#also someone wouldn’t let me cross my legs on a bench in the museum

[dust-of-embers]

YEESS MY POST BUTTON SI WORKING

Have some cats

So, we have some street cats in Crete

Then we have a hungry Knossos cat, who ate my sandwich

He didn’t get any ice cream tho.

Back to mainland, Delphi was mid (for me, the fucking hills are too much and the tour guide would not move her mouth away from the microphone even slightly for the entire bus ride), but the cats were top tier.

We have the ones outside a museum, plus a tortoise who scared calico

I named a few

The orange one tried to eat my hand after I fed him my leftover bolognese meat, there was also a cat who was very pregante.

[kippykasey]

Snowdrop Chpt 4

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 4115

Series Summary: Bringing Zemo in to help fight against the rise of the new group of super soldiers brings in a new, yet familiar face into the mix.

Chapter Summary: The team found the refugee camp and now look for information on Donya Madani.

Chapter Warnings: Episode level violence.

A/N: If you missed it there is now a drabble that talks a bit more about how Reader got the nickname 'Amazing Grace'. Also send me feedback! I would love to hear your thoughts about the story so far.

Disclaimer: All languages that are not English were provided by Google translator with the translations following in bolden italics. Gifs used were found under the gif tab provided by tumblr.

Catch up on Snowdrop here: (1) (2) (3)

Sam was on the phone with a member of the air force to get information on Donya Madani, the refugee that is the next lead. Bucky was lounging on a sofa-like bench intently trying to clean his metal hand. With a slight nudge to the man’s leg on the seat he pulled it in, not looking up at the woman who lowered herself into the seat across from him, one leg tucked underneath herself. She held her hand out wiggling her fingers next to where his eyes were trained on his own hands. The blue eyes raised up off his hands to look into her waiting eyes. His eyes rolled as he silently placed the cloth into her hand, extending his arm so his hand was in her reach. She silently began to clean, his hand making sure to get into every nook and cranny that she could.

Sam’s call with Torres ended and he sat down letting out a deep sigh. Bucky turned his head, pulling his eyes away from the smaller hands working to clean his prosthetic. “You okay?” the man across the aisle from him turned his head to look at him before looking back up at the dimly lit ceiling of the plane. “Yeah. Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through. And Nagel referring to the American test subject like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person. How many people have to get steamrolled to make way for this hunk of metal.”

Bucky’s attention turned back down to the palm of his hand that was now in the process of being cleaned. “Well it depends on who you ask. That hunk of metal saved a lot of lives.” (Y/n) never looked up from her task as she listened. Barnes turned back to Sam making sure he understood that he was fully listening. “Yeah, I get that all right. Maybe I made a mistake.” There was a slight nod from Bucky as he verbally agreed, “You did.” There was a slight pressure in his hand as it was squeezed by the woman as a sign of her disapproval.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have put it in a museum. I should have destroyed it.” Sam’s admission made her raise her head and look over at him, her hand stopping from cleaning. “That shield may cause a lot of fuss but it also means alot to some people. It’s the person behind the shield that brings a problem.” The woman spoke up for the first time. Bucky say up pulling his hand out of her grasp while doing so, “Like me, that shield means something to me. So before you destroy it, I’ll take it from Walker myself.” Conversation paused and like she always did a comforting hand rubbed small circles in the ex Winter Soldier’s back. The anger slowly left his face in the blank stare he mastered, but there was a softness in his eyes.

Zemo carried over some food as Sam answered his ringing phone. He passed one of the plates over to the two ex HYDRA soldiers and set the other down for Sam. Sam spoke on the phone, most likely to Torres, while he watched the two across from him effortlessly pick at the plate they were sharing. “They found Madani...dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.” Sam informed everyone. Zemo holds a finger up and nods, “I have a place we can go.” The baron sits back in his seat, “I for one am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli.”

With the new heading set and food eaten everyone was settling for the remainder of the flight, and most likely to sleep. Bucky was still on the sofa, one leg out on the bench the other hanging off the edge. The nurse was tucked up in his arms, her head resting against his chest. Bucky’s eyes were already closed as he started to drift to sleep. However the woman he held onto was still awake looking across the aisle and out the window of the plane. Her view was blocked by Sam as he came back from the restroom. He turned to face them and their eyes met for a moment before he glanced over at Zemo who had a sleep mask over his eyes. “So what’s the story between you two? Were you two ever like a thing?” Sam’s voice was soft not to disturb those already asleep, especially Bucky.

“No. When we first met I was engaged. Not saying HYDRA didn’t want us to be.” She answered looking slightly up at the sleeping man holding her so casually. “What do you mean?” The woman’s eyebrows furrowed and she just slightly nuzzled into the warm chest below her, the owner’s arms flexing around her waist. “They wanted us to reproduce and create genetic super soldiers. Never got that far.” Sam watched how peaceful the two looked laying together on the small sofa bench, comfortable even. “You went back for him and you were engaged.” Sam pointed out to her. “He saved me. That day Steve broke him out of isolation in that camp. He came for me. Since then I swore myself I would keep those two idiots safe. I think my engagement unofficially ended the day I refused to get on that plane to the US and instead became the nurse for the Commandos.” A ghost of a smile appeared on the woman’s face as she went on. “He ended up having a son, who turned out just like his dad. Even had a granddaughter too. I got the chance to meet them, kind of. Maybe once this is all over I’ll get the family I wanted.” Her voice slowly began to soften into a slur as she began to fall asleep.

Sam sat there for a moment. He never thought Bucky Barnes could ever look so peaceful but he did. Normally even napping the man was stiff as a board but this was completely different. Here he was asleep, head lulled to the side resting against the back of the sofa, a woman in his arms, and not a scowl or anything visible on his face. It's interesting how much you can learn from someone just from watching them sleep, as weird as that may be. Sam smiled at the two before turning his head and letting himself fall asleep.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

Riga, Latvia was the new location the group found themselves in. The group walked in a ‘T’ shape, Zemo leading with the other three following, (Y/n) in the middle. As Zemo led the way he mentioned Sokovia and how it was taken over by the neighbors before the land could even be cleaned up. Now it doesn’t even exist. As they turned the corner to one of Zemo’s many residences Bucky began to fall back from the group.

“James?” The soft voice of the nurse called to him. The man’s head turned to her and smiled softly. “I’m just going to go on a walk.” His statement drew the other two men’s attention as they stopped walking to turn towards the taller man. “You good?” Sam asked. “Yeah,” Bucky started to walk backwards. “I’ll see you guys in a bit.” The nurse turned to follow out of habit but Sam wrapped his arm around her. “He’ll be okay.” He told her even as her eyes still trailed Bucky as he left for his walk.

With the three of them now inside the apartment sized space (Y/n) ran her fingers through her hair hissing slightly at the knots and tangles in it. “You really care for him don’t you?” Sam asked her softly, making the woman glance at him with large doe eyes playing innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Wilson.” She tapped against the bar top that she leaned against and looked at Sam. “I am curious though, Bucky’s new arm, where is it from?” Sam crossed his arms looking at the woman who wouldn’t meet his eye, “Wakanda. He spent some time there.” She nods and smiles at the realization that the metal his arm was made out of. “I visited Wakanda once. Back in, well I guess it was 1940 maybe even 1939 I can’t remember exactly. It’s where I was proposed to. It’s probably much different now than it was then. Maybe in the future I can see it again.” Sam watched the far off look clouding over her eyes. The conversation died after that, neither pushing farther.

Zemo had taken a bath before Bucky had returned, the closing of the doors announcing his arrival. “Well, the Wakandans are here. They want Zemo. Bought us some more time.” Bucky spoke as he walked towards the bar where everyone was centered around. “Ouch Sam.” The nurse hissed as the comb Sam had been pulling through her hair got caught. Bucky raised an eyebrow at the sight before him. “Were you followed?” Sam asked, ignoring the woman as he put down the comb. “No.” Although amused by Sam combing someone’s hair, his voice didn’t reveal anything. “How can you be so sure?” Zemo asked, peeking through the stained glass window. The nurse’s head whipped around as she stared at the back of the baron’s head like he was crazy. “‘Cause I know when I’m being followed.”

Zemo turned from the window to look at Bucky, “It was sweet of you to defend me at least.” Sam merely turned his head over his shoulder to speak to the German. “Hey, you shut it. No one’s defending you. You killed Nagel.” The woman in the room rolled her eyes as she hopped off the bar stool she was perched on to walk behind the bar. Her hand just barely brushed Bucky’s back, unseen by anyone else in the room, as she passed to grab a glass and pour herself a drink as she listened to the men. “Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed as his eyes moved left and right, “There’s nothing to litigate. You straight shot the man.” Zemo raised a hand to point at the only woman in the room, “She wanted to.”

“Sam,” Bucky called, drawing an end to their little argument. Sam turned his attention to Barnes who was standing on the opposite side of the bar from him. “What?” Bucky glanced up from his phone for a moment before informing him, “Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.” “What? What’s the damage?” The slight influx in Sam’s voice showed slight surprise and interest. “Eleven injured, three dead.” The nurse next to Bucky looked over his shoulder. “Where is it close enough to help?” She asked, trying to see a location. “Sugar, you are more help with us,” Bucky told her before continuing to inform Sam, “They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren’t met.” Sam let out a deep sigh, one that could visibly be seen pulling the man’s shoulders down. “She’s getting worse.” Helmut pointed out the obvious. He stood at the end of the bar between both Sam and Bucky. “We,” He began before the nurse shook her head and pointed at him. “Nuh-uh. Do not wrap me in with you. I’m done. I am here to help because of the serum. As soon as this is all over I am going with Sam or Bucky.”

“Fine. I have the will to complete this mission. Do the three of you?” The Baron tried again this time changing his phrasing. “She’s just a kid.” Sam reminded him. Zemo turned to him and shook his head. “You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there.” Sam sat back as he listened, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re clouded by it. She’s a supremacist.” Bucky’s head tilted and his eyes glanced over at the woman slightly behind him who was looking down at the floor with her arms crossed. “The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It’s that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers.” Bucky walked around to the opposite side of the bar from Zemo and leaned against it. “Hey, those are our friends you’re talking about,” Sam warned. “The Avengers, not the Nazis.” Bucky quickly added which made the ex World War II nurse smile and nod her head.

“So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.” Sam turned so he was talking to everyone even if his eyes were primarily on Zemo. The nurse opened her mouth but Zemo began to talk, cutting off what she had to say, “The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from the supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her.” There was a pregnant pause before he adds an afterthought, “Or she kills you.”

Bucky stands up straight as he looks at the man who just spoke, “Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve or (Y/n).” The German raised a finger and his eyebrows. “Touche. Yet the former Amazing Grace did turn her back on everything to come after you and helped you within her own free will. She’s probably more guilty than you are. So there really has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?” The woman’s eyes never left the floor as she quickly shuffled her way out from behind the bar to try and get away from the conversation. Yet she was stopped by Bucky who gave her a concerned look. She shook her head and moved farther away.

Her mind involuntarily flashing through ever murder she was assigned to help the Winter Soldier with. She lowered herself onto the couch and held her head trying to will the memories to go away. She could feel the intense concerned look on her back from Bucky as he spoke. “Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.” His voice got closer as he neared the woman currently lost in the dark corners of her mind. “And you’ll give up your tour guide?” Zemo asked while opening cabinets. “Yes.” Bucky’s answer was as firm as the warm hand that fell onto the woman’s shoulder.

“From my understanding, Donya is like a pillar of the community, right? So when I was a kid my TT passed away.” Sam spoke as Bucky’s hand rubbed gentle circles around the woman’s back as he sat next to her, the way he remembers her comforting him years before. His hand hesitates just as much as his voice as he asks, “Your TT?” Sam turns to him and nods, “Yeah my TT.” Bucky’s face scrunched up in confusion as he slowly started to rub her back again, “Who is your TT?” Sam rolled his eyes and holds his arms up, “Fine. When I was a kid, my aunt passed away and the entire neighborhood got together for a ceremony. It was like a week long. Maybe they’re doing the same thing for Donya.”

(Y/n) slowly raised her head as she focused on what Sam said instead of the nightmares in her memories. “It’s worth a shot.” Bucky comments looking back at the woman next to him. She looked into his eyes and he gave her a silent nod of understanding. She leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment and took a deep breath. Then under her breath she whispered to him, “Do you think Sam was a dorky looking kid?” She felt his shoulder shake in a small silent laugh. “Definitely.” The two laughed silently as Zemo made a comment about how Sam’s TT would be proud of him. The woman stood up and ruffled the dark hair of the man next to her, earning her one of his signature stares. “I’m going to wash up a bit then we can head into town and look for more leads.” She told them men before leaving to the bathroom.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

With their trusty ‘tour guide’, as he so graciously called himself, the group headed out to gather information. Zemo talked about the location they were at with fond memories from his childhood where the place they stood once was home to grand parties. Standing at the entrance the group divided into two. Zemo and Bucky stayed on the ground lever and courtyard while Sam and (Y/n) went to see what was upstairs.

(Y/n) stayed at Sam’s side but followed his lead as she looked around the building. Spotting a kid Sam followed him, calling out to him once, as they entered what looked to be a workplace for seamstress’. “Excuse me, have you heard of Donya Madani?” Sam spoke gently but the women quickly got up and left. Sam looked over his shoulder at the woman scanning the room behind him, then adjusted the case in front of him to show her the red handprint symbol of the flag smashers. They continued to walk through the upstairs rooms, each time they came across someone to ask about Donya they would quickly leave the room. Each room having at least one item with the flag smasher’s insignia on it. (Y/n)’s brow had furrowed by the second room. She glanced out the window, down at the courtyard where she could see Bucky and Zemo.

Finally they moved onto probably the final room, a small smile falling onto the woman’s face as she saw the children’s crafts in the makeshift classroom. “Excuse me.” Sam called out to the sole teacher in the room, who was kneeling down next to one of the desk’s helping a child. The man turned his head towards them and Sam continued to ask him, “Do you know a woman by the name of Donya Madani? She was a refugee here.” The man stood and turned towards Sam. “We’re not refugees, for we have nothing to seek refuge from. We’re internationally-displaced persons, for what it's worth, and we don’t trust outsiders.” The man pat the student he was helping on the back as if giving him permission to leave since the kid stood and exited the room.

“No, I understand, “ Sam spoke and there was a certain calmness to his voice, something soothing about it. “I’m not from here, but I have a pretty good track record of helping out.” The man in front of her looked as non threatening as he could make himself so she tried to relax and do the same but her eyes kept scanning the room as she listened. “I know what happens when people say they’re going to help. Nothing. The Global Repatriation Council promised to send more teachers, supplies. That was six months ago.” The woman’s head snapped around at the news. How could things have gotten so bad? She frowned as she looked over to the two smaller children in the room. “What’s your name? Maybe I can make a call?” The man shook his head. “I know who you are. But I can’t trust you. I’m sorry. “ He turned to the two children, picking one up as the other went to leave the room. Sam watched them leave and the woman behind him ran her hand over one of the desks. “Sam,” She whispered out the raw emotion for how much she wanted to help these people clear in her voice. “I know.” His voice, while more stable, held the same sadness in it. “Let’s head back down.”

Sam and (Y/n) came to stand on either side of Bucky who was watching Zemo interact with some local kids. “It’s starting to feel like a dead end.” Sam mentions as he too watched Zemo. “The hell is he doing?” Bucky said the same question they were all asking themselves. “Being smart. We won’t get anything out of the adults, they don’t trust us. Kids however, they don’t know any better yet. Is that...turkish delight?” Her head tilted to the side as she watched. Zemo stood and handed a handful of the candy to the children. The baron then turned to walk over and join the waiting trio. “Cute kids.” He comments, walking by the three of them. “He’s up to something and I don’t like it.” (Y/n) muttered putting her hands into the back pockets of her pants.

Without much information to go on they returned back to the apartment. “I got nothin’.” Bucky sighed, “No one’s talkin’ about Donya.” Zemo made a straight line to pour himself a drink while Bucky went to sit on the couch along with Sam and (Y/n). “No surprise there.” She comments before Sam explains,” Karli is the only one fighting for them. They have no need to cross her. And she’s not wrong.” Bucky sighs, turning his head towards them. “What do you mean?” Sam slaps his knees and holds his head back for a moment. “For five years people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbed wire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together. And then, boom.” Sam snapped to make emphasis on the event that brought everyone back. “Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them at least Karli’s doin’ somethin’.”

“You really think her ends justify her means? Then she’s no different than him or anybody else we’ve fought.” Bucky replied, gesturing to Zemo who was pouring himself tea. “She’s different from them. She’s not motivated by the same things.” Zemo carried in the tray that held all of the fixings for the tea he had just prepared. Bucky turned to him, “That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Zemo looked at each of them before answering as he set the tray onto the table. “The funeral is this afternoon.”

The information peeked everyone’s attention. Out of the corner of her eye (Y/n) watched as Bucky’s jaw muscle flexed, a sign that he was annoyed or getting upset. “You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute. In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.” However the threat didn’t scare Zemo into telling him any more. “Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli. Hmm, I prefer to keep my leverage.” The woman in the room rubbed her temple as she mentally thought about how this may turn out. Bucky standing up from his seat and rounding the coffee table to stand in front of the man he helped escape prison, yeah that definitely wasn’t a positive one.

The low clink of the glove-covered vibranium hand against the cup Zemo was holding only took seconds to become a shattering splash of the cup hitting the pillar behind Zemo’s head. Bucky’s jaw was set as his hard gaze locked onto the shorter man in front of him. “You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” The low rumble threat that came from Bucky made the woman slide to the edge of the couch and prepare herself to jump in to stop him. “James.” She said at the same time Sam stood and said. “Take it easy. Don’t engage him.” Sam held his hand out right above Bucky’s chest. “He’s just going to extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.”

(Y/n) stood from the couch and moved to Bucky’s side. Sam glanced at her and she gave a nod. “Let me make a call.” Sam told them as her hand gently grabbed onto Bucky’s elbow, the man’s attention still locked onto the baron. Sam walked away, patting Barnes’ on the shoulder as he did. With Sam gone, Helmut spoke again. “You want some cherry blossom tea?” Bucky finally broke his eye contact to look down at the tea. “No, you go ahead.” Bucky turned in the direction that Sam walked and gently patted the small hand on his elbow before walking off.

“Keeping information from them won’t keep you from being taken back into custody Zemo. Not to mention playing with him needs to stop. Or maybe next time I’ll be the one you need to handle. Do you understand?” The voice she spoke in was calm even as Zemo let out the breath he was holding. “You feel like that with him staring you down, try not upsetting us both.” She gave a friendly smile as her hand reached up to gently pat the side of his face.

[idratherstayslytherin]

Feelings We Can’t Let Go ( A Drarry Fic) CHAPTER THREE

Summary: Harry needs to pass his NEWTs with a decent grade in Potions. The Ministry sends Harry to France so he can study for his exam with none other than Draco Malfoy, who has been blocked from Wizarding Society for almost a year now. It was supposed to be just a few months of tutoring, but it was so much more than that.

Read Chapter One HERE

Read Chapter Two HERE

Quick note: Posting re-edited chapter here and on ao3 again, because I want to improve my English and terrible writing. I hope you enjoy it!

This chapter was written partyly by me partly by my co-writer who isn’t helping me anymore, but still deserves the credit for huge part if it. You can find her AO3 HERE . I added a bit of the text and written some parts before, I also corrected grammar and some scenes that didn’t feel right or were ooc in my opinion. 

/////////

Harry found himself sitting in Draco’s kitchen, the Prophet open in his lap, and absentmindedly flipping through it, while watching as the blonde boy made dinner from the corner of his eye. A month had passed, and having dinner together every Thursday was something Harry insisted they should do, and even though Draco kept going on about how Harry should spend time with his proper friends, not him, he didn’t send Harry away when he apparated into his flat one week after their first conversation, but invited him in, smiling and looking a little flustered at the same time. Harry didn’t feel bad about inviting himself to someone else’s place for dinner. After a few uncomfortable silences and some slightly more comfortable, but short conversations, Draco didn’t seem to mind either. He poured them both a glass of firewhiskey, and lead the way into his kitchen. He let Harry rummage through the contents of his fridge, in hope of finding something useful (which he didn’t, so they ended up eating take-away, but from then on Draco always went shopping beforehand and carefully picked the nicest pieces of vegetables and bought the best meat so he could impress Harry with the meals he made, or just have fun with him cooking it together). At first it had been weird, neither of them wanting to do small talk and neither of them too keen on mentioning France, but then Draco started telling him about a potion he was working on with some colleagues, and Harry told him about going back to Hogwarts and taking his NEWTs there, and what it was like to be back there, and from then on the conversation carried on in a natural way, their talkativeness ensured by another glass of firewhiskey. The next week was a little less weird, but at the same time it was still pretty awkward. Being together and talking felt much less forced, neither of them trying to avoid certain topics and keeping quiet instead, they were just talking about whatever came to their minds. This time Draco was actually expecting Harry, hence why he spent an extra four hours tidying up and making sure everything was perfect, even though he couldn’t explain why he quite felt like this was necessary. He prepared a perfect dinner and was wearing spotless, freshly ironed dark grey trousers with a white button-down, making him look incredibly stiff and overdressed next to Harry, who just flopped down in one of the chairs next to the dinner table, wearing a pair of old jeans and a faded t-shirt, his hair the usual bird's nest compared to Draco’s slick locks. As the fourth week approached, Harry was acting as natural as ever. Draco didn’t feel like he needed to impress him in every way he could anymore, or at least he hid it very well. He allowed himself a little more comfort, wearing a simple black t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants, his hair tied back in a loose ponytail, some shorter strands escaping every so often, which he would tuck back behind his ear. Harry sat at the table, his gaze flicking up every time he caught Draco doing it, but quickly looking back down at the newspaper when he realised he was staring. By this time they were finally comfortable in each other’s company, Harry acting like he was at home, his feet propped up on another chair, laughing at the way Draco panicked when he dripped tomato sauce down his chest, ignoring the blonde boy telling him this was the exact reason why he needed an apron, which Harry naturally made fun of when he put it on. It felt good. Almost natural. Almost like they were friends (which Harry insisted they were, they just had to get to know each other better). “I’m gonna go take a piss” Harry announced, standing up, dropping the newspaper onto the table. “That’s a little bit more information than I needed, but go right ahead.” Harry just snorted at Draco’s response, leaving the kitchen. He surprised even himself by how he was used to being at Draco’s place, after all it had only been the fifth time, and he never arrived earlier than five or left later than eleven. He already felt uncomfortable thinking about explaining himself to Ginny, but he didn’t feel extraneous any more as he crossed the front room towards the bathroom, stopping to pick up a wooden carved model of a duck from the floor. He had no idea where did Draco get it from, however he knew it belonged on the mantelpiece. This was just one of those little things he’d do that would surprise Draco, along with knowing where to put the pot of tarragon leaves after making dinner, or fetching a random piece of cutlery they had forgotten before Draco even asked him to get it; and knowing exactly where to find it. It wasn’t just those kinds of little things, it was the little things in their conversations as well. Knowing what the other meant even before they could express themselves properly, or feeling when the topic they were talking about was becoming a little uncomfortable for the other, and changing it. It came as a bit of a shock to both of them, how quickly they became comfortable in each other’s company, but especially to Harry, who might have been the happiest he has been in a while. He still was unsure about his feelings towards Draco and this thing they had. The feeling of ambiguity always appeared as soon as he got home. He never lied, he always told Ginny he enjoyed himself, but as the words tumbled out of his mouth, he felt guilty, he felt uncertain whether he should enjoy himself with Draco, the Draco Malfoy they all knew. So usually he would just add something along the lines of ‘but I missed you and I’m happy to be home’ and he would capture his girlfriend’s lips in a kiss before she could say anything, afraid of hearing something he didn’t want to. “Soo, I was thinking-” Harry started as soon as he regained his footing after arriving in Draco’s living room by apparation. “Well that’s a surprise.” Draco butted in with a smirk. Harry shot him a glare, but couldn’t stop from feeling the corners of his mouth go up a little. “If you actually let me finish what I was about to say-” “No one’s stopping you.” Draco interrupted again. “Can’t you just shut up for a moment?” Harry huffed, flopping down on the sofa next to the blonde boy. “I probably can. If you ask me nicely enough.” Harry rolled his eyes at Draco’s words and the mischievous grin on his face, he picked up a book from the coffee table and opened it. He started reading said book and deliberately not looking at Draco. The book was actually really boring, he still couldn’t understand how things like paleobotany fascinated the other boy so much that he had a book about it. “I’m not talking to you.” he informed Draco, who didn’t seem too affected by the way Harry was pretending to ignore him, and was just sitting reading another book. “Yes, I noticed” he sniggered, turning the page. “Oh fuck it I’m not good at this.” Harry groaned, giving up, slamming the book on the couch. “How do you understand any of this? You know what? I don’t even want to know, I bet you would just start to go on about it in a Hermione-ish way, and I still wouldn’t understand why you find it interesting.” Draco just rolled his eyes. “Anyway, what I actually wanted to say, was that we could do something different next week, like go out or something.” “Getting bored of being stuck in a four room flat with me?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I meant. I just-” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. I like this, but I just thought.... I thought it would be nice to go to a bar or shopping or something like that.” “Sure.” Draco smirked. “Oh forget it.” Harry sighed, and shook his head. “No, I’m serious. Let’s go.” “Really?” Harry raised his eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting Draco to agree so quickly, but he was pleased. “How about next week, Thursday as usual, 11 am?” “Sounds good to me. Don't be late.” Draco smiled.

"Am I ever late?" Harry faked being hurt. Draco just gave him a "how am i still hanging out with this idiot" look and shook his head.  “Great, okay, it’s a date” Harry grinned. Quickly after that he realised what he have just said. His cheeks were turning warmer and warmer every second. “I mean, it’s not a date like a date date, but-” “I’m perfectly aware of what that expression means, Potter” Draco scoffed. Harry bit down on his tongue to stop himself from babbling, and looked away from Draco, who looked a bit angry, feeling embarrassed. A few more slightly uncomfortable minutes passed, but quickly they got back into their usual routine and enjoyed the evening before saying their goodbyes. The week rolled by, and it was Thursday again, and Harry found himself walking side by side with Draco in Muggle London towards their destination. After hours spent at the science museum both boys’ legs were hurting almost as much as if they had just finished a good two hour run, and their knees refused to cooperate with them. Harry and Draco ended up sitting down on a bench just outside the building, overlooking the surrounding garden, comfortably leaning back, but keeping a little distance between them. Harry felt like he was going to literally die from hunger, they had been walking around with no food and they took no breaks between looking at the different exhibitions, continuously walking through the countless halls of the museum. But it was great,  Draco was a bit scared of being surrounded by muggles at first, but as soon as they started looking at the exhibits and chatting, he calmed down and loosened up, starting to comment on every little thing he found interesting about people passing by them. Sometimes he did this a bit too loud, so Harry had to hit him lightly on the arm with his elbow every so often, and look at him with his best “what the fuck are you doing?!” eyes. Draco didn’t seem too bothered by this, or concerned, he just brushed away few strands of his silver-blonde hair from his face and sighed deeply. “What? She looks like she fell into a birthday cake, then somehow managed to murder someone with cold blood.” Harry tried his best to keep his face straight, but the description was so accurate, that he had to cover his mouth to muffle an outburst of laughter. Draco was right, the thin lady who he was talking about was wearing a white latex dress that a design of clouds of different colours printed on it, the bottom decorated with dark red splashes that did look an awful lot like blood stains. She looked furious, following her supposed husband, looking at him as if she was going to murder him. The rest of their visit was full of Draco going “Merlin balls! How is this even possible.” or being left speechless. At some point he even left Harry alone just so he can read more on whatever that got his attention, while the other boy carried on, not as fascinated by the technology he grew up with as Draco, who had never before seen things like this. Harry panicked when he looked away from an old dress robes and noticed Draco wasn’t beside him anymore. He spent good fifteen minutes trying to find him, eventually discovering him in front of a display of various cell phones and reading the description below, his eyes were opening wider and wider with every word he read, shining with interest and rapture. It was a truly beautiful image, Harry thought, Draco looked his best when he was fascinated by something and a little smile appeared on his face. “Amazing, isn’t it?” Draco said when he finally noticed that Harry was standing next to him. “You never told me there were so many different types of those. It’s weird how they went from being a banana shaped thing to a brick that you can only type numbers to a smaller bricks with a screen” Harry had his arms crossed, but he was smiling at the blond. “I was looking for you.” He moved closer to Draco. “I thought you-” He wasn’t able to finish his sentence because Draco interrupted him with a cheeky grin on his face. “Died? Was murdered by all those muggles, well- that would actually be possible-, but no. As you can see I’m well, and there’s no need for you to act like my mom.” Harry just rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know where you were, that’s all.” He said, settling on a defensive tone. Draco just smirked, shaking his head, but he didn’t leave his side again. “For how long are you going to pretend that you’re not hungry?” Draco asked after sitting on the bench in silence for some time, which made Harry snap out of his thoughts, back to reality. “I’ve been listening your stomach screaming for food since we got to the last exposition.” He turned to Harry so that they were face to face, smoothing his white, velvet shirt with one hand. “Alright.” Harry groaned, and stood up. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer without the food. “Get up, I’m taking you to one of my favourite places here. It’s still in muggle London, but that’s even better, right?” Draco studied Harry’s face and bit the inside of his cheek. “Is it really that good?” He questioned. Harry nodded. “A quiet place without annoying kids screaming and throwing food everywhere?” “Yes, it’s quite a kid-less place, you’ll like it.” Harry promised. “It’s not such a well known place, so it won’t be crowded either.” At this, the corners of Draco’s mouth twitched, a smile of relief spreading on his face. He stood up, and suddenly he was really close to Harry, there was barely an inch or two separating them. It was too close, apparently personal space was a myth to Draco. Harry felt his cheeks getting warmer for no other reason than that he could feel Draco’s hot breath on him. It felt weird, he wasn’t sure if he could ever get used to being this close to him. Even his stomach seemed to forget about the hunger and felt more like it was being tied in ropes that were being pulled from one end to another. It must be his problem with being close to people, he didn’t like being in crowded rooms or small spaces where people were touching their bodies to his. Yeah, that must be it. The lack of personal space, right? Nothing more. It’s not like Draco is a girl that he likes, and he loses his breath every time they talk. Although, he is impossibly handsome, especially with his hair pulled back just by hand, no hair gel; and wearing those tight black trousers. Harry knew he was attracted to some men, or rather he thought they were fit and he appreciated their bodies, but that’s it. However, he couldn’t help but notice the fact that Draco was extremely fit and was looking at Harry with such passion. Sure, maybe when they first met after the war he was a little confused about liking him in more than a friendly way, but it was only because they were there alone and he missed Ginny, right? True, he was attractive, smart, had Harry’s sense of humour and the ability to calm Harry down without words, but he was still a boy. Or a man. Harry was attracted to girls, he have never looked at men the way he looked at women, Draco was the only exception. Harry couldn’t be gay if he thought he wanted to snog only one man, right? Maybe that was it, maybe he just liked Draco as a friend and thought he was attractive, and quite intimidating, and extremely hard to quit, like a drug. You get more addicted with every smell, touch and look. Every word sits in your memory for longer than you could remember whatever your girlfriend told you to do this morning. Right, maybe Harry had a problem. “So, are you going to side-along me or do we have to walk there on our feet, which are pretty much dead?” Harry shook his head in order to collect his thoughts, realising he had been standing, staring at Draco. “Yeah, I...errr, yes.” “Yes, we’re apparating or yes, we’re walking until we die on the street?” The smile was still there on the blonde boy’s face, cheeky as ever, eyes locked onto Harry’s. “You’re asking too many questions.” Harry stepped back, swallowing thickly, and exhaling after having held his breath without noticing. He didn’t have a chance to calm himself down, because within seconds he was being pulled by his wrist to an empty alley. “What the hell, Draco?!” He gasped when they came to a halt in the middle of the deserted street, away from the noise of people getting in or out of the museum. “I’m quite hungry and you wouldn’t stop staring at me like…” Draco trailed off. 'like I wanted to kiss you' Harry unconsciously finished the sentence and almost chocked on his own saliva. “Anyways, would you be so kind and show me the way to this amazing, kid-less restaurant?” Draco’s voice was annoyed, but surprisingly soft, which was almost a contradiction, but it was one of those Draco-things only he managed. They were standing close, again, so close, that their noses were almost touching, Harry’s back against the brick wall, meaning he couldn’t back away. He pushed himself away from the wall, taking Draco’s forearm, and without a word he apparated them to a small Italian restaurant in the suburbs of London. The restaurant was indeed quiet, no children and only a few couples having lunch, apart from the pair of boys. Harry ordered an extra sized pizza, with pretty much all possible toppings, while Draco chose a plate of smoked haddock Florentine, and a bottle of wine as he knew Harry had no idea what to choose from the endless list, settling with a bottle of the most expensive white wine, after reassuring Harry that he would pay for the dinner, which he grudgingly agreed to, but only because he payed for the coffee they had earlier and the postcards and booklets and souvenirs they bought at the museum shop. They ate in silence, Draco only stopping to comment on Harry’s terrible table manners, who just rolled his eyes, not bothering to take a pause in wolfing down his serving, only speaking again when he finished, remarking how he couldn’t understand how Draco still had half a plateful, but this time it was the blonde boy who answered merely with a roll of his eyes, but as Harry continued to watch him as he ate, the way he cut up everything in tiny pieces, wiping his mouth after every second mouthful, he wasn’t even surprised Draco was taking twice as long. Of course he had noticed this before, Draco was always a slow, but extremely tidy and nice eater, but now that they were in public, he seemed to care even more, stiffly sticking to what he thought was the polite and correct way, even though he was just as hungry as Harry, and no one was watching them. Deciding to spend the rest of the afternoon in muggle London as well, after sharing the bottle of wine, and staying to have coffee and desert as well, they left the restaurant happy and with a full stomach. Harry suddenly felt guilty for spending the whole day with Draco, but then he realised Ginny wouldn’t even be at home, but at Quidditch practice, but before he could start feeling guilty again, remembering he didn’t tell Ginny when he’d be home or anything, Draco asked him where they were actually headed, and Harry forgot about Ginny again, dragging the blonde boy with him as he made his way towards the closest underground stop, explaining why exactly they had to visit Piccadilly Circus and Bond Street, and Draco didn’t even complain, especially not after he bought himself a new suit with a matching tie in one of the shops they went to, in which Harry thought he looked incredibly attractive, even though he didn’t say so, simply nodded when the boy told him he was buying it. When the crowd was beginning to be too much for both of them, they found a small cafeteria in one of the backstreets, where they sat and talked until the sun went down, not even how dark and late it got before they stepped out onto the streets again. Neither of them felt like walking any more, the afternoon was more than enough, so after finding a peaceful spot away from the crowds and joining hands, they disapparated together, leaving muggle London behind, landing in front of Grimmauld Place 12. “So… um-” Harry started after the two of them standing in silence for what seemed like hours. He realised he was still clutching Draco’s hand, and quickly let go, feeling embarrassed, he tried avoiding Draco’s gaze, who was again, standing way too close to him. Not way too close in the way that he didn’t like it, way too close in the way that he liked it too much, which was confusing and it made him uncomfortable, so he stepped back, rocking back and forward on his heels. “So?” Draco asked with a small smile. Harry just shook his head, not knowing how he wanted to continue or if he even wanted to continue. Did Draco want him to do something? What was he waiting for? He couldn't possibly be wanting Harry to ... no. The blonde boy didn’t react, he just kept staring at Harry, his face unreadable, his eyes locked onto Harry’s, gaze somehow sharp and soft at the same time, which was another of those Draco-things, and Harry felt like he wanted to run away to someplace the grey eyes couldn’t follow him, but at the same time like he wanted to step closer, and surrender to Draco’s look and his own feelings. But then Draco suddenly said “Night, Scarhead”, turned around and disapparated without sparing him another glance, which Harry found more unnerving than Draco being close to him, even though he couldn’t tell why was that. But whatever it was, it made Harry incapable or just not wanting to move, or rather face Ginny for another few minutes, so he just stood on the pavement, watching the streetlight flickering and the odd leaf tumbling from the trees on the other side, before sighing, and entering his home. “There you are, mate!” Ron called as soon as he locked the door behind him, sticking his ginger head out from the kitchen. Harry immediately regretted leaving his peaceful spot in the street in the fresh air, without having to talk to anyone. He forced a smile, and walked over to the kitchen. “Are you hungry? Ginny, Hermione and I already ate, but there are some leftovers if you want something.” “Nah, I’m good” Harry shook his head. The smell from the kitchen was actually inviting, which meant Ron must have made it, because even though he was really lazy most of the times, he did take after Molly, and could make really delicious meals when Harry wasn’t home or couldn’t be bothered. Harry could still feel the satisfying weight of lunch and cake, and then the other cake he had with coffee in his stomach, accompanied by another, much less comfortable weight, which Harry was sure had nothing to do with the pizza or the cakes he ate. “Had a nice day?” Ron asked, moving around the kitchen, putting the dirty plates into the sink, casting a quick spell on them to clean them, before settling back onto his chair. “I guess. I did.” Harry still didn’t feel too comfortable talking about how he enjoyed Draco’s company, because he knew his friends had no idea what he was like now, and hadn’t forgiven him for his past yet. But he understood that, and didn’t want to push. “Is Gin already upstairs?” Ron nodded. “Well then I think I’ll just head up, talk to you tomorrow, g’night.” Harry mumbled, before leaving the kitchen and walking up the carpet-clad staircase to their bedroom. Ginny was there indeed, sitting in bed, but still wearing her outside clothes, pieces of paper filled with sketches of Quidditch strategies and attack formations spread out around her, only noticing Harry when he closed the door behind him. “Hey” Harry smiled, kicking off his shoes before sitting down beside her on the bed, pulling her in for a kiss. Oh, it felt so wrong, so wrong, but Harry wasn't keen of thinking about the reason why. “You were out late” Ginny remarked, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder. “Um, yeah” Harry felt himself tense up. “Sorry. I thought I’d be home earlier, but we went to this museum, and then…” he trailed off. He felt like he was making excuses, and he didn’t like it at all. He also didn't feel like sharing too much of his time with Draco. It was something just for him and the other boy. “It’s okay” his girlfriend said with a soft smile, reaching over and lacing her fingers through Harry’s. He wanted to say that it wasn’t okay, but instead he just nodded, closing his eyes, and pulling Ginny closer, burying his face into her neck, inhaling her fresh and flowery scent, trying to clear his mind of everything else. It seemed to work, and they chatted about Quidditch and other things for the rest of the evening before going to bed, and apart from a sudden urge to tell Ginny how happy he was that Draco enjoyed the muggle museum, and how lovely lunch was, and how nice it was to look around all those shops in Bond Street, when she asked him about his day, but he settled with telling her about the exhibitions and how London was overcrowded and about the ugly dress of the woman they saw and a nice car he saw, and everything else that didn’t involve mentioning Draco. And Ginny was happy with his reply, and told him about her practice, then switched off the lights and snuggled up to him, and Harry flung his arm around her, letting his tiredness take over as soon as they pulled the covers up, Ginny’s goodnight-kiss still lingering on his lips. And it felt nice, it felt like this was the way it should be, and he felt guilty for ever thinking that it wasn’t, but he pushed that back to his subconscious as he drifted off, the steady rise and fall of Ginny’s chest as she fell asleep calming him down. The next morning greeted them with warm sunshine that flooded the room, falling onto them, the light making Ginny’s ginger hair shine like the finest copper. Harry thought it was beautiful, and after rubbing his eyes, he started combing his fingers through the fine strands, but then suddenly he found himself thinking of what Draco’s hair felt like, and how it looked in the sun. He thought of Draco's smile and his laugh that Harry always wanted to be the the reason of. He thought of Draco's grey eyes that turned silver whenever he was joyous or whenever he was emotional; they would go deep, dark grey every time Draco was furious or hurt. Harry thought of his somewhat pointy features and face that some people may considered unattractive, but Harry always blushed when he got got staring at. No. This wasn't the time to think about Draco. He shook his head, and went back to playing with Ginny’s hair, smoothing it out of her face before leaning in and placing soft kisses all over her face, and down her neck. 'GET HIM OUT OF YOUR HEAD. GET HIM OUT. OUT.' Within moments Ginny woke up, but Harry didn’t stop, his kisses trailing lower and lower, and as Ginny didn’t object at all, they ended up making love, a sweet tangle of red hair and white sheets, and the feeling of body on body. And it felt good. It felt right. It wasn’t exciting, it wasn’t thrilling, but it felt like something he knew well, and that’s what Harry needed. He hated being lost and uncertain.

They sat in bed for another hour, just cuddling and mumbling sweet nothings to each other, content with being together, not wanting to go back into reality, which was getting ready for another day of training for both of them, curse-breaking for Harry and Quidditch for Ginny. But at the end when they heard that Hermione was leaving already, they knew they had to get up, so after a quick shower and breakfast and a goodbye-kiss they parted ways.

[mldrgrl]

Speak Low if You Speak Love

by: mldrgrl Rating: NC-17 Summary: Stella has been thinking about a change of scenery and Hank doesn’t take the news as well as she thought he might.

They’d been in New York for just over three weeks since Becca’s accident.  After four days in the hospital, the injured girl had been released and was adamant about returning to her own apartment.  Karen had strenuously argued to bring her to Connecticut to recuperate while Hank vigorously lobbied to bring her to the loft.  Stella and Fish remained mostly neutral, pacifying the concerns of both exasperated parents by reminding them that Becca was an adult and therefore the decision was hers to make.  

Secretly, Stella had hoped that Becca would capitulate and choose to accept the assistance both her parents so eagerly offered.  It would certainly make things easier.  However, she also understood the need for autonomy and self-reliance, something she shared with her stepdaughter in spades.  Deep down, she knew that Becca would heal faster without the added stress of hovering, worried parents with a known tendency to smother their daughter with attention.

Officially, Stella was on an extended leave, though she did what she could to audit files remotely and had gotten up in the middle of the night a few times to attend meetings via videoconference.  Once the anxiety surrounding Becca’s hospitalization had worn off, Hank returned to work on his latest novel with renewed vigor.  A routine was established where Hank and Stella checked in on Becca during the week, taking her to and from physical therapy every other day, and Karen and Fish came down on Friday nights, leaving on Sunday afternoons after they’d all had brunch at a cafe a short walk from Becca’s apartment.  

Spring slid easily into summer and the weather had been remarkably beautiful the entire time.  Stella and Hank had gotten into the habit of walking home from brunch, taking a leisurely stroll across the park from the west side to the east side, sometimes stopping for appetizers or drinks depending on the time of day they made it back to the loft.  

The pace of their days was gentle and unhurried, something Stella was not accustomed to, but that she almost felt like she could get used to.  Despite the situation, it was, she thought, oddly pleasant.  The tranquility actually spurred her into action about something she’d been lately giving a lot of thought to.

They walked hand in hand, another thing Stella had become increasingly comfortable with, to the point where it became almost an unconscious act to reach for him as they entered the gates in front of the Natural History Museum.  Their walks were mostly silent, save for the ambient noise of the park - birds chirping, dogs barking, children screaming, people laughing.  Today, the sun played a game of peek-a-boo behind large, white, and puffy clouds.  Stella could feel the warmth of it on her back through the thin cotton of her sundress.  It was hotter than it had been and more humid.  Spotting an empty bench under the shade of a thick clump of trees, she tugged on Hank’s hand.

“Sit?” she asked.

“Sure,” he answered.

Hank laid his arm out along the back of the bench behind Stella when they sat down.  He tipped his head back and she knew he eyes were closed even if she couldn’t see through his dark glasses.  She put a hand on his thigh and he cupped her shoulder, pulling her close as he leaned towards her.

“You’re getting freckled,” Hank mumbled, brushing his lips back and forth over her shoulder.

Stella turned her head to the side, but it was hard to see.  She put her arms out and rotated them back and forth a few times.  There was a bit of color there.

“Was this what it was like in LA?” she asked.  “Perpetual sun?”

“More often than not,” he answered, leaning back again on the bench and turning his head up again.

“I think that would be very strange.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t call it Hell-A for nothin’.”

“And New York?”

“Weatherwise?  Colder than a witch’s tit in winter, melt your balls off hot in the summer.  Everything in between is just about damn near perfect.”

“You love it here.”

Hank shrugged.

“There’s something I’ve been giving a lot of thought to,” she said.  “Something I’ve been investigating the possibility of lately, and I want to know what your opinion is.”

“Which state has the best weather?”

“No.”  

A pack of dogs came around the curve of the path towards them, a harried dog walker in tow.  They watched the young man stumble along as he struggled to keep up with the group.  Hank grinned in amusement, but waited until the kid had been dragged away to let out a laugh.

“Looks like his first day on the job,” he said.  “Poor kid.”

“It’s a job I want to talk to you about.”

“Thinking of being a dog walker, Sherlock?”

“No, but I am thinking about a change in career.”

“Oh?”  Hank turned towards her and raised his sunglasses up to rest on his head.  “For real?”

“I’ve been made aware of an opportunity that I don’t believe would come my way again if I pass on it.”

“What is it?”

“The UN has a security council that oversees efforts of reformation of law to war-torn countries to help them rebuild.  They’re looking to put together a committee that would establish a basic set of parameters to follow to assist in transition.”

“I don’t know if I understood a word of that, but go on.”

“Council members have attended panel discussions I’ve been involved with on international law and my name was floated as a suggested head of this committee.”

“That sounds fucking amazing, but could you explain it to me in layman’s terms?”

“Essentially, we’d be writing the manual on how to establish law and order in countries that have little to no experience in governing themselves, but who wish to do so.”

“And if you’re the head of it, you’d be like the Mayor McCheese of all the countries?”

“Ah, no.”  Stella chuckled a little.  “No, nothing like that.”

“Wouldn’t you need to be a lawyer or something to do this?”

“No, but I’ve a degrees in political science and criminal justice.”

“You do?”

“Of course.”

“You say ‘of course’ like everyone has a degree in criminal justice and poli-sci.  I thought you had a degree in anthropology.”

“I do.”

“Triple major?”

“It’s easy enough to continue courses and write a few more papers when you’ve accumulated credits.  So many overlap.”

“You have more?”

Stella shrugged lightly.

“How many?” Hank asked.

“I haven’t counted.”

“What else?”

“Economics, world history, ancient civilizations, criminal psychology, sociology, theology, classics.”

“Classics?”

“Study of ancient Greek and Roman culture.”

“Well, I didn’t hear English lit in there, so...I win.”

“What would I do with a lit degree?”

“The same thing you do with a classics degree?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Am I am asshole for not knowing any of this?”

“It certainly doesn’t come up in conversation.  Nor do I offer it without cause.”

“You’re like the extreme version of an undecided major.  You couldn’t decide so you took them all.”

“Not all.  I’m rubbish at the maths.”

“Guess settling down and becoming an accountant would be out of the question then?”

“Absolutely out of the question.”

The sun appeared in full for the next few minutes between a gap in the clouds.  The line of demarcation between sunshine and shadow crossed the top of Stella’s feet, warming her toes until she pulled them back towards the bench and into the shade.

“Tell me more about the job,” Hank said.  “Not about what it is, but what it would mean.”

“The salary is less than what I’m making now.”

“Well, fuck.  There goes my dream of being a kept man.”

“There is a perk.”

“What’s the perk?”

“I can choose to make my home base from anywhere the UN has offices.”

“Can I rule out Switzerland?”

“I was thinking New York.”

“Here?”

“Would you want that?”

“Would you?”

“I wouldn’t even suggest it if I didn’t.”

“Okay.”  Hank paused and his face seemed to be caught between a smile and a frown.  “I’m guessing there’s a catch here.”

“There’s always a catch, isn’t there?” she answered, turning her head down with a sigh.

“Lay it on me, Sherlock.”

“It’s a minimum five year commitment.”

“And?”

“There is a significant amount of travel required.”

“How much are we talkin’?  Days, weeks, months?”

“As yet unknown.  I’d be sent where I’m needed and that could be...it could be months at a time.”

Hank turned his head away from Stella and started bouncing his knee, shaking the bench along with it until she put her hand on his leg.  He stopped bouncing, but she could feel the tension in his quadricep and she gave him a light squeeze, but that just seemed to make him more tense.

“You’re upset,” she stated.  “Why?”

“Have you already accepted this job?” he asked, his face still turned away from him.  “Has this all been planned out and you’re just giving me the courtesy of letting me know now?”

“No, I haven’t even met with anyone yet.  There’ve been a few emails traded regarding specifics, but technically it hasn’t even been offered and I don’t know who else they might be looking at.”

“I don’t want you to take it.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“Fine,” he spat, throwing his arm up over her head as he stood.  “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

Stella watched Hank walk away and though the urge to go after him was strong, she suppressed it in order to check her own anger.  She hadn’t even made up her mind, was still weighing the pros and cons of it herself, and of course was interested in his opinion, but his explosive reaction to the prospect was surprising and disheartening.  Normally, when faced with such strong opposition, it only served to make her more determined, but she was not free to make her own decisions any longer.

This is what had kept her reticent against marriage for most of her life and why she was experiencing a moment of regret now.  Were she single, she wouldn’t have to give much thought to taking this job if she wanted it.  In fact, moving to New York wouldn’t even be an idea in her mind if not for Hank.  For the first time in her life, she was happily willing to uproot her entire life for someone else, the way in which he’d done for her by moving to London.  It wasn’t lost on her that he’d made sacrifices to be with her, but his livelihood was not dependent on location.  If she passed on this opportunity to relocate, another may not come along.

There were some deeper truths in wanting to take this job that she did not get the opportunity to express to Hank, because all she’d gotten to was the facts.  She’d gone for the head and not the heart because she herself led by logic, but Hank was guided by emotion above all else.  At times it made it feel like they spoke entirely different languages.

Stella walked home slowly, her emotional state in constant flux between anger and sadness.  She had often heard from those that spoke of marriage, was that it was mainly about either compromise or sacrifice.  The reality of it was hitting her hard.  She wanted her opinions to be heard and respected, but she was going to have to offer Hank the same courtesy.  And that could mean the issue could go unresolved.  If they still could not be on the same page after she fully explained her reasoning to him, then she didn’t know where that would leave them.  The only thing she knew for certain was that she could not take the job unless her husband was okay with it and the fact that she did, in a sense, require his permission, was what made her angry.

When she got home, she expected to find Hank wallowing in a bottle of whiskey somewhere.  The loft was quiet and he wasn’t in the main room or the bedroom.  She checked the guest room and he wasn’t there either, which made her wonder if he hadn’t just stopped at a bar instead of coming home.  She almost forgot about the one other place she could check.

It wasn’t until after a few years of even being at the loft that she discovered they had rooftop access.  Not just any rooftop access, private rooftop access from inside the loft.  She’d always just assumed that the door that was largely unnoticeable beyond the kitchen was simply a utility closet of sorts and never had cause to open it until one afternoon when she was looking for a mop and instead found a set of stairs.  There’d been nothing up on the roof then except for a rickety chair, a small table, and a gorgeous view of other rooftops and the downtown skyscrapers.  Hank had said he hadn’t yet got around to fixing it up and rarely went up there.  Since he was now in London, it still hadn’t been done, but there were two chairs up there instead of one.

She found him standing at the ledge facing the east side.  It wasn’t quite sunset, but she’d noticed it getting darker on her walk home and now she could see what looked like a storm coming in.  The pretty blue that had brightened the sky earlier in the afternoon had dulled to a slate grey.  It was still warm though and the humidity level had started to creep up.

There was a whiskey bottle on the little table between the chairs, but it was new and the seal wasn’t even broken.  Stella knew that Hank must’ve heard her approach, but he stayed where he was with his back to her and his arms spread wide, gripping the edge of the brick wall at his hips.  She slipped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso, locking her hands over her wrists to hold tight.  It only took a few moments for him to let go of the wall and rest his hands on her arms.

“I humbly do beseech of your pardon,” Hank said.  “For too much loving you.”

Stella blew out a short breath through her nose.  She didn’t have any degrees in literature, but she’d certainly been exposed to her share of Shakespeare.  “I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me,” she retorted.

Hank chuckled.  “I give you Othello and you throw Much Ado About Nothing back at me?”

“Seemed fitting.”

“I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster.”

Stella let go of her wrists to loosen her hold on Hank.  “Look at me,” she said.

Hank turned and then leaned against the short wall.  He shifted his feet apart and though she stepped up close, she kept her back arched and her head tipped back to look up at him.

“I’m not made to be alone,” he said.  “And I’m sorry I’m so fucking insecure, but I-”

“Stop for a moment,” she interrupted, reaching up to place two fingers against his lips.  “Let me tell you the whole of it, and then you may disagree.”

“I don’t want to disagree, Sherlock.”

“My job is not as fulfilling as it used to be for me.  I do still find it worthwhile and I do still enjoy what I do, but my priorities have shifted.  I attribute that to you.”

“You mean you blame me.”

“No, I credit you.  You’ve made me realize that I could have more and that there are other things I would like to have more of.”

“Like what?”

“Family.  What I’d had before was very fractured and cold.  What I have now with you and with Becca and with Karen and with Fish, it’s warm and lovely and I can’t help but want more from it.”

Hank groaned a little and tipped his head back.  “You want more of The Trout?”

“I think that you do as well and you’re not willing to admit it.”

“There are only so many barbeques I can take.”

“This thing with Becca was unsettling.  It was unsettling for you and it was unsettling for me, being so far and utterly incapable of doing anything except get on the next flight out and then endure hours of the unknown.”

“I don’t need the reminder.”

“Logically I know that even if we were here, it couldn’t have changed things, but being ten minutes away and ten hours away does make a difference.”

“It does.  You’re right, it does.  But, Becca is my daughter and you’re my wife and that also makes a difference.  I don’t necessarily want to be away from her, especially if bad shit happens, but I don’t want you to be away from me either because you’re my wife.  Maybe a better man would be okay with it, or maybe I’m just a fucking codependent asshole, but I can’t do the weeks apart thing anymore.  You’re asking me to accept the possibility of months or more away from you and I can’t do it.”

“I’m not asking you to accept anything, I’m only asking that you listen to why I was interested.”

“Are you not taking it?”

“I don’t know.  Yes, being apart is a significant drawback, but what if I never find an opportunity like this again?”

“Is it the job that’s the opportunity or is it moving to New York?”

Stella paused, her lips parting just a little as she sucked in a breath.  “The job is appealing.  It sounds challenging and worthwhile.  I don’t know that I’d want to take it if it did not come with the benefit of moving.”

“So, if I’m understanding this right, and feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, getting to New York is the goal, not necessarily a change in career.”

“That is something else I’ve been giving a lot of thought to.”

“You want to retire the deerstalker?”

Before Stella could answer, an enormous crack of thunder interrupted the conversation, making them both jump.  The boom was so loud that it set off a string of car alarms below.  It must have startled the clouds as well, for it began to rain.  Stella loosened her arms and turned to move away, but Hank pulled her back.

“Don’t go yet,” he said.  “It’s just a little rain.”

She blinked away a few raindrops that hit her lashes.  “I’ve only been thinking that there’s an expiration date for me in what I do,” she answered.  “I’ve already moved out of the field, and the further up I go, the further away from that which drew me in I get.  I might like to try something different.”

“I think if the UN job was the right thing for you, it wouldn’t feel so wrong.  I don’t think you’d have any doubts at all if you really wanted it.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“What about teaching?”

A drop of rain leaked from Stella’s hairline down her forehead and along the side of her nose.  She reached up to brush it away.  She’d toyed with the idea of teaching before, but hadn’t seriously researched the requirements.

“I suppose that could be a possibility,” she said.

“There’s got to be a fuck-ton of schools up and down the east coast that would give their left nut for someone with your experience on staff.”

“That is something to consider.”

Hank looked up and closed his eyes wistfully.  The rain speckled his cheeks.  “I would really miss the fuck out of that uniform though,” he said.

Stella pinched his love handles and when she pulled away, this time he let her go.  They were both getting wet.  She had to tiptoe across the rooftop, afraid of her shoes slipping out from under her.  Hank grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and then took Stella’s hand to give her something to hold onto as she stepped down the first few stairs to go back inside.

When she reached the doorway, Stella stepped out of her shoes and left a trail of wet footprints across the hardwood floor to the bathroom.  Hank was only seconds behind her and he came in shaking water out of his hair like a dog after a bath.  She’d already peeled the straps of her dress off her shoulders and reached back to unzip it the rest of the way.  It was cooler inside the loft than it was outside and exposing her damp skin made her shiver.  She leaned closer over the counter and inspected her sunkissed shoulders.  Hank was right, there was not only a bloom of freckles across her chest and shoulders, but over the bridge of her nose and along the apples of her cheeks as well.

“I hate wet jeans,” Hank said, unbuttoning his fly as Stella turned her eyes to watch him in the mirror.  His t-shirt had already been pulled off and tossed to the floor.  “Makes me feel like I pissed myself.”

Stella left her bra and panties on and hopped up onto the counter.  Hank grimaced as he tried to shimmy out of his uncooperative pants.  God, how she wanted him.  Sometimes it hit her suddenly just how lucky she was that she had him.  He was right.  Being without him for months at a time would be unbearable.  Not touching him, not being touched by him, just might make her go insane.

“Hank,” she said, holding her hand out just a little and stretching her fingers towards him.

He cursed under his breath as he finally managed to step out of his pants and then he moved over to stand in front of her, leaning down with his hands pressed to the counter so that they were eye to eye.  She touched his jaw with her fingertips and then traced one brow and the shell of his ear.

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say ‘I love you,’” she said.

Hank’s lips curled up into a smile.  “Henry V?  Are you sure you’re not hiding a lit degree somewhere?”

“Kiss me.”

“You have witchcraft in your lips,” he murmured as he tilted his head and slanted his mouth over hers.

She sighed into his mouth and let him push her head back with his until it bumped the mirror.  Sometimes she was impatient with the slow way he made love to her mouth, but she welcomed it at that moment.  She was glad for the gentle glide of his thick tongue over hers and how it filled her, how it seemed to caress her teeth and the roof of her mouth so that she could hardly breathe.  The lack of oxygen and the increase of her heart rate made the pulse of her desire even stronger.  It burned so bright she felt it could ignite and catch fire.

She decided that she couldn’t wait for him to lavish attention over every part of her body.  One of his hands had meandered up slowly and began teasing her over her bra, but it just wasn’t enough.  She wasn’t in the mood for a slow slide into bliss after all, she was in the mood to have her hair pulled and her hips slammed back so hard the mirror would crack.  Of course, that wasn’t even possible.  The counter was too long and she was too short and she wasn’t entirely sure his back had healed fully from the skiing injury to support a hard and fast fuck against a wall.  The thought of it though...the very thought of it.

“Bed,” Stella ordered.  “Now.”

Hank pulled her from the counter in a flash and she locked her ankles behind his back.  He stumbled along, nuzzling his face across the top of her breasts so that she had to turn and be the one to guide them to the bedroom, pushing them away from walls and furniture until his knees hit the mattress and she fell back.  She twisted away and crawled up to toss the pillows to the floor, but he turned her hips and dragged her back down to him.

“I’ll make my heaven in a lady’s lap,” he said, yanking her panties down over her left hip.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” she answered, trailing off into a moan as his tongue swirled through her folds.  He had the nerve to laugh and the vibration lifted her knees and made her stomach clench.  She arched her neck and looked up, thinking that the headboard was sturdy and solid.  He lifted his head and pushed one of her legs back to pull her panties off and then he dove back down to keep loving her with his tongue.  It was good, because he was always good at what he did, but it wasn’t what she wanted.

Her eyes rolled back and a grunt of frustration escaped her before she managed to break free and scramble back up the bed.  Hank’s eyes shone like he was drunk off the taste of her and he rose unsteadily up on all fours.  Stella was reclined on her elbows, her shoulders pressed to the headboard.  She opened her knees for him, aware of how overripe with desire she was that it dripped steadily from her, and aware that he could see it and smell it on her.   He groaned, reaching down to stroke himself over his boxer briefs.

Stella inched her way higher up the headboard, which moved her away from Hank.  He stalked forward on hands and knees.  When he was close enough and when she was high enough, they were both suddenly on their knees and getting in each other’s way as they both tried to pull his underwear off.  She finally just let him do it and took him in hand instead, eagerly stroking root to tip in anticipation.  All she wanted was to get him inside of her as quickly as possible.

Outside, there was a low growl of thunder and the rain swelled.  Stella leaned back against the headboard and reached for Hank, lifting her leg over his hip as she pushed up just enough to slide down onto him.  He had one arm around her back and reached down to help guide himself into her.  She wrapped her other leg around his waist as he hoisted her up.  

“You always feel so fucking good,” Hank groaned.

“You too,” she breathed, pulling her hips back so that her low back hit the headboard.

The top of the headboard was like a natural shelf for Hank to rest his arms.  They buffered her back from the wall, but it didn’t stop her hips from rattling the frame with every upward stroke he gave her.  Soon, the knocking of wood against brick became a steady rhythm, coupled with the wet slap of damp skin against damp skin.  She wanted the whole building to thrum with the force of their fucking, wanted it to be bigger than the storm outside.

And then she was there, stretched taut and breathless as her body hung suspended between the climb and the fall.  She felt like sobbing with relief when she went over, heels digging roughly into Hank’s tailbone.  Her body shook and muscles quivered and two tears leaked from the corners of both eyes and down the sides of her cheeks.  Hank buried his face against her shoulder and furiously pumped his hips into her as she held on.  The effort was almost painful, but he had her gasping and shaking again just before he found his own release.

Stella slid her hand through Hank’s hair, damp with sweat and rainwater.  His chest heaved against hers and he blew hot and humid breath against her shoulder.  The musk of sex perfumed the room, so thick she could taste it in the air.  She smiled.

“God damn, Sherlock,” Hank said.  He dropped his hips and slipped out of her and she unfolded her legs from around him.  She felt weak and rubbery.  He took her with him as he flopped back on the bed and she rolled to her side against him.

“I’m going to pass on the job,” she said.

Hank rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow.  He looked down at her and smoothed a few strands of hair off her sweaty cheek.  “If it’s what you wanted, we could make it work.”

“Being with you is what I want.  It occurs to me that I am unwilling to compromise on that point.”

“That’s good, because so am I.”

“It’s lovely to agree on something.”

“Mmhm,” Hank hummed.  He traced the downward slope of her upper lip with his thumb and then brought a finger down her nose.  “My most brilliant achievement was my ability to persuade my wife to marry me.”

Stella pulled her brows together in thought.  “That’s not Shakespeare.”

“No,” he laughed.  “Winston Churchill.”

“Oh, darling, please stick to The Bard.”

“I might be fresh out of Billy Shakes for the moment, but I might be able to bust out some Keats if I really thought about it.  Just give me a few more minutes for my brain cells to regenerate.”

“I don’t need poetry, Watson.”

“Wait, wait, I got one.”  Hank rolled over so he was above her, propping himself up on his elbows.  She parted her thighs so he could lay between her legs and he brushed his nose back and forth against hers.  “I do love nothing in the world so well as you.  Is that not strange?”

“Then we are strange together.”

“Sorry for being an asshole earlier.”

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

“Oh my god, Sherlock, you’re giving me shit for Churchill and then you go and quote Love Story?”

“That was terrible, I apologize.”

“Eh, not gonna lie, it’s still a turn on.”

It was difficult to kiss through the laughter that followed, but they managed.

The End

[tannertravelslife]

Oaxaca, Oaxaca !

Two weeks spent backpacking through Mexico.

I started my trip flying from Los Angeles to Mexico City. When I arrived in Mexico, I stayed overnight in a pod hotel. They’re super convenient and cost effective, but they obviously lack most of the amenities you would find in a regular hotel or hostel. All I needed was a place to sleep that wasn’t an airport bench, and early the next morning I was on my way to Puerto Escondido. The Koffi Boys were already staying at a hostel within walking distance from the airport, called La Escondida. Definitely a step up from the simple design of the pod hotel, costing only 170 pesos (10 USD) for a night’s stay. Like most hostels, the sleeping situation is a bunkhouse-style shared dorm, (we opted for no air conditioning). In the mornings the hostel provides a small breakfast, and guests have access to two kitchens for cooking their own meals. Hostels are great if you’re up for socializing, plus you can experience the cooking and cultures of all those just passing through. Overall the vibe was very relaxed. There are other spaces besides the kitchens to hang around with fellow hostel-stayers, like the terrace and bar area. Venturing out of the hostel, downtown Puerto Escondido is less congested with fancy restaurants and bars, and more home-y in a way that feels “authentic”. La Punta and Zicatela are trendier and popular with transient visitors, and likely for a good reason, but to me they also seemed more commoditized. I generally prefer to travel a bit more immersively, but if a hip atmosphere appeals to you, check it out. 

Highlights in Puerto -

Vegetarian eats at Cocofam

This little restaurant is family-run, located right in the backyard. The food was incredible, the drinks were delicious. The menu is limited, but it’s absolutely worth checking out if you have a restricted diet (or even if you don’t)

Jugo across from the hostel

The juice spot nearby was only open until early afternoon each day and was always packed. My buddies and I would grab a drink in the morning (about 32 ounces) before we got on with our day. I recommend the “Surf Juice”.

Playa Coral

This is a “secret” beach, meaning you have to climb under a fence and hike down a trail to access it, or at least that’s how we got there. When you get down to the water, you’ll find it’s a cool and secluded spot without many people, right in front of an abandoned water park. Because it’s a bit isolated, there aren’t any options for food along the beach, so bring a picnic and watch the sunset. Just be out before it gets too dark, as the pathway down is not lit. 

Playa Carazillo

If you’re not up for making your way down an unpaved trail to get to a beach, this is a more popular and easily accessible spot. If you’re into surfing, there’s usually some decent ankle busters for beginners (the locals can be a bit territorial with their spots, so don’t expect to catch the best ever waves). Snorkeling near the shore was pretty sweet-- I even saw a few sea turtles. Playa Carazillo has the bluest waters, and is definitely a good place to spend a day. You can even rent a chair with some shade for a few bucks, and grab some grub too.

The Road to San Jose del Pacifico

After 4 days on the beaches of Puerto Escondido, we started heading towards the more mountainous San Jose del Pacifico. The town is about halfway between Puerto and Oaxaca City, tucked away in the Sierra Madre del Sur. It’s often called “magical”, both because of its beauty and because of the wild psychedelic mushrooms that grow there. These ‘shrooms are essentially decriminalized, and are sold basically everywhere, commonly preserved in honey. 

In Puerto, we left La Escondida to catch a local bus to Pochutla, about an hour and a half’s ride. The price was ~20 pesos each. ( 1 USD )  A very easy trip. The next leg of the journey was a slightly different story. From Pochutla, we bought tickets for a colectivo bus for about 150 pesos. This vehicle was absolutely nuts. The odometer read 9999999, the dash was lit up like a Christmas tree, and our driver did a quick sign of the cross as we departed. The ride up is a would-be nightmare for anyone who might be even a little hungover; the road twists and turns and winds around the mountains with very little space between the edge of the pavement and the edge of the cliff. Mads and I were practically sitting in the driver’s lap-- we kept joking that I could have grabbed the wheel and steered us off the mountain if I had wanted to. Despite sitting in the front and NOT being hungover, we still experienced a bit of carsickness. All in all, we nearly crashed only a handful of times in this uphill battle, and made it to our destination in a little over 4 stomach-churning hours. No shade directed at the bus driver; this man was truly a hero with nerves of absolute steel, steering us to victory. On arriving in San Jose del Pacifico, we walked about a half mile to our “hostel”, La Cumbre. I put “hostel” in heavy quotes, because for 150 pesos each we were treated to a private room with two queen sized beds and a desk. 

We spent two days relaxing in this mountain haven, venturing into town to eat at a local restaurant. Most meals were in the range of 35-60 pesos (about 2-3 USD). Being so high in the mountains, the evenings can get cold, and we each had 2-3 hot chocolates in the evening to keep us warm and wind us down. San Jose del Pacifico is mellow, and the best way to enjoy the town is by wandering through the streets and enjoying the views. You can also opt to trip on shrooms, if that’s your style. Relax and enjoy yourself. Two nights reading on the terrace of La Cumbre sipping chocolate, overlooking the restaurant near the hostel was good. We had some joyful conversations with other travellers around a firepit, which for 50 pesos could be lit and maintained by the restaurant staff. When it was time to move on to Oaxaca City, we bought colectivo tickets through the same company as we did on the way up. We weren’t elbow to elbow with the driver this time, but the 4-hour trip down the mountain was not nearly as harrowing. 

Just as a side note, a two hour hike from San Jose is San Mateo, which we heard is an even smaller, hippier town. We attempted to hike there, but got twisted around and ended up turning back. If you end up making it there, let me know how it is. The folks we met from the area told us it’s an off-the-beaten path, off-the-grid, psychedelic experience. 

Oaxaca City

We arrived in the afternoon and walked leisurely from the bus stop to Hostal Chocolate. The woman at the front desk told us the only beds available were in the basement, 110 pesos a night. We checked them out, and she was definitely right to give us a heads up. We decided that it wouldn’t be the most questionable thing we’d done in Mexico though, and agreed to stay. After a night, we met up with the rest of our party of 7 and checked into an Airbnb, which we stayed in for 5 days and was much more pleasant. I spent my time in Oaxaca City wandering the market places, beautiful churches, museums , and art spaces that this city has to offer. The grass roots scene for press print style artwork is huge here, and any of the studios will be happy to explain the process to you in spanglish. We took a free 3 hour walking tour and that helped us kind of get a lay of the land, pointing out some local hot spots. I am always a fan of taking the walking tour just to see what you can get out of it, usually some local spots and at the end you feel like you have a grasp on the town.  

Things to see -

Ethnobotanical Garden and Santo Domingo Cultural Museum. 

These two are located directly next to each other and are some of the most iconic landmarks in the city. It takes about 2 hours to see the museum in its entirety, but don’t rush it. It’s chock full of history, including the discovery of Tomb 7 at Monte Alban. Plan ahead so you can experience the cultural museum before the White Mountain and understand the history of everything you’ll see. The Ethnobotanical Garden is full of native plant life that is endemic to the region, meaning many of the plants are not found anywhere else on Earth. They offer a guided tour for 50 pesos in Spanish, or 100 pesos in English. If you’re looking to take some pics for Instagram, this is a good place. 

Monte Alban

A round trip bus trip to the heritage site will cost 80 pesos, and can be purchased on the west side of the Zocalo. Meet the bus driver in the morning and they'll drop you off at 9 AM. Pick-up is at noon, so you have 3 hours to take it all in. The entry fee to the mountain is another 80 pesos, but I almost recommend spending some additional money on a tour guide. There is so much to see, and having someone to guide you through the rich history may have enriched our experience. Even without, it was a humbling and beautiful place, and amazing to see the architecture of the Zapoteca still standing after centuries. 

Mercado 20 de Noviembre

It doesn’t actually have to be the 20th of November to visit this market; it’s named for the date of the Mexican Revolution. The market itself is a celebration of Mexican culture and cuisine, a deluge of smells and sights. It’s full of knick-knacks but the focus is really on the sizzling meat all around you. Everything you could ever want to eat all packed into the one market (as long as you like carne asada). 

Bolenc 

Sourdough bakery and restaurant-y deli-y place with awesome sandwiches and pizza.

Hierba Dulce

Vegetarian and vegan restaurant serving traditional Oaxacan dishes with a twist

Calle Porfirio Diaz

This bustling street is lined with hip restaurants and shops. 

Zocalo The city center square, full of shops and restaurants. 

La Cosecha

An organic harvest market filled with rich history, fresh juice, and many shops. 

Mexico, and more specifically the state of Oaxaca is a rich blast of culture waiting to be taken in. An assortment of indigenous culture paired with an array of bright primary colors everywhere you look make it hard not to have a smile on your face at all times. I reflected on my trip when I returned to my fast paced life in Los Angeles and quickly missed those cobblestone streets, siestas, and easy afternoons spent in Oaxaca. The emphasis on a happy life and much time spent with family and friends is infectiones, and I wish more people prioritized these things back here in the land of the 9-5. I look forward to returning to Oaxaca someday, and exploring the rest of what Mexico has to offer. 

Click here to receive a free copy of Oaxaca, Oaxaca ! A 16 page zine filled with 35mm photos from my trip. Just enter your name and address.