#this and the awkward elevator conversation with tom cruise

[sharpmouth]

nobody ever mentions patrick bateman getting a boner while staring intently at bono at a u2 concert

[queenxxxsupreme]

1950

A/N: I know no one asked for this but this has been in my head all freaking day and I had to do it.

Warnings: angst :)

You nodded your head, listening carefully as Wanda spoke about her fascination for astronomy. You weren’t even a hundred percent sure you were actually listening to what she was saying but there was a bright smile on her lips and her sweet voice was enough to make your heart race. 

“Watching the stars was always…. always something me and my brother enjoyed. We’d go out to an empty field and try to count them.” Her smile faltered just a little as she looked down at the rings on her hand. “When our parents died, we didn’t have time for the stars anymore. 

Your brows drew together and your chest tightened. You hated to see her sad, to see her upset. You weren’t too sure how to cheer her up. She didn’t like when people treated her differently. She hated that.

“You know, Plato said that astronomy compels the soul to look upwards and leads us from this world to another.” You quietly told her, finding yourself lost in her russet eyes. “Perhaps you look to the stars now hoping you’ll find him.”

She nodded softly, blinking the tears from her eyes as she held your gaze.

I hate it when dudes try to chase me

You were lost in the moment, completely captivated by the little smile on her pink lips and the way her eyes twinkled just a little. You forgot that you were in a coffee shop waiting in line until a man bumped into you.

“I am so sorry!” He was quick to apologize even though you knew he’d bumped you on purpose.

“It’s fine.” You gave him a smile and turned back to Wanda. He, however, wasn’t done talking to you.

“I’m Michael. Maybe I could pay for your drink.” He offered. 

“I’m not interested, but thanks.” You were short with him, wanting to get back to your conversation with Wanda. 

“But I really think you’d be missing out.”

But I love it when you try to save me 'Cause I'm just a lady

“She said she’s not interested.” Wanda told him, bringing his attention to her. 

“Look, I was just trying to be nice. There’s no need to be a bitch about it.”

Wanda stepped closer to the man and you stepped back, watching her carefully. 

“You haven’t seen me be a bitch yet.” She spoke in a low voice, her accent making her sound even more dangerously breathing. 

You couldn’t help but grin. To say you enjoyed when she stuck up for you was an understatement. It happened frequently since you were too shy and quiet to say anything mean or threatening to anyone. You relished in the feeling of pride knowing that you mattered enough to her that she’d stick up for you. 

I love it when we play 1950 It's so cold that your stare's 'bout to kill me

You found yourself sitting in your bed with her later that night, watching movies. The two of you often had movie night with Natasha too but she was on a mission with Clint. This left you and the Scarlet Witch alone. 

You weren’t too sure how you managed to be in the position you were, gazing silently into her eyes. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Neither of you had said anything for a while. You weren’t too sure what had gotten into Wanda but she sat up on her knees in front of you and placed her hand on your knee.

Your heart raced frantically in your chest and your stomach tightened. Your eyes flickered down to her lips. The gloss she wore was a soft pink color. It looked amazing on her. 

With no warning, Wanda carefully leaned forward, pressing her lips to yours. Almost instantly, you melted into her touch. 

I’m surprised when you kiss me

Your hand came up to hold her cheek, your thumb brushing across her warm cheek. She tasted like strawberries. 

Her hand found the side of your neck and then moved to your shoulder. 

The next thing you knew, you were flying backwards, pushed away from her by an invisible force. You hit the wall. Stars crossed your vision as you forced yourself to sit up. 

“Y/N!” Wanda cried out, her hand covering her mouth as she came to your side. She knelt down next to you, briefly looking you over to make sure you weren’t visibly injured. “I-I’m-I didn’t mean to! I’m so-so sorry.” She muffled her own words by putting her hand over her mouth. Tears were prominent in her eyes as she looked down at you.

“I’m okay.” You assured her, smiling softly as you rubbed the back of your head. 

You didn’t expect her to turn and leave your room hastily. But that’s what she did. Your lips parted as you felt your chest tighten. Your heart was crumbling. 

You knew she was with Vision. You weren’t sure what had overcome her to make her kiss you but you had hoped that by some miracle, she decided she didn’t want him anymore.

You put your head back against the wall, closing your eyes as you tried to talk yourself out of crying. 

So tell me why my gods look like you

The next morning, you trudged down to the kitchen, hoping to get a bowl of cereal and return to your room to be alone. But the entire team was in the kitchen enjoying breakfast with each other. 

“Good morning, Y/N.” Steve greeted you first. He usually did. He was a brother to you. 

“Morning, Steve.” You forced a smile on to your lips. Your voice was raspy and sounded worn. 

“Wow, Y/N. What did you do last night? You sound like shit.”

“Thank you, Tony.” You pulled a bowl out of the cupboard and poured cereal into it. “Just had a, uh, had a rough night.”

“Wanda said you two had movie night without me.” Natasha moved to stand next to you so she could refill her bowl. “What did you two watch? Was it any good?”

You couldn’t find your voice. You looked up at Wanda, who had been avoiding looking at you. That hurt. 

“We watched that, erm, that one movie.” You forced yourself to speak and to sound relatively normal. “The one with Tom Cruise and the fighter pilot thing.”

“Top Gun.” Clint said.

“You watched Top Gun?” Natasha furrowed her brows together, not buying your answer. You nodded your head and picked up your bowl of cereal.

“I’m in the middle of binge watching the Office, so please don’t bother me.” You spoke over your shoulder as you made your way towards the elevator. 

When you got to your room, you realized you forgot to grab a spoon. You cursed under your breath and left your room. However, you didn’t get far before Wanda stopped you. 

“Y/N!”

You stopped in your tracks and turned to face her. 

“Hi, Wanda.” You hated how weak your voice sounded. 

She stopped further away from you than what you thought was necessary. She was putting distance between you two. 

“Um, I just…. I wanted to clear up what happened last night.” She messed with her fingers, twisting one of her rings around. She did this when she was nervous or anxious about something. “I-I don’t know what happened-,”

“You kissed me.” You cut her off unintentionally. She paused for a moment, holding your gaze. 

“I did.” She nodded. “But I shouldn’t have.”

And tell me why it’s wrong

“But you did.” You whispered. You couldn’t get it out of your head that she had been the one to kiss you, not the other way around. That meant she wanted you, right? “You did, Wanda. Why?”

“I don’t know.” She whispered, her voice cracking. But it wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have done it. I just…. I don’t know. I’m so sorry for all of it. I don’t want this to mess with us. You’re my closest friend, Y/N.”

Though the words weren’t meant to hurt, they stung deeply and made you nauseous. You closed your eyes tightly and took a steady deep breath. 

“It’s okay, Wanda. We’re still friends.” You opened your eyes to look at her. A hopeful smile crossed her lips. 

“Thank you for understanding, Y/N. And can we not…. I don’t want Vis to find out. Can we keep this between us?”

You nodded and watched her leave the floor. The pain in your chest was unbearable. You couldn’t breathe. You moved back into your room just as you started to cry. 

Of course she didn’t want you. All you could do was hope that she’d change her mind. 

So I'll wait for you, I'll pray I will keep on waiting for your love

It took you weeks before you could comfortably leave your room and run into Wanda without feeling awkward. You learned to push the pain away. You would wait until she was ready to talk about the kiss to ask why she’d done it. She never gave you a real answer and that bothered you.

Steve and Natasha had asked what was wrong with you for days. They could see the way you moped around and didn’t make an effort to leave your room. They knew something was wrong, they just didn’t know what. 

You hadn’t told either of them. You told Wanda you would keep what happened between the two of you. You couldn’t betray her like that. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Steve poked his head into your room. “We’re going out for drinks. You wanna come with?”

“No thank you, Steve.” You shook your head, smiling a little at him as you tied your hair back into a ponytail. “I think I'm going to train a little.” 

“At 8:30 in the evening?” He raised his brows at you. 

“Why not?” You shrugged your shoulders. 

He didn't buy it. 

“You sure you don't wanna talk about what's been bothering you?” He leaned against the frame of the door. 

You bit your bottom lip and looked around your room, nodding your head softly. 

“I’m sure.” 

“Steve!” Someone called for him from further down the hallway. It sounded like Sam. “Come on, man.”

“I’m right behind you.” Steve told him, then brought his eyes back to you. You sat down on the edge of your bed and rubbed your arm absentmindedly. “I could stay and work with you, if you'd like.”

“That’s okay, Steve.” You shook your head, giving him another one of your famous fake smiles. “I’m okay.”

“If you need anything, just call me.”

You watched him leave the doorway. You leaned forward with your elbows on your knees and brought your hands up to your face to rub your eyes. You hung your head and sighed gently. 

Something in the corner of your eye caught your attention. You turned your head to see Wanda standing where Steve had been just a few minutes ago. 

“Hey.” She smiled softly at you. “Steve said you didn’t want to go out with all of us.”

“I’m not feeling it tonight.” You explained. 

“I think it would…. it would do you some good to get out of this place.” Her words were soft and quiet. “I miss my best friend, Y/N.”

You held her gaze until it hurt too much. You looked down at your hands. 

You had spent too much time in your room lately. You were sick of watching tv and you knew very well you weren’t going to train like you told Steve. 

“Okay.” You nodded your head as you pushed yourself to your feet. “Give me a few minutes to change.” 

“Okay. I’ll be out here waiting for you.” Wanda smiled, happy that she could talk you into going. 

For you, I'll wait I will keep on waiting for you

You spent nearly five minutes staring at yourself in the mirror above your dresser. Your hair was in a messy ponytail, there were bags under your eyes, and you looked as though you’d been dead for the last decade. You sighed heavily, knowing you’d actually have to put on makeup to make yourself feel better. 

“How long do I have, Wanda?” You asked. 

“Take all the time you need!” She answered through the door. “We’re in no rush.”

Nearly thirty minutes later, you were ready. You had to brush out your hair and run a straightener over it a few times. Then you put on a little makeup and changed into a pair of faded skinny jeans that flattered your curves. You added a balck long sleeve turtleneck, tucking it into your pants. You slipped on a pair of black ankle booties with a little bit of a heel. 

You pulled the door open and stepped out, adjusting the strap to your bag on your shoulder. You found Wanda a little further down the hallway from your room with Natasha.

“Aw, you look really pretty, Y/N!” Wanda smiled brightly at you. Your heart skipped a beat and your lips parted but you didn’t know what to say.

“It’s good to see you out of your room.” Natasha commented, then motioned for you to follow them to the elevator. 

As you settled in a corner, Natasha pressed the button for the garage. 

“Maybe now you’ll tell us what’s been bothering you.” The Widow sighed gently. You knew she was frustrated that you wouldn’t talk to her. You told her everything. She felt a little hurt, betrayed even, that you didn’t tell her what had been bothering you for the last two weeks. 

“I-I can’t….” You trailed off, your eyes very briefly finding Wanda’s before she looked away. “It was-It was just some guy.” You shook your head, casting your gaze ahead of you to the closed doors. “Some dickhead of a guy.”

“What did he do?” You could hear the protective tone in Natasha’s voice. 

“Just…. He just said some things.” You were playing a dangerous game. Lying to a spy. She could read you better than anyone. For her, telling your emotions and telling if you were lying was like reading books. “But I’m okay. I’ve had my time to…. to be upset. Now I just want to get better and be happy.”

“Good.” Natasha smiled at you. You didn’t see the way Wanda closed her eyes tightly like what you said hurt her. 

Did you mean it when you said I was pretty?

You sat alone at the bar, looking down at the beer you’d slowly been drinking. The team had started off at the bar but then found a booth big enough for all of them. You told them you would join them when your drink came. That was ten minutes ago. 

Your mind wouldn’t stop replaying what Wanda had said to you. She said you looked pretty. She always complimented your looks, always tried to lift you up on your appearance. But now you were really wanting to know if she meant any of it, or if she had just said it because sometimes that’s what women did. They told their friends they looked good even though they didn’t. You shook your head, gripping the bottle in your hand tightly. 

That you didn't wanna live in a city Where the people are shitty?

You needed to get out of the city, get out of New York. You needed space from Wanda. Maybe that would make you feel better. 

You remembered the first time you felt close to the Scarlet Witch. It was just a couple weeks after Sokovia and she was new to the Tower. You’d found her crying in the kitchen in the Tower. She braced herself on the marble countertop with one hand while the other hand covered her mouth. She was crying. You were by her side in an instant, your hand on her back. You asked what was wrong and she said she hated New York. She overheard a group of people while she was walking through the street discussing Sokovia. They said the Avengers deserved to lose her brother in the battle. The group thought the Avengers were more of a terrorist group than one that tried to save people. 

You comforted her and offered for her to come to your floor so you could watch movies and maybe get her mind off of it. 

That was when you started to fall for her. 

You shook your head, rubbing your forehead. You couldn’t leave New York. You couldn’t distance yourself from her. She was far too important to you, and your team was the only family you had. You would have no one if you left. 

Something moved out of the corner of your eyes. You turned your head to see Steve sliding onto the stool next to you.

“Hi.” He greeted you with a warm smile. 

“Hi.” You tried to reciprocate the smile but it didn’t meet your eyes the way it did for him. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be with….?” You trailed off as you looked in the direction of the team’s booth. Sam, Rhodey, Clint, and Tony sat the booth while Nastasha and Bruce, and Wanda and Vision danced. Thor was chatting to a few ladies further down the bar from you.

“I didn’t want you here alone.” He shook his head.

“Oh, Steve. I’m fine, I promise.”

“Sometimes when we say we’re fine, we really don’t mean it.” He scrunched his nose up a little and shook his head. “What we really mean is that we need someone to lean on.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his before your gaze slowly found its way back to Wanda. She was happy, smiling and laughing as Vision twirled her out and then pulled her back in. 

Steve followed your gaze. 

“What happened with you two?”

Your lips parted and a surprise breath left your lungs. You shook your head, forcing your eyes back to your beer. 

“Nothing.” You spoke a little too quickly for it to be believable. 

“Nat and I both know something happened. For the last, what, two weeks, you and Wanda haven’t been hanging out as much.”

“So?” You muttered, brushing your thumb over the cool glass, wiping away some of the condensation. 

“So that means something happened. Did one of you say something?” He paused for a moment. You shook your head. “Did…. Did, maybe, one of you do something?”

You hesitated to nod your head. 

“What happened?” Steve’s voice softened. 

“We kissed.” You took a slow deep breath before downing the rest of your drink. “We kissed and she….. she wants to pretend it never happened.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to make you feel better. 

“I’ve…. I’ve liked her for the last two years, Steve.”

“I know.” He murmured. “I see it in the way you look at her. You care about her.”

You nodded again, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“I don’t want your pity.” You shook your head firmly and looked at him. “I can get over it. I know I can. It’s just…. It’s going to take time.”

You knew you were lying to his face. You wouldn’t be able to get over Wanda, not while she still wanted to be your friend. But you would wait patiently, hoping and pray that maybe one day, she’d pick you.

So I'll wait for you, I'll pray I will keep on waiting for your love

Note: Don’t really have a taglist for Wanda but I’m gonna tag @isothetic because they wanted to be tagged in all Marvel related things and @jennylovelyheart and @romancebibliophilia because they wanted to be tagged in everything. Let me know if you want to be on my Wanda taglist or on my Marvel one :)

[thfrustration]

Once more around the park - One Shot

TITLE OF STORY: Once more around the park CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: One shot AUTHOR: Notmireelname WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor Tom GENRE: Fluff FIC SUMMARY: Tom met Julia as an unknown actor in Sweden… a lot can happen in 2 & a half year - has he just seen her again…? RATING: PG WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: nil FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Feedback always welcome - extra internet points if you can work out which pop song this was inspired by!

;-)

******************************************

Once more around the park.

The sun beat down warmly on the back of his neck. Tom slowed to a walk, pulling his baseball cap off to push the dark locks back off his forehead, raking his fingers through his hair. Glancing back over his shoulder, he replaced his cap before pulling his mobile from his pocket &, removing his headphones with one practiced hand, he pressed the call button with the other…

The pick up was quick – Tom’s response to Joe’s familiar greeting was a little slower, “Joey…” another glance over his shoulder, “do you remember that woman I told you about? No, I mean, when I got back from filming ‘Wallander’? Joey…” He couldn’t help himself, he looked again over his shoulder, “Joey – I swear I just saw her!”

The silver sedan cruised past him, the brake lights flashed as it slowed ahead of him, eventually rolling to a stop. Tom, warm from his run, the sun behind him so his shadow stretched out ahead of him, getting longer as the sun dipped closer to the horizon, was forced to swerve slightly around the car. The window on the passenger side rolled down as he approached, glancing in he saw the occupant was a woman, casually dressed & looking expectantly up at him. “Hallå”, she said and paused. Tom responded with a perfectly accented “Hallå” of his own. The woman opened her mouth to speak, seemed to change her mind, closed it and opened it again, blurting out, “Well, that’s me done - do you speak English by any chance?”

“Oh, you’re British!” said Tom, laughing. “Me too!” he grinned.

“Oh thank goodness! My Swedish is almost non-existent! What a relief!” She smiled. “Can I give you a lift? I’m trying to find my way back to Ystad – maybe you can help??”

“I’m a bit sweaty, I’m afraid.” Tom apologised. “But you’re heading in the right direction.” He pointed up the road, “Another 20 mins or so & you’ll be back in the main drag.”

She leaned over, opening the passenger door with a little push. “Great but please, let me rescue you – it’s a rental so I don’t mind if the upholstery gets a little mucky!” She winked as she said it & Tom found himself laughing. He shrugged and accepting her offer, he slipped into the passenger seat & reached for the seat belt. As she flipped on the indicator and pulled back into the road, the woman laughed, “So much for not getting lost! The guy at the car rental said it was impossible… well, it’s one way to see the country at least!”. Looking over at him, one hand on the wheel, she extended her right hand. “I’m Julia, you?”

Smiling, Tom shook the proffered hand briefly, “Tom.” He said, settling back into the comfortable seat, arranging his long legs as best he could. “What brings you here?” He asked studying her profile. He guessed she was in her early 30’s. Shoulder length blonde hair with sunglasses pushed up on her head holding the long fringe out of her blue eyes.

“I could ask you the same thing!” she countered, smiling.

“Not sure you’d believe me.” He responded returning her smile. There was something faintly intriguing about her. He cast his eye around the interior of the car which certainly suggested a rental with pamphlets and brochures scattered here and there.

One eyebrow rose quizzically.

“Are you familiar with Henning Mankell?” She shook her head.

“He’s a Swedish author, he wrote a series of crime books?” Another shake of her head.

“So, you’re what, on pilgrimage?”

“What? No, no. I’m here filming. A tv show based on the books.” He grinned again. “Still feels weird saying that! I’m in it.” He added by way of clarification.

She looked him over again, studying him more closely. “Are you famous then? You don’t look famous to me.” She chided him lightly. “What’s a famous British thespian doing 20 minutes out of Ystad without his entourage?”

“Not famous.” He corrected her good naturedly. “And out for a run as it happens – hence the sweatiness, remember? We were filming out this way today, so when we were finished instead of riding back with the others, I thought I’d just run back into town… turns out it’s a bit further than I had anticipated, so maybe it’s lucky for me that you did get lost.”

They both laughed at that and the following ride into Ystad proper passed swiftly in easy conversation. It was only as they approached the entrance of the Ystad Saltsjöbad that the conversation stuttered to a halt.

“Oh, you’re staying here?” said Tom, his head swivelling from the grand facade of the hotel to look out over the water front. “It must be quite a view from those balconies.” He mused.

Julia seemed to seize on his observation & responded in a rush. “Yes, yes, it is quite lovely. Would you like to come up to my room and see it for yourself? I’m up there,” she pointed towards the upper floors. “Could I invite you to dinner perhaps?” There was only the slightest awkward pause before she rushed on, “I’d love to thank my rescuer. I may never have made it back without your help.”

As the car pulled into the valet park at the front of the hotel, Tom ruefully indicated his running attire. “I’m not sure who rescued who but I’m afraid I’m not particularly dressed for dinner. If you’re in town a bit longer, perhaps we can meet up another time… coffee perhaps, I’m not needed on set tomorrow…”

Ignoring the valet standing by the driver’s door, Julia reached over and touched his arm. “At least come up and see the view.” she suggested, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly and her eyes looking into his. Tom found himself smiling back and minutes later, he found himself in the elevator.

Julia barely reached his shoulders but he noticed she carried herself with a business-like efficiency. On closer inspection, she was tastefully dressed, casual and unfussy but with an understated elegance. He closed his eyes and breathed in - standing in the close confines of the elevator, she smelled faintly of sandalwood. He was again reminded of his own unshowered state & hoped he wasn’t malodourously stinking out the elevator.  As he opened his eyes, he noticed Julia studying him intently. As their eyes met, they both broke into smiles as if she had read his thoughts.

“C’mon.” She said, taking him by the hand as the doors slid open. “This won’t take long and I promise, it’s worth it!”

Still grinning, they entered the room. Julia dragged him to the balcony, where the curtains were already swept to either side of the glassed French doors. Despite the encroaching darkness of the early summer evening, the view looking out over the water was, as promised, quite lovely.

Tom leaned against the balustrade, happy in that moment of the beauty around him and his good fortune at being in Sweden at all and happier still for his reasons to be there.

“Tom.” At the sound of her voice, he turned toward Julia, an unopened bottle of wine held in one hand with two glasses looped through the fingers of the other. Again, her eyes met his and held him for a long moment. “Tom… “she faltered. “Tom, I don’t know you – not really, we only met like, an hour ago but…” She moved closer and Tom found his feet closed the distance between them without him even being consciously aware of making the choice. “Do you feel it, too?”

Maybe it was hitherto unacknowledged homesickness or what, but Tom was surprised to find that he did feel it too… whatever ‘it’ was… He reached to take the bottle from her unresisting hand. He placed it on a nearby table and reaching to untangle the glasses from her other hand, he had time to drop them onto the cushion of a large wing backed chair before he found himself embracing her lips with his own, gathering her into his arms as she pressed against him…

The sun set, and eventually the two strangers resting on a makeshift bed of covers were forced to close the French doors to the balcony against the night before disappearing once more into the pile of crisp, hotel feather doonas to join again; exploring, tasting, stroking and coupling before resting until desire flamed again. Tom marvelling at how easily Julia could coax him to attention and how readily she submitted to his ministrations.

They were insatiable.

Sleep must have claimed him for it was full day before Tom opened his eyes. They had moved in the wee, small hours from the nest by the balcony into the voluminous hotel bed. He woke in its depths, cocooned in the snowy sheets and covers. Tom had expected to find Julia nestled in the bed with him but lifting his head from the pillow he saw no sign of her. The door to the ensuite was closed though, perhaps she was showering. Tom realised what had woken him - the ringing sound of the hotel telephone. “Should I get that?” he called out to the closed ensuite door. “Julia?” He swung his legs out from the covers & reached to grab the receiver.

“Good Morning, sir.” The lightly accented voice of the front desk concierge greeted him. “This is your 11 am wake-up call.  As requested your breakfast is on its way up and your check out time has been moved to 1pm. Will there be anything else, sir?”

 “My, what? Just a minute…” he murmured into the receiver. Dropping it onto the bed, he moved to the closed ensuite door, pausing only momentarily to listen before trying the handle. The door swung silently to reveal… nothing. The room was as empty as the bed. The half-awake fog cleared almost immediately. He noted the lack of personal toiletries among the hotel supplied bottles of shampoo and bath gel. Tom moved into the adjoining room puzzled to find no sign of Julia. Frowning he ducked back into the bedroom to check the wardrobe only to find it too was empty, devoid of clothes or suitcase.

The buzzing of the door broke through his confusion, grabbing one of the ubiquitous fluffy white robes of hotels the world over, he slipped into it, trying to make sense of the situation. Tom bounded to the door – perhaps Julia had accidentally locked herself out of the room…

If the hotel employee had expected the door to be opened by the petite blonde haired Julia, his expression remained unsurprised as he surveyed the tall, tousled haired and be-robed Tom. “Room Service” he declared, rather unnecessarily thought Thomas ungraciously since the white clothed trolley - laden with an English Breakfast for one he noted - was a bit of a dead giveaway. He stuck his head into the hallway half hoping to spot Julia returning to the room but of course, nobody appeared.

With a creeping sense of embarrassment, Tom addressed the man fussing around the cart. “Uh, do you need me to, er, sign or anything like that?” asked Tom. “Oh, no Sir,” said the waiter evenly as he walked back toward the door. “Your account has been settled. You have only to return the card key for the room to the front desk when you leave. Enjoy your breakfast.” And he disappeared out the door. As the door swung shut, Tom’s eyes fell on the plastic card key set prominently on the little table by the door. Picking up the credit card sized key emblazoned with the Ystad Saltsjöbad crest on one side and black magnetic strip on the other, Tom found a single folded over piece of paper. Smoothing it open, he found the briefest of notes in a small, neat hand as business like and efficient as the woman who had written it.

Breakfasted, showered and dressed, Tom checked his watch, noted it was 1pm and stood up from the wing backed chair he had moved out onto the balcony where he had been looking at the view without really seeing it. He had waited, hoping that Julia would reappear. That she would explain.

She hadn’t.

Carefully, methodically, he folded the single sheet of hotel note paper into a paper airplane & drawing back his arm, threw it over the balcony toward the water, watching it glide some distance before it tumbled away caught in a cross wind. He could still see the handful of words before his eyes; I will never forget you. J.

As the elevator descended, Tom planned his next move. He would ask the concierge if she had left a forwarding address, he would visit all the car hire places in Ystad, he would… The burning realisation came that he didn’t know her last name – heck, he didn’t even know if Julia was her real first name! By the time the elevator doors slid open depositing him in the ground floor foyer, still wearing his dishevelled running gear from yesterday, Tom had realised his chances of finding Julia were next to impossible and besides, he reasoned, he needed to focus on his job playing Magnus alongside Ken Branagh’s Kurt Wallander -  he couldn’t chase around the Swedish country side for a woman he had known for less than a day and who so obviously didn’t want to be found.

Palming the card key into his pocket, Tom strode through the foyer, bypassing the front desk and out into the brisk early summer afternoon of Ystad and broke into a run.

Now here he was again, doing one of his long runs through and around the park, enjoying the stretch of his legs, the warmth of the sun and the opportunity to unwind from the exhausting press tour for “Thor” and bam! He had spotted this woman sitting on one of the benches, reading a book, no doubt making the most of the beautiful weather too. Without even really noticing, it had become his habit to double check any blonde haired woman of a certain age - just in case.

Once more around the park and as he had approached the bench, she had closed her book, removed her sunglasses and pushed them up onto her head – pushing back her long blonde bangs when the memories of that day in Ystad and the mysterious Julia came flooding back.  He had worked so hard on forgetting her, worked so hard to focus on the Wallander shoot, and the next job and the next job after that.

He just couldn’t quite believe it was her. Once more around the park – the shorter way this time – he was as convinced as he could be without actually speaking to her, and unable to decide what to do next, he had called Joe. Joe who had been outright doubtful about the encounter or that the mysterious woman had existed at all. No nonsense Joe who had ended the phone call by saying, “So go and say Hi, you wally - at best you find out who she is and at worst she tells you to ‘buggar off’!”

Tom pocketed his phone. Running helped him think so he took off once again, around the park attempting to resolve what he would do, what he might say. Rounding the path that would lead to the bench, he spotted her. She was no longer reading – her book lying neglected beside her, Tom realised she held a young child on her lap. As he came closer, the squirming toddler launched a small toy onto the ground, instinctively, Tom picked it up intending to return it immediately to the child, his eyes still on the mother, when a glance at the little cherubic face, haloed in golden curls brought him to a halt.

Julia, stood, recognition dawning on her face. “Ah, Mr Hiddleston, I believe it is, yes? You’ve been making a bit of a name for yourself, Tom. Come a long way from playing a Ystad police officer, haven’t you?” She held the child to her making no move to pluck the small toy from his grasp.

The roil of emotion in Tom made it hard for him to speak so he plumped for being coldly formal. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Miss…?

She laughed, a little shame faced, and some of the tension in Tom melted away. “It’s Mrs, actually Tom.” she admitted.

“And…” Lost for words Tom noticed the tiny blue monkey he was waving around in his hand, “And… I guess this is yours.” he said as he proffered the toy back to its owner. The small child smiled and Tom couldn’t help but smile back – his heart lifted in that moment.

“Julia, it is Julia, isn’t it?” he asked. She hesitated, as if about to deny it but nodded in the affirmative. “And this,” she said, looking over his shoulder, “Is my husband, Howard…” Turning, Tom saw a dark haired, older gentleman in a suit bearing down on them, proprietorially making a grab for the squirming child, lifting her shrieking into the air before nestling her onto his hip. He gave Tom a negligent once over before looking to his wife questioningly. “Howard, this is Tom – he was just returning Rosa’s toy which she had dropped for the millionth time in the past 5 minutes…” she smiled warmly at them both. “Ah yes, she does like that game, don’t you little Rosie!” the older gentleman tickled the little girl. “Thank you, er, Tom was it? Now, Julia my dear, we must be going – I’m so sorry the meeting took a little longer than I had anticipated. It was a pleasure to meet you Tom, excuse me for not shaking your hand – as you can see, my hands are full! Aren’t they, little monkey?” he said, dislodging the giggling child from his hip & pretending to toss her into the air again. He set her on her little feet, stooped to take her hand and set off down the path toward the gated entrance to the park.

Julia smiled after them, before looking up at Tom’s face. “He loves her like his own.” She said before turning from him to pick up the abandoned book from the bench, dropping it into the hitherto unnoticed stroller and preparing to follow. Tom’s brow creased in confusion. “Like his own?” Tom turned to watch the little duo’s progress down the path. “Is Howard not her father then?”

Julia looked up at him intently, “Tom, please try to understand, I love Howard very much and yes, I was married when we met in Ystad, I had been for some time… and…” she faltered before going on in a rush, “and, little Rosa looks exactly like her father…” She smiled at him again and began to walk away.

Shell-shocked, Tom stood for several moments staring after her as the pieces slid into place. He made to jog off in the opposite direction, stopped, looked at the ground, seeing the golden curls and blue eyes of the cherubic Rosie, seeing once again the words on the paper bearing the Ystad Saltsjöbad crest as it sailed over the edge of the little balcony, “I’ll never forget you.”

Without thinking, he turned back towards Julia, calling her name, running to close the distance. Tom pulled his wallet from his back pocket, opened it & removed the hotel card key from its permanent place hidden behind his driver’s licence… he turned it over in his long fingers. “I think…” he said, looking ahead at the dark head figure bent toward the golden head of the smaller figure further along the path. “I think, you should have this.” He proffered the card to Julia. “In case… well, in case Rosa ever needs…” he lifted his shoulders in a wordless shrug. Hesitatingly, Julia reached for the card. Her fingers closed around it, catching his in a warm grasp. “Thank you.” She said simply. Then turned and walked away with the same brisk business like efficiency he recalled from their first meeting.

He watched her go until the little group had turned the corner of the path and were lost to view. Then he turned and slowly jogged off, once more around the park.

Post script: Tom let himself in through his mum’s door with his spare key, hallooing out to let her know he’d arrived. She likewise hallooed back – entreating him to put the kettle on and she’d be down in a moment to make him tea – oh and to look in the shoebox on the kitchen table. When Diana bustled into the kitchen a few minutes later, she found her only son, shoe box open, old family photos scattered on the table and holding a photo of a blue eyed, golden haired cherub.  “Oh you found it then, Tom?” she said planting a kiss on the top of his head before bustling off to make the tea… “Oh yes, that was you when you were… oh about 2ish… I’ve always meant to put them all in a proper photo album but just never seemed to have the time…”

[gyrlversion]

Trump Is Now Our Best Bet for Avoiding War

Tweeting at him might not be the worst strategy. Photo: Mandel Ngan/AFP/Getty Images

Right now, every cocktail party conversation in Washington’s national security circles goes the same place in a hurry: “What do you hear about Iran?” and “What do they think they’re doing?” The conversations then wind through the latest controversies over intelligence, troop figures, and inside-the-Cabinet intrigue before they end at the same place. What’s going to stop either a slow slide or a quick escalation to war? And the same unlikely answer comes back: either Trump, or his base.

How can this be?

The intelligence debate is interesting but maybe irrelevant. The allegations made public — that Iran is shipping missiles to the Houthis fighting in Yemen and targeting vessels in the Persian Gulf, and that Iran’s operatives are preparing for attacks against U.S. targets in Iraq — are things we know Iran does and has done in the past. They are also the things analysts predicted Iran would do if the United States put the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps on its terrorism list and attempted to shut off completely Iranian sales of oil. While Washington’s allies in the region — Israel and Saudi Arabia — have both added their own allegations to this list, European allies have been eager to distance themselves. This week the senior U.K. military figure in the Middle East made an unusual public announcement that the threat was not elevated, whereupon the Pentagon took the even more unusual step of contradicting an ally in the field.

The military preparations underway are enough to stir up tensions and invite escalation, but nowhere near sufficient to mount an actual land assault, much less defeat Iran’s government and implement regime change. The New York Times reported that the Pentagon had been tasked with drawing up plans to send 120,000 troops to the Middle East; that is less than the number of troops the U.S. and its allies used in the 2003 invasion of Iraq. (Iran is a significantly larger country with nearly twice as many people.) Trump both denied such a plan was in the works and said he “absolutely” would send “a hell of a lot more troops than that.”

Trump’s team seems far from united at this dangerous moment. Even as his department raised concerns significantly by ordering the departure of non-emergency Embassy personnel in Iraq, Secretary of State Pompeo said we “fundamentally do not see a war with Iran.” (Contrast that with GOP senator and Trump cheerleader Tom Cotton, who stole a line from The Breakfast Club to assert that a war against Tehran would be quick: “Two strikes, the first strike and the last.”)

Insiders have begun telling the media that Trump is unhappy with National Security Adviser John Bolton, who is credited with the aggressive buildup toward Iran as well as the recent failed effort to push out Venezuelan president Maduro, which Bolton sought to help along through social media taunting. But, other insiders add, he’s nowhere near as frustrated with Bolton as he was with former Secretary of State Rex Tillerson before firing him. So there.

Alert readers will notice I haven’t mentioned the secretary of Defense, who would normally be a key player here. Acting secretary Patrick Shanahan is in the awkward situation of having been only just been nominated, after four months in the role, to fill it on a permanent basis. He is in the even more awkward situation of being regarded as a lightweight, and having a surprising number of military moves be announced by Bolton, from the White House. Indeed, national security experts are wringing their hands at what seems to be the disappearance of the traditional inter-agency process through which multiple government agencies are supposed to have their views heard, criticisms voiced, and plans double-checked before something as big as troop movements, let alone war planning, goes public.

With no actual military options it can debate, no confidence that it’s getting a straight story on threat levels, and no clue how the process works, a curious fatalism has taken hold in Congress. Various members are preparing legislation to either make it explicit that the president is not authorized to go to war in the Persian Gulf without a vote, or to bar the Pentagon from spending money on offensive military operations there. But getting enough members of both parties to push back on dire threat assessments and vote for such measures is an uphill battle. And, given Trump’s willingness to ignore or veto Congress’ national security efforts to date, no one has much confidence either move would stop his administration from moving ahead.

This is where the experts turn to each other, just like every Trump opponent in the rest of America, and say, “but Trump doesn’t really want to do this, right?” He will want to back down, and find a way to do so, whether it’s targeting an Iranian proxy with cruise missiles, creating a negotiation to claim credit for, or moving on to a distraction elsewhere. (Who knows, maybe Bolton’s plans to remove Maduro will work next time.) Or, they say, Trump will see that a war would be unpopular with his base – Laura Ingraham has already opined that it is one of the “few paths” that could hurt his reelection chances — and preemptively declare victory. A Politico story today asserts that Trump routinely cites the reactions of his social media following as justifications for sensitive policy decisions — including his announcement last year that U.S. troops would be withdrawn from Syria.

The laws, Constitution, and norms of the United States lay out paths through which policy experts, elected officials, the military that would have to do the fighting and dying, and the public at large all have a say over whether the United States goes to war — and all have access to facts about what is happening on the ground. A president monitoring his Twitter account is no substitute for them.

Trump — and all of us — have been lucky so far in world affairs. Given that the number of actors who actually want a drawn-out war in the Persian Gulf is rather small, we may get lucky again here. But even if we do, we will have descended far down a rabbit hole of personalized, secretive presidential rule over the world’s biggest and strongest armed forces — and social media metrics will not save us.

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[spudandemdotravels-blog]

Thailand (episode 1) - Bangkok, Chiang Mai and Pai

And so our journey continues. We awoke in Negombo both excited and slightly anxious given that we had overstayed our visa. This was due to our travel agent not being able to calculate 30 days from the day we arrived in Sri Lanka, but having been told that ‘sometimes its ok’ we decided to turn up hoping for the best!

Well the best came through, and not only did we not get charged for our late departure from the country, we also didn’t have to prove our onward journey from Thailand. We had discussed this in detail during our time at the Teak House, and as it was ‘technically’ a requirement to being allowed into Thailand we thought it best to book flights out of the country into Laos as we’d read that land based crossings, like the 20 hour bus ride, or savage six hour fast boat up the Mekong river, weren’t always accepted.

This is where the problem came about. Spud, bless his cottons, thought that he had found bargain flights into Laos that were half the price of those from Chiang Mai to Luang Prabang. Unbeknownst to him (and Em to be honest), he had searched for ‘nearby airports’ on Skyscanner, not unreasonably assuming that those nearby airports would still be in the blessed country that we wanted to get into! So, he booked them and thankfully we checked them once the confirmation was received. ‘Chiang Mai to Udon Thani’; hold on a second....where the chuff is this place neither of us had read about?! Thailand. He had booked internal flights. Fantastic. Anyway, silver linings and all, we shortly found out that the crossing into Laos from here was only two hours!

Moving on from the faux pas, the flight to Bangkok was easy; no complaints. As soon as we arrived we knew that we were in for a treat. Judging by the airport the country was much more metropolitan than Sri Lanka. We had a smooth entry to the country, but a slightly less smooth entry into Bangkok. For some reason the Bangkok airport website had failed to tell us that the bus we were recommended by them no longer existed, and it turned out the signage in the airport wasn’t so great either. It felt like we did five laps of departures before we worked out where to get the shuttle bus to the bus station (a good 20 minute ride away), only to find that not only the bus, but the actual bus terminal ceased to exist......Spud couldn’t help himself but pull a mini-strop, but we got over that one and organised a taxi to the city instead.

After a short nap at our hostel we headed out to explore some of the city. We walked to Chinatown as we had read it would an excellent place for food, and if London is anything to go by, Chinatown in a capital city is going to be pretty cool. Well Bangkok’s, in our opinion, takes first prize. The place is a hive of activity, with a fantastic atmosphere. We perused a few of the million+ street food vendors picking our starters as we went along. It was amazing to watch all the food being prepared and freshly cooked in front of us, especially after most of the Sri Lankan food had been sitting around for a number of hours and lukewarm at best! Our starters included: Thai savoury pancake - hard to tell the filling but some sort of mini taco pancake filled with something that had a resemblance to dried fish (gross), pork meatballs, moo ping (BBQ pork skewers - our favourite) and crab balls, eventually we decided it was time for mains, and chose a street corner seafood restaurant to eat at.

Shortly after starting our Tom Yum soup, an American couple come and sit next to us, Emily can’t help herself and starts a conversation...we immediately hit it off and spoke about the restaurant and the food, and then onto our travel plans and personal lives. Brendan and Erin are from Colorado and these guys have it nailed; they are away for a year and are essentially getting free keep in between their travel plans, in exchange for looking after pet dogs and working on farms. How good is that?! As the drinks and conversation flowed, we kept on discovering things in common, so when Brendan suggested we head to Khao San Road there was no hesitation in us agreeing. What a night it turned out to be, and what a mad place Khao San Road is! We had a great time slugging on beers and promo buckets of booze whilst being offered all kinds of crazy paraphernalia like fried scorpions, grubs, hats, and various explicit bracelets (Spuds favourite being ‘I heart d**k salad’). At 2am the Brendan paid for the ladies to have a foot massage whilst the boysies had another beer to discuss onward plans. We really hope that we can cross paths again and perhaps meet up in another country! To date we haven’t hit it off with any other travellers as well as these guys, so it was really refreshing to have easy flowing conversation and find out so many things we had in common...we really look forward to seeing them again!

Needless to say we woke up a bit fuzzy the next day, but after a coffee and some breakfast we explored some of the city. Although it doesn’t have many large tourist attractions, Bangkok is a brilliant city for exploring. Rather unfortunately Spud suggested that we headed to a floating market that was only open on the weekends even though it was a Tuesday (he blames the booze) but thankfully our taxi driver was very accommodating (and so was Emily :-) ) and dropped us as the nearby local market that we spent an hour or two wandering and eating/drinking in. The day turned into one of those spent meandering around, and we ended up in the east of the city in two humongous shopping malls, MBK and Terminal 21. MBK seemed to be king of counterfeit goods, jewellery and electrical goods. This was fortuitous given that Emily had drunkenly kneed her phone whilst getting into bed the previous night and smashed her screen - this was the perfect place for a cheap repair! Terminal 21 on the other hand was much more well-to-do. It was airport themed and spread over seven levels, each of which was dedicated to a specific country. Not being shopaholics, you have to trust us when we say the place was really cool. Each elevator had a ‘departure from’ and ‘arrival to’ sign and we ended up in Los Angeles for dinner before calling it a day on the shopping malls.

Figuring we were in Bangkok, we felt obliged to check out the local red light district and ladyboy scene, so we made our way on the Sky Train to Nana Plaza, which is allegedly the biggest adult entertainment plaza in the world. We started off slow by walking around the ground and first floors, given that it gets more and more seedy as you gain floors. We settled on getting a beer at the bar in the middle of the ground floor after getting an eyeful of lingerie and suspiciously small bulges combined with bosoms. Over the next half an hour or so we scoped out the atmosphere, and unlike red light districts in Europe (Amsterdam being one we had both been to), it genuinely felt like an OK thing to partake in. Although male heavy, there were groups of girls visiting the plaza for a drink or two, and off the back of that we decided to actually go into one of the go-go bars! Rainbow was our choice; apparently the oldest in the plaza and often one of the most popular. Unfortunately our expectations (although we are not sure what these were exactly) weren’t really met...it is hands down the weirdest thing we’ve ever done as a couple. Sat in essentially a strip club watching these girls stand and shuffle on a podium was quite excruciatingly awkward. They weren’t even dancing and they all looked so so young; we even watched one girl pick her nose on stage and inspect it...this was our cue and we left half way with our beers in hand to take one final tour around all three floors before heading home.

The next day we got up and out and made for the Grand Palace. We strategically packed a shawl for Spuds legs as we’d learned from Sri Lanka that shoulders and knees for both sexes needed to be covered, but seemingly in Thailand shawls are only allowed for females. So we were forced to buy the fetching baggy pants for him to wear. No biggie; we got the feeling the Palace was going to be good. And good it was. It was by a very long way the best kept, most ornate spectacle we had seen so far. The colour schemes, decoration and architecture were out of this world. Dating back over 700 years, the estate was so well kept that you wouldn’t realise it was this old. It was originally built to both re-locate the royal family and to bring the government buildings together. Some are still used to this day. In particular interest was the Palace itself. Designed by a European architect but stipulated by an Asian, it is the only building in Thailand to adopt a European design at the bottom, with Asian ridges at the top. For those interested it was originally suggested to have three domes above the wings rather than ridges.

The rest of the day was spent cruising the river to get a different perspective of the city, followed by street food on Soi Rambuttri. We left the city at roughly 7:30pm to head for the bus station to organise our journey to Chiang Mai. Bangkok bus station is by far the biggest bus station we have ever seen. We couldn’t get our heads around how many vendors and buses there were. Somehow we managed to find ourselves decent tickets for under £25 for the two of us (including onboard snacks and water), and we left at 8:35pm. The journey was straightforward, other than the coach sneaking off for fuel when we stopped for a break, leaving us dropping bricks wondering where it had got to.

Nevertheless we got to Chiang Mai safely. Our first morning was spent chilling in a local cafe and organising a scooter for the next few days. We ventured out to a local market for some street food for dinner, and made plans for the next day. We were going to head 100km or so into Doi Inthanon national park.

Unfortunately this was a day destined to go wrong. We woke up nice and early to get on the road in order to maximise time in the park, but before leaving the hostel we took our Doxycycline on an empty stomach. A bit of advice; don’t do this. Before even reaching the scooter we were both feeling sick, but thought that it was our hunger making us feel bad. Within 10 minutes we had had to pull over in the car park of a boutique hotel to vomit in sync. We managed to get some breakfast down, and although still feeling rough we took to the road with Doi Inthanon in our GPS. What we (when Spud says “we”, this means “he”) didn’t realise was that the GPS had decided to suggest taking us into the park, but not to the actual entrance where the ‘attractions’ are. So we wound up and up into the hills on these tiny roads and wondered more and more just how the buses full of tourists that had been mentioned in the reviews and blogs that we had read, actually got up these roads. It was only when google told us to take a road that didn’t even exist that we checked where it was taking us to. It turned out to be nowhere near the where we needed to be. Around hour away from the entrance in fact. Thankfully we had plenty of fuel, food and water with us so we cracked on and stopped just below the more popular park entrance an hour later for some lunch. It was at this point that it started raining...we figured that we hadn’t travelled 100km+ to be put off by some rain, so after a quick noodle soup we paid our park entrance fee and headed straight for the summit of the park at just over 2500m, the highest point in Thailand. The rain turned torrential so within minutes were were sopping wet, even though we had our jackets on and Emily was doing her upmost with the umbrella (all the while we were

on the scooter) to shield us from some of the deluge. The poor bike wasn’t doing too well at this time. Spud figured it was the altitude causing problems, so we limped to the top, took a single picture and headed back down.

The rain was too heavy to stop at the other, better looking attractions, so we’re sorry that there aren’t any pictures of these. On the way down the rain eventually stopped and the scooter started to run a bit better as it could now breathe. As we were reaching the park exit, on a steep right handed the scooter gave up the ghost. The miniscule amount of engine breaking we had let go with a little bang and we were all of a sudden freewheeling down the mountain. Great. Cutting a long story short we ended up being stranded for four hours after the mechanic couldn’t source a new drive belt. We were taken back to Chiang Mai on the back of a truck; a journey that took over two hours, most of which was in the rain hiding under a tarpaulin. As we are sure you have guessed by now, we were happy to finish this day.

Thankfully the bike rental place were sympathetic and offered us a chain driven, 150cc manual scooter/bike for the next few days at the same price as the 125cc we had had. Spud gave the bike a proper going over before we left, and after a few adjustments we left for Pai for three days. The journey between Chiang Mai and Pai was out of this world. Just under 800 bends and the surface was top draw, even Emily had a great time!

We both really enjoyed Pai, and it was clear that other travellers and the inhabitants did too. We spent three days exploring the area on our little bike and visited waterfalls, bamboo bridges, hot springs, caves, and the local canyon for sunset on one night. Our evenings were spent gorging on street food on the walking street, and listening to live music that was put on every night in the numerous bars in the area. We returned to Chiang Mai via the same 800 bends that we came on, stopping at a amazing “sticky waterfall” on the way home....an absurdity of nature, the waterfall has deposit calcium material that is grippy enough that you could walk up it: so cool! We arrived back in the city feeling refreshed and thankful that we had been able to put some time into covering the north of Thailand, as it really is so varied and beautiful.

We spent one more night in Chiang Mai as our internal flight was booked for the next day. We felt that we hadn’t given the city much of a chance yet, so we spent most of the next day in the old city buzzing around on the bike and looking at the numerous Wat’s and Government buildings within the old walls. We were picked up at 5pm to be taken to the airport so that we could make our way to Laos!

Until next time! X