#and that place is being gifted mouthwashing on steam

[hhoneyhams]

HAHAHA I WAS GIFTED MOUTHWASHING ON STEAM MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME!!!!!

[jetaime-jespere]

Under The Weather

Some pointless fluff that's been floating around my head for a few days. Also on ao3 🙂

It’s not the usual alarm clock that wakes her this time - the tauntingly peaceful melody that she now associates with being ousted from a dream every morning.

In fact, Emily is hardly awake. Her eyes are still sealed shut, she’s still nestled under the covers because the thought of moving is almost unbearable. Even in her sleep induced haze, the only thing she’s fully aware of is just how shitty she feels, like every part of her body has somehow teamed up against her in unison. What started last night as a subtle headache is now accompanied by a persistent rawness in the back of her throat. The same pain has crept in to settle behind her eyes, and now radiates around her head, like a pair of gnarled hands wrapped and clenched around her brain. But that isn’t the only thing - everything just hurts. Her limbs feel like lead, her throat is now on fire, lips cracked and chapped from the winter air. Her mouth is dry as dust as she grapples for the glass of water Aaron had left on her nightstand hours ago - something he’s done since they moved in together.

Cracking one eye open takes monumentally more effort than it should. The wind rattles against the windows, whistling through the bitterly cold February morning and Emily groans at the prospect of even moving from the safety of their warm bed. A glance at the clock tells her it’s 5:40. Aaron’s side is empty, the sheets cooled, but she can hear the steady pulse of the shower, see the steam curling out from under the door. The cloying pull of sleep is too consuming, the glass of water all but forgotten as Emily groans. The notion of having to get up in less than a half an hour is making her stomach roil in protest.

Instead, she burrows herself deeper into the blankets, wishing somehow this day would somehow restart itself. Her eyelids are too heavy to stay open, even though the looming reality of her alarm hovers over her, along with the daunting challenge of making it through the day. Emily remembers the stack of unfinished case reports left on her desk from yesterday, abandoned in the wake of remembering Ava’s ballet class just a few minutes too late to be early for once. That’s about the time the headache started, subtle enough to temporarily ignore as their daughter happily chattered away in the backseat, little legs kicking against the leather upholstered seat - a story about unicorns and fairies, one Emily could probably retell herself she’s heard it so many times. If only she knew then.

The next thing she’s aware of is Aaron bending down to kiss her awake, fresh from the shower and half dressed in an undershirt, his skin still damp as he murmurs good morning . The whiff of eucalyptus soap and his mouthwash only makes her dizzy as she all but pushes her husband away from her with an ill attempted protest against his affection. “Five more minutes,” she croaks. “S’tired.”

“Sweetheart?” Aaron questions even though he doesn’t have to. He’s no stranger to her indifference to early mornings, the way her arms wind around his neck to pull him close most days when he wakes her with the same kisses, the same sweet nothings in her ear. On the rare occasion when they have more time, he ends up back in bed with her, making the most of a few precious moments. Those mornings are his favorites - the ones where he gets to press her into the mattress, get her leg over his shoulder, seal his mouth against hers to muffle the moans he hasn’t grown tired of hearing even years after he first heard them. But this is different. He figures it out immediately, knuckles brushing against her flaming cheek, skin clammy under his touch.

“Hmmph?” Emily shrugs out from under his touch, the cool hand on her burning forehead a reminder of just how awful she feels. “Five more minutes and I’ll get up.”

Aaron laughs softly, already reaching for his phone on the dresser. “Not a chance.”

“I’ll be fine in a half hour.” It’s a futile attempt; Aaron knows her better than she knows herself by now. Emily doesn’t get sick often, maybe once every few years. But when she does, it hits hard and fast, rendering her inherently useless for a day or two, and they’re all a little thrown off kilter without her. Even though her eyes are closed she can practically see him making arrangements - school dropoff and pickup, soccer practice for Jack, ice skating lessons for Ava. It’s also a Wednesday, the one day a week he spends mostly in meetings as unit chief. It’s the day she picks up more slack around the house, handles the after school activities in addition to her own professional responsibilities. It’s a routine they’ve perfected through trial and error over time.

“You weren’t yourself last night,” he sinks down beside her, his weight dipping the mattress down as he pushes some hair from her face. “You barely touched your dinner. You fell asleep with the light on,” he adds pointedly, pressing his lips to his wife’s forehead for confirmation. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Do not,” she argues. It’s becoming harder and harder to challenge him, a battle she knows she’ll ultimately lose. There’s no way he’ll let her out the door let alone into the BAU at this point. Despite the sweat that trickles down her back, her teeth chatter together.

Aaron wraps her into his arms, aware of how she melds against his chest as she seeks the warm comfort of his body. “Do too.” His tone is light, which only manages to frustrate her more. “And you’re staying home today. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

Emily attempts to pull away from his embrace. “I have a meeting too, you know. Jack has practice and Ava -”

“Has ice skating. I know, Sweetheart.” Aaron gently pushes her back down, tucking the blankets around her. “I know their schedule. And yours. We’ll manage.” But he’s already reaching for his phone, dialing a number he knows by heart.

“Who are you calling?” She asks weakly, succumbing to his insistence. The sky has lightened to a shade of dark blue instead of inky black, the first traces of the winter morning starting to peek through the curtains.

“I’m texting Garcia. If she can take Ava this afternoon, I can get Jack to soccer after my last meeting.”

Emily grumbles while he taps out a message as she runs through her day ahead. There are her own meetings, of course, a slew of chores around the house waiting when she gets home, all the little things that accumulate during the week without fail, over and over. Aaron can almost read her mind as he gets dressed, disappearing into the depths of their closet to pluck a suit from the rack on his side. “Things won’t implode without you, Em. We can survive one day.”

From her place in bed, Emily watches him dress, securing the sleeves of his dress shirt, the jacket stretching across his broad shoulders over the crisp fabric of his shirt. Some days, she can’t believe they’ve come this far. Seven years of marriage has brought its fair share of ups and downs, most recently an ill-timed miscarriage in the days before Christmas. She hadn’t been too far along - ten weeks - but December 23rd was spent at her doctor, Aaron’s hand wrapped around hers as the news was broken, their eyes glued to the ultrasound screen. They hadn’t been trying at all. It was a surprise neither of them expected, which only seemed to worsen the blow when it abruptly ended. Emily had been the picture of composed, smiling through her grief on Christmas Eve, distracted by Ava and Jack’s excitement, the endless mountain of gifts to smuggle from their closet under the tree, only to spend the early hours of Christmas morning crying in his arms until he rocked her to sleep. She closes her eyes, wills herself not to think of it. It’s still a little too soon.

When he’s fully dressed, traces of cologne lingering in the air, Aaron gathers a box of tissues and fills a glass of water, setting both down next to Emily. “I’ll bring you some toast before I leave. You need to eat something.”

“You need to wake -”

“I’m already -”

“Mommy?” The voice outside the door tells them at least one more Hotchner is already awake. Aaron drops a quick kiss on Emily’s head, frowning when he notes how warm she is. He makes a mental note to bring some ibuprofen with the toast and opens the door just a crack to find their daughter on the other side, fully dressed, not a hair out of place.

“Where’s Mommy?” He’s met with the round, concerned eyes that belong to Ava. Even at six, she could be Emily’s clone, with sleek dark locks and the same pale skin. Ava is precocious, sharp as a tack yet sensitive, hesitant to trust but loyal to a fault. Her arrival in the world had been dramatic, at one point downright terrifying for a few minutes, shoulder dystocia to blame. Aaron had turned ghostly pale as the doctors rattled off medical jargon he’d only ever seen dramatized on primetime television. Yet it was that same efficiency and urgency that ultimately brought their daughter safely into the world a short time later. The moment she was placed in his hands, Aaron was completely smitten, his world forever changed.

“Mommy isn’t feeling well, Ava.” Aaron explains with an abundance of patience, his tone soft and reassuring. In the days after Christmas, following the miscarriage, Ava had been confused when Aaron took Emily’s usual place at the new, massive dollhouse from Santa, doing his best to display the same enthusiasm his wife so effortlessly showed. He’d uttered the same words - Mommy isn't feeling well - when she protested, complaining about his doll handling skills and seeming inability to make their hair look half as good as Emily did. Even though his placations  held an entirely different meaning then, Ava questioned him relentlessly. Telling a version of the truth had been harder than he anticipated, for more reasons that one.

“Is Mommy okay?” Ava asks, persistent as ever.

“She’s fine, honey. Just the flu. Remember when you had it in Kindergarten? You got to stay home while Jack went to school. Mommy and I took turns staying home with you? You got to eat popsicles in bed and watch TV during the day?”

Ava nods, not fully convinced as she tries to poke her head further into their bedroom. “I guess.”

“That’s what Mommy has, honey. Grown-ups get sick too. So Daddy is going to drive you to school. Aunt Penelope is going to take you to ice skating lessons this afternoon.”

Ava squeals with delight at the mention of Garcia, clapping her tiny hands together, only to have the expression melt off her face seconds later. Then she frowns. “But Daddy,” she whispers slowly, her resemblance to Emily and similar mannerisms uncanny, as if profiling him even at the tender age of six. “You don’t know the Good Morning song.”

Aaron checks his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose as he peers into the hallway. Jack’s bedroom door is still firmly closed, indicating his son is most likely still sound asleep. Waking him is the next battle, one of his least favorite tasks as of late. “What song, Ava?” He sighs, not missing the fleeting touch of amusement that crosses Emily’s face from across the room, the softest of laughs. Even in her current state, pale and tired, clearly more than under the weather, Aaron thinks she’s stunning.

“Mommy and I always sing the Good Morning song on the way to school.” Ava folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot against the floor. “If you don’t know the words -” Her dark eyes double in size, widening impossibly as she stubs her toe with disappointment. “How can you drive me to school?”

“Honey -”

“Mommy knows all the words.”

“Ava - “

“Daddy.” She challenges, sticking her lower lip out in a whiny pout. Aaron knows what’s ahead. Even though Ava has him completely wrapped around her tiny finger, their daughter absolutely adores her mother, never missing an opportunity to steal a few quiet moments together. He often finds Ava curled in Emily’s lap, listening to a story, or playing dress up with some of Emily’s old clothes. Aaron has caught a few misplaced tubes of lipstick hidden in her dress-up box, ones Emily thought she lost long ago. He’s seen the pictures she draws, the way Ava always draws Emily next to her in each one. It tugs on every single one of his heartstrings, every single time.

“Mommy will teach me,” he assures her, crouching down to her level, bringing her to lean on his knee. “Daddy will do his best to know all the words before I take you to school.” He ruffles Ava’s hair as she beams, seemingly appeased by his effort. “Can you be my special helper this morning and wake Jack for me?”

Her face brightens instantly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face at the thought of what she’s being asked to do - something that, most of the time, she’s actively told not to do. “Okay!”

Aaron grimaces slightly as Ava skips off down the hall. There’s a finite window of time until he’s left to deal with Jack’s morning moodiness, exacerbated by his sister’s surprise wakeup call. But it’s worth the few extra minutes he’ll get to spend with his wife. Emily is now fully awake, looking even more miserable than she had moments before.

“You’re on your own for the good morning song,” she rasps sarcastically. Her voice is hoarse, even as she tries to smile. “Couldn’t sing it for you if I tried.”

“I think I’m going to take her for donuts. Those strawberry frosted ones she loves?” He slips back in bed beside Emily, pulling her into his arms once again. “Distraction at its finest.”

“The ones I love,” Emily reminds him, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Good luck.”

“Right. Hopefully she’ll forget all about it.” Then he remembers just who he’s talking about - a miniature version of the woman he somehow got lucky enough to call his wife, instantly realizing how wrong he is. He’s a goner; he won’t hear the end of this for days.

“I doubt it. But you can give it a try.” Emily snuggles into his chest, savoring their final few minutes of peace.

…

Winter sun streams through the windows, casting the bedroom in a mix of shadows and blinding light.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed - an hour could easily be three, maybe five. Sleep has consumed her, on and off all morning. Yet she’s uncomfortable, alternating between throwing the covers off and disappearing into them, unable to seek enough warmth as she reaches for one more blanket. Everything still hurts, and topped off by a congestion that settles deep in her lungs, rattles her chest with every cough. She almost feels worse now than she did earlier, if that’s even possible.

The house is quiet, so she hears the subtle rumbling of the garage opening, the soft creak of the door leading into the house. Emily smiles to herself - she’d recognize his footsteps anywhere as he makes his way through the living room. He’s undoubtedly picking up wayward shoes and toys along the way, most likely grumbling about the clutter. He’d never admit it (even if she knows it to be true) but it’s one of his favorite tasks. The mess is a reminder of what they’ve built over time, that sometimes things work out just as they were meant to. Even if it means their house will never be spotless.

She pries one eye open as he shoulders through the bedroom door, slipping his suit jacket off to drape over a chair. “You could have stayed at work.” Emily isn’t surprised at all. She knows him sell enough by now.

“I know.” And while Aaron is fully aware of that, there was never a chance he wasn’t going to come home to tend to her. He stayed at the BAU long enough to get things squared away, arranging plans for the kids, and delegating tasks as needed before making a hasty exit. And now, only a few hours later, he’s back. He checks her forehead, refreshes the glass of water on the nightstand and tosses some tissues into the trash. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Emily shifts to make room beside her. “Worse than before, if that’s possible.” She sighs a little when he wraps her into his embrace. Her head falls against his chest on its own accord. “Ava and Jack?”

“Garcia is taking Ava to ice skating. She’s taking her out for ice cream afterward.” He gets a hand in her hair, rocks her back and forth a little bit until she relaxes fully against him. Almost.

“What about dinner?” Emily mumbles, stifling a cough into her fist. It rattles within her chest, reverberating through her ribs. “She needs real dinner, Aaron.”

“I think she’ll live without vegetables for one night, Emily.”

She’s too tired to argue. “Jack?”

“Dave offered to take him to soccer,” Aaron says, patting her back through the last of the coughing fit and grappling for the water glass on the table. “It’s all taken care of.” His hands are soothing, gentle and strong against the sore, stiff muscles. “You sound terrible.”

Emily pointedly ignores him. “What about you?”

“I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. Tomorrow too,” he adds with a wink, taking her hands in his own when she starts to object. “I’m making it my mission to get you better.” He shows her the package of popsicles he’d stopped for on the way home, tosses the bag away to the floor. “And I got some of these. Just for you.”

The soft laughter that comes from her is accompanied by yet another hacking cough. It’s the little things he does that are the most thoughtful - a pit stop to the grocery store in the middle of a work day is just one example. “Sounds like you have quite the job ahead of you.” But she’s eyeing the popsicles - it’s the first thing that’s sounded appealing all morning.

“You’re not an easy patient,” Aaron chides as he hands her a cherry flavored one, taking a lemon flavored for himself. “One of the worst I’ve ever dealt with, actually.” He flicks her nose lovingly.

“Is that so?” The cool chill of the frozen ice against her lips and throat is a temporary relief, a moment of reprieve. She doesn’t even notice when a little piece of it breaks off to leave a tiny red stain on the sheets. “You’re no picnic yourself, you know.”

It’s his turn to laugh, because she’s right. He’s just as stubborn, the art of rest and healing lost on them both. “I feel called out.”

“It’s because I’m right,” she quips. And she is.

Emily sleeps fitfully in his arms, only waking up once as the sun sets over the trees in the distance. When her eyes drift open, he has the television remote in one hand, the other anchoring her across his chest. “What time is it?” She mumbles, blinking furiously as her eyes adjust to the dim light.

“Close to five.” He kisses her, rocks her a little to wake her up. “You’ve been sleeping for hours.” Aaron sounds almost pleased that she finally got some solid rest. “I’m going to make you some soup. And don’t tell me I don’t have to.” He untangles himself from her, somehow without disturbing her comfort within their bed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

His fingers brush across her cheek; she’s not as hot to the touch this time. Emily leans into his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist.

“Thank you for coming home.” She hardly sounds any better, certainly doesn’t feel it either. But having him there somehow makes it slightly more bearable, an unexpected silver lining to all of this. And the reverence in his eyes, the same one she sees every time he looks at her, confirms the fact that he’d do it without question. Another example of the unconditional love he’d promised years before when they exchanged vows in Dave’s backyard.

“There’s nowhere else I should be, Sweetheart.”

Four days later, Aaron wakes up with the same aching muscles and raw throat, barely able to keep his eyes open as a new week awaits them. Emily is only more than happy to return his favor.

[alecmagnuslwb]

Year After Year

Read on AO3

1 Twenty

Zatanna stretches out along the couch her feet propped up on the coffee table a large magical tome in her lap. It’s nearing midnight and soon enough her birthday will be over and done with.

The morning had been so busy filled with her attempting to convince Nick that going out to search for a missing page from an ancient book that’s likely sitting in a dragon’s den was too dangerous. It wasn’t until Nick had stormed out ignoring her pleas, John kissing her on the head and following him out to ensure he didn’t get himself killed that she had even realized the date.

She’s never been big on birthdays; they’d been her thing with her mother and after her death she just stopped putting any sort of effort into them. This year was no different, she’s fairly certain she’s never told John when her birthday is and even if in his frequently spiraling state Nick does recall the date he’s likely not to acknowledge it at all.

Which works just fine for her.  

The door busts open Zatanna jumping up from the couch in defense mode immediately only to stand down upon seeing its only Nick. A single aged page in his hand, his jacket a little burnt around the edges.

“Got it,” he says roughly already heading for the stairs, likely to shut himself into his room conjuring and doing who the hell knows what until the wee hours of the morning. “Wasn’t dangerous, just like I said.”

“The fact you’ve been gone nearly 12 hours and look a little crispy says otherwise,” Zatanna shouts after him, Nick already halfway upstairs. “Where’s John?”

Nick waves a dismissive hand at the door he left wide open. “Stopped to run an errand.”

And then he’s disappearing around the corner his bedroom door slamming shut behind him. Zatanna flops down on the couch head in one hand and picking at her fishnets with the other. Her worry about John subsides while her worry about Nick increases. What a strange feeling it is to be falling in love while watching your closest friend/ex fall deeper into an obsessive magical hole that you can’t seem to stop him from falling into.

It’s another reason her birthday slipped her mind this year, she’s too busy losing Nick and holding onto John to focus on much else.

Zatanna runs a hand through her hair standing just as she hears footsteps nearing the brownstones door. John steps in a bouquet of flowers in his hands that he immediately attempts to hide behind his back when he spots her standing there.

“Hey, luv I wasn’t sure you’d still be up,” he says smile bright and feign confident, a classic John Constantine grin. She can’t help but smile back.

“You were gone nearly 12 hours after leaving to fight a dragon, of course I’m still up,” she says stepping closer and reaching up to run her fingers along the stubble on his jaw. “Are you hurt?”

“Nah,” he says shaking his head, a bit of ash falling from his hair. He reaches down tugging at his shirt. “Just a bit singed around the edges. Finding it took longer than fighting it.”

He sounds a little sad, the same sadness she carries about Nick’s behavior. They’ve talked about it before, what to do is still a question that hangs in the air and tonight it’s late, they’re both so tired and John is hiding a bouquet of flowers behind his back that she’s too curious about to broach the topic once again.

Zatanna places both hands on his chest, smoothing out his ruined shirt.

“So, what is that you’re hiding behind your back?” she asks tilting her head in a way she knows he finds adorable.

“Ah, that is a gift,” he says stepping back just enough so that her hands fall and the bouquet is held out between them. A gorgeous arrangement of lilacs and lavender, her favorites, just a little crushed at the top from where he’d briskly tucked them behind his back. “For you. Happy birthday luv,” he says urging her to take the flowers.

She does, smelling them and then cradling them in her arms.

“How did you know?”

John just shrugs a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

“I have my ways.”

Zatanna steps closer, bridging the small gap of space between them.

“Your ways, huh,” she says eyeing John suspiciously. “Your ways being you noticed my ID when I accidentally left it on your dresser the other night.”

John just chuckles reaching his hands out to pull her in by the hips, crushing the flowers between them.

“Maybe,” he says grin getting cheekier by the minute. “You look great in your photo by the way, clearly witchcraft considering your gorgeous but nobody looks that good on an ID.”

Zatanna snorts before whispering a quiet thank you.

“You don’t have to thank me, I just wanted you to have something, even if there is only about ten minutes left of the day and it’s not much. At the very least I’ll be making sure you get that much every year as long as you keep putting up with me. Promise.” he says rubbing circles into her hips with his thumbs. “Next year I’ll even bake you cake.”

2 Twenty-Three

“Thank you,” she says one last time bowing to the audience before her. She picks up a single rose at her feet smiling before heading back stage.

She passes by her crew a few high fives and congratulations on another successful show given as she goes. She hands the single rose to her favorite stagehand Mikey with a smile.

It’s another birthday in books, this one spent doing what she loves on the stage and hopefully ending in a warm bath with a large glass of wine.

“Ekat em emoh,” she whispers to herself once she’s closed the door to her dressing room and a swirling portal appears before her. She steps through already flinging her coat and top hat off as she enters the Zatara mansion.

She kicks off her clunky heels as she heads up the stairs passing by so many of her father’s left behind artifacts. She closes her eyes moving her neck back and forth to releases some tension, unlacing her corset as she steps into her bedroom.

“It’s your birthday and yet here I am the one getting a present,” a familiar sly voice startles her from the darkness.

“Jesus,” she says clutching a hand to her chest there’s only one person with the access to get past her wards but he surprises her all the same. She turns to see John leaned back in the chair by her vanity legs spread comfortably. A bouquet of lilacs and lavender rest in his lap, his grip on them loose.

“Well now I’m pretty sure that’d be taken as blasphemous if anyone upstairs heard you call me that,” John says that damn little smirk of his just visible in the moonlight.

“Sthgil,” she says waving a hand around the room. A swell of warm low-lit bulbs coming to life so she can see him more clearly. She goes back to unlacing her corset, it’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” he says standing and getting a little closer as she slips on a Black Canary band t-shirt. “I haven’t missed your birthday yet, have I?”

He hasn’t, not since that first one. They’ve broken up since then, a mini reunion on her birthday last year mere weeks after he father’s death. John had shown up with a bouquet of flowers and a red velvet cake that tasted like beets and just held her all day. Blame and guilt flew out the window for that day, even if the cake tasted like shit.

They’ve been doing a lot of back and forth ever since then, but a few days ago Zatanna had heard whispers of John getting himself into some new spectacular shit and when he hadn’t called for help she assumed he’d be a no show today.

And yet here is, keeping his promise.

“Good point,” she says turning to face him. “Please tell me you didn’t bake a cake this year?”

John laughs, one of those big genuine laughs he so rarely does. All she can do is join along with him, the sound contagious.

“No, no cake,” he says handing her the flowers. “But just you wait I’ll be perfecting that one day, just need some more practice.”

She doesn’t think there’s a spell in this world that could make John Constantine a decent baker, but she appreciates the effort nonetheless. She sits the flowers down on the edge of her bed and folds her arms around his middle, he immediately holds her right back.

“How does a steaming hot bath and some wine sound to you?” she says voice slightly muffled from where she’s buried her face into his chest.

“Anything you want Zee,” he says rubbing his hands slowly up and down her back. “It’s your birthday.”

3 Twenty-Five

“Edolpxe!” she shouts pushing her hands out at the swath of demons before them. She regrets the choice immediately as a rain of demon guts and ichor spew back at her and her companions.

She shakes her hand out not that it does much good then attempts to wipe any goo from around her eyes and swallows once. And ugh, yup there’s some in her mouth. She spits out what she can in digust.

“Happy fucking birthday to me,” she grumbles under her breath.

“You okay Zatanna?” Andrew Bennet asks as he comes to stand beside her, covered head to toe in the same gunk she is. Boston, the lucky incorporeal bastard, floats up beside him a vision of cleanliness.

She nods, “Yeah, just in desperate need of seven or so showers and a giant bottle of mouthwash.”

Andrew huffs in agreement. Boston opens his mouth clearly about to say something that will no doubt drive Zatanna crazy about his clean state, but is cut off by a voice off to the side.

“So, I guess I’m late then?” John says, the purple bouquet of flowers she’s come to expect every year in one hand. “Or maybe judging from the look of you two, just in time.”

Zatanna rolls her eyes. They’ve been going strong for the last few months, had a dinner plan for her birthday tonight and everything. Just this once deciding to do a little more for the day outside of the walls of wherever she calls home, but of course he’d been running late for dinner and not answered his phone when a hoard of demons turned up in the alleyway behind the restaurant.

Luckily Boston and Andrew had answered her call.

“Naelc pu siht ssem,” she says the mess in front of and on them disappearing in a moment. Her mouth still feels gross, but she’s okay with that, kissing John with demon ichor mouth for not showing up on time seems like a good form of payback.

Andrew and Boston bid their goodbyes as she conjures up a portal for them then she walks over to where John stands leaning against the wall lighting a cigarette. He takes a long drag blowing the smoke out to the side before she gets within touching distance of him. She leans up immediately kissing him deeply.

“No offense luv, but you taste a bit like a demon’s asshole,” John says once she’s pulled back taking her birthday flowers from his arms. Well, she thinks, that’s what you get for being late.

She smiles sarcastically up at him. “And you taste like an ashtray,” she says plucking his cigarette from between his fingers and tossing it into a puddle by their feet stamping it out with the front of her tall steel toed heels for safe measure.

“You love it,” he says offendedly looking down at his lost cigarette.

“I love you,” she says pointedly, tangling their fingers together and tugging him along. “I tolerate that.” She flings her head back slightly to the puddle drenched cigarette. “Now come on let’s get dinner I need to get this taste out of my mouth.”

John chuckles as she pulls him along faster, “The ashtray flavor or the demon asshole taste?”

“Both.”

4 Twenty-Seven

“Got any big birthday plans?” Zachary asks as he packs up the last of his gear in a suitcase spelled to have no end.

Zatanna scoffs, “No, you know birthdays aren’t really my thing.”

“Except when Constantine’s here,” Zachary says, a hint of judgement in his voice. He’s not exactly John’s biggest fan, then again most people aren’t.

She ignores the remark patting Zachary on the shoulder as she passes by to grab something from the drink cart. Vegas is always a good time for shows, especially when she gets to see her cousin, but right about now she’s ready to grab a drink and then head home to San Francisco.

Just as she starts to pour whiskey into her glass a fiery portal comes to life next to the drink cart and Zachary jumps into defense mode, hands at the ready. Zatanna however just keeps pouring her drink. She recognizes that magic, feels the pull of it in the air and the scent of a specific brand of cigarettes lingering at the edges; this is no threat.

“Bollocks,” John says as he falls through the portal flat on his back, scrambling quickly to shut it. A decaying green and grey hand reaches out as he does, the portal severing it off as it closes. He falls back again spreading his legs so the hand doesn’t fall on him as it twitches on last time. He falls back to the floor in relief eyes shutting for a second before gazing up at Zatanna.

She takes a sip of her drink regarding him.

“John,” she says swirling the ice around in her glass.

He smiles up at her reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a severely crushed bouquet of lilacs and lavender.

“Zee, these are for you,” he says reaching them up to her. She takes them, their fingers brushing, lingering for a few moments more than necessary.

They haven’t seen each other much over the past year since their last split not long after her twenty-sixth birthday. She stopped calling what they did breaking up, was it really a broken thing if eventually it always came back around whole? It’s to date the longest they’ve gone without being a couple officially or at least sleeping together at some point or another. Overall it’s been an odd year for them to say the least.  

They’d saved the world from an apocalypse, but it had cost them a member of their so-called Justice League Dark. A loss that Constantine had taken full blame for, so much so that he went to hell to make it right without telling Zatanna he was even leaving.

She’d almost mourned him, but somewhere in her soul she just knew he wasn’t dead, could feel that he was still alive. Life still had to go on though and back to San Francisco she’d gone. She dated Hal, a nice enough entertainment agent for a bit, but then one day when he witnessed John literally crawling up out of the floor of her kitchen bloodied and more defeated than he had been when he’d left their relationship had effectively ended.

She healed John that night tending to his wounds and holding his hands as the burn of the hellfire still running through his veins subsided. She was still mad as hell at him for the leaving the way he had, but this was who they were, how they worked. They were always there for each other when they needed no matter their status.

He’d left after that, this time telling her where he was going. She dated Monica for a bit and then John turned up with a real bonafide boyfriend named Oliver, not the one you’re thinking. For a moment in time they’d both been happy with other people and for the first time since the day they met Zatanna thought maybe they’d actually well and truly reached their end. The cycle finally come to a close.

But then Monica had accused her of always relying on John and never on her when she was in trouble and even when she wasn’t; then shortly after Zatanna paid a visit to John for help his relationship with Oliver ended abruptly. They both acted like the breakups timing were simply coincidence.

John made a vague reasoning about fucking things up as he always did and Zatanna spouting something about wanting different things, but they both knew the truth. Whether the main reason or not, the fact they were still in love with each other despite all the anger and history was far too clear for their partners to deal with any longer.

Things had been almost awkward between them after that. For months it’d been like they were avoiding talking about anything at risk of admitting they still cared.

If there was ever a birthday she expected him to skip, it was this one.

“I know you aren’t the type to cheat, but the way you two are looking at each other I feel like I should remind you that you have a boyfriend,” Zachary says not so quietly, breaking their staring contest.

Right, she does have a boyfriend. Detective Dale Colton is sweet and caring and doesn’t have a clue it’s her birthday because she never felt the need to tell him. She’s never felt the need to tell him a lot of things. Which should probably be very telling for her, not that she has time right now to unpack all of that.

“No worries there Zachy,” John says shortening the name just to annoy Zachary as he hefts himself up from the ground. “I’m not here for that, just keeping a yearly promise.”

Zachary glares at Constantine before returning his attention to Zatanna. He opens his mouth no doubt about to invite himself to stay and have a few drinks, but she cuts him off.

“Don’t you have a date?”

Zachary holds her eyes for a moment before sighing grabbing his bag and tossing a wave and a birthday salutation over his shoulder before heading for the door.

“Drink?” Zatanna asks John already pouring a second glass, anticipating his answer. “You know,” she says looking at the flowers she’s sat on the drink cart. “These are by far your saddest looking bouquet yet.”

John laughs a small sad thing as he takes the offered drink from her hand fingertips brushing once again.

“Well that’s the kind of year it’s been hasn’t it,” he says tossing back the whole drink.

She frowns reaching out to tug on his sleeve to get his attention.

“Maybe it’s due time we change that,” she says turning away and grabbing the whole bottle of whiskey and heading for the balcony. It’s her birthday dammit and all she wants is to be on real speaking terms with the man she often begrudgingly admits is probably her favorite person in the world.

They settle out under the warm Vegas night talking, really talking for the first time since he left for hell. As the night wanes on their laughter becomes a little less sad and everything around them starts to feel a little like forgiveness, like getting back on track. Damn near almost like friendship.

Not that they’d ever be friends. As Papa Midnite had once put it so bluntly after they’d said as such while bargaining with him, “You’ll never be friends. You’ll be in love till it kills you both. You’ll fight and you’ll fuck and you’ll hate each other till you quiver, but you’ll never be friends.”

They’d ignored him that night, but both were well aware they were kidding themselves if they tried to act like he was wrong.

“Happy birthday by the way,” John says after a while, mere seconds left till midnight. “I’m still working on mastering that cake.”

5 Twenty-Eight

Dinah waves and Ollie salutes as she heads for her room at the Justice League headquarters as fast as she can. She knows that Batman has detailed files about every member right down to what they sleep in every night most likely so no doubt birthdates were included. While she didn’t expect Bruce to be sentimental enough to try and throw a party or something, Dinah and Ollie had both seen a glimpse of her file and expressed an interest in celebrating the day.

She was fairly certain she’d talked them out of it, but she still wanted to get out of there before they changed their minds just to be safe.

She turns the corner to her room now, almost in the clear.

“You lot better be saving the world, if the League’s keeping you out this late.”

Zatanna flips on the lights revealing John lying in the center of the bed on his side like a fully dressed Playgirl model. The expected bouquet of flowers on the pillow near his bent arm.

“Supervillains don’t really stick to a 9 to 5.”

“That,” John says shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, “is why I like my demons, evil wizards and hell beasts they’re a late-night crowd. Interrupt your sleep, but never your dinner.”

Zatanna laughs sitting down beside him and picking up the flowers from the pillow.

“So that’s why you turned me down then? Dinner plans and time management?” she asks looking up from the fresh flowers and into John’s eyes. She’s been on the official roster of the Justice League for six months; she’d ask John to come with her and he’d refused. Convinced that his style would never be okay in the eyes of the capes and tights crowd.

They’re still dating despite his turn down, sort of. It’s complicated. Not the most complicated they’ve ever been by far, but still complicated.

He doesn’t say anything just smiles at her softly.

“So, I know you can get past my wards because I have you keyed into them, but how the hell did you get in here?” she says changing the subject.

John’s smile transforms into a classic Constantine smirk, winking as he pulls a card from his pocket handing it to her. Batman’s Justice League backup ID card.

Zatanna cackles, full out cackles.

“He’s going to kill you if he ever finds out you have this,” she says through gasping laughter.

John reaches out brushing the long dark hair that’s fallen into her face away, “Worth it.”

+1 Thirty

Zatanna pulls her hair up into a high ponytail stretching her neck out. After another great show and a successful mugging prevention she’s ready for a quiet rest of the night in her San Francisco apartment.

She’d moved late last year, tired of living in the Zatara estate all alone. Opting to keep it up and running for when she needs anything and as safe haven shelter to fellow magics in trouble whenever they might need it.

She’s comfortable in black leggings and a Nightwing crop top Dick had sent her as a joke that she wears to spite him constantly. She sits down in front of her vanity about to take her makeup off when someone knocks on the door.

She heads over pulling it open and there he is just like every year except early for once.

“John,” she says but he stops her lifting his hand to quiet her, index finger hovering over her lips.

“Wait just, three,” he looks down at the dented watch on his wrist. “two, one.”

“Happy birthday, luv,” he says looking back up just as it hits midnight the usual bouquet of flowers appearing magically in his hand.

She smiles, loving the consistency of this little ritual of theirs.

“Tup meht ni a esav,” she says waving her hand at the offered flowers. A clear, glass vase appears on the table beside her door the flowers delicately placing themselves inside floating up from John’s hand.

She reaches out pulls him in by his tie, leans up and kisses him hard. He responds immediately hands instinctively reaching under her thighs and lifting her up tight to his body. She wraps her legs around him kicking the door shut before he starts moving, carrying her into the bedroom.

He lies her on the bed removing his trench coat running his hands along every inch of her as he kisses her just right and just so slow. He pulls back something akin to worship and a look in his eyes that seems like he’s just made up his mind about something important. She doesn’t have time to think about it though because soon enough he’s moving down her body and she’s not thinking at all.

It’s hours before they finally leave the bedroom, somewhere in the middle of the night migrating out to the living room lounging on the couch. Zee’s propped up on pillows dressed in only John’s shirt that stops mid thighs with John lying between her legs in an old pair of sweatpants that she can’t be certain who they belong to, his back pressed to her chest.

A cheesy old sci-fi movie plays on the tv as John runs his fingers along her arms that encircle him. She watches as his black tipped nails play shapes of magical runes and charms along her skin.

She recognizes some of them, symbols of affection and protection. She thinks he might be getting openly sentimental the older they get.

It’s peaceful, content, it almost feels permanent. Thirty seems to be making her sentimental too, thinking about the future and all that.

“Shit,” John says lifting up suddenly. “I forgot!”

“Forgot what?” she says watching as he lifts up onto his knees, turns and scoots forward keeping his space between her legs.

“I’ve got another gift for ya,” he says bringing his hands together. “Learned a new trick just for you.”

He smiles saying a few phrases in Latin under his breath his hands slowly coming apart. Bright red magic swirls around them and slowly bit by bit a cupcake appears. It’s lush red velvet with a light cream cheese frosting and top hat shaped candle on top.

“I’m 98% certain this one won’t taste like beets.”

“98%?” Zatanna questions skeptically remembering the horrendous cake he handmade from many years ago.

“I’ve been practicing just like I told ya I would. Now, if you don’t mind,” he says gesturing to the candle.

Zatanna smirks. “Erif,” she says a small flame lighting up the tip of her index finger. She tilts it lighting the candle before holding it up to her lips and blowing it out, holding John’s eyes the entire time knowing exactly what this little trick does to him.

Lighting his cigarettes this way driving him wild has been a favorite past time of hers for a decade.

“Menace,” he grumbles before holding the cupcake closer to her. “Make a wish.”

She appeases him, closing her eyes and making it seem like she’s thinking up a good one, when all she’s thinking about is how good right now feels, before blowing out the little flame.

He pulls the candle from it offering it up to her and she takes a hesitant bite.

“It actually tastes like red velvet,” she says truly stunned, not caring that she’s talking with her mouth full.

“Told ya I’ve been practicing,” he says before taking a big bite of his own and flopping back down into his previous position pressed up against her.

“Only took you ten years,” she teases snatching the cupcake from him and taking another bite. He pinches her thigh lightly in retaliation making her giggle. They settle back in finishing the cupcake and making comments about the terrible movie onscreen.

“I’m gonna stay,” John says after a while. Zatanna hums, she’s starting to doze off the late hour and John warm against her leaving her just too comfortable to stay awake.

“For my birthday? I know. You always do.” She sleepily runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair twisting it when she reaches the ends.

“Well yeah, but not just for your birthday,” he clarifies. “I was meaning stay for a while. Here or in the House of Mystery until someone tries to steal it from me or the old Zatara mansion, lady’s choice really. I miss you Zee.”

Zatanna leans down pressing her face into John’s hair for a moment. “You mean that?”

He nods. “I can’t make any promises, fuck knows I’m shit at keeping them, but I want to stay. I want to do better by us. I want us to stay us. We’ve been at this for over a decade and it’s been made clear to me by just about everyone who’s ever met me that I need to get my shit together in at least one area of my life and I want it to be this one.”

Suddenly she remembers that look in his eyes before he’d cleared her mind entirely in the bedroom. The look that said he’d made up his mind about something. It was this. It was the decision to say all this out loud, to say what he wants and stay, really stay.

Zatanna nudges him to sit up, he gets the hint turning as much as he can to face her.

“I want you stay. I always want you to stay,” she says hand reaching out to rest her hand on a familiar tattoo on his chest, thumb brushing a scar she only just became acquainted with but knows she’ll end up memorizing the shape of. “And as for promises you’re better at keeping them than you think you are.”

She thinks of how he’s always a call away no matter what, how he’s never missed her birthday and how he even finally learned how to make an edible damn cake. He’s better than and at a lot of things than he thinks is.

He leans in kissing her soft and slow.

“I love you, Zee,” he says when he pulls back. “I don’t say it enough.”

“I know,” she says brushing a hand through his hair. “I love you too.”

He smirks leaning in for another quick kiss, just a press of lips.

“Say it backwards?” he says cheekily.

She rolls her eyes but does it anyway.

“I evol ouy.”

She kisses him again a quick hard press of lips sealing it like magic then leans over for the remote flipping off the tv. She maneuvers till she stands, holding out a hand.

“Let’s go to bed.” He takes her hand following her to the bedroom and in the morning she wakes with him wrapped around her. He makes a traditional English breakfast, vegetarian style just for her though it goes against every fiber of his English being and he stays.

Maybe she hadn’t made a real wish when she blew out that candle the night before, but it feels like something they’ve both been trying to get right for a decade came true anyways.

[touristguidebuzz]

Hotel Review: A Club Room at the InterContinental Bali Resort

The InterContinental Bali Resort stretches across 34 tropical acres overlooking Jimbaran Bay on Bali’s southern tip, just 15 minutes from Denpasar International Airport (DPS). 417 guest rooms include classic rooms, a variety of suites — like the 4,000 square-foot two-bedroom Jivana private villa with a 2,000 square-foot private pool priced at $1,500 per night — and an entire wing just for members of Club InterContinental. The six pools featured unique designs and plenty of Balinese-inspired fountains that both decorate and entertain. Here’s what it was like to stay at this extraordinary resort.

In This Post

Booking

My IHG free anniversary night, courtesy of the IHG Rewards Club Select Credit Card, was set to expire during my extended vacation in Bali, so I decided to use it at the hotel brand’s most luxurious resort in Indonesia. The InterContinental Bali requires 40,000 IHG Rewards points for an award night, worth $280 according to TPG’s latest monthly valuations. However, rooms started at $170 for my mid-week off-season stay, plus 11% tax and 10% service charge — advertised rates dipped as low as $137 per night (lower for extended stays) and rarely hit the $280 threshold that 40,000 points is worth even during the high season. If you’re thinking of using the Citi Prestige 4th night free perk, you’re better off paying for a room with cash than using your points here.

Financially, it’s also not the best place to take advantage of the IHG Anniversary Free Night, with many other IHG properties costing more on a regular basis or during certain times of the year. In my circumstances, however, it was the best option for me. Booking my free anniversary night was easy and can be done completely online by following these steps. Note that standard rooms have a limit of three people per room and the rate is the same regardless of whether they’re adults or children, which could result in an extra expense for families of four (ie. traveling with two adults and two children) as a roll away or room upgrade may be required. This could end up saving you money, though, if you’re traveling as three adults — like I was — because the third adult is not charged an additional fee.

Check-In

We arrived at the stated check-in time of 3:00pm and were greeted with a gong.

Check-in took place in an open office where we could sit down instead of having to stand at a regular check-in desk. We were also given delicious hibiscus welcome drinks, leis, wet towels, a fan and a bookmark.

Thanks to my IHG Platinum status, which came courtesy of the IHG credit card, I was offered a free upgrade from the classic room I’d originally booked to a Club Room — but without any club benefits. The room itself would be slightly larger (624 square feet instead of 527 square feet), but that’s about it. I was then offered an additional upgrade to receive club benefits at an unofficial, discounted rate for being Platinum — $120 total for three adults instead of the standard upgrade rate of $150 plus taxes and fees. When the club benefits were outlined for us, we jumped on the offer. A butler even escorted us to afternoon tea in Club InterContinental while our room was being prepared.

The Room

Our King Club InterContinental Room felt classy and roomy with a large king-size bed, a day bed and wooden decor.

The huge marble bathroom felt like a spa.

The toilet and bidet were kept in a separate but awkwardly-shaped room that was separated by a frosted glass door.

There were two sinks, one inside the bathroom and another just outside it.

The generous amenity kit included 100 ml bottles of Harnn Mystique shampoo, conditioner, body lotion and shower gel. Listerine mouthwash, water bottles and sewing, shoe care and dental kits were also provided.

Since I’m an IHG Platinum, I received a welcome gift of a fruit plate and chocolates, along with a personalized note.

The terrace was spacious but would have been even nicer on a higher floor.

Our room and terrace overlooked a lavish garden.

There was also a complimentary self-serve coffee and tea station, as well as some standard mini-bar options, which were available for an extra fee.

I was more than satisfied with the room, particularly the bathroom. The space was perfectly customized for our party, too, since the closet featured three robes with three sets of sandals, and the day bed was made up as a bed instead of being in its couch position. The room also featured a 37″ flat-screen television — we never used it and hopefully you won’t either.

Amenities

This certainly was not a cookie cutter resort. Its unique grounds tastefully incorporated the Balinese Hindu culture, keeping the feel respectful and authentic. Statues of Hindu gods were scattered throughout the property, with fresh flowers placed on them each day, the same treatment you’d find in a Balinese family compound.

The open-air lobby stayed breezy and cool.

Gazing up at the lobby roof was a little trippy, especially at night.

Outside, the grounds were impeccably kept.

The resort made great use of the land. Lounge chairs were strategically spaced around the six pools and all along the beachfront so there was no competition for “prime” locations, which was nice. Granted it was technically slow season, but even some choice cabanas went unused.

Some entire areas of the resort were downright empty.

I never saw anyone venture out toward the distant Villa Retreats Spa, sand volleyball court or tennis courts. Having no crowd is certainly better than it being too packed, but I got the impression that even at capacity it wouldn’t feel overwhelming.

The water in the bay isn’t the cleanest, although I heard it was worse because it was during the rainy season. I’d recommended bringing along water shoes if you want to go in the ocean because the jagged rocky bottoms can be quite rough on your feet. Occasionally, strange things, like large bushels of grass, would wash ashore. The staff were always very quick to pick it all up and keep the beach clean though.

It’s obvious that whoever designed this resort had a lot of fun doing it — and no place is that more evident than the pools and water fountains, which are similar to what you’d see in a Balinese family compound or even at the sacred Hindu water temple of Tirta Empul, but taken to an opulent extreme. The main pool is huge and features the ever-important swim-up bar.

The neighboring Balinese bath pool is flanked by two cascading elevated pools on either side.

The Balinese bath pool remains open until 10:00pm, while all other pools close at 7:00pm.

I originally thought this pool was just a large collection of water fountains before I realized I was free to swim through them.

These are the types of pools I would have loved to play in as a kid. Admittedly, I still do as an adult.

One of the pools is reserved for Club InterContinental guests only. Kids are allowed, but signs make it clear that horseplay should be reserved for the main pool.

My friend loved the massage and facial she received from the luxurious Spa Uluwatu, with a special 20% discount due to my Platinum status. However, prices were similar to those at resorts in the US — elsewhere in Bali, it’s easy to find a decent massage for less than $10.

There are onsite five restaurants. I had breakfast at Taman Gita Terrace, which offers an extensive buffet of local and international cuisine. I can’t think of anything it didn’t have.

I made several trips to the juice bar.

KO Restaurant, Teppanyaki & Cocktail Lounge is the signature restaurant. It’s set in a separate wing with a long walkway of Japanese decor setting the mood and even contains a Japanese garden.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to try it, but this restaurant has the makings of a quality hibachi experience.

Bella Cucina offers Italian fine dining with some tables set on the lawn outside within view of the ocean.

My friends ordered a salad and a wrap from the Jimbaran Gardens poolside restaurant for lunch. They weren’t too impressed and the cost matched what you would pay at a resort back home.

There��s no shortage of ways to ruin that beach bod you’ve worked so hard for before this vacation. It seems like the best strategy for meals is to get a hearty breakfast, take advantage of the club lounge snacks throughout the day (if you have access), then splurge at the KO or Bella Cucina restaurants.

In Bali, it’s normal for the full wait staff to handle the complete set of tables, unlike in the US where a table is normally assigned to one server. You may get asked for your order after you’ve already given it, but it’s always done with a smile and the utmost politeness. You may actually have to make eye contact or wave a server down to place your order, but just roll with it — this is the Bali way.

Club InterContinental

We had no problem getting our money’s worth out of the Club InterContinental. The lounge is open for use with a butler 24/7.

Breakfast is included at any of the restaurants on site between 6:30am and 11am.

Afternoon tea is served from 2:00pm to 4:00pm.

Evening cocktails are available from 4:30pm to 7:30pm in the lounge with a wide array of delicious canapés.

The selection included some premium options, but portions were intentionally kept small. At least at the buffet, no one is discouraging you from getting your fill.

Hot canapés were served by the staff so you wouldn’t go overboard and spoil your appetite for dinner.

The best strategy is to stuff yourself with canapés, then head to the Sunset Beach Bar & Grill for sunset, where cocktails are also included until 7:30pm.

We managed to work our way through the entire cocktail menu — for research purposes, of course! — and the caipirinha and espresso martini were our favorites.

Other notable perks included for Club InterContinental guests:

Use of Jacuzzi, steam room, and sauna at Spa Uluwatu

Return airport transfer

4:00pm check out (my Platinum status would have given me til 2:00pm)

Unlimited use of children’s day care at Planet Trekkers if you want to pawn off the little ones

There’s also a 24-hour menu available in the lounge (for an additional fee), which I took advantage of for a tasty late-night dinner. The menu was much more extensive than most late-night room service options I’ve seen. As you can see, at $40 per adult, we got a ton of value out of our Club InterContinental access.

Check Out

As Club InterContinental guests, we were given a check-out time of 4:00pm. We were also allowed to continue to use the grounds until it was time to go to the airport, and one of my friends didn’t fly out until almost midnight — this included Club InterContinental benefits, which meant one more cocktail hour and sunset! I thought this was a very generous policy as we got nearly two days of Club InterContinental access for (less than) the price of one.

There was also a lounge available with showers, locker facilities, tea and coffee and an outdoor terrace for guests with late-departing flights. It wasn’t too big though and got a little crowded at one point in the evening.

Overall Impression

My favorite thing about the InterContinental Bali Resort was the way the Balinese culture was authentically woven into its design — it never felt tacky or forced because it’s not. You’ll see daily offerings, like the one pictured below, scattered throughout the resort by the employees just as you would see in local villages and in homes and businesses throughout Bali.

While it’s not the greatest use of points in the world, room rates here are pretty reasonable and upgrading to Club InterContinental can easily be worth it. I feel my IHG free anniversary night this year was well spent.

I’d be happy to return to this resort, and would highly recommend it. Don’t forget, though, that this is just a representation of the Balinese culture — the real magic of Bali is scattered throughout the rest of the island, so make sure you spend ample time discovering Bali first, then unwind with a few days here before taking a late-night flight home.

Have you stayed at the InterContinental Bali Resort? Tell us about your experience, below.

All photos courtesy of the author.