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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

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ROUGH ROAD TO TOP

August 16, 1953

(1)

One of the more famous CBS-TV shows is “I Love Lucy.”

Its two chief characters - Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz - have had a rocky road to their present status as one of the top comedy teams in the country.

At the end of Lucille's first year in dramatic school she was told by her teachers that she was wasting her time and money, that she would never become an actress. She was fired from all four of her first jobs as a chorus girl. Later, as a model, she almost lost her life in an automobile accident and was told she would never walk again.

Revolution Factor

It was a revolution in Cuba and a mishap in World War II which were fateful turns in Arnaz’ trip to stardom. The Cuban revolution destroyed his family’s wealth, drove them to the United States. World War II got him a broken kneecap in basic training, and since he had been a professional entertainer, he was placed in limited service and assigned to entertain hospitalized G.I.s'.

Columbia Pictures gave Lucille a contract as a stock player, and, convinced that her luck finally had turned, she sent for mother, grandfather, and sister to join her in California. But, the morning after she wired her family, the studio decided to dissolve its stock company. When the family arrived, Lucille was working as an extra at Paramount.

Bit parts and extra roles in a number of pictures kept Lucille busy, but not prosperous, until she was cast in ’"Roberta.” RKO officials, impressed by her work, gave her a contract. When not busy before the cameras, she was a mainstay of the studio's Little Theater. (2)

Offered Stage Lead

Her performance in the second lead in “The Girl from Paris" (3) drew Broadway's attention to Miss Ball and she was offered a lead in the musical "Hey Diddle Diddle.” After satisfying her yen to perform on the Great White Way (4), she returned to Hollywood for "Stage Door” and “Too Many Girls.” In the latter picture, she was costarred with Desi Arnaz. They were married Nov. 30 1940 in Greenwich, Conn.

Back from her honeymoon, Lucille walked into her first really big break a role in "The Big Street,” based on a story by Damon Runyon (5). Overnight it made her a star.

Her first assignment at M.G.M. in 1942 was the title role in the Technicolor production "Du Barry Was a Lady” (6). Stellar roles followed in "Best Foot Forward” and "Meet the People" (7). After completing "Easy to Wed” with Van Johnson (8), she headed for New York to be with her husband, then out of the army and on his way to success in the orchestra business.

Starred on Tour

Shortly after completing "Her Husband’s Affairs,” (9) Miss Ball went on tour as star of Elmer Rice's play "Dream Girl” (10) then worked with Sonny Tufts and Victor Mature in "Interference” for R.K.O. (11)

Lucille, Desi, arid their year-old daughter Lucy Desiree, live at Desilu, their five-acre ranch at Chatsworth, Calif. They raise cattle, chickens, dogs, and cats and dabble in farming. Enthusiastic fishermen they spend a lot of time on their boat.

Desiderio Alberto Arnaz y de Acha was born in Santiago, Cuba, son of the mayor. Desi’s mother, Dolores de Acha, was considered among the 10 most beautiful women In Latin America.

Three ranches totaling 100,000 acres, a palatial home in the city, a private island in Santiago Bay, speedboats, a fleet of motor cars, and a racing stable were all at the command of the youthful Desi during the pre-revolutionary days. His father, after eight years as mayor of Santiago, was made a member of the Cuban congress In 1932.

On Aug. 12, 1933, came the revolution. Congress was dissolved. Its members jailed. The Arnaz property was confiscated, the homes burned to the ground. In 24 hours everything was gone except $500 Desi's mother had hidden. Desi and mother fled to Miami, devoted the next six months to efforts to free Papa Arnaz. from prison. They were finally reunited in Florida.

For Desi, life in these United States for several years was hard but interesting: he worked at truck driving, train yard checking, taxi driving, bookkeeping, and, of all things, bird cage cleaning. Desi’s father managed to launch an importing business. It went broke when a shipment of fruit spoiled in transit.

Show business at this point finally caught up with Desi. His first job was playing guitar and singing with a seven-piece rhumba band at Miami’s Roney-Plaza Hotel (12). Xavier Cugat (13) spotted him, was impressed with this Cuban boy who was to be dubbed "The Tempo” by critics of modem music. After a year as featured vocalist with the Cugat band, Desi organized his own group of musicians and moved into the swank La Conga Café in Miami (14).

George Abbott's Broadway hit "Too Many Girls” (15) was Desi’s next step up the ladder, in 1939. He played a Cuban football player, one of the leads, and played tropical drums. RKO bought the film rights and signed Desi to play his stage role. When the shooting was over Desi married the leading lady, Lucille Ball.

He spent from Feb. 1943 to Nov. 1945 in the Army, after which he toured the nation with his band playing theaters, dances, night clubs. He hasn’t been without a band since. In 1948, Desi made the Columbia film "Holiday in Havana.” (16)

He made a vaudeville tour with Lucille Ball and that convinced them they’d do well as a husband-and-wife team on television. The tour inspired the CBS-TV show “I Love Lucy,” which has been highly rated since it started. (17)

Desi Arnaz’s personality is as vibrant as the music he makes. He is friendly, direct in manner, has flashing dark brown eyes and brown hair. He’s an avid fisherman, rides and swims expertly: his tennis is the envy of his San Fernando Valley neighbors, Sue and Alan Ladd, Francis Lederer, Jackie Oakie, and the Andrews Sisters. (18) A good cook, he specializes in such tempting dishes as Ginger Beef and Bouillabaisse.

# # #

FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) The photo is from “Be a Pal” (ILL S1;E2) aired on October 22, 1951, nearly two years earlier. There’s one thing missing from this file photo: Vivian Vance. The success of the show was its foursome, not threesome! If you look closely you can see the hands of the other poker players, Richard Reeves (Hank, left) and Tony Michaels (Charlie, right).

(2) Lucille did several plays at the RKO Little Theatre under the direction of Lela Rogers (above), Ginger’s mom. When Lucille later bought RKO, she dubbed it the Desilu Playhouse, a training ground for new young performers, often hand selected by Ball herself.

(3) “That Girl from Paris” (not “The” as the article states) was Lucille’s 33rd film. The light-hearted musical romance earned an Oscar nomination for Sound Recording. It was released on the first day of 1937.

(4) Lucille was indeed cast in the Broadway-bound comedy (it was not a musical, however) “Hey Diddle Diddle!” It opened in Princeton, New Jersey, the first of several out-of-town stops on the way to Broadway. What Lucille’s publicity omits is that the show never got further than Washington DC due to the serious illness of its leading man, Conway Tearle. So Lucy’s Broadway debut would have to wait - until 1960!

(5) “The Big Street” opened on September 4, 1942. It was based on a Damon Runyan short story about a night club singer (Lucille) embittered by an accident that left her in a wheelchair and her romance with a naïve admirer (Henry Fonda) named Pinks. Lucy later said it was her favorite of the many films she made. It was her 55th film.

(6) “Du Barry Was A Lady” premiered in August 1943. It was Lucille’s 57th film, but her first for MGM. She nabbed the role from her friend Ethel Merman, who had done the Cole Porter musical comedy on Broadway. It was filmed in color, and was the film that earned her the nickname “Technicolor Tessie” because of her bright orange hair - a color she committed to from then on, despite her roots! This is the film that introduced Lucy to the song “Friendship”, which she would also sing on “I Love Lucy.”

(7) In the musical comedy “Best Foot Forward” (1943) Lucille Ball played herself. It was her 58th film. “Meet The People” (1944) was a romantic comedy for MGM, Ball’s 60th film.

(8) In 1946 she released her 63rd film, “Easy To Wed” co-starring Van Johnson and Esther Williams. Lucille and Van had appeared together in “Too Many Girls” and he would appear on Lucy’s television shows.

(9) “Her Husband’s Affairs” (1947) was a romantic farce with Lucy teamed with Franchot Tone. It was her 69th film.

(10) Back to the stage, Lucille accepted the leading role in a revival tour of “Dream Girl” a fantasy comedy by Elmer Rice. Once again, the play launched in Princeton, but this time Broadway was not the goal. It had already played the Great White Way two years earlier. The play toured the country at select cities, landing Lucille back in California in late 1947. In one SoCal gig she was appearing simultaneously with Desi and his band just a few blocks away. No doubt this was by design.

(11) RKO’s “Interference” was re-named “Easy Living” (1949) and dealt with the world of professional sports, namely football. It co-starred Victor Mature and Sonny Tufts. It was Ball’s 71st film.

(12) The luxurious Roney Plaza Hotel in Miami Beach was located on the corner of Collins Avenue and 23rd Street. It opened in 1925 and was demolished in 1968. The resort attracted a who's who that included Hollywood stars and even the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. The hotel's Bamboo Room & Restaurant was the place to be seen on the Beach for decades.

(13) Xaviar Cugat (1900-1990) was a Spanish musician and bandleader who spent his formative years in Havana, Cuba. A trained violinist and arranger, he was a leading figure in the spread of Latin music. In New York City he was the leader of the resident orchestra at the Waldorf–Astoria before and after World War II. He was a mentor and friend to Desi Arnaz, who kept his name before the public by making him a rival of Ricky Ricardo on “I Love Lucy” where his name became a punchline. In reality, Desi was grateful to Cugat, not jealous of him!

“I learned a lot from Xavier Cugat” ~ Desi Arnaz

(14) La Conga Café was located in New York City, not Miami, although the article may be referring to a different, lesser known establishment where Desi Arnaz performed. He became a regular headliner at La Conga, even issuing a record titled “La Conga” in 1939.

(15) Speaking of 1939 New York, Desi appeared in his only Broadway show in 1939, Rogers and Hart’s “Too Many Girls.” When the film rights were purchased by RKO, Desi was hired by director George Abbott to recreate his role. It was while filming this movie that he met Lucille Ball.

(16) “Holiday in Havana” was a Columbia picture released in October 1949. The film is about a Cuban hotel busboy (Arnaz) who dreams of becoming a composer. His love interest was not Lucy, but Mary Hatcher.

(17) The Tour incorporated some of the same routines seen in the “I Love Lucy” pilot as well as early episodes of the series, most notably the “Cuban Pete / Sally Sweet” duet. The tour culminated at the Roxy in New York City, where Desi was playing when he married Lucille in 1940.

(18) Before moving to their Beverly Hills mansion, Lucy and Desi lived on a ranch in Chatsworth in San Fernando Valley. They dubbed their ranch home Desilu. About their neighbors:

Alan Ladd (1913-64) was a chorus boy when Lucille was an Earl Carroll showgirl in Murder at the Vanities (1934). He was married to Sue Carol (1906-82) from 1942 until his death. Carol’s name was mentioned on “I Love Lucy” in “The Fashion Show” when Lucy selects the same Don Loper original that Carol has chosen to wear in the fashion show. She does not appear on screen.

Francis Lederer (1899-2000) was a Hungarian-born actor. In 1960 he did an episode of Desilu’s “The Untouchables”. From 1941 until his death he was married to Marion Irvine.

Jackie Oakie (1903-78) did four films with Lucille Ball between 1934 and 1938, including both “Annabell” movies.

The Andrews Sisters were the pre-eliminant close-harmony girl group of their time. The consisted of Patty, Maxine, and LaVerne. They were mentioned on “I Love Lucy” in “Be a Pal” in the same scene that the photo at the top of the article came from. In 1969, Patty Andrews guest-starred as herself on “Here’s Lucy”. Lucy and Lucie played the other two Andrews sisters.

#Lucille Ball #Desi Arnaz #1953 #I Love Lucy

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rose-wine-selfships · 3 years

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For the gemstone asks, citrine, ametrine, and labradorite for whoever you're thinking of most!

~ starshine-selfships

Mmm....my dear @starshine-selfships. I think you know who I'm thinking of right now. He's always been with me through it all, and the reason why I made this self shipping blog in the first place. His name of course, is Atsushi Nakajima, and I wouldn't have it any other way! 😉💖

Alright here we go!

Citrine: What are some of the most memorable places you have visited with your F/O?

Honestly, some of the most beautiful places I've ever visited with my husband was in Yokohama itself. Just seeing the local wildlife, national parks, and cherry blossom festivals are enough to get me emotional with how gorgeous it is. Of course, that's not to say we haven't visited other places either!

For our honeymoon, me and Atsushi actually went on a river cruise from France to Italy to look at their breathtaking countryside. We walked around a bit through northern France's lavender fields in Provence, and tasted their lavender based wine. We also had French and Italian street food and took delight in walking through the charming little cobblestone towns. We even went on a real Italian gondola boat ride through the canals in Venice, and it was so goddamn romantic! Aaahhhhh! 💗💕💖💘💞💓💝 (And yes, we did make out a bit in the back of the gondola and made the gondolier driver VERY uncomfortable afterwards. We didn't even notice until I saw the driver glaring and clearing his throat at us during the end of the ride! Hahahaha! 😂😂😂)

Ametrine: How do you and your F/O deal with cold weather? Which of you favours it more?

As you have probably already know, I am very uncomfortable with any sort of cold weather. I can tolerate it just like summer heat, but I am NOT a winter girl either lol. My husband prefers it more to be honest. He's not bothered by the cold since he knows he can use his own ability to keep himself warm.

He loves transforming himself partially into a tiger so he could be my own cuddly furnace if I need heat from the harsh Japanese winters. And eyyy... he's pretty good at it! Atsushi's arms are like huge, soft, fuzzy heaters. He can soothe me right away the moment he starts loudly purring and chuffing to make me laugh and relax, and I don't mind any bit of it at all. 🥰💗💕💖💘💞💓

Labradorite: What do you think the future holds for you and your F/O? Do you have any particular plans?

Hmm, well I know for sure that getting married was definitely the top of our bucket list! Haha! Aside from that, we definitely want to travel more and expand our point of view aside from what we already know in Japan or the United States. As for children, we're still unsure whether we should be having them.

To be honest, Atsushi shares the same anxiety I do about it, and he wants to make sure that we're both throughly confident and positive we want this. That means we need to do a lot of therapy, self work, and self reflection before we finally decide on such a huge responsibility as that. The best part is that he's unconditionally accepting of me, and he doesn't care if we have children or not. He just loves me the way I am, and he's chill about whether we have them in the future or not. (If we ever do have children, we will more than likely go for adoption! 🥰💗)

I just...love my husband so goddamn much. He's made me a more positive, bubbly, and confident woman from the inside out. And I think I've done the same for him. He's so much more confident, outspoken, and daring than he was almost 10 years ago. I'm proud of him as he is of me, and that's all I could ever ask for. 🐯🖤🤍 x 💛🌹🍷 ✨

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adamarinayu · 6 years

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I wrote this during my first 15 minutes and my lunch break yesterday... kind of a continuation of “Falling in love from the outsider’s perspective,” also written on my phone.

"We really shouldn't be here," Donald's voice echoed around the cavern, and Scrooge glanced back almost carelessly.

The younger duck stood with Uno, eyeing the support pillars of the mine. It didn't appear very structurally sound, but it had lasted for three centuries- Scrooge doubted their mere presence would send the cave crumbling down around them.

"It's fine," he said dismissively, turning his attention to the precious stones in the wall. As such, he missed the withering look Uno gave him.

The children, on the other hand, did not.

"I agree with Donald," Uno said. "This mine was abandoned for a reason, McDuck."

"It was abandoned due tae superstition," Scrooge said, looking around for any carvings or notes left behind. "No need tae worry."

As if intent on proving him wrong, the earth beneath them began to tremble. Little stones and dust rained down from the ceiling, and instinctively Donald moved over to the children to protect them. Uno followed him closely.

"Oh? Are you sure?"

"Unprecedented earthquake," Scrooge excused, steadying himself against the wall as the tremors came to a stop. His eyes scanned across the stone before alighting upon a certain miscoloured section. Without hesitation, he reached for it and, with only some effort, pushed the plated stone into the wall.

As he did, the floors and wall began shaking again. A door opened up and Scrooge, with a grin, started through.

The children's screams stopped him.

In the doorway, Scrooge whirled around in time to watch significantly larger stones fall from the ceiling and Donald dropping down, pullng the children into a protective embrace. Uno threw himself at Donald, managing to cover his friend before a stone roughly the size of a toddler hit him. It landed on Uno's shoulder, causing the duck to grimace, but he stubbornly stayed where he was until the trembling stilled again.

"I think Uncle Donald has a point," Louie's muffled voice came from the center of the group, as the other three children had seemed to instinctively surrounded him in some sort of protective barrier.

Donald checked over the children, satisfied that they were unharmed, and then turned to Uno. The other duck rubbed his shoulder. He looked uncomfortable but not necessarily in pain.

Uno looked over at Scrooge with a glower that could have melted steel. "I think I'll turn back here," he said. "This... 'treasure' isn't worth injury or death."

"Agreed," Donald said, huffing and ushering the children back the way they came. "Enough is enough, Scrooge."

Scrooge watched as Donald reached out, briefly touching Uno's injured shoulder, as if checking on him. Uno barely reacted, simply stepping closer to Donald to whisper something to him.

It made no sense. Uno was almost completely unharmed by the hit- a hit that should have at least dislocated his shoulder... it made no sense.

But that wasn't important right then. What was important was the way Donald kept unconsciously reaching out to his friend, briefly closing the distance between the two for just a moment before pulling away again.

Scrooge watched. He followed.

The storm was torrential, and Gladstone stared morosely out the window. Lightning lit up the sky in reds and blues, the wind rocked the houseboat in the swimming pool (it was secured, mind you, so not too terribly), and the rain made the yard into a swamp.

He was supposed to be on his way to Paris right now, but he was trapped at the mansion for the storm. This was not how he wanted to spend his day.

Movement in the houseboat's window caught his attention. Since the boat had a generator the lights had not been knocked out by the storm, so Gladstone could clearly see Donald in the window. He was turned to the side, speaking to someone. Who it was was obvious- Uno. Gladstone knew without even having to see the other duck.

He felt a flash of jealousy- Donald was never so alive with his family. What was so special about the android that Donald actually looked... well... happy? Why couldn't Donald be happy with them? Why was Uno the only one to receive those bright, genuine smiles?

Uno appeared in the window next, laughing at whatever Donald had said. He reached over, lightly punching Donald's arm. Donald, in return, rubbed his arm and mock-pouted, no doubt whining about the hit. Gladstone wasn't close enough to really tell, but he couldn't help but think Uno was rolling his eyes.

Gladstone wondered what they were doing. They weren't cooking- that window was above a sink, after all, and Donald wasn't wearing any of his ridiculous aprons.

As if the universe wished to answer his question (which, honestly, was very possible), Donald stepped back, out of sight of the window, and held a hand out to Uno. Uno shook his head but took Donald's hand, and with a start Gladstone realized that they were dancing.

Uno allowed himself to be pulled out of sight of the window, but then Donald was there again and so was Uno, standing very close even as they just had fun spinning around in Donald's kitchen.

Gladstone couldn't remember the last time he saw Donald dance. If he had to wager a guess, he'd say...

Well. Almost twelve years now.

The dance lacked any form of elegance, from the small glimpses Gladstone had, but they were both smiling and laughing, and Gladstone could almost swear every time he saw them they were even closer.

Gladstone turned away from the window, from the storm and from his cousin's home. He felt... weird.

What was so special about Uno, anyway?

"Shh, I can't hear!" Louie hissed to his brothers, ear pressed against the door.

"Be careful or they will hear us," Webby warned, grabbing Dewey's bill to keep him from saying anything.

"... will we go?"

"I dunno. Anywhere."

"That's terrible planning, Donald. We can't just pack bags and take off on the next flight to 'anywhere,' you know."

Huey's eyes widened- go? Pack bags? Flight? Was Uncle Donald... leaving? With Uno?

"Well, what about Italy?"

"Oh ha ha, Donald, that totally wasn't completely predictable."

"You're not exactly making any suggestions here."

"You're the one who decided you wanted a vacation."

Vacation? Okay, that was betting than leaving.

"Well, Scrooge is taking the kids to Africa for a week, so why not? There anywhere you've ever wanted to see in person?"

"Haven't we seen everything by now?"

"Not really. I mean- that was fifteen years ago, and we only went for work and under much different circumstances."

"Wait," Dewey started quietly, looking at his brothers and Webby. "Doesn't that sound a lot like a..."

"Honeymoon?" Louie suggested flatly.

"They're not married," Huey immediately pointed out. "Maybe it's just two friends going on a trip?"

"...romantic?" Uno's tone was teasing, but the word immediately caught the childrens' attention.

"You know me well," their uncle almost laughed. "Trust me, it'll be fun- just the two of us, without the risk of getting pulled onto some adventure! We'll have an adventure of our own, and you can finally learn to relax without chess or Anxieties to keep your attention."

"I thought we agreed to never mention Anxieties again."

The children shared a confused look, but they stayed quiet, listening to the conversation.

"I agreed to no such thing. What do you think about going to Spain? Or maybe Bahía..."

"Honestly, whatever you want to do's fine with me, Hero."

Whatever they decided in the end, the childen didn't know. It was at this point that Mrs. Beakley showed up and carried them away, lecturing them for eavesdropping on their uncle.

Louie maintained his "honeymoon" stance while Huey continued to insist it was just a friendly vacation. Dewey and Webby just weren't sure at this point.

(Would just like to clear up that that last one really was just them spending time as friends and Uno’s “romantic” comment is out of context for the children lol)

#Reblog #DuckTales 2017 AU #Phone writings #Uno/Donald

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dargeereads · 4 years

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The Proposal Kitty Thomas Publication date: October 14th 2020 Genres: Adult, Dark Romance, Romance

I got in over my head.

I bit off more than I could chew.

And now my fate is sealed to the most ruthless man I know.

Two hundred and fifty guests. They think they know what’s happening today. But they don’t have a clue.

My wedding day. But it’s so much more than that.

NOTE: This is a standalone contemporary dark romance with NO cliffhanger!

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

—

CHAPTER ONE:

I stand at the back of the enormous church. The stained glass windows mute the over bright sun outside on this unassuming summer Saturday at half past four. The string quartet begins to play Pachelbel’s Canon in D. Two hundred and fifty guests stand. I take a deep breath and walk down the aisle clutching the bouquet of pale pink roses which hide my shaking hands. I’m wearing a stunning white Valentino gown which I’m convinced has seven thousand buttons down the back. It’s a true white, but it’s a soft, elegant white.

You don’t realize the variety of white until you shop for your wedding gown. The color palette of white goes all the way from the harsh tacky bright white of office supply copy paper to off-white, into beige and blush barely-there pinks and lavender. Occasionally there is the most subtle mint green which you are sure must be a trick of the light.

And even though they aren’t all really the same color, lined up on the racks they seem like they all belong together. Like family. I’d considered going a little less traditional with a pale lavender or pink gown, or even that daring pale fairy green, but in the end I went with tradition—anything else feels like half measures with a man who doesn’t know the meaning of that word.

I chose to walk down the aisle by myself. I’ve never liked the idea of giving the bride away or what it represents. Besides, I don’t want to bring my father into this; it feels wrong. He’s here, on my side with the rest of my family and friends who admittedly take up a much smaller portion of the guest count than the groom’s side and business associates. His business associates are seated on my side, so everything looks more even and normal for the pictures.

I am twenty-nine, and to everyone here my story is the story of Disney Princesses—the story every seven-year-old girl fantasizes about until she’s long grown out of such fantasies. But I’m not walking down this aisle to my prince. I’m walking down this aisle to the most ruthless man I know.

I feel as though I’m being kidnapped in the middle of a crowded room, but I can’t scream. It’s like a dream where everyone acts as though everything is fine even though an evil killer clown is sawing my hand off. But still, everyone smiles politely and makes small talk—or in this case, everyone stands and murmurs complimentary things they don’t think I can hear as I drift down the aisle like a fairy tale princess.

They think this is the part of the story where the princess gets the prince, where they get married and live happily ever after. But this is the part where she gets locked in the tower.

When I reach the altar, he takes my hand in his, helping me up the two small steps to stand in front of him. The collective sitting of two hundred and fifty people is the last thing I consciously hear as his intense, searing gaze holds mine hostage. His thumb strokes over the back of my hand, and I don’t even know anymore if the gesture is meant to comfort or control me.

We stand there, staring at each other. Words fall over me like gentle rain. Vows are spoken. Rings are exchanged. The announcement that we are now husband and wife moves through the air like a cool breeze.

His hand snakes behind my neck pulling me possessively toward him as he claims my mouth as his property. Later he will claim everything else.

I’ve never had sex with this man. I’m not an innocent. I’m not a virgin, but right now I feel like one—off balance and unsure of what’s in store for me behind the closed doors of our suite in only a few short hours. I want to run as far and as fast as I can, but I know he would catch me. Right now the reception is the only thing that buffers me from his dark intentions.

We take what feels like a thousand wedding photos, each one more intimate and romantic than the last. His hands and mouth suddenly feel foreign on me as though he’s a stranger and not a man I’ve been seeing for the past year. The reception is being held at a swank nearby 5-star hotel called The Fremont, where we’ll spend the night before taking his jet to our honeymoon in Costa Rica. Our jet. Is it our jet now? Or am I merely an indefinite extra on his stage? I’m not really sure anymore.

We don’t speak during the limo ride to the reception. I don’t know what to say to him. Suddenly, for the first time ever, I have no words. All I can think about is what will happen later when there are no longer hordes of unassuming guests to protect me from his attentions. I feel more and more uncertain about this devil’s bargain I’ve made—like I ever had a choice.

He would have destroyed me. At least this way there is a veneer of love and respectability. At least this way it looks like he is giving me the world instead of taking it all away.

I glance up to find his triumphant gaze locked on mine. It scares me as much as it thrills me, and then his thumb is stroking the back of my hand again. I find the courage to speak, but the words fly out of my mind as soon as they appear as the limo comes to a stop in front of the hotel.

The door is opened for us and my husband guides me out, helping me so that my dress doesn’t get dirty. Husband. That word feels so strange to me. So wrong and somehow scandalous. This can’t be real.

His grip on my hand tightens as he leads me up the stairs and through the hotel lobby back to where our reception is starting. The guests are already seated and being served their dinner. We’re led to our own private table at the front of everything. Some people come by and talk to him. He’s so polite to everyone, so normal, so different from the man I’ve come to know.

As we eat, silverware clinks against glasses, and each time we kiss as expected. Before the first dance, he rises from his chair, takes the microphone that is handed to him, and addresses our crowd of guests. And he is so charming. So smooth. The perfect beautiful lie.

“Livia and I would like to thank you all so much for coming to share this special day with us and supporting us as we start our life together. Don’t get too creeped out, but I filmed the proposal. If she’d said no, I would have burned the evidence.”

Obligatory laughter. He continues.

“But it occurred to me that probably many women wish they had a video of the proposal. And so now she does. With Livia’s permission I’d like to share that video with you now.”

Our guests are very excited about this prospect. No one knew they’d be seeing this. A large projector is rolled out along with a screen and a few minutes later a video begins to play.

He and I are on his boat in the middle of the ocean. I’m lying in the sun in a red bikini and oversized dark sunglasses. He approaches with a wrapped gift. It’s large—about the size of a Labrador puppy.

“Livia, I have something for you.”

My eyes light up on the screen. “A present? Is it a pony?”

He chuckles. “Not a pony.”

“A Ferrari?”

“Nope.”

Our guests laugh at my antics, their anticipation growing, knowing somehow inside that giant box is a ring.

“Open it,” he says.

I dutifully open it, only to find another gift wrapped box, then another, then another as I go through about five boxes, each time the gift getting smaller and smaller.

“Is it an empty box?”

He chuckles again. “No. There’s something in there.”

I open the final box to find a blue box. Yes, that blue box. A box from Tiffany in just the right size. The me on the video screen looks up at him and says playfully, “Is it a clown pin?”

He laughs again. “No.”

I open it and start to cry when I see the ring.

He gets down on one knee and says, “Livia Fairchild, will you be my person?”

I’m blubbering and crying and say, “Yes, I will be your person.” We kiss. He puts the ring on me. It’s all so perfect.

Our guests say a collective, “Awwww” as the screen goes black. Then they’re back to clinking their silverware against their glasses, and he leans over and kisses me again.

Before he pulls away, his mouth brushes my ear. “Time’s up. You’re mine tonight.” His words are a growl so different from the version of himself that everyone else in this ballroom sees. It’s jarring the way he can go from this charming facade to something so dark and menacing in an eye blink—the way he can transform only feet from our guests. Yet only I can see the monster. Everyone else sees the man.

I swallow hard at this proclamation and twist the wedding band on my finger. There are three words engraved on the inside of the band. Those three words seal my fate.

The rest of the reception goes by in a blur. The first dance. The dances with the parents. The cake. The bouquet. The garter. All the well wishes that come from guests as they each take turns wishing us a long and happy marriage. We go through a tunnel of sparklers created by our guests, riding off in the limo with the just married sign on the back and the cans dragging along the road behind us, only to circle back into the parking garage so we can go up to our suite for the night.

My hand is trembling as he takes it in his, leading me back inside the hotel and up the elevator to our room. He carries me over the threshold. Inside are candles and champagne and fancy chocolate and rose petals everywhere.

Two men in tuxedos step out of the shadows, looking me up and down with an appreciative once-over.

“It’s about time,” one of them says.

My husband guides me over to the other two men, and then all three of them are touching me.

The words inscribed on the inside of my wedding band are their names: Griffin. Dayne. Soren.

Author Bio:

KITTY THOMAS writes dark stories that play with power and have unconventional HEAs. She began publishing in early 2010 with her bestselling COMFORT FOOD and is considered one of the original authors of the dark romance subgenre.

To find out FIRST when a new book comes out, subscribe to Kitty's New Release List: KITTYTHOMAS.COM

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summerfitzy · 7 years

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the places you’ll go

Fandom: Skam Ship: Noora x William Summary: In which Noora and William really like traveling together. ao3

GDANSK

“What if we went away for a weekend?” Noora asked in bed one night as she drew her fingers through her boyfriend’s dark, scrambled hair.

William tilted his head against her palm, consideration curling his lips. “A vacation?” Then a wry look at her bedroom door, through which they could hear Eskild belting the lyrics to a particularly upbeat pop song with his latest fling, all the way in the living room.

“We haven’t gotten much time alone since you moved in.” Her fingertips fell down his forehead until she was brushing the hair from his eyes with absent strokes. “It could be nice to get away.”

His smile reached up to touch the heel of her palm. “Where?”

Noora shrugged, running her fingers along his cheekbones. “I don’t know,” she said through a breath of laughter. “Somewhere cheap? Somewhere neither of us has been, maybe. Somewhere we both want to go.”

“We’ve never gone on a vacation together.” William kissed her palm one more time, dragging his lips along its deep lines. “I’ll go anywhere.” (The with you went unsaid.)

Skyscanner had cheap, non-stop flights to Gdasnk later that month, so Poland won.

Before they left, Eva predicted they would fly to Poland just to spend the entire weekend in their Airbnb bedroom.

Noora couldn’t say that Eva didn’t have some evidence—namely, the frequency with which she and William had taken to sneaking away into closets and his car lately—in her favor.

But Gdasnk was beautiful, even more so than Google Images had made it look. All cobbled streets and narrow buildings and blue water. They walked through Długi Targ with the other tourists, taking in the stalls and bright colors that marked the marketplace. Soft blues and reds and oranges and purples. When they stopped in front of the Neptune Fountain, William nodded towards the bronze statue that rose behind its iron gate.

“Do you know the story?” he asked her.

Noora canted her head up at the sea god. “No.”

Knotting their fingers together, William rubbed his thumb up and down her knuckles. “The locals think the fountain used to run with liquor from Neptune. That the gate,” he gestured towards its iron curls with their twined hands, “is to protect the fountain from all the drunks.”

Noora squinted at the fountain for another second, and then at William. “You just happen to know that?”

William shrugged, and took a step away from the fountain, the pad of his thumb still massaging her hand. “I read it somewhere.”

Of course he had. Noora wondered just how much he’d ‘happened to read’ about Gdansk after booking their tickets. “Did your fan club at Nissen know you were such a scholar?”

“I’m not a scholar,” he replied as they wove around the meandering groups and flashing cameras.

Noora rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen your law school reading.”

“Don’t mention that,” he said, turning a look of mock warning on her. “No law school this weekend.”

And even though that was highly irresponsible… “Okay.”

(No law school. No articles. Just them.)

They toured the Artus Court Museum next, staring up at its Gothic vault and scanning its list of famous, royal visitors. Then they walked by the statues waving from the Golden House before stopping for lunch at a small, nearby restaurant—where Noora convinced William to sneak into the single-person restroom with her.

"A restroom?” he repeated, almost laughing. Noora loved that sound. The pure, open delight in it. During their worst days in London, William’s silence had struck her hardest. Noora realized he’d thought she wanted space—but all she wanted now was for him to never feel so unreachable again. So untouchable. William’s reserve hadn’t extended to her since long before they’d started dating; you could tell by how poorly it fit.

She needed to be able to reach him, touch him. Always.

So Noora leaned across the round, two-person table, careful not to brush her striped sleeves into their brimming glasses of water. “It looked clean.” She wrapped her fingers through his.

He pulsed their grips and gave himself over to a breath of laughter. “Fucking hell, you’re amazing.”

Her quiet laughter blended with his.

They spent the rest of the afternoon walking through an art museum, where William took too many photos of Noora staring at the paintings.

“You’re not supposed to be taking pictures of me,” Noora reminded him when she heard the camera click again.

He shrugged. “I can take pictures of whatever I want.”

“What if I want to make a photo album?”

His free arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close enough for his smile to land in her hair. “I’d like a photo album of Noora.”

She rolled her eyes up at his. William’s brown gaze just kept glinting down at her.

(When she managed to steal the camera later, she didn’t use it to immortalize any of the sculptures they passed; only him squinting at them.)

“Newlyweds?”

The river wavered around them with reflections of the city’s lights and sunset as they cruised by the harbor. Standing against the rail of the tour boat, Noora looked over from her spot against William’s chest, within William’s arms. Her head tucked against his. It took her a moment of scanning before she realized the English-speaking, Keds-clad tourist standing to their left was talking to them.

“Yes,” William answered, before she could clarify that no, we’re just vacationing. “Touring Europe for our honeymoon.” His lips curved a peck into her hair.

Noora didn’t have the heart to contradict him when the woman—older, curly haired, and British—sighed: “So romantic. You two make me think of my honeymoon.”

She could feel William’s smile, still lurking among her blonde locks, growing wider and wider as they stared out at the water.

"Newlyweds?” Noora asked him later, splayed out across the cream sheets of their Airbnb bed, their clothes strewn across the carpet.

William just brushed his fingers along her cheek. “We will be.”

Arcing against his pale fingertips, Noora raised her eyebrows at him. “I’m not getting married in high school.”

Trailing his thumb down to her collarbone, then to the rise of her chest, William raised his right back. “Little presumptuous of you, assuming I was proposing.”

“You’re the one assuming I'll say yes!” For old time’s sake, she bit her smiling lower lip and added, “Willhelm.”

Then he was pulling her closer to him, whispering “Noora,” pressing his hips against hers, and—“Say my name.”

She shook her head, still smiling as he pretended to growl. Make me, her bright eyes dared.

(He did.)

"Noora,” Eva said when they got back, scrolling through their camera roll, “you know I love your face, but did you take any pictures of the actual city? These are all artsy shots of your profile.” She clicked next. “And the back of your head.” The camera beeped next one more time. “I can almost see the building you’re looking at in this one.”

Emptying a box of pasta into one of Eva’s kitchen pots, Noora shrugged. “Biased photographer.”

When she turned around, holding back a smirk, Noora saw Eva’s phone out and her fingers darting across its screen. “I’m texting Chris,” she said, “to tell him that his best friend is ridiculously sappy.”

Noora tilted her head, and then nodded. “Yeah.”

NOREJFELL

"William, we can’t go on a ski vacation.”

“Why not?”

Sitting beside him on the living room couch, Noora glanced away from the movie they were ostensibly watching to roll her eyes at her boyfriend. “Because”—her boyfriend who was currently booking a room at the nearest ski resort—“I don’t know how to ski.”

“You will.” A few locks of hair slipped past William’s eyes when he looked up from his laptop screen. “I’ll teach you. Anyone can ski.”

Which was probably true if you’d spent your high school years vacationing at a russ friend’s Swiss Alps chalet. “You want to spend your birthday watching me fall all over a mountain?” Leaning back against a fringed pillow, Noora crossed her arms.

William’s lips twitched. “I’ve already seen you fall.”

"No, you haven’t.”

“You fell for me.” Humor tugged at the corners of his lips.

It prodded hers too. “Are you trying to get me to call you a cliché?”

“No, I’m trying to distract you into agreeing with me. Say that it’s working.”

Feet away, the TV, which neither of them had bothered to mute, burst with swelling, superhero music and super-villain explosions. Feet away in the other direction, Eskild’s voice pitched into the room.

“Oh my God, Noora.” Eskild himself followed, clad in a silken robe, though the clock had just struck noon. “When your boyfriend says he wants to take you to a ski resort, you don’t whine that you can’t ski. Think of all the hot, ski condo sex you’ll be having.” On his way towards the kitchen sink and a glass of water, he leered at William. “If she won’t go, I will.”

Her boyfriend answered Eskild’s teasing with a smirk that sent her straight back to all his light first year flirting. “See?” he said to her, not bothering to lower his voice or look away from their roommate. “You have competition.”

Noora patted his shoulder. “I’m sure you two will have a very cozy time together.” William stole her palm barely a second later. His fingertips drawled questions across her palm lines until she finally interrupted another television screen explosion. “Okay. For your birthday.”

(He booked their flights with one hand, kept stroking her mound of Venus with the other.)

Their first day at Norefjell brought sheets of snow down from the sky and sheets of ice across the slopes.

The hotel room was small and rustic—clearly more so than William was accustomed to, despite the months he’d spent living without his father’s money now, if his raised eyebrows were anything to go by—but that stopped mattering the minute they fell onto the bed. Fell on top of each other. Stayed there all day, only untangling their limbs for food and water.

“You like ski vacations,” William said, late into the night as snow continued to fill the high-altitude air beyond their window.

Noora shook her head into his palm. “No,” she denied, grinned.

“You like laying here with me then.”

She turned her cheek just enough to press her lips against his wrist.

The second day pulled them out of bed and onto the ski lifts. Noora had expected the world to loom impossibly white around them, yet, for every layer of powder, there were a dozen skiers to muddy it with ski soles and poles. Even now, sitting as close to William as the ski lift chair allowed, their knees touching and skis tapping, patches of snowboarders kept speeding beneath them to remind Noora that they hadn’t left reality for a snow globe.

(One of the speediest of those snowboarders wiped out right below them, a flailing mess of white snow, black snow-pants, and bright red sleeves. Noora winced.)

"You’re cute,” William said when she adjusted her goggles and helmet.

“Mhm.” The only headgear he’d donned was a grey hat—not even a particularly thick one. “We could be cute together if you’d wear a helmet.”

The cold breeze brushed the ends of his hair. “You’re cute,” he repeated.

The third day, William had a newly rented ski helmet and a confession.

“I’ve been here before,” he told her that evening as they walked around the resort, limbs sore from two full days of skiing. (Noora’s legs were sore, anyway. William had made it up to her with frequent hot cocoa breaks, all over the mountain.)

Noora’s hair slipped past her ears when she tilted her head, baring their cartilage to the night’s frosted breeze. “During Nissen?”

His own hair shook past his forehead when he shook his head. “When I was younger. Eight maybe. Before the accident.”

Her throat dried of sound, her tongue of words. Noora pulsed her fingers with his, swallowed, and managed, “With your family?”

Noise hummed from the bars and restaurants dotting their stroll. William’s silent nod felt louder in her ears, her eyes, her chest. Or maybe just weightier.

“My mom spent the day in the spa, of course. No interest in stepping outside, never mind onto skis. And my dad liked the harder slopes, so we went into lessons.”

We meaning Nico and Amalie. Names he almost never said.

His next smile looked painful. Like it cost his mouth something to wear. “Amalie fell on one of the easy runs and hurt her knee. The instructor said she was fine, but I saw her face. So when we reached the next lodge, I took her in for cocoa and refused to leave.”

“I can picture that.” Vividly. William, tiny of frame and skis, staring down a fully-grown instructor to declare that he was going to take care of his little sister, rules be damned. (In her head, he’d still worn his hair long enough to need comb it out of his eyes as he said it.)

“My father was furious.” She could picture that too. “But it was worth it. We just sat there, drinking cocoa for the rest of the day. We probably had eight cups.”

Noora held his hand even more tightly through her red mittens. Ever the protector.

William didn’t say anything else as they searched for a restaurant, just tightened his grasp on her hand right back.

The third night, they only slept, faces buried in each other in lieu of the pillows.

The fourth day—

"Happy birthday, William.” The fourth day, they stayed in bed again to celebrate his birthday. She managed to find him a chocolate cake at a local bakery, decked with frosting white enough to match the snow.

“I couldn’t find any plates,” Noora apologized as she lifted the small bakery box onto the comforter, above their knees. “We might have to improvise.”

William grinned at her. Raked his eyes over her body, naked save for the wrinkled sheet. “I’ll manage.”

(She'd really thought she was growing out of blushing for him.)

BARCELONA

When they went to Barcelona, Chris and Eva came too.

"Chris and I have never gone on a vacation together,” Eva explained, spread out across Noora’s bed and looking up at the ceiling. “We can’t go alone.”

From her cross-legged spot packing on the floor, Noora glanced up to point out, “You’re alone all the time.”

“Not in a foreign city! I need someone to hang out with if he ditches me for a hot Spanish girl.”

“Eva. Chris wouldn’t take you to Spain just to hit on other girls.” Honestly.

“And if I want to ditch him for a hot Spanish guy,” Eva carried on, unperturbed, “he’ll have William. It’s a good plan.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” She knew from William that Chris hadn’t even looked at another girl since he and Eva had officially started dating—that his fuck up with Emma back at Sana’s Eid party had provided him with a steady source of miserable regret, and that he had no intention of repeating it. (That William had no intention of letting him repeat if it meant he had to deal with that much whining all over again.) “Neither of you is ditching the other for anyone.”

And Noora knew from her friendship with Eva—not to mention basic observation—that she’d never cheat on anyone again. Ever. Let alone Chris, who Eva had spent the entirety of her (short-lived) second attempt at a relationship with Jonas missing. Who she was clearly crazy about.

Eva strained her chin to meet Noora’s exasperated stare. “Then we’ll party with our best friends in one of the best clubbing cities in Europe. It’s still a good plan.”

Biting her tongue, Noora rolled her eyes.

"We don’t have to be here,” William said into her ear, his voice raised, but muted by the club’s blaring techno heartbeat. “We can leave.”

Pasted against his side, a club soda in her hand, Noora shook her head into his button-up white shirt. “No. This will be fun.”

Taking a swig of his beer, William squinted down at her. “Really.”

Okay, maybe not fun. The club was crowded, loud, and frantic with pulsing lights. But they’d spent the day touring all the packed museums and Gaudi architecture she liked. No one had even complained when she nominated a—mostly vegetarian—restaurant called Flax & Kale for lunch.

(Well. Chris might have complained a little, but William and Eva had glared him into shutting up.)

Even though Noora firmly believed that no one should visit a foreign city without seeing at least its very most famous sights, she knew that she’d dominated the trip itinerary so far; that the city was known for its clubs and that William didn’t get to party nearly as much as he once had. As much as their best friends still did.

She blinked up at him. “How else will I meet a hot Spanish guy?”

William nipped her ear. “There will be no meeting of hot Spanish guys.”

“Dance with me then.”

And he did, all night.

(There was in fact some meeting of hot Spanish guys, later, when Eva begged her to use her language skills to flirt their way into free drinks. Technically, Noora didn’t believe in the exchange of flirtation for beverages—the objectification and commodification of it.

But Eva was tipsily, insistently persuasive. And the drinks were insanely overpriced.

William and Chris both looked distinctly put out when they returned, Eva with a hot pink cocktail, Noora with a clear one that she immediately handed off to her boyfriend.

“We could have bought you drinks,” Chris said, the laugh lines on his face torn between offense and amusement.

Eva shook her head, offering him a sip of her cosmo. “Oh, that’s no fun.”

Meanwhile, Noora relaxed into William’s arms.

“No more Spanish guys,” he kissed the letters into her neck.

She turned to pat his chest. “Enjoy your drink.”)

PARIS

During Noora’s first year at university, William informed her that she should plan on missing at least one day of classes during her birthday week.

“You can’t just tell me a day,” she said as they strolled down the city sidewalks beneath the cool winter clouds. “Which day?”

“Friday. Monday. You choose.”

(She didn’t realize at the time that she was choosing which day they’d be flying to Paris.)

“Pick for me.”

William frowned. “You don’t want to pick your own macarons?”

Standing in line at Laduree, surrounded by pastel decorations and pastries, Noora leaned a kiss into her boyfriend’s cheek. “Surprise me,” she challenged.

He narrowed his eyes at the display case. (Noora debated telling him that he didn’t have to look so serious—as though her first trip to Paris might implode from one badly chosen dessert.) (She’d obviously say if he skipped any of the flavors she wanted.)

When he glanced back at her a moment later, William immediately caught the smirk tempting the corners of her lips. “I’m winning this game,” he informed her, more amused now that he realized the rules.

"We'll see," she teased.

William knew enough French to order in the language when they reached the counter. He didn’t falter when the slim cashier asked him which six he’d like:

Chocolate. Easy, but yes. Lemon. Yes. Raspberry. Yes. Vanilla. Yes. Rose. Yes. Lavender.

“Six out of six,” she murmured against his earlobe as the man behind the glass display case packaged them into a long, light purple box.

“Of course,” William said, raising a brow and a smirk for her. “I know you.”

She might even let him steal of one of her macarons.

Later, among the packed shelves of Shakespeare and Company, William swerved around the readers and tourists to wrap an arm around her waist.

“Want to play another game?” she asked once she’d strung her fingers through his.

His mouth, his eyes, his entire face seemed to arch. Noora rolled her eyes, swatting his chest. “Not that kind of game. Not here. Where would we even…” she shook her head.

William shrugged, unashamed and unfazed.

“No. Our games don’t all have to be about public sex, William.” Noora looked up at the ceiling, and shook her head again. (Even if most of the ones she’d suggested lately, admittedly, were. Finding somewhere closed off enough, staying quiet enough, returning without raising eyebrows and questions.) “I’m going to find a book for you, and you’re going to find one for me.”

William tilted his head at her, his look intent.

Pressing her curved lips together, she shrugged.

He kept staring at her for another second, and then turned around. “Noora Amalie Sætre,” he said over his shoulder, “I’m going to find the best damn book you’ll ever read.”

She already had one in mind for him.

"Very funny,” he said outside the store fifteen minutes later, when he pulled the new, store-stamped copy of Pride and Prejudice she’d bought for him out from its paper bag.

(Eskild had nominated the 2005 adaptation for a Kollektivet movie night a few weeks before—which had resulted in his enthusiastic declaration that she and William were a complete Lizzie and Darcy romance. “You know, if Darcy gave up all the insane money and moved in with the Bennets in the end.”

“Who does that make you?” she’d teased from her spot on William’s lap.

“Jane of course. Your sweet, universally loved older sibling. Linn can be…” he waved a hand at their blanket-laden roommate. “Who do you want to be, Linn?”

“No one.”

“Linn can be that extra. The sitting one, who looks like she’d rather be in bed.”)

Now, in an effort to avoid milling tourists, Noora leaned against the fountain that stood outside the bookshop. “You haven’t read it,” she accused. “You can’t be a scholar and not read Jane Austen. People will call you a misogynist.”

William brought his face down to hers so that he could murmur, “I’m not a scholar” right into her mouth.

She bit his lower lip in reply. Then kissed it. Then kept kissing it until she felt the edges of a hardback poking her palm.

“The Little Prince?” she read the title, slanting her chin down as she opened the front cover.

“It’s French. And it was my favorite when I was younger.” As soon as she opened her mouth to reply, he had two fingers pointed at her. “Don’t call me a cliché.”

But Noora just brought the book to her chest. “It was one of mine too.” Hugged it for a blink. “My parents donated my copy during a spring cleaning purge.”

She could feel his beam, strong as the sunlight. I know you. He didn’t have to say it aloud this time.

On the actual day of her birthday, they drank hot chocolate at Angelina in the 1st arrondissement.

“Better than mine?” William asked through a crooked smile, rubbing a dash of chocolate from her mouth.

“No.” Her tongue swept across the skin just above her lip, brushing his thumb tip on its quest for misplaced cocoa. “Not cold enough.”

Angelina's hot chocolate tasted like actual melted chocolate, and definitely should have ranked above any hot cocoa he’d ever made for her. (Noora wasn’t entirely convinced that she wasn’t drinking melted chocolate.) It didn’t matter. William’s was William’s, and she’d never forget sipping it from the thermos he’d given her on their first date. Sipping it through those first moments of understanding him, of realizing, dreading, that she could like him.

Laughter haunted William’s next breath. “Happy birthday, Noora.”

MADRID

The next time they looked at flights, Madrid was the cheapest option.

“Here?” William asked.

Sitting beside him on her fully made bed, her laptop propped between them, Noora pressed her lips together. She hadn’t been to Madrid since moving to Oslo. Hadn’t particularly wanted to. None of her friendships there had been strong enough to last the distance, and her memories there hadn’t been bright enough to bring her back.

Objectively, Noora knew Madrid was a beautiful city. Vibrant. Lots of culture, lots of people, lots to do. It wasn’t fair that her memories of living there all echoed in shades of grey and isolation.

“I don’t know.”

Without raising his head from her shoulder, William met her eyes. “You never miss it?”

Noora leaned her head against his. Considered that. Madrid had meant a lot to her at the time—would probably always mean a lot to her, in some ways. Independence and freedom and loneliness and new beginnings. “I like where I am now.” Her eyes fell back to the screen. “But maybe I miss a few things.” A few restaurants and parks and sights. Not the guarded pieces of herself that might still haunt its streets.

"Will you show me?”

She didn’t answer aloud, but knew he could feel her nod.

Madrid should have been just as she remembered it. She should have gotten deja vu or maybe even nostalgia, walking the same routes that she’d wandered at age fifteen.

Fifteen. So young to be so alone. Noora realized that now, even if she hadn’t at the time.

“I’m picturing you living here,” William told her, scanning their every surrounding. The open apartment windows, the beaming sun, the rushing traffic.

Noora shook her head. “I know it was only a few years ago, but it feels like another life.” Another city, now that she has longer hair, a lighter smile, a phone buzzing with missed group message texts from her friends, and William’s arm around her. William’s hand in hers. William with her.

He could have mocked for the cliché of that sentence, but didn’t. “I like you in this life.” Instead, he stopped looking around the city, at least for a moment, to look at her.

So much lighter. “Mhm. I’m likable.”

William grinned into her hair.

On Sunday, they lay on a blanket at Parc du Retiro, the grass sunlit green around them. Empty, takeaway salad containers sat forgotten at their sides as Noora breathed into the crook between William’s neck and shoulder, his fingertips long lost in her hair.

They had a night flight. Only a few more hours left here.

"What do you want to do before we leave?” William mumbled, his eyes half-closed.

Noora turned her cheek slightly, until she was peering up at the blue sky. They’d already taken the Teleférico to look over the whole city. (The bird’s eye view from the cable car had been beautiful; the promised food at the top had not been. Just frozen restaurant meals and vending machines, no fruit whatsoever. She’d made it up to herself by insisting that they go to her favorite hummuseria for a late lunch.)

They’d done other things too: the Temple of Debod, desserts at Chocolatería San Ginés, the stalls at Mercado de San Miguel.

All terribly touristy. All the best times she’d ever had in Madrid.

She reached up to press her lips into her boyfriend’s cheek. “Can we just do this?”

William’s hands kept up their rhythm in her hair when he nodded. “Anything.” Then when he kissed her.

(The with you went unsaid.)

#noorhelm #noora x william #noora sætre #william magnusson #fanfiction #skam #otp: we have to be together #my writing #gamorra #sooooo i haven't actually been to most of these places and am very sorry if lots of details are totally off base!

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phantasmkiss · 7 years

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Calypso

QC Monthly Challenge #19

Billionaire Mason Parsons had an ego, that much was obvious. He'd commissioned an obscenely large yacht, and from what I could tell, it was mostly to impress other people. He loved his new toy so much that he commissioned a website to go with it, and that's where I came in.

I'm a graphic designer by trade, and I made a bid on the job. I couldn't say why he chose me, but he did, and I was determined to live up to expectations. Mason invited me and my daughter to see Calypso herself on a weekend-long holiday off the coast of Newcrest to get a feel for her before I began. How could I say no?

I met his family first, and wondered what I had gotten myself into. His father, Matthew Parsons, was a big-wig investor who'd started out as a "Mailroom Technician," which sounds like a fancy way to say he brought people's mail to their desks. He'd recently married a woman younger than either of his children, and the two were definitely in their honeymoon phase.

Mason's sister, Madison, had a Can I see your manager? haircut, and I recognized her husband, Ramsey Zeng. He was one of those young men who'd made millions launching companies. Chronos magazine had called him a "Tech Guru" and a "Dot-Com Pioneer." He seemed to be trying to talk to their daughter, Audrey, as Madison complained about how long it was taking to set the stairs up next to the yacht.

Finally, the man himself showed up.

I'd dressed my best and was glad of it. For all the Internet stalking research I'd done, seeing Mason Parsons in person was an experience. The ego I'd expected, but not the charm. Mason was outgoing, self-assured, and, dare I say it? Extremely handsome! He welcomed me and my daughter, Alexandria, as though we were the guests of honor, not an employee doing hands-on research and her plus-one.

We chatted for a bit, then he led the way, a brisk breeze ruffling our clothing as we mounted the steps. There we met the pilot, Mitchell Kalani, and the activities director, aptly named Summer Holiday!

We went to the bridge while the crew brought our luggage and readied rooms. I pulled back the scarf I'd worn to protect my hair from the wind and promptly forgot to be nervous in my excitement.

Mason and Mitch explained the navigation equipment to me while Alexandria asked Summer every question she could think of. How fast could Calypso go? (Eighteen knots, though she cruised at twelve.) Who'd built her? (She was based on a design by Christensen Shipyards, originally called Casino Royale.) How big was she? (Forty-six squares long by fifteen squares at her widest.)

I even got to wear the Captain's hat!

Alexandria and I were shown to our rooms by Siobhan (pronounced sheh-vahn) Fyres. Each room had a double bed, a desk and Wi-Fi enabled computer, a lot of storage, and a private bathroom. Alexandria claimed a room on the starboard side, and I was across the hall.

I found something in my room which hadn't been in my daughter's, and began to wonder about our host's true intentions.

Little time passed before we were back out on the deck. It was late afternoon by then, as we said goodbye to Twin Oracle Point and began our journey to sea.

We were called to supper promptly at 7 pm. and the spread was fabulous! Alexandria, Mason and I chose the lobster, though there was also steak, gnocchi, and several things I couldn't quite identify. I ordered a non-alcoholic Purple Rain and Alexandria had something pink that shot off sparks when she first got it!

We were joined by Sims I hadn't realized were aboard, and I got a little starstruck. Apparently Mason's friends include the Landgraabs and the Goths, though Bella Goth was missing during the meal. Geoffrey Landgraab is a really nice, down-to-earth guy, something I hadn't expected, considering his wife's rumored criminal activity.

After supper was karaoke! Some of the guests were a little juiced by then. Matthew's wife, Aura, broke the ice with Madonna's Like a Virgin, which was a little awkward for the rest of us. Mason's niece sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow before being sent off to bed, and she did an amazing job!

I wanted to sing, but didn't have the nerve until Alexandria dragged me on stage. It was tough finding a duet that wasn't romantic, and even harder finding one we both knew, but we finally settled on Good Time, by Owl City and Carly Rae Jepson. It was a lot of fun!

A few Sims wandered off to bed, Alexandria included, though I think she was more interested in gossiping to her friends online than she was in sleeping! The rest of us went out onto the upper deck for music and dancing.

I recognized Alice Spencer-Kim on the piano and waved hello. This would be a nice job for her, but I bet she couldn't wait to get home to her family!

After hours of socialization, I needed quiet, but didn't want to stray too far. I stopped at the edge of the deck to look out over the water. The night was beautiful, buildings along the shore lit up, moonlight reflecting off the water. I wasn't alone for long.

Mason joined me, and for some moments, the silence was comfortable. When he spoke at last, he said some things I won't write, lest my daughter read this!

Our earlier tour hadn't included the master suite, but it was as modern and sleek as the rest of the yacht. It had the usual bed and storage, of course, but also had two walk-in closets, a vanity, and a high-end television.

I took the time to write down notes for my web design before checking out the master bathroom as well.

The master bathroom was as large as my entire suite! It had the same amenities, a shower and a tub, but dual sinks and far more space.

Later I met with Alexandria on deck. She loves kids, and had made fast friends with Audrey. This forced her parents to spend time talking with each other, which seemed to work out. Her mother was finally beginning to relax.

I was talking with Mason when I saw sea turtles off the port stern. They swam alongside the yacht for a moment, but when Alexandria came over, she had missed them!

We talked, and everyone decided to go for a swim, or snorkeling, or simply lounging in the sun. I took Alexandria with me. I spotted the turtles again! This time Alexandria didn't miss a thing, and we watched them for some time.

It was one thing seeing aquatic life from the yacht, but quite another to swim amongst it all. We saw schools of fish below a nearby dock, sea grasses and flowers, and I thought I saw a treasure chest, though I lost track of it in the excitement. Maybe someone else will be lucky!

We returned to Calypso, where the Parsons family was having a casual lunch on the top deck. We ate and talked where the night before we had danced. I decided I had misjudged Matthew's young wife. She really did seem to love him, and he could be as charming as his son.

After lunch, most of the others wanted to lie in the sun. Alexandria and I took that time to go exploring on-board! We started with the door off the dining room, which naturally led to a kitchen.

The kitchen had a double wide refrigerator and two sinks, as well as two dishwashers! I could smell something baking and hear someone moving around in the next room, so we took off before we could get caught!

The kitchen wasn't the only crew area we wandered into. We found an office/lounge as well. It was sparsely furnished, but clean and well-stocked. We talked about taking a skeleton key with us, but didn't actually do it. Anything that was locked up, we were fine staying out of!

The last stop on our private tour was the engine room. I hadn't imagined how much machinery it would take to run a ship of this size! Alexandria and I looked, but didn't touch, and finally we went to rejoin the party.

Mason was with Geoffrey Landgraab in the gym. Summer offered to coach us if we wanted to try the equipment, so we changed into our workout clothes and jumped onto the treadmills!

As promised, it was a bracing environment to exercise! I've rarely had so much fun exercising, though I wasn't at it long before I pulled a muscle.

Alexandria took me to the infirmary, which was small, but had everything I needed. Summer and Siobhan tended to my injury, which was thankfully minor, and I was advised not to overexert myself for the rest of the holiday. I had been very active!

There was a movie playing in the recreation room, and several Sims gathered to watch it, to read, or to play chess. Audrey played a very good game against her grandfather, though he won in the end.

I was feeling inspired, so I brought out my paints and easel. Alexandria watched me for a while, as I began to paint a passing canal boat, but Audrey came to find her, and they left together.

I later found them together, reading The First Unicorn. It was one of Alexandria's favorite books from when she was younger, and she'd brought it in case she got bored. That had never happened, but she had found someone else to share her love of reading!

Supper was amazing again, and this time everyone joined us. The table seated all thirteen Sims, with room to spare!

Alexandria and I stayed up half the night talking about everything we'd seen and done. She confronted me about my feelings for Mason, but I assured her that I have no intentions of settling down any time soon! She swore to me that if he broke my heart, she'd punch his yacht.

Finally, our holiday was at an end. It was hard saying goodbye to the crew, who felt like friends now, hard saying goodbye to the life of luxury, and to Mason.

While Alexandria hugged Audrey goodbye, Mason and I stepped aside to talk. I told him that I didn't feel right beginning a relationship while I was working for him, however distantly. I thought that it would be easier to do the job than to risk my heart after so many years with only my daughter to care for.

He countered with a rose, as fresh and beautiful as the one I’d found on my pillow that first night.

We had exchanged contact information before this weekend even happened, and though I'd heard he was a non-committal playboy, he promised to contact me again. Is this the end of a holiday, or the beginning of something else?

At last, Alexandria and I stood alone on the dock, watching Calypso ready to move on.

Who is Mason Parsons, really? An eccentric billionaire? A heartless rogue? Or is there something more to him, below the polished walls he puts up all around him? Maybe someday I'll find out.

Yacht: Calypso in the Sims 4 Gallery

Parsons Family in the Sims 4 Gallery

Note: Captain’s hat is CC and not included. You can find it here, though.

(Origin ID: PhantasmKiss)

#sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 build #sims 4 base game

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thatz-not-okay · 6 years

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I work on a boat. Our newest crew member whistles incessantly. We also live on the boat, so I can't really escape it when I go home, which is down below in the cabin adjacent to his.

When there's music playing—which is all the time—his whistling becomes almost frenzied. It's kind of atonal and arrhythmic with regards to the songs he's supposedly whistling along to, which makes it especially annoying—although I think even if he were a gifted whistler I'd still be going up the wall. I find myself turning off music because I can't take it anymore. Although I've never said anything, he mentioned previous captains and crew gave him a hard time for it, and I can see why. It never stops.

Now, I like the guy. He's very nice and a great worker. But I actually think the whistling might prevent him from being hired after his trial period, a long three months from now. We are five people sharing very close quarters, so a compulsive behavior can really drive everyone nuts, especially me because I usually work with him all day. We haven't had to be on anchor with him yet—but that gets really claustrophobic really fast and I'm worried I'll lose it and go off on him.

I don't want to make a delicate working/living situation awkward—which is so easy to do and so hard to undo on a boat—but I'm at my wit's end. I'd like to ask him to be more aware of how often and how loudly he whistles. Is that okay?

Thatz okay.

First of all, this "atonal," "arrhythmic," "almost frenzied" whistling sounds nightmarish—I'm picturing something like the first few seconds of this 1992 commercial starring Vanessa Paradis as a human bird that wants to sell you Chanel.

Unwanted noise when you're trying to work is the worst.

When I work from the Gawker offices, which are loud because the machine that purposely inserts the typos into the blog posts makes a lot of racket, I do so while wearing earplugs and noise canceling headphones and listening to white noise (brown noise) and it's STILL TOO MUCH NOISE.

But at the end of the day, I get to leave. You are trapped with a person who is simultaneously the world's most annoying coworker and roommate.

Now, as the fearsome Pirates Who Don't Do Anything taught us, a little sing-along every once in a while can be a great way to raise crew spirits and break up the tedium of days at sea. But whistling, like the stream of questions that flows from a child relentlessly interrogating her father about basic atmospheric science, is one of those sounds that is only entertaining when you catch a snippet of it in passing. A guy walking by your window whistling a tune is a charming chap on his way to meet his best gal. A guy standing underneath your window whistling a tune is a menace.

I'm touched that you're concerned your coworker's whistling might prevent him from eventually being hired longterm; if I were in your situation, I would spend every day wishing he would just get fired already.

Normally for something like this, I would recommend broaching the subject in a jokey way.

"Are you Flo Rida? Because you been singin' that Whistle song since you got here!"

"Do I look like Anna McNeill Whistler, sitting for a portrait in your London studio? Because you got me feeling like Whistler's Mother!"

"WOW, YOU REALLY WHISTLE ALL THE GODDAMN TIME AND IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY AND I WANT TO STRANGLE YOU haha!"

But you say he's already mentioned that past Snow Whites have given him grief for whistling while he works.

A good lifehack is that if everyone at your old job and the job you had before that and the job you had before that confronted you with the same complaint about your annoying habit, you should do your best to eliminate that habit from your repertoire of tricks. Your coworker has, for whatever reason, chosen not to abide by this tip. Maybe he can't, because it's a nervous tic. Maybe he won't because he's a water demon, who whistles while aboard ships even though a common sailor superstition holds that whistling on a ship is bad luck.

Doesn't it seem odd that this charismatic stranger—with eyes the gray-green of the ocean during a storm, who always smells slightly of sulfur—strode into your lives at the exact moment you were looking to hire someone? Isn't it strange that this seasoned old salt would have no work references? No past? No clothes except the ones he was wearing the day you met him? No plans for the future because "I always seem to land on my feet..."

Perhaps he travels from port to port, joining up with new ships and setting sail, only days later to whistle up hellish tempest that casts his wretched crew into the sea, their souls a mere drop in the bucket of his yearly quota.

Either way, since gentle joshing has historically shown no effect, I would go to the skipper on the issue of the whistling. He's the one with the authority to do something drastic if he thinks it's appropriate, including banishing this sea demon to the churning tide whence he came. Otherwise, you're just one more jerk with no sway telling this guy to "stop being so annoying."

If the captain declines to intervene, try keeping the whistler's mouth occupied with an endless supply of chewing gum.

I am the kind of person who hates useless junk. I detest Snuggies/fancy soap dispensers / Batman snow-globes or anything of the ilk that some people buy when they have no proper meaningful (birthday) gift. Since I hate crap like that so much I prefer to give away experiences as gifts. I plan on giving my friend Mike theater-tickets for his upcoming birthday. We both like theater and we rarely see each other, so I thought it would be nice if just the two of us went and saw a play with me footing the bill. Right? A mutual friend says: Wrong! Her reasoning is that if I want to give him theater tickets I should just give him two tickets and let him decide whom to bring. (At this point let me state that I have absolutely no romantic interest in Mike!) Maybe he will want to go with me, maybe he will want to go with a date, his tickets, his business. I disagree. Me going to the theater with Mike, is part of the gift, isn't it? Is that okay?

Thatz not okay.

No, you cannot give your friend "theater tickets" for his birthday, and then, as he's accepting them, jerk one away and say "Actually, it's ‘theater ticket' because I'm coming too."

You also cannot treat him (and you!) to a couple's massage. You cannot book him a night in a fancy honeymoon suite "and I'll come too because we never get a chance to gab!" You cannot buy him a wedding dress so that, if he ever doesfind a woman to marry (he won't find her at the theater—you'll be his date to that), she won't have to spend money on a gown. (Just pick out one that looks great on you—he'll probably marry somebody your size, right? Maybe he'll even marry you, haha, just joking...just...joking...)

And, though it is great, you must resist the temptation to buy him the most thoughtful gift of all: a present for you, so that when your next birthday rolls around, he won't have to shell out for one. So much hassle saved! No need to send flowers, Mike; a thank-you card will suffice.

A presence is not a present, especially if it's imposed. The polite thing to do in this situation is to give your friend both tickets and let him bring whomever he chooses.

If you present him with two tickets, there's a chance he'll feel obligated (or maybe even want! You guys have great chemistry.) to invite you as his theater date anyway. But let him decide that if for no other reason than he can feel generous for using his birthday present on you.

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jessestoddard · 7 years

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Welcome to Chapter 10 of my blog-to-book project: Life After High School: Secrets To A Successful Life By Those Who Have Had Twenty Years To Think About It (or) What They Didn’t Teach Us Gen Xers In High School. This chapter is called Gift Registry. If you missed the last post, click here, otherwise, you can start at the beginning here.

September 6th, 2004, on her birthday, I married Mae del Puerto. I had proposed to her on the ferry-boat coming back into Anacortes from Shaw Island. She was mad about some screaming kid and I interrupted her and asked her to marry me. Talk about interrupting someone’s pattern! I have no idea if it was romantic or random or both, but it worked.

I went and asked her father’s permission. Being much older, he is not only from a previous generation (WWII), but also a different culture (the Philippines), and was not too happy with our new fangled way of living our lives (in sin), which he was showing by being very cold to me and giving me more of the silent treatment on top of the silent treatment he normally dished out.

I must admit now, that I don’t agree with our choices anymore either, proving once again that I am a crotchety old man before my time. The only thing he said to me that day was: “It’s about time.” I quickly got out my English-In-A-Visayan-Philippino-Dialect-With-Spanish-Accent Dictionary and translated it into: “Welcome to the family. Now, don’t screw it up.”

We were married at the lookout point in Washington park and just happened to have the best sunset in the history of man that evening. It was just her parents, mine, and her brother’s immediate family.

I should have kept it at that.

We felt we needed to do something for our extended family and friends (as two bright-eyed newlyweds are bound to do) and therefore threw a reception party on my birthday on September 13th. We thought that was cute and clever, and it’s easier to remember. The reception was great, except it cost me selling my Microsoft stock which I had been accumulating over the years since before the split, which would have turned into a lot more money if I had held it even longer.

The money is gone, we never even got to eat, and most of the people there don’t like us anyway.

Word to the wise: Stop caring about trying to please everyone, since you always end up looking like a jerk and people get jealous.

…

We did the whole registration thing, yet every single guest did the same exact thing! They all completely ignored our list.

“Honey, do you think we should get Mae and Jesse these highly utilitarian things that they might actually use on a regular basis?”

“Oh, they’re such a fun couple, let’s just get them that martini shaker.”

My wife and I don’t even drink!

Still, we end up with 4 plates and three thousand dollars worth of barware.

We could have opened our own tavern.

They either thought we were a bunch of lushes, or that we’d be divorced in a week.

“Those two are getting married? Good luck. Better get ‘em that set of shot glasses. They’re gonna need to start drinking right away.”

Before our wedding, we were still doing everything backward. Mae bought a timeshare and we went to Hawaii on our honeymoon… Did I mention it was before our wedding? After our wedding, we went to the Philippines to meet her family… After the fact.

We traveled a bit and also saw Singapore and Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia. I was the only white guy on their island and it was not far from where only months after the news ran stories about the American that got beheaded by Muslim terrorists in their training camp. I was not uncomfortable at all. It was Meet The Parents meets Machetes.

I have thus far failed to mention that I continued to work in the fitness industry throughout the years. I worked around the clock during this period of my life and I did not sleep much.

As my grandpa always said, “You can sleep when you are dead.”

He’s dead, and I am tired, so I tend to try to avoid sleep deprivation now.

However, in my twenties, I had the need for money when I wasn’t working in the theater, and the gym job provided a good place to return to. I worked my way up to being assistant manager and personal trainer.

At one point, the owner offered me a chance to become a partner. I should have taken it, but I thought I might move away to New York or L.A. at a moments notice, so I turned it down. I probably should have taken the deal, as he was offering a chance to work my way into equity without having to come with cash of my own, which is extremely rare.

At one point, I worked for Pure Fitness, a chain of six clubs in Washington, run by an evil genius of an older used-car-lot style fitness mafia, era as their corporate sales manager.

I ran up and down the high rises of downtown Seattle and drove out to Bellevue and all around the area, trying to get entire companies to sign up for memberships all at once. The payoff was potentially very large for me, so I did hustle for a time. I landed a couple of huge accounts, namely Costco and Best Buy.

The commission check should have been on the order of sixty-thousand dollars, but right before that would happen, the managers above me decided to move me from one club to another and claimed that commissions I generated belonged to the former club and would not be transferred, so I was back to zero. I quit instead of fighting or suing. Unbeknownst to me, this started a string of negative business events that plagued me for years.

After Pure Fitness, I talked the powers that be at the 5th Avenue Theater (whom some affectionately called the gay mafia—their words not mine) into hiring me on in a business capacity, rather than as a performer. I explained all of my experience doing a variety of things in other fields, and they thought I would be a good fit to fill in as company manager for their new experimental launch of a show called Princesses.

The regular manager left the area to go work summer stock out-of-state, so they needed a fill-in. The 5th Avenue has a fine reputation for acting as an incubator for shows destined for Broadway, preparing and testing out a production in a lower-cost environment before sending it off to Broadway. It worked for Hairspray.

The problem for me was that I had no idea what I was doing.

I called the regular company manager, and after explaining my situation he was dumbfounded. He normally had to help out with travel arrangements for a small handful of people, while the rest of the ensemble and crew were locals. It was still tough to coordinate, but he had a simple system that worked. I explained to him that I was in charge of being the travel agent to a huge cast, and a huge crew and every single person needed to have separate arrangements at different times. He admitted he could not help, had no idea even what to recommend, and wished me luck.

To be fair, the men in charge did tell me they would get me help, which I did take them up on with an assistant, but I was at the time feeling guilty about not being able to handle it all myself on at least an organizational level, if not with all the details. The assistant I had would take some trips to the airport and handle a few things, but I was flying out to New York myself during some rehearsals and then back and working extra hours and getting very stressed out.

I felt the pay was abysmal, and I started questioning the entire arrangement, as more and more calls came in with greater and greater demands from all of these divas who fancied themselves important.

Finally, one night the choreographer called me up in the middle of the night ranting and cussing and telling me he would have my job because his taxi did not arrive. I worked to get him the ride, but he was so mad, that I was shaken up. It was the middle of the night and I had not had any free time in weeks, and I was on the edge of cracking.

I decided that night to craft a two-week notice letter. I offered to train someone to take my place and would not just leave them abruptly.

The next morning the artistic director called me and with rage cussed me out and told me to come back to work or he never wanted to see me again. It turned out it was an awkward end that would never be resolved. I tried to help out, but someone else was there to kind of tell me to go away.

Apparently, the director meant it and I have never seen him again.

Years later, I wrote him to apologize for my error of judgment. I feel I could have just asked for more help or perhaps just worked through it, and he did accept the apology. I am not sure who is at fault, but I am sorry either way. The Princesses show ended up being a flop and never went anywhere, and my career in local theater was destroyed.

I had just pissed off one of the most powerful people in the Seattle theater scene. Years passed before I ever did anything again, and by then I was much too old to be a chorus boy, which was my bread and butter.

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In the next post, I will continue with more interesting interviews.

Are you from Generation X? I want to hear what you think! Please comment below and participate in the conversation about What They Didn’t Teach Us Gen Xers In High School. What do you wish someone told you when you were eighteen?

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Life After High School: Chapter 11 Gift Registry Welcome to Chapter 10 of my blog-to-book project: Life After High School: Secrets To A Successful Life By Those Who Have Had Twenty Years To Think About It

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theripertoire · 8 years

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Our Honeymoon in the Maldives - 10 Days of Paradise!

When Toufic and I set a wedding date and started looking for the venue, I was already researching honeymoon destinations. Since we’ve both traveled quite a bit, both together and individually, we wanted to go somewhere we’ve never been before and try a new and different experience that literally involved the following:

Doing nothing at all.

Every time we travel somewhere, we return even more exhausted than when we got there. We usually have a super packed itinerary that allows almost no room for relaxation. Hence, us wanting to do absolutely nothing at all for once.

Our top choices were the following:

Maldives, Seychelles, Mauritius, Bora Bora, South Africa and New Zealand.

Because we wanted to stay at a resort where you basically do nothing all day and don’t feel the urgency to discover the city, we had to cross out South Africa and New Zealand. We also didn’t want to spend two days in flight, so we crossed out Bora Bora, which is a little too similar to the Maldives, but way too far in comparison. That left us with the holy trinity of the Indian Ocean: The Maldives, Mauritius and Seychelles.

To our luck, it was the perfect time to visit all three. We wanted the seclusion of the ocean, virgin beaches and lush nature, while enjoying the utmost levels of luxury. It was pretty much a no-brainer deciding on the Maldives. All we had to do was take one look a the breathtaking resorts (and the ocean villas), and we were sold. I believe it doesn’t get much better than that when you’re looking for a relaxing, lavish getaway.

After some more research, I realized that the further up north you are, the better the weather is. We were going for 10 days and didn’t want to risk running into bad weather. So, we booked at the Ja Manafaru, which is located in the northernmost atoll; and to our luck, our resort had exceptionally high ratings.

Whenever we want to book for an upcoming trip, I cross reference among several travel websites, as well as gather tips from locals and frequent travelers.

In this case though, we didn’t know anyone that had stayed at that resort, so we kept our fingers crossed and hoped for the best!

I was worried about the seaplane ride since it was so far north, but that turned out to be an unforgettable part of the experience.

So, we started with a pretty long, nine-hour layover in Doha, but it was fantastic. The Qatar Airways First and Business class lounges are truly on another level, and I spent my hours enjoying the food, relaxation, and shopping.

We then took a second flight that landed us in Male. While at the airport, a private SUV for the resort transported us to Ja Manafaru’s VIP airport lounge, while the team took our luggage and checked us in. I felt like royalty.

A couple of hours later, we boarded a 90-minute seaplane that gave us more than enough time to enjoy the marvelous views of the archipelago and the turquoise colored ocean beneath us. Once we were hovering above our island, I knew that it was going to be an unforgettable 10 days ahead. It was nothing short of magnificent.

Once we reached the island, we were welcomed by the friendliest staff, had some delicious cocktails, and were transported to our villa via a buggy and our very own villa host, Mangal, who made our stay unforgettable! No request was left unanswered.

Our villa was something else. We had been looking for a different experience, and we were certainly about to get it. The space was so fresh, airy and overlooking the ocean from every angle. We also had our very own private deck, which could be accessed from both the bedroom and bathroom separately. The deck had a plunge pool, swing and dining area. It also had steps that led us straight down to the ocean, where we spent our afternoons snorkeling and observing the sea cucumbers and colorful fish.

My villa favorites:

- The bathtub overlooking the deck

- The plunge pool

- The open air shower area

- The panoramic view of the ocean

- The Elemis bath products

- The daily, chilled fruits

- The sunset

We intended on spending 80% of our time in the room, but the resort proved to be a lot more beautiful and fun than we had anticipated. Most resorts in the Maldives have two restaurants and an optional bar. Ours had six restaurants and two bars. This is a very important detail to look out for if you’re booking a Maldivian getaway for over four days. We had just the right variety for the duration of our stay, and it truly made all the difference to have that many choices available.

The restaurants:

Ocean Grill: We had a couple of dinners here and the food was beyond amazing. It’s just what you would crave to eat on an island. It’s located right on the beach, with fairy lights, soft music and a beautiful sea breeze.

White Orchid: We had several dinners here. I think it was my favorite on the island. The food was so good, especially the appetizers, sashimis and makis, and teppenyaki. It’s very romantic and charming, and the tables overlook a lit up deck and a pitch black ocean.

The Cellar: We had two unforgettable dinners in this underground cellar. Talk about fine dining done right; from the succulent meat to the exquisite wine list. The lamb chops are probably the best I’ve had. We were even offered heated rocks to be placed by our feet to keep our body temperature warm.

Andiamo Bistro: a secluded, calm haven to have a delicious Italian lunch and go for a swim in the picturesque pool. We only had lunch here twice, and that’s because we were always too tempted to stay close to the ocean. It’s a beautiful and relaxing lunch spot, nevertheless.

Infinity Bar and Pool: We spent most of our afternoons lunching here. The food (especially the chirashi bowl and fish of day) is mouthwatering. Its infinity pool meets the ocean effortlessly and is a perfect spot for taking all sorts of beautiful photos. Toufic and I spent several nights here enjoying the delicious cocktails and cool music. It’s basically a restaurant and pool by day, bar and lounge by night. This was also one of our favorites.

Horizon Lounge: There’s no more perfect spot to relax, stretch your legs and enjoy the sunset. The mellow music and beautiful breeze add to the greatness of it all. We spent a couple of late afternoons here, but preferred to watch the sunset from our villa.

Kakuni: This restaurant is all about the buffet. Since Toufic and I are not buffet people, we tried it once for breakfast – and it served basically everything that you could possibly crave during breakfast.

Before I forget, Toufic and I booked a private beach dinner on our first night at the resort. It’s definitely something not to be missed. You’re literally in the middle of nowhere with just dim lights and the sound of the ocean. A private chef prepared our meal. The food is much better at the restaurants, but it’s the experience itself that’s worth the try.

To our surprise, our favorite part of the island’s F&B was the room service. The storage and presentation, the variety, the timeliness, the taste. On our last few days, we took advantage of this and spent more time in the villa, ordering away.

My food and beverage favorites:

- The weather at the Ocean Grill and White Orchid

- Sunsets at the Infinity Pool bar and Horizon Lounge

- The secluded lunches and dinners on our private deck

- The refreshing cocktails … and oh, the mojitos!

- The exquisite food at The Cellar

- The seafood in general – never had anything so fresh, especially the octopus sashimi

Naturally, we had to burn off some of those calories during our 10 days of binge eating, so we reluctantly decided to sign up for some water sports. To our surprise, this turned out to be the most exciting part of our trip! Toufic enjoyed jet skiing and some more extreme water sports that involved me screaming my lungs out, while I surprised myself at how much I enjoyed paddle boarding – and how good I am at it! The highlight of this all had to be the snorkeling experience. Never in a thousand years did I imagine that I would be so adventurous (yes, that’s adventurous for me). I can’t get over all the beautiful fish I saw, the colors, the reef – all that magical life beneath the surface … it’s something I wish I could relive over and over again.

My water activities favorites:

- You can actually have your breakfast there via in-room dining. We ordered fresh fruit platters and coffee

- The paddle boarding is everything

- Snorkeling is an unforgettable, magical experience and is a must!

There’s always a calm after the storm. In this case, it was our spa experience, which was the best we’ve had in any city, any resort, any hotel chain we’ve visited. We went for the Manafaru Signature massage – twice! Yes, it’s addictive. I couldn’t get over the beauty of the spa area, like something out of a fictional world: lush gardens and spiraling pathways over calm water in a sanctuary of calm. It was magical. We had our very own private hut with just the right soundtrack and room temperature. I called it 210 minutes of heaven, and I wish we could have stayed longer – both times!

My spa favorites:

- The landscape is truly something else

- The Manafaru Signature massage

- The generosity of the bathroom products

- The overall serenity

Another memorable experience we had was the sunset cruise to see the dolphins. I have to admit, we didn’t see a single one. But, it was so relaxing and the weather was amazing. It was very soothing to be seeing the cluster of islands while listening to the sound of the dhoni moving on the water.

A dhoni is a traditional Maldivian boat.

Speaking of water, nothing will ever beat the white sandy beach and the turquoise, clear ocean in the Maldives. Of all the beach destinations and islands I’ve ever traveled to, this by far beats them all. On some afternoons, we weren’t sure where the ocean ended and where the sky began. I couldn’t even count all the shades of blue. The weather was warm and sunny for 10 days straight, except for some clouds on our last day there. What made it so perfect was the constant breeze that was present day and night. It surpassed our expectations by light years.

To finish this up, the cherry on top at the resort had to be the staff. I can’t imagine our experience being the same without our wonderful villa host, Mangal, or the attentiveness, care and generosity of the team, or that contagious happy vibe that was present everywhere.

If I had to go back in time and choose a honeymoon destination, it would be exactly this. I wouldn’t change a single detail. Two days before checking out, we tried postponing for a couple more days in an attempt to hold on to that piece of paradise for as long as possible. We are already planning our next trip back to the Maldives end of this year, and it can’t come soon enough!

Traveler tips:

- The best time to go is between December and March.

- Book as early as possible to secure the best rates possible. I personally always book via booking.com. For a 10% discount on your booking via the JA Manafaru website, use my promo code RiriJa.

- Book for at least 3-4 days.

- For couples, I recommend you stay in one of the above water villas, while the beach villas are a better choice for familes with very young children.

- Make sure you book a photoshoot session with the photographer on the island. These are photos you will love and obsess over for the rest of your life.

- When packing, forget about your jeans, heels, or anything that’s too dressy or fussy. Opt for sun dresses, flowy maxi dresses, shorts, skirts, tanks, anything that feels good under the sun or when walking on sand. I found my flip flops to be the most useful item of clothing I brought with me.

- Pack light. You won’t need more than one fuss-free outfit per day - and tons of swimsuits!

- Make sure to take a hat, tons of sunscreen, and lots of aftersun lotion with you. Believe me, you will need it.

- Everything about the Maldives is costly, so make sure you have some money saved up to get the most of your trip.

- Take an underwater camera with you, and don’t forget to take it with you when snorkeling!

- If you don’t know which resort to pick, go for the one that’s farther north to increase your chances of good weather.

As I always say, it doesn’t matter where you go, as long as you go. Travel far, travel much, and find yourself while you’re at it.

Top and skirt by Aboud Jammal (IG handle: @aboudjammal)

Illustration by Fernanda Fuschino (IG handle: @fernandafuschino)

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