealbinobat for helping me edit this chapter!

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

I'm planning this to be an ongoing Sherlock x Reader series that mainly flows the plot of the BBC series. Let me know what you would like to see.

DISCLOSURE: I do not own any of the characters and plot. Those belong to BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle.

__________________________________________________________

“On behalf of our crew, we thank you again for choosing to fly with BWA Airlines. Please stay seated until the seat belt sign has been turned off. We will begin exiting the plane soon.” The speakers above chimed.

Immediately, chatter filled up the air. People were anxious to get off the plane. In all honesty, they had just endured an eight-hour international flight. Ching. The glow from the seatbelt sign flashed off, signaling for people to stand up and stretch their legs. Y/N would have taken the opportunity to stretch her legs, but she was seated next to the window towards the back of the plane. She didn’t think she would be standing up any time soon. Instead, Y/N occupied herself with the view outside of her window.

The sky was an opaque gray. Numerous dark clouds of the same hue covered the warm light of the sun, stopping it from gracing its presence. It was raining. A typical forecast for London in September. But it wasn’t a gentle rain; the rain that tickled your skin as it fell from the sky. No, it was the rain that soaks you to the bone the minute you step outside– real rain. The best kind of rain. Y/N found the rain to be peaceful. Maybe it was the smell that came with the rain as it made the earth anew. Maybe it was the unpredictable yet consistent pattern of the pitter-patter as the water came in contact with the soil. Y/N enjoyed the view of the rain. She let her gaze flip out of focus as she watched the ripples in the puddles. Each wave moved farther away from the center.

“Pardon me, miss.” A cheery flight attendant chirped. The flight attendant’s eyes had dark circles underneath them, yet they held the most pleasant expression. “If you can exit the plane now, we need to prepare for the next flight.”

Y/N tore her eyes away from the view and quickly apologized. Her cheeks burned red out of embarrassment as she hurriedly stood up, snatched her luggage from the overhead compartment, and exited the plane. She was glad that the plane was docked at the main section of the airport, so she didn’t have to trudge through the rain. Any other day she would have been overjoyed to be soaked to the bone, but not today. Y/N wanted to look somewhat presentable when she reunited with her aunt, Mrs. Hudson.

Martha Louise Hudson wasn't Y/N’s aunt by blood, but she was her grandmother’s best friend. Those two were peas in a pod. After Y/N’s grandmother had suddenly passed away from a heart attack, Mrs. Hudson took it upon herself to occupy the vacant role.

“No child should grow up without a grandparent. They need someone to spoil them rotten,” Mrs. Hudson would say.

Despite her family’s abrupt decision to move to the United States, Mrs. Hudson continued filling that role. Occasionally, she would send postcards and presents for birthdays and Christmas detailing her adventures in London. The latest of which was a postcard describing a vacant apartment she was looking to rent. With the prospect of seeing Mrs. Hudson again, with the additional benefits of living in the United Kingdom, Y/N packed up her life and moved back across the ocean.

Baggage claim for flight AQ178. Baggage...It wasn’t hard to miss. All Y/N had to do was peer across the vast sea of people to where the crowd stood. They were all huddled around the baggage carousel. All of them dismissed the advice to stay behind the yellow and black striped line unless they were retrieving their baggage. One by one, they retrieved their bags as they moved down the line.

Eventually, after many turns of the metallic carousel, Y/N’s bags came into view. She crossed the line and grabbed the large suitcases. It was strange to think that all her worldly possessions fit into two suitcases. The cases were covered in dust and grime from the journey despite them being brand-new. Y/N counted each suitcase, a notion in the back of her mind told her something was missing. An unholy screech rang out above the crowd. A sound that could only come from the jaws of a tiny demon–her tiny demon. Y/N winced in embarrassment as she slipped out a small sheet of paper from her pocket. The screeching continued, dragging the attention of innocent travelers. Her cheeks began to flash red as she approached a desk.

Behind the desk there stood a poor young man who was made the unfortunate victim. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and his brows were raised impossibly high. In his shaking hands, he held a crate at arm's length, as if the brown cat inside would bust down the door and steal his soul.

Y/N reached the desk, and coughed, “He’s mine.” She pointed towards the cat who stilled at the sound of her voice.

The man gulped, nodding, and asked to see her ticket to confirm ownership. She quickly presented it to him. His eyes quickly glanced over it. Then he sighed in relief and threw the crate into her hands.

Y/N carefully peered into the crate and was met with the wide golden eyes of Bjørn. The cat stood still as his golden eyes processed what was in front of him. They narrowed slightly and he began to meow again. He was no longer screeching like a demon but singing like an angelic child for his mother had arrived. Y/N whispered words of assurance to the cat, praising him for being the best boy on the flight. He purred under her sweet words.

Y/N’s pocket buzzed, and she carefully set Bjørn’s crate down. Her eyes quickly glanced outside to discover the rain had lightened up. Remembering someone had messaged her, she pulled out her phone and began to read.

___________________________________________________________________

Auntie M

I’m sending one of my good friends and one of your neighbours to come and pick you up from the airport.

His name is John Watson, blonde, and a kind man.

(Read)

___________________________________________________________________

Y/N raised her brow at the message. She was puzzled as to why Mrs. Hudson had sent the description of “kind”. As she read the text over, the cogs in her mind began to turn. Y/N tried to conjure up an image of what a kind British man named John, who happened to be a friend of her Auntie's, looked like.

Picking up Bjørn’s crate, she lugged her bags toward the exit. She passed by people entering and leaving the airport. Some people ran into the arms of their loved ones and others jumped into taxis that took them to their next destination.

Her feet began to slow finally coming to a stop. She turned her head, looking around the crowd. She bit her lip, and a dazed look filled her face. A low drone crept up to her. Y/N’s eyes were immediately dragged down to the taxi in front of her. With a creak, the passenger’s window rolled down.

“Hel’o there, how can I help you today?” inquired the taxi driver. The man wore a white and beige flat cap. He was an older-looking fellow who wore glasses. He flashed Y/N a smile that made her stomach fill with unease.

“Oh no thank you” she quickly replied, stepping away from the car window and closer to the booming crowd outside of the airport.

“American, eh? I’ll be able to take you where you need to go. No problem. You can trust me,” He insisted. With his hand aged with time, he took off his cap and brushed through his wispy white hair. His smile grew bigger as he faked a charming expression.

“No thanks,” answered Y/N. The alarms in her head were howling at her. “I am waiting for someone, you see, to come to pick me up.” Taking a big step back, she sank into the crowd behind her. A woman wearing all pink brushed her shoulder against Y/N. Y/N’s eyes winced at the explosion of color. Everything about this woman was pink: pink phone, pink suitcase, pink overcoat.

“Are you taking this cab?” distractedly asked the woman as she stuffed her baggage into the cab.

“No,” replied Y/N. She wanted to warn the woman in pink, but before she could, the taxi had pulled away from the pickup station and was on its way to who knows where. A buzzing feeling came from the back pocket of her trousers. Pulling her phone out she saw another message from her aunt.

________

Auntie M

I just realized I should probably give you John’s number.

Y/N

- That would actually be great.

Auntie M

Sending it to you right now. I’ll be making a nice dinner to warm you up after all that rain.

Also, your apartment is all set up and waiting for you. :)

Y/N

- Great, that sounds perfect. Thanks, Auntie M

____________

As she waited for John’s number, Y/N thought it would be best to head back inside and find a place to sit. Hearing the ding of her phone and a number pop up she mumbled, “Remind me to thank Auntie M for that…”

An Irish voice popped up next to her, and Y/N’s gaze rose from the screen of her phone to meet dark and mysterious chocolate eyes. “Remember to thank your aunt for that” he chuckled.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes scanned the man up and down. He had an edgy and cool air to him. With his smirk, he oozed confidence. There was something about him that intrigued her. He had brown hair that was well-groomed and wore a nicely tailored suit. He reciprocated Y/N’s smile and even more of his charm showed through. “The name is Jim, '' introduced the man. He extended his hand for her to shake.

Y/N couldn’t help but let a giggle escape her lips as she firmly shook Jim’s hand. His grip was warm and strong. “Y/N, and thank you for the reminder, Jim.”

“Anytime.” He replied, making himself comfortable in the open seat next to her. They settled into a pleasant silence. The only sounds that occupied their ears were the wheels of rolling luggage and the light chatter of the other travellers and guests of the airport.

“Work, family, or friends?” inquired Jim, his head tilting slightly to the right to look at Y/N.

“Sorry?”

“What are you here for?” Jim clarified.

“I guess you could say work and a bit of family,” answered Y/N. She began to secretly pick at her fingers, a stim, and nervous habit of hers. Jim cocked one of his eyebrows up with curiosity. “I'm moving back to my roots.”

“From London?” Jim questioned, furthering the conversation.

Y/N paused before answering. The encounter with the taxi driver was still fresh in her memory. She sighed and her shoulder’s relaxed. It wouldn’t hurt to have a friendly conversation, she thought.

“Yeah.” She replied. “I was born here but after a few years my parents and I moved to the U.S.” She shrugged, “and now I’m back.”

“And now you’re back,” Jim repeated softly. There was a minute shift in his expression into something Y/N couldn’t decipher. By the time she noticed it, it was gone; leaving Y/N to wonder if she had imagined it. “Well, London is delighted to have you back,” Jim winked. Then he readjusted his seating position as he straightened his black suit jacket.

“Well, I have to leave. Business to attend to” smiled Jim, “I bid you adieu”. Standing up from the seat next to her, he gave her one more smile. His eyes lingered on her figure. Without another word, he took a few steps, disappearing into the crowd of people.

She sat back in her seat, the image of Jim in her mind. Her thoughts trailed from Jim to her aunt and then…Shit! Y/N realized she did not text John’s number. Immediately pulling out her phone, she sent a quick text. A little gray bubble appeared, and he responded by saying he was there at the airport with a taxi outside. Raising from her seat, she, once again, made her way out of the airport. Y/N searched the crowd, her eyes looking for a man that fit the vague description her aunt had given her.

Just then a young man with kind dark eyes, the shade of morning coffee, and blonde hair approached her. He was wearing a beige knit sweater. Hand knitted...looks like Auntie’s knitting...is this… but her thought was interrupted by his voice. “Are you Y/N? Mrs. Hudson’s niece?” he inquired.

“Yes, that’s me, are you John?” replied Y/N.

“Yep, John. John Watson. Can I help you with your bags?” politely asked John.

A wave of relief fell over Y/N, “Yes, thank you, John.”

John reached for two bags of luggage and began directing Y/N to where the cab was. “It’s no problem really, just doing a favour for Mrs. Hudson” he explained, turning his gaze back to Y/N to smile at her. It was strange to think about how there could be so many different types of smiles. John’s smile was different from Jim’s confident grin, and the eerie smirk of that taxi driver. John’s smile was kind, caring, and calm. It reminded Y/N of the smile etched onto a Teddy bear’s face.

John carefully placed Y/N’s luggage in the trunk. Afterward, he held the door open for Y/N to enter the back seat. John sat down after her, closing the door behind him. “221 B Baker Street” instructed John. The driver nodded and drove off, the station growing smaller and smaller behind them.

After a few moments of silence, John peered at the crate on Y/N’s lap. “You have a cat,” stated John with a questioning tone to his voice.

“Yes, his name is Bjørn.” Bjørn happily meowed in response to his name.

“Didn’t know Mrs. Hudson allowed pets in the apartment,” replied John. He lowered his head to get a good look at Bjørn’s yellow eyes. He smiled at the cat which was reciprocated by a purr.

“Oh, I think he likes you!” Y/N beamed.

John raised his brows flattered by the obvious complement of the cat. He cautiously reached a hand out to pet Bjørn through the crate, his eyes glancing up at Y/N. She nodded and he proceeded to pet the cat. Bjørn’s purrs rumbled the cage as he brushed his neck eagerly against John’s fingers.

“Bjørn, you attention whore,” laughed Y/N. She watched as John’s eyes widened at the cat’s affection. It was as if he was a child who’d been handed an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.

“I’m sure Mrs. Hudson would approve of you getting a pet for your flat,” stated Y/N. Her eyes reflected John’s adoration for the cat.

“Oh god no!” Exclaimed John withdrawing his hand from Bjørn. “My flat mate is enough of an animal as it is.” He chuckled. “I don’t need another one.” His voice turned quieter towards the end, creating an awkward air between the two in the back of the cab.

“...You have a flat mate?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah.” Responded John.

Y/N awkwardly nodded her head and then moved her gaze to the window.

By now, the sky was the textbook definition of gray. The dark rain cloud from before had fled, leaving the sky empty and barren. Everything seemed dulled by the gray tint the sky cast down. Even the brightly colored leaves and the shimmering lights of the city seemed to fall victim to the solemness.

Eventually, the cab began to decrease in speed as it approached 221 B Baker Street, slowly coming to a halt.

“We’re here” stated John as he paid for the cab before exiting onto Baker Street. He then made his way around the car to Y/N’s side and opened the door for her. He eagerly took Bjørn’s crate from her hands.

Y/N stepped onto the black pavement of Baker Street and took a moment to process her new environment. Then she made her way to the trunk of the cab to retrieve her luggage. John had taken the liberty of placing Bjørn inside 221 and let Mrs. Hudson know that they had arrived back from the airport. He then walked back outside to help Y/N with her luggage. Mrs. Hudson followed suit to greet her grandniece.

“N/N, welcome home!” exclaimed Mrs. Hudson as she made her way to Y/N. Y/N turned toward her aunt. She had a gleeful smile on her face as she reunited with her aunt. Mrs. Hudson opened her arms wide beckoning Y/N in for a hug. As soon as her niece was in arms reach, Mrs. Hudson yanked the young woman into her arms and gave her a tight squeeze. She slightly rocked Y/N back and forth. A large smile erupted on Mrs. Hudson’s face, and she became overjoyed. “Let’s have a look at you, shall we?” she said, pulling away from the hug to place her hands on Y/N’s face and tugging at her cheeks. “My you have grown up to be so beautiful! Just like your mum!”

“Thanks, auntie” sheepishly replied Y/N. Her cheeks turned pink from all the attention she was receiving.

“Oh, it’s so good to have you home. We have some catching up to do!” cheered Mrs. Hudson as she led the way inside 221.

John was patiently waiting by the bottom of the stairs inside the building. Her eyes ran up the steps which Y/N assumed, led up to John’s apartment. “Need anything else Y/N?” inquired John, giving a cheerful smile.

“No, I don’t need anything else.” Y/N gratefully replied. “But if you want to take Bjørn out of his carrier and meet him properly, you are more than welcome to.”

John’s eyes widened with delight as he crouched down toward the crate. With a twang, he released the cat from its confines. Bjørn paraded around. His brown furry head was held high as explored his new kingdom. He then noticed John beside him, quickly bringing head to butt against John’s leg.

A loud creaking came from the upstairs flat, scaring Bjørn. He dashed from John’s side toward his mother. She picked him up and cradled him in her arms. His tail swished around as his golden eyes narrowed in the direction of the noise. Distaste eminent in his tiny figure.

John took that as his cue to leave. “Alright then, welcome to London.” He said before making his way up the stairs to his apartment.

A sigh escaped Mrs. Hudson's lips, “I’m so glad that you’ve moved in. At least, I’ll have a bit more normalcy with you here.” She moved her gaze upstairs to where muffled voices were coming from. Y/N could make out two voices. One belonged to John and the other to, who she assumed was, his flatmate. The flatmate’s voice was baritone and clear.

“Well dear, dinner will be ready soon. Why don’t you go on into your new apartment and get settled? I got it all checked out and even got rid of Sherlock's mold experiment.”

Y/N widened her eyes and opened her mouth to ask but was drowned out by her aunt's continued explanation.

“I had to replace the wallpaper, but I think you’ll like the paint I chose,” explained Mrs. Hudson. “I’ll come and get you when dinner’s done.” She then grabbed a pair of keys out of her pocket and handed them to Y/N. “This key is for entering the building,” she pointed to the brass key and then moved her finger towards a thin black key that looked quite old, “and this key is to your apartment.” Then she patted Y/N’s back sending her in the direction of her new apartment.

The apartment was located on the same floor as Mrs. Hudson’s apartment. Just underneath John’s apartment. The walls were covered in beautiful dark green paint. The curtains looked a bit worn around the edges, but overall, it was cozy. Mrs. Hudson had allowed Y/N to decorate and improve the apartment to her liking, which is something she was very grateful for. But first, she needed time to unpack everything. She placed Bjørn down once the door had been closed. The brown cat immediately gave a big stretch and yawned. Bjørn then looked up towards Y/N as if he was saying he would be exploring now and took off. Chuckling, Y/N brought her luggage to her room and began the time-consuming process of unpacking.

It wasn’t long before Mrs. Hudson entered her niece’s apartment to notify her that dinner was ready. When the elderly lady entered, she was met with open boxes scattered everywhere and loud music playing from the Y/N’s phone.

“Y/N, dear…” grabbing Y/N’s attention, “dinner is ready”.

Moving towards the phone, Y/N let the music die down. “I’ll be there in a minute, just let me finish unpacking this one thing.”

“Of course, dear” replied Mrs. Hudson. “Oh!” Mrs. Hudson chuckled as Bjørn rubbed up against her. “What a good boy.” She reached down to pet the cat. Standing up she brushed her hands off and made her way back out the door, slowly and carefully closing it behind her.

Y/N placed the last book on the shelf and smacked her hands together in a wiping motion. “Right then, dinner.” She carefully stepped over the numerous cardboard boxes lying around the apartment. Eventually, she reached her door. Bjørn’s head peaked up in interest as the knob of the door turned. “No, Bjørn. I’ll be back”. The cat seemed to acknowledge her statement and jumped on the couch. After a few customary circles, he was satisfied and collapsed down to the soft surface.

Upon closing the door, Y/N heard two pairs of footsteps making their way down the stairs. She stood still listening to them.

“No John, I do not intend on greeting the new neighbor.” There was that baritone voice again. John’s flat mate.

“Come on Sherlock. She’s Mrs. Hudson’s niece, at least do it for her.” pleaded John.

The footsteps had ceased, and a deafening silence had filled the air. “For the last time, John. I do not intend to meet this new neighbor. I guarantee you that she will have moved out by the end of the week. As most of the other tenants of 221 do.” Then a tall man wearing a long black trench coat appeared and then quickly disappeared as he slammed the door to Baker Street.

“For heaven’s sake, Sherlock,” yelled John as he followed his flat mate out the door.

Y/N huffed in anger, as she made her way to her aunt’s flat. I don’t want to meet you too, Sherlock, she thought. Y/N didn’t even have to knock on the door for Mrs. Hudson to state that she could come in. “Door’s open, come on in”.

Mrs. Hudson was finishing placing the dishware on the table. “Sounds like you just missed John and Sherlock” chimed Mrs. Hudson.

“And a good thing too,” muttered Y/N, causing Mrs. Hudson to ask her to repeat, “Oh nothing.”

“Alright then. Let’s not let dinner get cold,” Mrs. Hudson said as she motioned to the seats signaling Y/N to sit down for dinner.

They chatted amongst themselves. Y/N relayed all the latest detail of her life to her surrogate grandmother: who she was friends with, her job, past relationships, how her family was, the whole lot. As they shared the meal, Y/N felt her bond with Mrs. Hudson restore as if she never moved away in the first place.

Now, it was Y/N’s turn to ask a question. “Who is John’s flat mate?,” Y/N pondered.

“That’ll be Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson crinkled her eyes and nose with fondness. “He’s a consulting detective.”

“A consulting detective? Never heard of it,” Y/N mentioned.

“Consults on difficult criminal cases. He helps Scotland Yard solves crimes and murders. He’s the one who got my husband the death sentence” explained Mrs. Hudson. Her eyes widened at the statement. “Any tea, Y/N?”

Glancing up from the now empty plate, Y/N replied, “Oh, no thanks”.

Mrs. Hudson then nodded her head and continued to talk about Sherlock, bringing a hand to her heart. She talked about all the strange people who came to visit him. Often relaying stories that would make Y/N raise her brows in concern. Mrs. Hudson’s face contorted as she mentioned his strange and disturbing experiments, one of which was the mold that used to occupy Y/N’s flat. Switching back to her cheerful smile, she began proudly explaining Sherlock’s gift of being able to tell almost everything about a person.

Y/N’s head began pounding as it filled up with all the compliments her aunt had to say about Sherlock. She chuckled trying to hide a wince from the pain in her head. Y/N placed down her fork and knife and leaned in slightly toward her aunt. “Auntie M, thank you for dinner, but…” she trailed off. “I’m feeling tired, and I think that the jet lag is getting to me.”

Looking up in concern, Mrs. Hudson rose from her seat, “Of course, N/N.” She gave Y/N a soft smile and headed towards the door, opening it to let her niece out. “Goodnight, sleep well.” She reached out a hand to pat her niece’s shoulder.

“Goodnight” replied Y/N.

As Mrs. Hudson closed the door, Y/N brought a hand to her temple massaging it. It was still pounding. She trudged to her flat and opened it. With little effort, she crawled into bed. Bjørn hopped up next to her. He snuggled up close purring loudly as she lazily pet him. Her hand slowly fell limp on top of Bjørn’s brown fur. His deep purrs slowly guided his owner gently to sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

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saucy-sassy-sparkly · 2 years ago

Text

Pursuit of Happiness

1: Meet the Littlemans

Pairing: Chris Evans x Kat Littleman (OFC)

Summary: New England political daughter Kat Littleman is constantly showing up for her mother’s campaigns, playing the part of the perfect daughter in the perfect, American family. When her paths cross with Chris Evans while he canvases DC to build out ASP, she’s forced to face some truths about herself, her family, and her future.

Word Count: ~7k

Warnings: Chris is a bit of a horndog. Lots of swearing, alcohol, sex talk, politically charged topics, chaotic families

Note: Despite spending a lot of my formative years in and around DC, I know absolutely nothing about politics or how things work on The Hill. This also runs the risk of dipping into some political topics (hopefully not heavily, but certainly some commentary and references). If that could trigger you, please avoid this.

Series Masterlist

1: Meet the Littlemans

“It’s navy blue with a hot pink luggage strap around it.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the agent’s voice was distant as she sorted through the lost luggage around her, “it isn’t here. I’ll add you to our list. Can I get a name and phone number?” She didn’t even bother to force a smile at Kat as she returned to her computer and started to click buttons, presumably opening up the never-ending list of people whose luggage had been lost by United Airlines.

Kat rattled off her name and number, muttered a quick “thanks” to the agent who had already turned to the next customer, and wrestled with her tote bag over her puffy winter jacket. She shuffled through the hubbub of Dulles baggage claim and made her way to the sliding doors and the waiting arrivals pick-up.

The doors wooshed open and the blustery November air hit her straight in the face, sending her hair flying around her and sticking in her chapstick. Kat stopped abruptly to rummage through her bag and find her beanie, yanking it firmly on her head, and returning to scanning the waiting cars for her father’s huge SUV.

After pacing the sidewalk to the end of the waiting cars, Kat finally reached for her phone in the back of her jeans pocket and groaned when she realized she hadn’t even powered it back on. Being the rule-follower she was, if the flight crew asked that you turn off devices, she dutifully turned all of her devices off and sowed them for the flight. In the chaos at baggage claim, she’d forgotten to turn it back on.

As the screen lit up in her hands, she saw the missed calls and then texts from her father. Or rather… her father’s assistant, Ted. Why a former NFL tight end turned garden fanatic even had an assistant was unfathomable to Kat, but nonetheless she put the phone to her ear and listened to Ted’s voicemail.

“Hi Kathrine, it’s Ted. Ted Brown, Tim’s–err– your father’s assistant that is. I’m calling to let you know that your father tried to pick you up when your flight was scheduled to arrive, but once he learned it was delayed, he came back to the townhouse. He sends his apologies and looks forward to seeing you tomorrow at the gala.”

Clicking over to the texts and finding herself unsurprised to have four texts from Ted, all with the same general message and one with a link to the Uber app (thanks, Ted), and even one from her father that read: Sorry KitKat, Giants/Cowboys game was kicking off!

“For fuck sake, Dad…” she muttered before shoving her phone back in her pocket; Kat then turned to the taxi stand and was grateful there were several waiting. She poured herself into one, gave the driver her hotel address, and sank back into the seat to start doing the math:

It was currently 8:37p. By the time she got to the hotel, checked in, and to her room, it would be at least 9:15p– after a 12-hour travel day that should’ve only been 4 thanks to snow just about everywhere she was exhausted and would likely pass out after shoveling in a granola bar and water bottle from the mini bar. She had to be at a brunch with her mother at 10a Ambar, then was expected to pop over to the townhouse and visit with her father before going back to the hotel to get ready for the gala at 7p. That left her about four hours to find a black tie gown– not to mention something to wear to brunch, clean underwear, and makeup– to replace the one that was lost in the bowels of Dulles International Airport.

She fired off a quick “finally made it, talk tomorrow” text and watched the snowflakes hit the window of the cab and the lights of downtown rush by as the car took the slick streets way too quickly. But, Kat was too tired to care. She’d arrived at the airport with plenty of time for her preflight ritual: a cup of overpriced coffee and 40 minutes to read a smutty novel. She’d watched the big red “delayed” letters flash up on the departure screen once, then twice. After the fourth time, the gate agents stopped giving excuses over the intercom and just started to apologize.

Her flight finally boarded only to sit taxing for another 45 minutes before taking off for the less than two-hour flight. The 7:15p landing had then become an extra hour between waiting for the luggage carousel, discovering her bag was not coming and then hunting down the missing luggage desk.

Tim deciding to bail on pick-up and have his assistant call for him– that was the most consistent part of her day. Tim Littleman was, first of all, the opposite of his name. He was 6’4 but claimed to be 6’6, and had filled out since his professional days when Kat was a kid, but he was still fit and trim for a man in his late 50s. Tim also loved his kids but he loved football just a little bit more, even after being out of the game for years, it wasn’t a surprise– although always a disappointment– when he picked a football game over a drive to the airport with his youngest child.

Kat paid and tipped the driver and tumbled out of the car and into the infamous Watergate Hotel– her mother’s favorite spot to put Kat up for the night when she visited. Mallory always insisted it was to make life easier for Kat; as a 31-year-old, she’d obviously want her privacy from her parents when she was visiting! Over the years, Kat had stopped rolling her eyes or even bickering with her mother and had instead accepted a free stay in a balcony suite overlooking the Potomac River.

As expected, she passed out almost immediately and woke up with a start to her alarm sounding at 7:45a. The morning passed in a blur, sprinting to the nearest Zara for a quick brunch outfit to meet with Mallory and several of Mallory’s WASPy DC friends, then back to the hotel to shower and change, then back out again for brunch where her mother barely interacted with her and then headed back to her office while Kat went to the townhouse for coffee with Tim to discuss the prospects in his greenhouse garden back in Connecticut, and then back out shopping again. With only an hour to spare, she’d found a dress and pumps for the black-tie gala– an event to raise money for some important cause her mother only vaguely mentioned in her email requesting Kat’s attendance.

She was actually quite pleased with the last-minute find feeling confident when she’d examined herself in the mirror, and it fit all of Mallory’s qualifications which were: black tie appropriate, black or navy, and tasteful.

Kat used the polished metal reflection of the elevator doors to check herself one more time, smoothing down the black fabric and tossing her hair over her shoulder. The sound of the event met her ears before the doors slid open: laughter, clinking glasses, and quiet music. When she stepped out onto the plush carpet, she saw several familiar faces immediately and offered small waves and smiles while she studied the sea of people for one of her parents.

“Kathrine,” a perfectly manicured claw wrapped around Kat’s bicep signaled Mallory before she pulled her daughter around and closer to the nearest wall, “what are you wearing?”

“Hi, Mom, you look nice,” Kat deadpanned, bracing herself for impact as she took in her mother. Mallory was dressed in a perfectly tailored champagne number that was likely her typical Ralph Lauren. Her hair was pulled back in a tight French twist and she looked every bit the upper-crust Connecticut woman she was.

“This is highly inappropriate,” Mallory reached up and started to play with Kat’s hair, pulling it over her shoulders.

“I have no idea how to respond to that,” Kat bit back her urge to tell her mother that her dress looked like a wedding gown.

“Kathrine, this is just… it is far too sexy for this event.”

“This is the best I could do on short notice.”

“Short notice! You’ve known for months,” Mallory hissed at her daughter, dropping her voice so the women standing near them wouldn’t hear.

“Mom,” Kat huffed, “I told you at brunch that United lost my bag. I had to go out and get this today.”

“Right, right,” she waved at her daughter, still reaching out to maneuver her hair. “Well there is nothing we can do now,” she sighed and finally gave up before pushing her shoulders back.

Behind her was a ballroom full of political powerhouses– senators, congresspersons, aids, donors, and all the other powerful DC folks who liked to gather in rooms together and remind each other how important they are. Mallory had been working her way up the political world for years, starting on the Board of Education in Kat’s hometown (not that Mallory Littleman would’ve ever sent her children to public school, even in their wealthy town) and now just after her second election as a state senator. Hence, Kat’s summons to attend as part of the senator’s loving family. Kat hated these events… but showed up anyway.

Mallory huffed and dropped her hands to her hips, squaring her jaw at her daughter. “Don’t bring up your job.” This was a common command; never ever talk about work. Kat nodded dutifully.

“Yes ma’am.”

“And don’t mention your… that you… the…”

Kat cut her off and failed to contain her eye roll this time, “I won’t let anyone know that we’re not the perfect family.”

“Thank you,” she said curtly, still eyeing her daughter’s dress.

“Did that hurt,” Kat laughed, looking at the tight expression on her mother’s face after displaying gratitude for her daughter.

“Do not sass me, Kathrine. Tonight is a big deal. I need it to go well.”

Kat sighed, “yes ma’am,” and neglected to bring up the fact that Mallory said that for every political event to which she dragged her daughter.

Mallory ignored her, “you know who I need you to talk to?”

Kat nodded, “I was briefed by your aids. Which, by the way, I would’ve preferred to do with you than your 19-year-old college interns.”

“I mean they are hired to take things off my plate.”

“Where’s dad, Senator Littleman?”

“Kathrine,” Mallory’s tone was warning as she turned back to Kat, “please behave.”

“Promise, Senator, now I’m going to find Dad,” Kat pushed past her mother and started to move through the room, listening for her father’s loud laughter. Despite his faults, he was the far easier parent to be around. He was easy to talk to and could entertain a crowd: the perfect way to disappear in one of these large functions was to stand near Tim and let him relive his glory days to people who just oohed and ahhed appropriately in hopes that he would end up writing them some kind of donation check.

She spotted him across the room regaling a group of men. As she passed by familiar faces, she greeted them politely, engaging in small talk when necessary, and pushing her way closer and closer to Tim. When he caught a glimpse of her, his face split into a grin and he threw his arms wide, stepping between the men surrounding him, “There’s my KitKat!” He wrapped her in a hug, smothering her in his heavily applied Polo Blue. When he kissed her cheek and draped his arm over her shoulder, he turned back to the group, “Gents, this is my beautiful daughter Kathrine.”

Kat reached out her hand to shake with the shortest of the group, who introduced himself as Mark, “Kat is fine, it’s nice to meet you.”

Exchanging quick greetings with the other two, Joe and Chris, Tim quickly charged back in control of the conversation before she could say more, “Sweetheart, these boys are trying to get me to spend some money on them.”

Mark, or maybe it was Joe, jumped in with a laugh, immediately changing the narrative to describe the new political platform they were developing, but Kat had essentially stopped listening. She was too busy batting her eyelashes at Chris. He stood almost a head taller than her, his shoulders filling out his navy tuxedo in the most delicious way. His perfectly styled hair, his relaxed stance with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a beer– how refreshing; no one in DC admitted to liking something as lowly as beer, much less a Sam Adams.

He’d had been the last to introduce himself and their hands had lingered while Chris’s blue eyes blatantly trailed slowly down her body. She’d felt a blush rising in her cheeks when his eyes met hers again and a very brief but very smug smirk crossed his features.

Slowly he returned his focus to his colleagues and let them continue to explain their new venture, glancing at Kat now and then, who got caught staring back almost every time. She had to force herself to stare at Joe and Mark while they spoke, feeling Chris’s eyes trail over her skin.

As soon as she’d approached, Chris’s eyes had been immediately drawn to the skin of Kat’s thigh exposed in her dress. Most of the room was filled with an older crowd, the younger women in the room choosing much more conservative dresses for this event. Kat’s choice, with her shoulders, a hint of cleavage, and all that leg made Chris practically salivate. He’d been back and forth to DC for the last several months as he, Joe, and Mark tried to build a following and convince the political world to work with them; each time he was surrounded by women in pantsuits or blazers. The young aides usually wore their outfits slightly tighter, but it was still the same variations of cream, navy, and red work dresses… not that it had stopped him from spending some time getting to know a few of those women.

When the three men had entered the ballroom this evening, he’d been prepared with their usual speech, ready to network and subtly beg for support. He hadn’t been prepared to be adjusting his pants at the sight of this woman’s tight ass when she turned to hug her father. Chris didn’t even bother to scold himself; they’d been working all weekend, and more importantly, Kat’s eyes were drawn to him too.

Kat recognized Chris, albeit not immediately, but after several minutes of making eyes at each other while the people around them talked, it clicked into place that she’d seen some movies that featured his washboard abs and perfectly cut pecs. She watched his reaction when she tossed her hair over her shoulder, exposing her skin (and bumping her father’s hand, which briefly ruined her moment before regaining composure); his eyes moved across her collarbone and up her neck, settling a steady gaze back on her.

No one was paying attention to them anyway. Joe and Mark were chatting away and Tim was listening the best his ADHD and slightly narcissistic brain allowed him.

“Well boys,” Tim finally said, both literally and figuratively jolting his daughter back to reality with a shake of her shoulder, “that is a truly terrific pitch, but I’m the wrong one to give it to. Just didn’t have the heart to stop you. My wife, Mallory, is the politician in the family.”

As if summoned, Mallory’s voice called over Kat’s shoulder, “there you two are,” in a huff and appeared at her daughter’s side, putting more distance between Kat and Chris. Tim remade the introductions of the group and Kat didn’t miss the way Chris’s eyes stayed on her, not Mallory, when the three of them once again began to explain their idea.

This time, Chris did most of the talking, Joe and Mark only offering occasional additions, but he continued to flicker his eyes to Kat. Kat found herself more impressed; she’d assumed he was the Hollywood buy-in to get politicians' attention, not part of the actual brain power. She listened to him, adding her own questions as her mother did the same, and watched him get more and more animated as he rattled off what seemed to be a heartfelt passion project.

He finally paused when Joe took over explaining the technical side to Mallory and Kat allowed herself to look back at his stupidly handsome face; he lifted his beer towards her and raised his eyebrow, silently asking if she wanted a drink.

Kat started to nod when a well-dressed staff member approached and invited them to find their seats, dinner was being served. Chris spoke up before the group separated, “I’m going to grab another drink before I go to the table, can I get anyone anything?” He looked pointedly at Kat who started to speak when her mother spoke for her.

“What a lovely offer, but Kathrine and I don’t drink. Tim?” She turned to her husband, letting him give Chris his drink order, before wrapping her hand around Kat’s arm and pulling her away from the group towards the clusters of tables without a goodbye.

“Kathrine, don’t even think about it,” she hissed, staring at the place cards on a long table and searching for theirs. She reached across Kat, snatched all three off the table, pulled Kat towards table 4, and continued, “I knew this dress was too much for tonight.”

“What are you talking about, Mom?”

“I saw the look on your face and that boy's. Don’t you dare.”

They’d reached the table and Mallory immediately dropped Kat’s arm, circling to say hello to their companions. Kat tucked herself into the nearest chair and immediately moved for the bread basket, perking up when she discovered the rolls were still warm. Mallory perched on the chair next to Kat, still in conversation with another one of DC's most powerful people whose name Kat could never remember… nor ever tried to.

Tim joined them shortly, sliding into the chair on Mallory’s other side and calling a loud, “see you boys later,” and toasted them as Joe, Mark, and Chris walked away. Kat’s eyes flickered up to catch Chris’s, offering a coy smile to his nod.

“That is what I’m talking about,” Mallory was back in her ear, using her butter knife to gesture at Chris’s broad, retreating back.

“Mother, relax, I just smiled at him.”

“You think I was born yesterday? That was not just a smile.”

“You do realize I’m 31 years old, right? And it is perfectly acceptable to smile at a man or even, god forbid, flirt with him.” Kat’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she spread her napkin on her lap.

“I don’t care how old you are, you reflect my campaign and my values every time you’re seen with me. If there are pictures of you kissing Captain fucking America, it is a direct reflection of me.”

“Literally no one cares who your adult daughter kisses.”

“You don’t think it comes up every election? You don’t think that you and your brother and… Do you know how much of my staff it takes to be sure that our family doesn’t get our business blasted across headlines?”

“I wish you realized how much America did not care about my sex life or Ben’s,” Kat reached for her ice water and sipped slowly, wishing it was a vodka tonic, and glanced at her mother’s furrowed brow, “Careful, Mom, your Botox doesn’t like when you frown.”

Mallory huffed and leaned away to start speaking to Tim, whispering frantically at him and casting sidelong glances at Kat. Kat, however, leaned back in her chair and allowed the woman next to her– a Congressman from Minnesota’s wife– to share all of the details of the grandchild her daughter was expecting. Kat had to bite her tongue while she listened to the several-minute monologue about how silly she found it that some people wouldn’t want to buy gender-specific baby clothes anymore. She let the woman talk, as she did most of these people, and let her mind wander, only staying focused enough to offer the occasional, “you don’t say” or “wow, that’s incredible.”

She truly loathed these events. She’d lost track over the years of how many she’d shown up to, how often her mother trotted her out like a prized pony to amplify her mother’s strong family value platform before being sent back home to her normal life. Each time it came with an all-expenses paid plane ticket and hotel, several– usually public to avoid real conversation– visits with her mother, at least one major political fundraiser/gala/rally/etc., and then a quick and once again public goodbye from Mallory before the whole ordeal was over.

Kat knew she could stop coming, stop being hassled by her mother and used as a pawn, she knew that she could and certainly should stop saying yes and start saying no. Ben always reminded her that no was a complete sentence.

Ben.

Ben had stopped coming to these the second he moved out of the house, right about the same time that Mallory and Tim–mostly Mallory– had refused to acknowledge that Ben might not actually be the preppy, lacrosse-playing womanizer he was bred to be and was instead questioning all parts of his identity. He’d moved to Vancouver for a job, and met a wonderful man, Kevin, who Kat adored and had never looked back.

Kat missed him terribly, even after almost 10 years of living several time zones apart, and looked forward to their annual September trip together. They’d meet somewhere each year to celebrate their birthdays… four days and four years apart… together, often surrounded by other people they loved but never ever with their parents.

Kat couldn’t actually remember the last time the four of them shared the same air. It had to have been a holiday while Kat was still in high school and Ben was home from college for a break. She knew that he occasionally emailed Tim or exchanged a quick phone call, but that Ben hadn’t spoken to their mother since the day he’d graduated from college. At their celebration dinner, he’d handed her a check and said, “I won’t owe you anything ever again,” and flown to Canada the next morning. Kat had been devastated but she knew what it was like for Ben to grow in their house. She knew the best thing for him was to put the Canadian Border Patrol between him and Mallory.

Ben was her rock, one of her favorite humans, and her constant reminder that she was a pawn in Mallory’s system and needed to get out before people started to think she actually supported their mother’s platforms. That thought pulled her back into the conversation with the Congresswoman’s wife just in time to force a cheerful, “hurry back!” when she’d told Kat she needed to use the ‘little girl’s room’ and scurried off.

Kat took the moment to enjoy the silence and scanned the room. The sea of tables was tastefully if subtly decorated in muted tones and low centerpieces on each table to allow for conversation. There had to be at least 50 tables, each holding anywhere from 10-12 guests, all various members of wealthy DC society. The majority were politicians and their donor friends; a perk of donating thousands of dollars to a cause was getting to attend other functions for free as a ‘thank you for your support’… only to be expected to write a check at the end for whichever cause the evening endorsed.

Five tables away, she found Chris’s gelled hair and sharp jawline in profile while he laughed at something the woman next to him said. She allowed herself the moment to admire the imperfect slope of his nose, the way his smile showed all his teeth, and the way his biceps were visibly flexing even under his jacket as he lifted his fork to his mouth.

“He is very handsome, I’ll give you that,” Mallory leaned closer to her daughter, who had been actively ignoring her mother trying to catch her eye, “but do not embarrass me tonight, Kathrine.”

“And what would be embarrassing for you, Mom?” Kat sighed and looked at her mom.

Mallory paused, glancing at her husband who was deep in conversation, and back at Kat, “if you did something inappropriate with him.”

Kat grinned slyly, knowing how much her mother hated these kinds of conversations, “what do you consider inappropriate?”

“You know what I mean,” she huffed.

“I’m not sure that I do. Could you explain it to me?”

Mallory sighed heavily and waggled her finger, “do not go home with that boy.”

“He seems to be all man,” Kat countered, her eyes traveling back to Chris just to spite her frustrated, demanding mother. He was rising from the table and gesturing to his tablemates, seemingly taking drink orders.

“Kathrine Marissa Littleman,” Mallory’s voice dropped low and Kat knew she’d hit a nerve, “I do not need any gossip because of you, there has already been enough talk about everything else in our family.”

“There hasn’t been anything to talk about for years, Mom, please give me a break. I’m a grown-up.”

Mallory shot her one last look and stood from her seat, moving around behind Kat and towards an empty seat at the other side of the table to start working the room now that she’d finished her meal– it didn’t matter to her that no one else had.

Kat reached into her clutch and rifled around for a pen, finding one at the bottom, and slid her place card towards her. She folded open the thick cardstock and write inside it, closing it back up and slipping the pen back in her purse before whispering, “back in a bit,” to Tim, who waved his acknowledgment, and she moved through the room to the bar.

Chris leaned on the bar in front of her, chatting with the bartender as he gathered the drinks for Chris’s table. She took a deep breath and stepped beside him and ordered a vodka tonic from the other barkeep; her voice caught Chris’s attention, who leaned on one arm.

“Kathrine,” her name in his deep timbre sent a chill down her spine and a warmth filling her belly.

“Christopher,” she countered, throwing a smile over her shoulder at him.

“I see that ‘we don’t drink’ thing was bullshit,” he nodded to the drink she now took a deep swallow from.

“Just another politician making things up.”

He gathered the drinks from the bartender– another beer for him, a wine for one of his tablemates, and a scotch for Joe, and turned to her– “Gimme a second. Don’t move.”

Kat nodded and watched him strut away; she toyed with the place card in her hand. She flipped it open, looking at her handwriting on the inside, and looked back up at Chris, who was just arriving at the table. Throwing her shoulders back, she followed after him, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought you were waiting for me,” he said quietly, dipping his head low to talk to her.

“I changed my mind,” she smiled and slid her hand down from his shoulder, briefly across his bicep, and to grip his large hand. She squeezed, pushing the cardstock into his hands, and turned gracefully on her heels. She moved slowly, knowing he was watching her, and swung her hips ever so slightly as she made her way across the room to the exit closest to the elevator.

She entered it alone, letting the doors slide shut and giving her a chance to take a deep breath, and another gulp of her drink before the doors were opening again on her floor.

In her room, she finished off her drink and mixed a new one from the minibar, and then moved across the suite to stand at the sliding glass doors. Her heart was pounding in her chest with both anticipation and anxiety, knowing she could be stood up, but hoping she’d read him right. Several long minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door. Kat took her time to cross the room, finishing off her second drink on the way, and pulling the door open to Chris standing, both hands in his pockets, on the threshold.

“Hey you,” his crooked grin melted any nerves she had and she reached out, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the room; she shut the door after dropping the “do not disturb” sign on the handle and turning to face him.

“Drink?” She started to move around him towards the mini bar but he used their still connected hand to pull her to him.

“Maybe after,” his boyish grin was gone and replaced with a sexy smirk; he held their hands to his chest while his other hand reached up to her shoulder, pushing a few strands of hair off her neck. His fingertips trailed along her clavicle before coming to rest at the back of her neck and leaning towards her.

He slotted his lips over Kat’s, the kiss hovering for a moment in sweetness before his tongue swiped at her bottom lip and the movement shifted. Kat stepped closer to him, allowing his tongue to swipe against hers and pushing her chest into his while his hands covered all the planes of her body, squeezing her hips and her ass, trailing gentle touches up her arms and into her hair to hold her to him and continue the needy kiss. She slid her hands up his body and tugged at his bow tie, feeling grateful for making out with Miles Sharpton at cotillion who taught her how to untie a butterfly knot. Once it fell around his neck, she slid her arms under his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. Chris let it hit the floor and stepped away from it to push Kat– one hand on her hips, the other still grasping her neck— towards the dresser.

The backs of her thighs bumped the large wooden piece and she let herself lean against it while he pressed into her, his mouth now trailing her neck and his hands grasping at the back of her dress, pawing for the zipper. Kat pushed his chest away from him, his lips pulling from hers with an audible suction noise, and she panted to catch her breath while her fingers worked their way down the buttons of his shirt. Each one she popped open exposed more of his chest, undershirt, and, to her surprise, a smattering of dark ink that made her mouth water.

She leaned forward and kissed the exposed skin, while she continued her journey down to his belt. Kat tugged his shirt free from his pants and glanced up at him through hooded eyes to find him watching her. Chris’s hands were rubbing her shoulders, raising goosebumps on her skin and sending a fire straight to her core.

Her hands hovered on his belt buckle, slowing the momentum of the last several minutes but giving neither of them pause. Chris watched her, licking his lips and trying to decide which way he wanted her to come first. “Don’t stop now, baby,” his voice had dropped dangerously low and he cupped her chin in his hand, rubbing his thumb along her bottom lip, “or I’m going to take over.”

Kat blushed deeply but held his gaze; she felt her panties dampen even more with those few words and she finished unclasping his belt, whipping it out of the loops dramatically and winking at him when he chuckled. Slowly, agonizingly slowly for Chris, she popped the button of his trousers and then slid the zipper down, holding his eyes and watching his Adam’s apple subtly bob.

Keeping her eyes glued to Chris’s, she slid her hands under the waistband of his pants, still over his boxer briefs, and rubbed slowly down his length, then back up, then back down again, reaching all the way through to briefly caress all of him before dropping her eyes to see the hard bulge that seemed to just keep growing under her hand. When Kat looked away, he took the opportunity to close his and open his jaw, letting out a low groan when she squeezed him back and forth, teasing him, knowing that he wanted her lips on his cock but she wouldn’t give it to him just yet.

She continued her work, flicking her eyes back up at him and taking in the way his chest heaved and his eyes fluttered when she stroked him in just the right away. All this response and everyone still had their clothes on…

After more minutes of this agonizingly slow tease, Chris groaned and dropped his head to press his forehead into Kat’s and growled, yanking her upright and twirling her around. “It’s my turn to tease, Kitty Kat.” The impulsive nickname made Kat’s heart skip a beat but she shoved down that feeling and leaned back into his strong chest. He held her in his arms, one wrapped around her stomach, the other reaching towards her zipper, dragging it down slowly and his hand on her stomach pulled the fabric of the gown down just enough to expose her breasts. Both of his hands slowly slithered up her body to cup them in his palms, rolling her peaked nipples between his thumb and forefingers while he kissed her neck.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded between open-mouth kisses; one of his hands dropped her breast and used it to push her hair off her neck and expose her other shoulder, licking a stripe from the nape of her neck to her earlobe and planting a kiss behind her ear. Kat’s eyes flew open, surprised to find that he’d positioned them in front of the dresser mirror where his eyes were watching her reflection.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of her breasts exposed and being palmed by his large hands, Chris’s face kissing all across any exposed skin he could reach, all while never breaking eye contact. He leaned his weight into her and she felt his hard cock against her ass; she pressed her hips back into him, grinding against him and letting out a moan before closing her eyes again to enjoy all the sensations.

“Open,” he said again, his tone leaving no room for question. He pulled his lips away from hers and he stood to his full height behind her– even in her heels she was still inches shorter than him, “I want you to watch yourself.”

Kat nodded, not knowing what else to do and allowing herself to melt entirely into his embrace and his command.

His right hand left her breast and moved tantalizingly across her sternum, her stomach, and to the thigh-high slit in her dress. Chris bent forward slightly to pull the fabric up and allow him access to her lacy thong. He bunched the dress up the best he could, pushing as much fabric out of the way to expose her in the mirror and trace a finger along the top hem of her panties. His left hand still played with her breast and now, she grasped his right forearm, bracing herself against him and using her left hand to reach behind her and hold onto his hip.

Chris traced the edge of her thong again, dipping his finger under the elastic and then back out multiple times before finally sliding his hand all the way down to cup her core. He groaned into her ear as his pointer finger swiped through the wetness between her legs, “all this for me, Kitten?”

“Please,” she whimpered, bucking her hips against him in anticipation.

He hummed in agreement, nuzzling into her hair and pressing his finger into her entrance, slowly pumping in and out at a painfully slow pace. Kat dropped her head back on his shoulder, obediently keeping her eyes open to watch his hand move in the mirror. His thumb found her clit and pressed against it, moving just as slowly. She rolled her hips, trying to find more friction, more pressure, more anything, but he stilled his movements and tutted, “not yet, Kathrine.”

She whined and pushed her weight against his chest, nudging her nose against his neck and pressing messy kisses to his jaw. Her reward was a second finger pressed inside of her, slowly making a come hither motion while his thumb started to increase the pressure and pace on her clit. After more minutes of playing with her, he leaned in to kiss her lips muttering against her, “you ready, baby? You going to come now, sweetheart?” as he continued to increase the intensity and Kat’s hips moved to meet him. He pulled away from her lips, removing his hand from her breast to gently but firmly grasp her chin and turn her to face the mirror again, “watch, baby, c’mon,” he grunted, his hips now joining the fray, “c’mon, Kat, come for me, baby.”

Kat let out a strangled, semi-pornographic moan when her orgasm hit her hard, her ears ringing and her whole body shaking in Chris’s arms. He slowed his rhythm, working her over the edge and through the intensity, giving her a moment of reprieve while he kissed her shoulders, her neck, her cheek, and pulled her lips to his to give her a long, wet kiss.

“Do you have a condom,” she muttered against him, ready to feel him inside of her the moment his fingers slid out. He released her with a quick kiss, stumbling in his pants that were still undone and sagging toward his tuxedo jacket. He fished in for his wallet while Kat studied herself, still trying to catch her breath.

Chris appeared in the mirror behind her again, his hands falling to her hips and pulling the fabric of her dress up quickly. She helped him, letting the dress bunch at her hips, her breasts still exposed and now her ass as well. He stepped back from her and she watched him in the mirror.

He was palming himself in his shorts, one hand still on the curve of her hip and she arched her back slightly, giving him a more full view of her. Chris glanced up in the mirror to find her smirking; he stopped palming himself to tuck both thumbs in the waistband of her thong and drag it down her legs, helping her step out of it and tossing it somewhere in the dim room.

Still, on his knees behind her, his hands traced up her calves, the back of her knees, her thighs, as he rose to stand and smacked her ass, watching her flesh bounce. Feeling impatient, she wiggled at him, arching her back even deeper. He chuckled, “you’re ready for me, pretty girl?”

He met her eyes in the mirror and she bit her lip, nodding and watching him drop his boxer briefs. From her place in front of him, she didn’t have a good view but she listened to him snap on the condom and then mewed when he rubbed the tip of his cock through her arousal.

With one hand on her hip and the other pushing her neck to lean her closer to the dresser, he pushed into her without warning, causing Kat to cry out at the stretch. He stilled, kissed her shoulder, and waited for her to nod before he started a steady, deep rhythm, hitting the soft, spongy parts she so desperately craved. The salacious sounds of his hips meeting her ass, his grunts, and Kat’s sighs and moans filled the room quickly while he pounded into her, the pace ever increasing. Kat fumbled with her dress, trying to get to her clit. Chris moved his hand from her waist, still keeping one on her neck to hold her steady, and licked his fingers before reaching around her hips and quickly building another steady rhythm on her clit. Over and over again he thrust into her, circling her clit and groaning into her neck.

“C’mon, Kat, come for me again, let go, Kitten,” he growled while her velvet walls squeezed him tight, “I can’t hold on, come, baby,” he babbled, rocking his hips while her hips pushed back against him, chasing her release. It hit her quickly, making her legs shake and then wobble, struggling to support her weight. Chris finished with a moan drilling inside of her and draping his body over hers that was slumped against the dresser. He planted kisses on her shoulder, her neck, and then down the top of her spine before gently helping her come upright. Kat turned in his arms and slid into the dresser, letting her back lean against the mirror and lazily tugging her gown to cover her breasts just enough.

Chris snagged a few tissues from the nightstand and handed her some while he cleaned up and disposed of the condom in the trash can by the desk. He tucked himself back into his briefs and came to stand between Kat’s useless legs. He leaned forward and planted his palms on the dresser beside her legs to kiss her lazily, their tongues swiping at each other and showing no urgency.

Finally, Kat pulled back and reached up to push his hair back in place the best she could. “Your business partners will wonder where you went,” she whispered, giving him an out.

He raised an eyebrow at her, “what about that drink?”

“Next time,” she shrugged, sliding off the dresser knowing there would be no ‘next time’ and moving towards her shopping bags for the zip-up and leggings she’d bought today. Once they were in her arms, she turned back to Chris still standing there, pants around his ankles, and looking confused. “I’m going to take a shower,” she pressed up on her toes and kissed his lips once more before crossing in front of him and stepping into the large bathroom.

#chris+evans+fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x ofc #chris evans angst #chris evans smut #chris evans series #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans x female reader #chris evans rpf #chris evans

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zvaigzdelasas · 1 year ago

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Scotland: Glasgow Airport workers set to strike

Unite the union has announced key worker strikes at Glasgow Airport after OCS Group - which provides facilities management services - failed to improve its pay offer. The dates for the 24-hour walkouts are 6 July and 11 July. [...]

Further strikes at both Edinburgh and Glasgow airports have been called off after deals were struck with the unions, with staff accepting 11 to 12 per cent pay rises. [...]

Birmingham Airport in the Midlands could also face summer travel chaos as around 100 key airport workers are voting on strike action.

Security officers, technicians and aircraft re-fuelers could stage walkouts from July over pay, potentially leading to "significant delays and cancelled flights", according to Unite.[...]

The Swedish Transport Workers' Union has announced security strikes from 3 July at Stockholm Arland Airport, Bromma Stockholm Airport and Gothenburg-Landvetter Airport. At Bromma and Lanvetter airport, the strike would affect all work carried out by security staff meaning passengers may not be able to depart from the airport. At Arland, it wouldn't be a total walkout and could just affect baggage scanners meaning passengers would only be able to take carry-on luggage.

The strike over wages could continue on 5, 7, 10 and 14 July if no agreement is reached. It will also include security staff at other businesses, including a nuclear power plant, with a total of 450 employees expected to be involved, according to Swedish national broadcaster SVT[...]

Italy: Strikes across public transport and airports in June and July[...]

On Friday 7 July, public transport staff across the country will strike for 24 hours. Everything from trains to ferries and metro services is likely to face delays and disruption due to the walkouts. The level of disruption is likely to vary from city to city and even from service to service

On the same day as public transport workers stage a nationwide strike (7 July), ground staff at airports including Rome Fiumicino, Milan Malpensa and Amerigo Vespucci in Florence will stage walkouts. This could lead to airport delays.[...]

On Saturday 15 July staff at Italy's main air traffic control operator ENAV are going on strike for 24 hours. [...]

Spain: Daily strikes from airline staff

On 19 June, the Spanish Union of Airline Pilots (Sepla) began a third round of strikes against Air Europa, Spain’s third-largest airline. It comes after a verbal deal reached on 8 June over pay and working conditions fell through. The two-week walkout will last until 2 July, and has so far led to flight cancellations and delays. However, pilots and airlines are obligated to maintain a minimum number of flights during strikes in Spain. Since 6 June, the Sepla union also began a “daily indefinite strike” against Air Nostrum, the regional airline run by Iberia. The strike has forced the cancellation of 20 per cent of the airline's flights and also delayed other flights. The strike is taking place every weekday and there are no signs of a breakthrough in talks so far. [...]

Germany's EVG trade union, which represents railway and transport workers, has called a series of 'warning strikes' this year over pay. These have impacted Deutsche Bahn train services, among others. Wage talks collapsed in June, bringing the prospect of more walkouts. Dates are yet to be announced but union members are set to vote on an unlimited strike. This could begin from mid-July, hitting holiday season travel.

Lufthansa pilots are currently considering a new pay offer from the flag carrier. Workers have agreed on a truce on strikes that ends on 30 June, meaning summer walkouts could be on the cards if the offer is rejected. Switzerland: Workers at Geneva Airport threaten strike Workers at Geneva Airport represented by the Swiss Public Service Union have resolved to strike on Friday 30 June over a pay dispute. Air traffic was brought to a standstill with dozens of flights cancelled. And now staff plan to continue the strike into Saturday 1 July. The strike was announced immediately after the company managing the airport agreed to a cost-cutting plan for salaries on Thursday 29 June. Initially, it was feared the strike action would be immediate, but it was instead been called for Friday. Geneva Airport is expecting disruption and has advised passengers travelling in the coming days to arrive 2.5 hours before their scheduled flight, with delays and cancellations likely.

30 Jun 23

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beardedmrbean · 2 years ago

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A chaotic travel experience for a United Airlines passenger ended this week after she used an Apple AirTag to help track down her lost luggage.

Valerie Szybala went viral after she shared her experience in a Twitter thread about how she put the tech accessory, which works with iPhone and other Apple devices to track and find belongings, in her suitcase.

Szybala, who was unavailable for an interview Tuesday, said she was then able to track her bag’s location throughout the delivery process.

“I’d just like everyone to know that @united has lost track of my bag and is lying about it," she tweeted Sunday. "My apple AirTag shows that it has been sitting in a residential apartment complex for over a day. Out back by the dumpsters, I have found other emptied United Airlines bags."

Szybala also tweeted screenshots of her conversation with a United representative, who told her to “calm down” when she brought up concerns about her luggage delivery.

The representative stopped responding to her after she inquired about United’s lost bag policy, she said.

After having spent three days scoping out the apartment complex, Szybala was contacted by the courier service in charge of the delivery and reunited with her bag Monday, according to Mashable.

The delivery service, Couriers United LLC, did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

In an email statement, a spokesperson said United has "been in touch with this customer to discuss this situation and confirm she has received her luggage," adding, "The service our baggage delivery vendor provided does not meet our standards and we are investigating what happened to lead to this service failure.”

Szybala's travel woes came as many across the country faced flight delays and travel woes. All carriers were affected by a major winter storm that affected most of the U.S. going into the Christmas weekend. Southwest Airlines, which canceled thousands of flights last week and infuriated passengers, said Tuesday it was making “solid progress” on processing refunds.

After her tumultuous journey retrieving her lost luggage, Szybala advised people to take precautionary measures when traveling, including taking pictures of items in suitcases for reimbursement purposes and opting out of third-party delivery for lost bags.

“The 3rd party delivery service is where this got sketchy imho,” she tweeted.

She urged people to use tracking devices like the AirTag in their luggage, which she said was a “lifesaver.”

AirTags have soared in popularity on Amazon amid the recent Southwest Airlines flight cancellations, although the devices have been criticized for allowing unwanted tracking in the past. AirTags were used in tracking lost luggage before, when a woman used hers to track her luggage near an airline subcontractor’s home. The subcontractor, Giovanni De Luca, was arrested after authorities found stolen items in his home.

#nunyas news

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vip-hotel-flights · 5 months ago

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snarp · 1 year ago

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United Airlines has apparently gotten so aggressive about checked bag upcharges that it's compromising the balance of the plane - no one's checking bags and everyone's got carry-ons, so the empty baggage compartment is fucking shit up. They've got someone on the intercom warning that take-off might be delayed if people don't volunteer to check carry-ons. Most of the terminal can't hear what flight they're talking about because some of the speakers aren't kicking in for a few seconds.

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pan-fried-autism · 1 year ago

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Lab Accident - Chapter 3

Characters: Swap!Leonid (@bowlerhatwearer), townspeople with no real names sorry

Summary: Leonid arrives in Canada, and asks around about Jack.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Midwest United Airlines welcomes you to New Anderville. The local time is 9:21 am. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisles clear until we are parked at the gate. The Captain will then turn off the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign, indicating it is safe to stand. Please use caution when opening the overhead compartments and removing items, since articles may have shifted during flight.”

Leonid unfastened his seatbelt, getting up out of his seat into the aisle. He reached up and got his travel bag, and went to start walking... before being rudely shoved out of the way.

Leo looked to see who the jackass that pushed him way-- there was a puppy with her parents.

He grimaced at the sight. The kid had been kicking his seat for the past three hours. The only times she had stopped was when she had to use the bathroom... which never happened.

Note to self: get an appointment with a chiropractor when I get home, he thought.

As he watched the little miscreant walk away, she turned around to make eye contact with him.

Then she grinned and flipped him off.

Leonids grimace turned to a slight glare, and he stuck his tongue at her as she left.

What a brat. No wonder she never stopped kicking me.

Even without the little shit kicking his spine in, the flight wasn't exactly the greatest. To try and ignore the kicking, Leo had went to watch an in-flight movie. However, one of the speakers of the headphones for the movie was broken, and it made the movie 50% quieter than it should have been... So the entire time he was watching Million Dollar Baby, he could barely even hear what anyone was saying, let alone understand it. The strangely bitter peanuts he had been given didn't help the viewing experience either.

The one thing that didn't suck was the old woman he'd been sat next to. The whole flight, she had been going through a big thick crossword puzzle book. At the very least, she wasn't annoying.

Either way, Leonid finally got to walk down the aisle and exit through the loading bridge.

Around 10 minutes later, he got his suitcase from the baggage claim area.

Whilst walking through the airport trying to find the exit, he found the row of small restaurants and gift shops that airports tend to have. A pleasant smell came from one of them.

He looked to see what it was. It was a cafe, with a name he'd never heard of before-- seemed to be a person's name. Perhaps it was the name of the founder? He didn't know. All he knew was that he could smell coffee, and he needed something to wash out the taste of the crappy peanuts he'd been given earlier.

Before he knew it, he was walking away with a coffee and donut in hand.

Eh. That's how they get ya.

Once he finished them both, he headed over to the parking garage-- he had, ahead of time, gotten himself a rental car. The person outside had given him a key with a tag-- Number 8. It would be the number of his car, which would be designated with a sign by it.

... Which he walked up to within the next five minutes. The car was sleek, shiny, red, and a Prius.

Like his own car.

It even had the same fuzzy dice in the mirror.

Choosing to ignore this, Leonid got into the front seat, before speaking into his phone.

"Kape, where is the nearest motel in the New Anderville-Rockymew-St. Eugene area?"

The phone took a second.

"The closest motels in the New Anderville-Rockymew-St. Eugene area are the Erminers Retreat Motel, Western Anderville Hotel, The Baker Hotel, Prestige Resort, The Sand & Stone, Heritage Inn Hotel & Convention Center, The Lazy Boy Lodge, Motel 7, Super 9, Travellers Motel & Hotel, Almona Court, and the St. Eugene Golf Resort and Casino."

Leonid grimaced at the overload of opportunities.

He took a deep breath. "Which hotel is nearest to the New Anderville Area Airport?"

Another second.

"The closest hotel to the New Anderville Area Airport is the St. Eugene Golf Resort and Casino."

Leonid entered the name into Expedia and took a look at the prices.

The lowest starting prices were $169 a night.

Rubbing his temples, he spoke into the phone once more. "Which hotel IN NEW ANDERVILLE is nearest to the New Anderville Area Airport?"

"The closest hotel in New Anderville to the New Anderville Area Airport is Super 9."

Leonid checked the prices again.

The rooms started at about $60 per night. Not too bad-- he had that money.

He looked up the location, then started the car and left the garage.

The radio was on-- a pop station, based on the amount of similar songs that flowed in. He (safely) took in the scenery around him. A sunny sky with few but large clouds, tall and proud larches and firs lining the highway, and a decent temperature in the air.

He couldn't help but feel a little better.

Finally, he got to the town sign.

Welcome to New Anderville! 'Quidam supellectilem latine'

Population: 29 509

Leonid could not understand Latin.

Entering the town, he could tell he was in the more industrial area, signified by the strange tanks and trucks (and the singular gas station). He also encountered a water treatment plant.

Nothing else of note caught his eye until he arrived at the hotel.

It didn't look like a traditional hotel. If it hadn't had the giant sign that said 'WATER SLIDE', he would have assumed it was the Harris family's summer home. It didn't look bad, though-- he simply parked his car and went inside.

The lobby wasn't packed in the slightest, save for an old lynx man reading a book in an armchair (what a crowd, huh). At the front desk, a wolverine was on her phone.

As Leonid walked up, she happened to notice him-- she put on her best Customer Service Smile and put the phone in her pocket.

Her nametag said 'Sabrina'.

"Excuse me," Leonid said, "Do you have any available rooms here? It's just me."

"Let me check for you, sir!" she chirped.

Sabrina went onto the computer at the desk, and typed a bit. After looking at the screen for a few seconds, she spoke again.

"Well, we have a few single rooms available-- an efficiency queen room, two efficiency queen suites, two regular queen rooms, and a king room."

"Hm... what's it like in the regular queen rooms?"

"You have a telephone, radio, cable TV, coffee and tea maker, microwave, safe, private bathroom, and much more!"

That did sound promising.

"What's the cost?"

"$65 a night."

"I'll take it."

....

Leonid looked around his room.

The walls were a beige orange, and the bed had a dark oak frame with a puffy white blanket. Above the bed was a large, beautiful painting of a cabin in the woods. Leonid's bed had a nightstand (with a telephone) on one side and a mini fridge on the other, with lamps attached to the walls above them. In front of the bed was a wardrobe with a TV atop it. Next to that was a wicker chair and a small table.

In one corner there was also a desk. On said desk was the microwave, the radio, and a small coffee maker... and he meant small. It was barely twice the size of his hand. There was a basket atop the microwave full of things like sugar packets, cream packets, small coffee and tea packets, and two hilariously small mugs-- Leo was sure his hand was bigger than them. On the wall next to that was a safe.

The bathroom was quite nice, too-- peach coloured walls, fancy shower, and free toiletries. No shampoo, though, just headfur wash.

Leonid had read the label of the small bottle-- Fureal Blueberry Acai Headfur Wash-- and had simply shrugged.

"I'll take what I can get," he had whispered to himself.

Leonid had been putting away his clothes when he had stopped, and got back to it.

Soon, all of his clothes were in the wardrobe, and the rest of his belongings were sorted away.

Leonid stood now because he didn't know what to do.

He got to thinking... where could he look for Jack? He had no ideas about his current location, let alone his address. All he knew was what he looked like-- warm brown fur, usually wide eyes, somewhat boring fashion taste-- based on a picture that Mrs. Harris had sent him.

"I hardly think my boy is even capable of doing anything like that, but I'm not one to treat a guest rudely, and you do need information for the case." She had texted after sending it.

Perhaps, though... perhaps Leonid could go into plainclothes mode. Hang around town, blend in, see if anyone around knew him. That could work.

Leonid smiled and confidently walked out of his room, locking it with pride. He hadn't done it in a while, but he knew he could do it!

---------------

As Leonid sat on a park bench in sunglasses, a baseball cap, no detectives coat, and a strawberry ice cream in hand, he felt like the colloquial sore thumb that always seemed to stick out.

There were people walking around in the park-- families, couples, those by themselves, friend groups, all sorts. None of them looked like Jack.

Leo couldn't help but sulk a bit. He was in a big, public area, and no stupid Harris! He briefly thought perhaps there's a chance that he's in hiding, but given what his parents told him, that very clearly wasn't the case. If he was truly in hiding, why would he invite his parents to come see him?

As he thought this, he saw an unusual group of people, at least for the area: a group of business people. They were in business-casual warm weather clothes-- button up short sleeves, ties, some khaki shorts, a couple of knee length skirts, and loafers. They were all talking and chatting away while holding briefcases and purses.

They seemed to be around Jack's age.

Well... nothing ventured, nothing gained, you know?

"Lovely day, isn't it?" he practically announced.

This caught the attention of the last person in the group-- a grolar bear.

"Hmm?... oh yeah, it is! Unseasonably, even." the bear replied in a thick Canadian accent.

Leonid smiled. He seemed nice.

"Hey," he began, sitting up, "You wouldn't happen to know a Jackson Harris, would you?"

The grolar man hummed for a second before responding.

"I do! Why do you ask?"

Leonid was so awestruck by his massive luck, he almost forgot to tell a lie.

... Oh wait yeah, дерьмо. I gotta think of something.

"I... we were... college roommates. And best friends. I haven't seen him in a while and we're... Facebook friends. I wanted to surprise him?"

He desperately hoped his tone was convincing enough.

Fortunately, it seemed to work. "Alright! He's a great guy, I'll tell ya that. Always brings in Tims, loves his wife, helps around the workplace... all that good stuff."

... huh?

"A wife, you say?" he inquired with a fake smile.

"Yeah! She's a bit of a recluse, though... only comes out of the house on weekends. According to her and Jack, she's been like this since an accident."

"Oh, an accident? That does sound tragic."

"Yeah, car accident a couple years ago. Left her without an air and half a tail."

Leonid put his hands to his chest in a show of somewhat fake sympathy.

"How terrible. I feel sorry for her. How.. lucky it is that she and Jack found each other!"

"Yeah, they're great! My cousin Robbie talks with her sometimes, and she once told her about her nicely Jack took care of her afterwards."

"Oh, Jack. How charming! Just as I remember."

Success, he thought to himself.

The bear smiled, before looking to the disappearing group of coworkers.

"Well, I gotta get going now! It's Mead n' Meat Monday at Murray's and we wanna get there early."

"Mead n' Meat Monday?"

"Yeah, over at Murray's pub! All beer, wings, and burgers half off! G'bye now, you!"

With that, the grolar left him.

Once he was far enough way, Leonid quickly took out his notepad and started writing notes, avoiding getting ice cream on it.

'May 19-- Landed. Found out some stuff about Jack... has a house, has a supposedly reclusive wife. Said wife missing an ear and half of tail. Jack might also have friends.'

Once done, Leonid swiftly put it all away, dumping the sad melted ice cream.

"Well, Jack," he whispered proudly to himself...

"I guess all I really need to do now is find you."

#fiction #original story #the north experiment #tne alternate ending #lab accident #swap!leonid #leonid akdow

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 1 year ago

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 17, 2023 (Thursday)

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

Philip Stephens of Financial Times today pointed out how much global politics has changed since 2016. That was the year of Brexit and Trump, when those calling for national sovereignty and iron-bound borders seemed to have the upper hand, and it seemed we were entering a new era in which nations would hunker down and international cooperation was a thing of the past.

But now, just seven years later, international cooperation is evident everywhere. Stephens pointed out that a series of crises have shown that nations cannot work alone. Migrants fleeing the war in Syria in 2015 made it clear that countries must cooperate to manage national borders. Then Covid showed that we must manage health across political boundaries, and then Russia’s invasion of Ukraine proved that European nations—and other countries on other continents—must stand together militarily in their common defense.

That embrace of cooperation is in no small part thanks to President Joe Biden and Secretary of State Antony Blinken, who have focused on bringing together international coalitions.

The new global stance is on display in the U.S. right now as President Biden hosts the first-ever trilateral summit with Prime Minister Fumio Kishida of Japan and President Yoon Suk Yeol of South Korea. This is not an easy meeting—Japan and South Korea have a long history of conflict—but they are working to mend fences* to stand firm against North Korea, including its missile tests, and to present a united front in the face of Chinese power.

Secretary Blinken noted for reporters on Tuesday that the world is currently being tested by geopolitical competition, climate change, Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine, and nuclear aggressions. “Our heightened engagement is part of our broader efforts to revitalize, to strengthen, to knit together our alliances and partnerships—and in this case, to help realize a shared vision of an Indo-Pacific that is free and open, prosperous, secure, resilient, and connected,” he said. “And what we mean by that is a region where countries are free to chart their own path and to find their own partners, where problems are dealt with openly, where rules are reached transparently and applied fairly, and where goods, ideas, and people can flow lawfully and freely.”

Cooperation between Japan and South Korea “helps us promote peace and stability and furthers our commitment to the complete denuclearization of the Korean Peninsula. It advances our shared values and helps uphold principles of the UN Charter like sovereignty, independence, territorial integrity. It allows us to even more expand opportunity and prosperity.”

Blinken addressed Ukraine’s resistance to the Russian invasion, backed by an international coalition, and reiterated that Ukrainians are upholding “the basic principles—sovereignty, territorial integrity, independence—that are vital to maintaining international peace and security.”

In squeezing Russia, international cooperation has again been vital. The Swiss corporation Société Internationale de Télécommunications Aéronautiqes (SITA), which is responsible for booking, flight messaging, baggage tracking, and other airline applications, announced in May that it will leave Russia this autumn. Russian carriers are scrambling.

Blinken also confirmed that the Biden administration last week achieved a deal with Iran over U.S. prisoners. Iran moved four dual citizens from the infamous Evin Prison to house arrest, and the U.S. is working to get them, along with one more who was already under house arrest, home. In exchange, the U.S. will release several Iranian prisoners along with $6 billion of Iranian oil revenue currently held in South Korea.

Several Republicans have opposed that deal. The senior Republican on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, James E. Risch of Idaho, said that the “unfreezing” of funds “incentivizes hostage taking & provides a windfall for regime aggression,” and Senator Tom Cotton (R-AR) called the money “ransom” and said it was a “craven act of appeasement.”

But in an op-ed on the national security website Defense One, Ryan Costello, the policy director for the National Iranian American Council, called the deal a win-win. The Iranian money will be released to Qatar, which will release it for purchases of food and medicine, which are not sanctioned. Medicine is desperately needed in Iran, and as Biden said in 2020: “Whatever our profound differences with the Iranian government, we should support the Iranian people.”

In his remarks to reporters on Tuesday, Blinken defended the administration's withdrawal from Afghanistan almost exactly two years ago, saying the decision to withdraw was “incredibly difficult” but correct. “We ended America’s longest war,” he said. “For the first time in 20 years, we don’t have another generation of young Americans going to fight and die in Afghanistan. And in turn, that has enabled us to even more effectively meet the many challenges of our time, from great power competition to the many transnational issues that we’re dealing with that are affecting the lives of our people and people around the world.”

He noted that the U.S. continues to be the leading donor of humanitarian assistance to Afghanistan, contributing about $1.9 billion since 2021, and that the U.S. continues to work to hold the Taliban accountable for the rights of women and girls.

In Niger, a key U.S. ally in Africa against terrorism, military forces took power from the democratically elected president on July 26, and now the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), a regional union of fifteen countries, has said it will intervene militarily if diplomatic efforts to restore President Mohamed Bazoum to power fail. Army chiefs met today in Ghana to discuss creating a standby force. Nigeria’s chief of defense staff, General Christopher Gwabin Musa, told the meeting: “The focus of our gathering is not simply to react to events, but to proactively chart a course that results in peace and promote[s] stability."

Blinken said Tuesday that the U.S. strongly supports the efforts of ECOWAS to restore Niger’s constitutional order, but the African Union apparently opposes intervention out of concern that such intervention might trigger a civil war.

Meanwhile, in Sudan, where the Biden administration hoped working with two rival generals would pressure them to restore civilian democracy, the country has been torn apart as those two generals now vie for power. Days ago, the U.S. government warned of corruption and human rights violations in South Sudan, with one of the rival military forces, the Rapid Support Forces, apparently engaging in widespread targeted killing and sexual violence in the western Sudan region of Darfur.

Yesterday, the State Department called for the two factions to stop fighting. “Every day this senseless conflict continues, more innocent civilians are killed, wounded, and left without homes, food, or livelihoods. The parties must end the bloodshed. There is no acceptable military solution to this conflict,” it said.

—

*The expression “mending fences” appears to come from U.S. Senator John Sherman (R-OH), who in 1879 told reporters he had to go home to take care of his farm (including mending his fences) when everyone had a pretty shrewd idea he was trying to repair political relationships to shore up support, hoping for a presidential nomination. (It didn’t work: his chief manager was Representative James A. Garfield (R-OH), who ended up getting the nomination himself.)

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#foreign policy #the changing world #Letters from an american #Heather Cox richardson #political #Blinken #Biden #leadership #mending fences #diplomacy #soft power

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greenbagjosh · 2 years ago

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Vancouver and Chilliwack April 2003

22 - 24 April 2003

Hi everyone! This weekend 20 years ago, I visited Vancouver, BC, Canada, for the second time. I spent two nights in Vancouver's Davie district, sort of west of downtown Vancouver. It was also the first time I rented a car on my own, in a foreign country.

Salut à tout le monde! Ce week-end, il y a 20 ans, j'ai visité Vancouver, BC, Canada, pour la deuxième fois. J'ai passé deux nuits dans le quartier Davie de Vancouver, un peu à l'ouest du centre-ville de Vancouver. C'était aussi la première fois que je louais une voiture par moi-même, dans un pays étranger.

I flew on Friday 22nd April from SFO airport's Terminal 3 by United Airlines. I had booked a first class seat with a 500 mile coupon. The flight took off about 5 PM nonstop to Vancouver. I think I arrived about 8 PM. When I landed, it was in the US terminal where prechecks going back take place. I had to go through Canadian customs. They asked their nosy questions similar to the last time I was there, April 2002. I was admitted into Canada, then I went to baggage claim and retrieved my suitcase. I went through the "Nothing to declare" green lane.

Once I retrieved my suitcase, I went to the Hertz car rental desk. They had my car ready. It was a 2003 Oldsmobile Alero (in Europe this was sold as the Chevrolet Alero). This one had a 3.4 liter V6 engine, 4 speed automatic transmission, and an AM/FM/CD player radio. I did not really need a map for the most part, as I had been to the youth hostel on Thurlow and Burnaby Streets once before. Parking it would be a challenge, but the hospital nearby had parking.

I drove up Grant McConachie Way to Granville Street. After Granville Island, BC route 99 split off into Howe and Seymour Streets. I went northeast on Seymour Street, to Davie Street and turned left. I went to Thurlow Street and turned left, then turned onto Burnaby Street. Back then, there was no plan to build what is known as the Canada Line. I noticed that some of the signals, that had flashing green signals, which meant mainly the same thing as a steady green. When the light was to change, there would be four seconds of steady green before the light went yellow. When the red cycle was over, the light would flash green again and repeat the cycle as necessary. That is something that happens in British Columbia, I have not seen that in other provinces in Canada.

I checked into the hostel, and deposited my bags in my room. I had a single room, right next to the elevator. My room was not ensuite, there was a shared bathroom down the hall. I had to park the car at St. Paul's Hospital. The car park allowed long term parking, so it was okay to park there overnight. Parking in Vancouver is much more difficult that most cities in the USA. I think it was about $20 US to park for two nights. Once I parked the car, I walked to Thurlow Street, then Davie, and to Bute Street. I remembered Hamburger Mary's (now it is called Mary's on Davie), so I went there. I thought about going to Denny's but I passed on that. In Canada, the apostrophe of Denny's is the red maple leaf. McDonald's has something similar in its corporate logo, with a red leaf in the center. I ordered a large hamburger but was unable to eat it all for some reason. I left enough fries as well. The waiter gave me a hinge container, I think a 9 by 6 by 3 inches (22 by 15 by 8 cm) and I took my food to the hostel. The hostel had a communal walk-in refrigerator, and they provided a permanent marker to mark whose food belonged to whom, and what their checkout date was. If there was food in the refrigerator and the guest had already checked out, it was put on a special rack for "free food". The hostel did not provide breakfast back then, so people had to cook their own. After I went to my room, I went to sleep. It was not high season, so it was fairly easy to fall asleep.

On Saturday 23rd April, I woke up, took a shower, went down to the kitchen to collect my hamburger and fries, then walked to the hospital to get the car. I stopped at a Blenz coffee shop, to get some coffee. Blenz is a coffee chain in British Columbia similar to Starbuck's, has few, if any, locations outside of British Columbia. I drove along Davie Street to Denman Street, up BC route 99 to Stanley Park Drive and the totem poles. The previous year, 2002, I had visited the Indigenous Art Museum at University of British Columbia where they had a massive collection of totem poles. The ones at Stanley Park were okay, not particularly spectactular. I liked the view of the Vancouver skyline better. I was able to see Canada Place across the harbor. The weather was nice then. I bought a few gifts for my family at the gift shop. I finished my hamburger, fries and coffee before driving onwards.

After leaving Stanley Park on the north side of the island, I went north on the Lions Gate Bridge to North Vancouver. I ended up in the Capilano Indian Reserve. I turned right on Marine Drive and drove east on Third Street and eventually Main Street. I crossed back into Vancouver by the Trans Canada Highway route 1 which went through Burnaby and Abbotsford. The speed limit was 100 km/h. All highway distances were in metric. After Abbotsford, the speed limit increased to 110 km/h. I planned to go only as far as Chilliwack. Chilliwack was named from the indigenous word Ts'elxweyeqw. The highway was very nice. I played a CD in the CD player. It was mostly of music I had recorded from November 2002, including a few German songs. It felt odd to play German music in Canada.

Once I arrived in Chilliwack, it looked very similar to a small town in the USA, with the main difference being, instead of the Stars and Stripes, it was two red rectangles, and a big red maple leaf on top of the white rectangle. I stopped at the McDonald's on Luckakuck Way, and ordered a hamburger and a small Coke. The hamburger tasted just like the ones I had in the USA. I drove to downtown Chilliwack and wanted to see the murals. One of them stood out to me and it was the decades from 1930 to 1990 or so.

About 2 PM, I drove west on the Trans Canada highway to Vancouver, turning off at Hastings and driving on to St. Paul's Hospital to park again. I walked to the hostel and asked for a day pass. They sold me one for $8.00. I went to the Shoppers Drug Mart, nearby and bought a 2 liter bottle of Sprite Ice. Sprite Ice is basically Sprite with mint flavoring. I rode on the line 6 to Seymour Street, transferred to the line 4 or line 7, and went to the Granville Skytrain station. Back then, Skytrain did not have fare gates. Skytrain stations Granville and Burrard, both have the eastbound platform on the lower level and westbound platform at the upper level. I took the Skytrain to Gastown, which would require a walk from the Waterfront station. I walked a few blocks along Water Street to the whistling steam clock. I watched the clock strike 3 PM. I wish at the time, that I had a working video camera. That would not happen until a year later.

I walked to the Victory Square Cenotaph at Victory Square, and drank some of the Sprite Ice from the bottle that I had in my bag. I walked down Cambie Street and BC route 1A to the Stadium-Chinatown Skytrain station. I took the Millenium Line to Loughheed Town Center. I remember the Millenium line only went as far as Braid, but on 31st August, the line was expanded to Commercial/Broadway. I spent about an hour in the Town Center. It was not much more different than the average shopping mall in the USA.

Due to its location, it was hard to accurately keep track of time, and the sun set later than in California. I took the Skytrain from Loughheed Town Center to Granville, took a bus to Robson Street and then fou a place to eat for supper. It was a Japanese curry restaurant. I ordered a donkatsu curry with udon noodles. It tasted excellent. I had a bubble tea, I think, matcha flavored. Then I walked back to the hostel.

When I was at the hostel, I took my radio and recorded some music. The radio I had was not the Aiwa HS-JS 479 that I brought the previous year, but it was a portable one with digital tuning and 2 inch / 5 cm speakers. Its cassette playback had the "Q-Sound" function to play prerecorded cassettes. I recorded some French and also some English programming. On one of the French stations, I recorded "Tous les palmiers" by the Quebec band Beau Dommage, and "Un homme et une femme" by some unknown duo, definitely not the original ones from the 1960s, definitely not Mireille Mathieu either. I went to bed soon after that.

Sunday the 24th April, I had to wake up and get breakfast. I had a coffee and pastry at Blenz Coffee on Davie Street. Then I checked out of the hostel, took my luggage to the car, and drove south on Granville Road to the airport. However there was one problem. I needed to fill up the tank, and I was not able to find a reliable gas station. I had to drive to Richmond, just a little south of the airport, to find some place that sold gas. Gas in Canada is more expensive than it is in the USA, and is sold by the liter. I drove along Number 2 Road, then Francis Road to Number 1 Road and found a Petro Canada station. I put in about 20 liters, which was not bad for a V6 and maybe 200 km of driving. I drove back to the airport and checked in the car. I noticed a few totem poles before going into the airport terminal.

Checking into my flight to Seattle and then San Francisco, I was not allowed to hand in my checked bag until I cleared the USA customs. I had to give my passport at customs before dropping my bag off. After dropping my bag off, I went to the gift shop and bought some salmon and maple syrup. The flight to Seattle was on an Embraer E120 twin propeller plane. It would be about an hour away from Seattle, and land in Concourse N. I would not need to collect my bag until I arrived at San Francisco airport. I would have to wait until about 2 PM to board the flight for San Francisco.

At 1:30 PM, the flight to San Francisco would board. I had an economy class seat. The flight home was not too long. I arrived about 5 PM. Somehow the flight had misplaced my checked bag, so I had to fill out a form for them to deliver my luggage to my home. I took the Line 292 back to Hillsdale and Norfolk Street in San Mateo, and walk the rest of the way home. It was not too far to walk. It must have been 7 PM when I arrived home. I made some supper, probably spaghetti or something, watched some TV and went to bed.

The next day I drove to work, worked from 7 AM to about 4 PM. I had some maple sugar candies to share with colleagues. My suitcase did turn up at home, a little bit after I had left work for the day.

My next overseas journey would be in late July 2003. Hope you will join me then!

Also, in May 2003, my car (at the time it was a 1997 Jetta with diesel engine) was all paid off and thus free of finance, and I received the title, what a nice early 31st birthday present.

Good night! Bonne nuit!

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