#he has a lot of secrets in them but I cannot reveal :pensive:

[adxmanial]

new campaign, new blorbo

[blancheludis]

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 15/?, Words: 83.004

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

---

The information about Thor Odinson appears to be accurate. He has a spotless record, was recommended by several less shady sources and, at least on paper, sounds like a good guy.

Pepper arranges an interview with him in one of the conference rooms in the tower, so Tony does not have to venture out on the streets nor invite a stranger into his home. Also, JARVIS will be able to monitor them at all times.

Still, Tony does not feel good about it. Current events, the new direction of the company as well as the disappearance of its CFO, mean that Tony has to be visible in the coming weeks. He is Stark Industries’ figurehead. If he does not want to completely destroy it, he will have to stand up, hold some speeches, give interviews, make his board of directors believe in him. It is all so blissfully removed from his personal grievances and the possibility of someone still trying to kill him that Tony dives almost eagerly into the task. He just cannot step out of the tower without protection.

The conference room has glass walls, so Tony can see his guest before he has to enter. He thought that would be a good idea to assess the man, but he did not think that Odinson would sit with his back to him. All Tony can see are broad shoulders and blond hair.

Tony’s steps falter. Tall and muscular and blonde. Odinson has been vetted and JARVIS has checked him the very moment he stepped into the tower. Still, Tony expects him to turn around and reveal himself to be Steve.

With the way his brain short-circuits, it would make sense. Steve is constantly going on about protecting Tony. He has recommended Odinson. He could have fooled them, could have slipped in without them noticing, without JARVIS –

The man turns his head, looking at the door, which reveals his profile and that his hair is hanging past his shoulders. This is not Steve.

When air rushes back into Tony’s lungs, it appears ridiculously obvious. Apart from the impressive shoulder line and the hair colour, Odinson looks nothing like Steve. Tony’s brain has just played a prank on him. As he begins walking again, he decides to ignore the faint trace of regret echoing inside him that he is sure originates from the soul bond. This is not about Steve and any possible relationship with him but about Tony’s safety.

Plastering a smile on his face to mask his nerves, Tony goes into the conference room. Odinson notices him immediately and gets to his feet. He is taller than Steve, too, but Tony does not feel intimidated. The man has a kind face and smiles at Tony with a brightness that just screams innocence.

“Mr. Odinson,” Tony greets as he comes closer.

“Mr. Stark.” Odinson shakes the hand Tony offers him, his grip firm but not crushing. “Call me Thor.”

Tony is aware that he is looking for signs of something – and that a simple smile and handshake will not help him decide on the nature of anyone. He of all people should know that, practised as he is in navigating the intricate dances of high society. It makes him feel infinitely safer, however, to cling to appearances no matter that they have failed him so spectacularly before.

“Tony, then,” he offers right back. “Do you need more coffee?”

While coffee intake is not an appropriate tool to measure a stranger’s character either, it puts Tony at ease to share something this simple with Thor. It also gives him the opportunity to stall for another minute while he picks up the coffee pot and fills their cups.

When they are both seated, Tony wonders how to start. He has never actually interviewed anyone in terms of security. They have reviewed all the information available about Thor Odinson. His records, his documented abilities. Apart from a demonstration, Tony is not sure how he should verify that Thor is capable of what he claims to be, much less whether he will turn out to be someone who sells Tony out at the first opportunity.

There is only one question that Tony is really interested in getting an answer to.  

“What do you know about the Avengers?”

That takes Thor by surprise and he does not try to hide it. He sits up a bit straighter, cocks his head to the side, and looks at Tony with a bit more interest than before. He does know something, that much is obvious from the way he hesitates

“I’m sure neither of us should know anything about them,” Thor answers in a measured tone with no trace of judgement. He does sound slightly curious as to what Tony knows and why he brought it up.

“So Steve lied and you are affiliated with them,” Tony sighs, almost disappointed that he will have to send Thor away again. Someone of that stature would have been helpful in keeping people at bay, even if he did nothing but stand glowering in Tony’s back.

It feels like a punch in the gut, knowing that Steve lied to him again.

“I am not,” Thor says firmly before Tony can wallow in his disappointment or end the interview prematurely. “We ran in to each other several times during our time in the military and later during jobs. While they are interested in bringing the guilty to justice, I merely keep people safe.”

All this talk about justice and doing the right thing, Tony is tired of it. This is not the right place or the right person to discuss the Avengers’ policies. He should talk to Thor about what kind of duties he would have, how high the danger level is. These kinds of things.

Instead, Tony keeps his eyes fixed on Thor’s face to not miss any reaction, and says, “You sound like you don’t approve.”

Tony so desperately wants an ally instead of another problem that he is willing to talk about this with a stranger.

Thor watches him right back. Behind his impressive physique sit two very intelligent eyes that tell he is not the type to hit all his issues until they go away.

“It’s not that easy,” Thor answers, sounding pensive instead of protesting. “In our world, guilt and innocence have a lot to do with how much money someone has or what colour their skin is.” He hesitates shortly and a brief smile tugs at his lips before he continues. “My brother is a lawyer. People are willing to pay a lot for their freedom. Our justice system is flawed but that does not mean it should be disregarded completely.”

That is the kind of smooth answer that leaves Tony wondering what Thor really thinks about the Avengers. Recognizing that the justice system is flawed does not equal being all right with vigilantes wreaking havoc in their midst.

Tony decides to just jump right in. He does not have anything to lose from asking pointed questions, other than to have to look for a new potential bodyguard. “Why not do something against them then?”

Thor cocks his head to the side, studying Tony with an intensity that has Tony wishing he had some sunglasses nearby. Pepper always tells him that his eyes betray him.

“They mean good,” Thor says slowly as if testing the waters. “They do their research. They –”

“Or not.” It is stupid, but Tony is disappointed by this man he has known for all of five minutes. “They listen to the first angry voice whispering false information in their ear and act on it with fists. All in the name of justice.”

The interview is over. Tony has had too many discussions like this with Steve or himself, about good and bad. He does not want to hear about people making mistakes and that Tony was a woeful exception to the rule.

“Humans are not creatures of reason,” Thor says, then raises a hand in front of himself when Tony makes to get up. He looks apologetic. “Ah, don’t think I am defending them when I don’t know how they have wronged you. What I mean is, I know Steve and he is driven to do good. We just don’t always end up doing good, no matter our intentions.”

That is not an excuse, Tony wants to yell. Then again, he is not looking for excuses. He already knows the Avengers’ reasons, even knows about Steve’s regrets. What he is really looking for, he supposes is absolution for himself because he keeps going back to Steve despite knowing better. He does not want them to be evil.

“So that’s it?” Tony snaps and does not know who he is irritated at the most here. “I should just forget what happened and forgive them?”

He wonders what he is doing here, unloading on a stranger, spilling his fears and secrets and actually hoping for answers. How far he has fallen. To give Thor credit, he does not look too spooked. Curious, certainly, but not like he is going to have Tony admitted the minute he gets up from the table.

“Nobody should dictate you what to do,” Thor then answers. It sounds practiced in a way but no less honest for it. Just as if he has been repeatedly telling this same thing to someone else already. “If you are hurt then it is your prerogative to withdraw.”

That might be what does it, Thor saying that, since Tony is hurt, it does not matter which intention the Avengers had or have now. He can just leave but does not have to. It is up to him, not what others tell him to do.

Tony leans back in his chair and it is mostly a sign that he is willing to continue the interview than an attempt to get more comfortable. He is too tense for that. Talking about Steve is always difficult. Waiting for Obadiah to jump out of the shadows does not actually help with keeping himself calm.

“My godfather is selling weapons on the black market,” Tony announces without warning. He does not believe in easing into things like this. There are no explanations that can make this topic easier. “He knows that I know and he has tried to kill me twice. He has vanished somewhere, but I’m sure he will try again.”

Across from him, Thor’s jovial expression has frozen somewhat, but his attention still rests solely on Tony. He nods once to show he has understood and does not make a move to interrupt.

“If you take the job, I need you to keep me safe from whatever goons my godfather hires next, and -” Here, Tony hesitates, wondering whether he can simply admit his fears. “And from the Avengers.” He does not think they will come after him, but he is not going to take any chances with that.  

“Of course,” Thor says as if it is as simple as that. “You point, I shield.”

An earnest nonchalance clings to Thor that does wonders to put Tony at ease. And the way he appears so utterly comfortable in his own skin separates him from Steve, who always appears driven, needing to take one more step, one more fight.

Usually, Tony trusts his gut instinct. That is what made him trust Rhodey at MIT and hire Pepper. Where Steve and the Avengers are concerned, the soul bond has made things difficult because he is not quite sure what exactly he feels. Now, however, he thinks Thor is a catch, no matter who recommended him.

Smiling, Tony says, “All right, you’re hired. Care to start right now?”

Thor is visibly startled, and the curiosity in his eyes becomes more intense when he looks at Tony. “As far as job interviews go, this one was rather unusual,” he says, slowly as if testing the water. “You did not ask me a single question about my abilities.”

“I did my research.” Tony shrugs. Facts are easy to check. Morality, on the other hand, is more difficult. Trying to lighten the mood a bit, Tony adds, “And incompetent people don’t look like you do.”

Tony does not exactly mean Thor’s physique, although he is nice to look at, but the calm he radiates, the simple determination.

Thor takes it with good humour, smiling in a way that makes him appear even safer. “Do you mind if I quote that in my resume?”

They shake hands before Tony calls Pepper in who will do a much better job of discussing schedules with Thor. Tony does not necessarily need anyone following him around in the tower, but he will have to get out in public far more often than he is comfortable with just to do some damage control where the company is concerned. There is nothing more counterproductive to appearing calm and competent in an interview about Stark Industries’ future if Obadiah keeps creeping up in the back of his mind, making him wonder when he will be stabbed in the back next.  

Much to his own surprise, Tony feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He has never fancied the idea of a bodyguard, loving his independence too much and being too prone to get into stupid situations, and perhaps too stubborn to let anybody help.

This could be all right, though. It is only temporary. And it will keep his friends off his back, will allow him to leave Happy at home, who would otherwise never agree to let Tony go anywhere unsupervised.  

On the way back up to the penthouse, Tony takes out his phone and sends a text to Steve.

Got myself a bodyguard so you can call your goons back home.

He is not sure why he does it, especially since he does not think that Steve will really stop looking out for him. It is another olive branch, proof that he listened to Steve’s concerns. Few people are in his corner, and he feels like he needs to keep them close.

His phone chimes when Steve’s answer comes in. I only want you to be safe.

That is what Tony thought. It does not matter. With some luck, Natasha’s services will not be needed again. People are looking for Obadiah, so he will not be able to hide forever.

Tony’s task now is to get his life back on track, to make something worthwhile of this mess. Perhaps he should invite Bruce over to pick his brain a bit. Tony is tempted to try to miniaturize the arc reactor again. Having another brilliant mind on board would surely help. Bruce has also seen him at a very low point in his life, so Tony feels like he does not have to pretend so much with him. He needs a break, he knows that. Since he cannot afford to just shut everything out for a while, he needs to do the next best thing and gather his allies close.

In the end, he puts the phone away. Bruce is not his friend, and right now, Bruce’s loyalty still lies with the Avengers. Once Tony does not have anything to fear from them anymore, when Obadiah is behind bars and the company is under Tony’s control again, he might invite Bruce over, offer them a platform to interact with each other that has nothing to do with their history but with what they can do with the future.

For now, he has to put his mind on putting the pieces of Stark Industries back together. There is no time for experiments. The arc reactor is a dream, but Tony needs facts. He has to sell his board of directors on the public on something more substantial than the possibility of green energy in the far future.

Tony is smart, though. If he can get his mind to stay off Obadiah and Steve for long enough, he will figure something out.

---

It is never quiet anymore in the tower. Just a few days have passed since they have opened their doors to the police, but it already feels like Tony’s territory has been taken from him. Even when he does not see any officers or tech specialists, he is met with wide-eyed or questioning or angry glances from his own employees. And that is ignoring the board, which has more or less loudly wondered about Tony’s state of sanity for throwing out on of their own like that.

Perhaps Tony simply feels strange because he is usually more invisible than this, perpetually locked inside his workshop instead of being out and about in the tower, actually meeting with people himself and being on time for it. It is not as bad as he always made it out to be, mostly because it helps to take his mind of the personal issues following this crisis and because he is far too restless to allow himself to fall into an actual working binge in the workshop. He needs to build, but he cannot deal with the rather vulnerable mental state he is in when he stumbles tired and hungry to his bed after a day or two of working nonstop.

His office, which he has never used much, has a nice view, too, although Tony does not have much time to look at the city below. He has never been one for paperwork. Even that is better than telling the same people the same things over and over again. Everybody seems to be out for blood right now and Tony cannot get his wounds to close.

A knock rips him out of his thoughts. It is late, already dark outside, but Tony guesses he has never explicitly told anyone he does not want to be disturbed.

The door opens and Thor sticks his head in. He should have gone home already, but he never does before he has not delivered Tony safely to the penthouse, even though he knows that JARVIS never stops watching inside the tower.

Informing Thor about JARVIS has been a necessity, but Tony thinks he is not going to regret it. It also makes Thor’s job marginally easier.

“Agent Coulson wants to speak to you,” Thor says, keeping his tone carefully neutral. His expression, on the other hand, seems to say that he will get rid of the agent if Tony wants him to.

A small smile steals itself onto Tony’s lips. Only a few days into their acquaintance and he is already certain that it was a good decision to take Thor on.

“Send him in.”

Coulson is with the FBI. Tony is not sure when they got involved, but the fact that Obadiah, on top of less interesting charges like embezzlement and bribery, sold weapons to enemies of America apparently makes this a matter of national security. That means that even more watchful eyes are combing through every aspect of Tony’s life, but for now he does not care if that also increases their chances of finding Obadiah.

Thor sends the agent in and, after a questioning look at Tony whether he should stay, closes the door behind him and leaves Tony to be picked apart in another interrogation.

“Agent Coulson,” Tony greets and gets to his feet to offer his hand. Then he gestures at the visitor chair and waits until they are both seated again. “Did you find anything?”

“No,” Coulson replies. In that mild-mannered tone of his, he adds, “I just have some more questions for you.”

Coulson looks like he has been born in that suit and that bland expression of polite disinterest. Contrary to most of his colleagues, he does not wear a visible weapon, does not posture or appear dangerous. He still exudes an aura of authority. Tony is not sure what to make of him, but he knows he will have to watch his words.

“We’ve already gone over everything,” Tony says, swallowing his impatience. There is too much he needs to keep secret to be comfortable with being questioned. “And Ms Potts is your official liaison for the duration of this investigation.”

Tony wonders how he can speak so calmly about the matter. He guesses years of having to act in public have some advantage. Inside, however, he is still raw, hurting constantly.

“Ms Potts isn’t going to be able to help me with this.” Coulson’s tone does not change, but Tony’s back automatically stiffens a bit. A promise of danger lies in the air. That Coulson circumvented Pepper and came here after dark, when it is more likely that Tony is alone, speaks of more problems coming his way.

“I have a meeting coming up,” Tony lies and keeps his face neutral. “So we need to make this quick.”

The corner of Coulson’s mouth creases into a small smile, gone again very quickly. Tony cannot even begin to question whether that is a good sign.

“I’ll be blunt then,” Coulson says, his gaze growing sharp. “Last week you were in the hospital. Why?”

Tony grows very quiet for the fraction of a second, even while clinging to his slightly bored expression, hoping his hesitation is not visible. Whether or not he visited the hospital should not be object of this investigation. It has nothing to do with Obadiah. Well, it does, but the police do not know that, and for good reason.

“We filed a report,” Tony says and cocks his head to the side dismissively. “There was an accident. A hit and run.”

For a moment, Coulson does not say anything but simply watches Tony. Then, with the same nonchalance as before, he asks, “That was the evening before you submitted your evidence against Mr. Stane to the police?”

“Yes,” Tony answers. He does not like where this is going.

“And it was also just a few days before you hired additional personal security?”

Tony stares. “Yes.”

Across from him, Coulson nods like he has known the answer all along but is still satisfied to have gotten it.

“Do you fear for your safety?” he then asks, the perfect picture of innocent professionalism like he has never had any ulterior motives for coming here. This still comes too close to an accusation for Tony to let it go.

Tony leans back in his chair, shoulders squared but arms open, showcasing that he does not have anything to hide. “I’m going to be in the spotlight quite a bit. People didn’t like me when I was making weapons.” He shrugs like he does not care. “They like me even less now that I’ve stopped and they know why.”

Rumours have gotten out. Of course, they have. A thing like this is impossible to keep quiet. A rogue CFO selling weapons to terrorists? Tony Stark, who the media loves to hate even without a fresh scandal, being possibly involved? Everybody wants a slice of that cake.

Coulson nods like he accepts that very reasonable answer. “Is there a more personal reason?” he then asks with deceiving calm. If Tony did not know better, he would think there is a glimmer of amusement in Coulson’s eyes.

“Like what?” Tony barely keeps himself from snapping. He is too close to the matter, to prone to making mistakes.

Shrugging, Coulson takes his time, although it is obvious he is ready to pounce. “It just seems too much of a coincidence. The accident, your godfather going rogue, a new bodyguard.”

He trails off, not quite expectant but very sure of himself. It is tempting to give in. Tony could just admit that he does have reasons to be afraid of Obadiah because an attempt on his life has already been made. Two, even. While it would certainly be satisfying to tell them exactly what kind of person Obadiah is, it would also raise questions Tony is not willing to answer.

Tony cannot quite tell when protecting the Avengers has become part of the plan. In the beginning it was merely a decision not to report the kidnapping. Now, however, he is actively keeping any and all information about them out of the reports. He likes to think that is not just because Steve is his soulmate. He owes Natasha, too. He does not want to harm Bruce. He has become far more entangled with them than he could have foreseen.

“What are you insinuating?” Tony questions, straightening in his seat just enough to show his displeasure about Coulson’s line of questioning. It still feels like Coulson can see right through him.

“Are you afraid that Mr. Stane is going to harm you?” Coulson rephrases his question, gives it a completely reasonable note as if he is not digging for things Tony has not told them but is honestly concerned for Tony’s safety.

Tony does not trust just anyone. Even less so now. He does not believe that Agent Coulson does not have a hidden agenda here. They probably think he has been involved in the weapons trading. They want him to compromise himself. Perhaps they are already impatient about not finding Obadiah and want to at least get him.  

“It is clear that I don’t know at all what he’s capable of,” Tony says, allowing some regret into his tone. He never takes his eyes off Coulson, though. “But no. I don’t think he’s waiting for an opportunity to sneak in here to kill me.”

Not missing a beat, Coulson says, “He could hire someone to do it.”

The breath gets stuck in Tony’s lungs as his heartrate climbs suddenly. His outward reaction is as practised as it is unfazed, a slight raising of his eyebrows, a small shrug, not a muscle twitching out of place.

Inside, he wonders what Coulson knows, whether they have unwittingly betrayed something. He has not even told Pepper and Rhodey any specifics about the Avengers. No names, not that he has the means to contact them and has done so. If Steve thought they were compromised, he would have surely called, either to warn Tony or to lay the blame at his feet.

Coulson cannot know anything. So Tony breathes, giving no sign how hard it is, and says, “I like to think that he wouldn’t.”

Coulson’s expression remains jovial, not at all surprised. He is not done, Tony knows that before he even opens his mouth again. “The hospital record says that you had several broken ribs pre-dating the car accident.”

This time, Tony does not suppress his reaction. He leans forward abruptly, not enough to appear spooked but showing his agitation. He is allowed to be angry at a violation of his privacy. Tony himself is not under investigation here. He has never had any illusions that they would not look into him too, but his medical records have nothing to do with smuggling.

“You have no right to access my medical history,” Tony says sharply. Full cooperation is apparently not enough when the national security is in question. If not for JARVIS, he would be worried about what other information the FBI might have gleaned from Stark Industries’ servers or his personal ones.

“It is if it pertains to the case,” Coulson replies, still sounding unflappable. Tony’s accusation does not seem to bother him at all.

“It doesn’t,” Tony says, intent on pushing back. Since he does not want them to dig even deeper, though, he adds, “It was a lab accident. It shouldn’t surprise you that I like to blow things up.”

Lab safety has never been much of a concern for Tony, but the truth is that, if he got injured, it was mostly during nights out with too much alcohol and too many strangers wanting a piece of him. Or, before that, thanks to Howard’s carelessness or bullies at school. Tony knows what he is doing in his workshop, and he has JARVIS and the bots watching over him. Coulson does not need to know that, however.

“Do you often get caught in the crossfire?” Coulson asks in a purposefully gentle tone, almost as if he cares.

Some part of Tony will always want to give in to that, but he knows better than to trust an FBI agent charged with sniffing around in his business.

“I appreciate your concern,” Tony says in a dry tone that makes it clear he does not, without ever changing his polite expression. “But I would prefer if you kept working on finding Stane.”

It still hurts to call Obadiah that, but Tony forces himself to whenever he is talking to the police. It would not do to give them reason to suspect he is still too attached to the man they are prosecuting.

A small smile appears on Coulson’s face, climbing all the way up to his eyes. It is as much a show of amusement as it is an acknowledgment.

“We simply want to make sure that you are safe.”

“I am,” Tony responds firmly, the lie rolling off his tongue easily. When he senses that Coulson does not believe him, he adds, “I’m the one who came up with most of the weapons Stane sold illegally. It would make no sense to kill the golden goose.”

Spite, revenge, defiance – Tony can come up with a dozen reasons why Obadiah would want him dead without even considering their personal relationship. He keeps that to himself though, not thinking for a moment that Coulson is not considering the same. He did not think Coulson would be so blunt to say it, though.

Yet, Coulson keeps his eyes on him, his mouth still slightly upturned. “The game is up now,” he says, not making it sound like a threat but a simple fact. “He doesn’t have much to lose.”

Privately, Tony thinks that freedom is a lot to lose, but he simply shrugs like it has not occurred to him that he is in danger. “He would have to come out of hiding to kill me, so I’ll trust you to notice and stop him or whoever he might hire.”

It will not be that easy, but this is the best he can offer the FBI at the moment. Or ever, really. He will be glad to see them go once this is over.

“We will,” Coulson says and gets smoothly to his feet, although he looks like he did not want their conversation to be over already. Then he reaches into his pocket, and Tony blames it on his tiredness that he winces at the movement. “Let me leave you my card so you can call me in case there is something you want to talk about.”

Coulson noticed his almost-flinch. There is no way he did not, considering that his eyes narrow briefly, and he slides the card over the surface of the desk between them slowly.

Picking it up, Tony studies it to avoid looking up at Coulson. What was he thinking? That Obadiah bought out the FBI and Coulson was coming in here to shoot him right in his office? He really needs all of this to be over.

“Thank you for your efforts, Agent Coulson,” Tony says, managing to sound nonchalant.

They shake hands again, and Tony accompanies Coulson to the door. It is unusual, but he wants to make sure that Coulson actually leaves instead of lingering or talking to Thor. Their conversation consisted of a lot of unspoken things and Tony will have to go over it again once he is alone to make sure that the FBI is only suspicious and does not know things that are none of their business.

Outside, Thor perks up the moment the door opens. He manages to look genial and attentive at the same time, as if sitting outside Tony’s office is not boring.

Together, they watch Coulson leave. Only when they are alone does Thor speak up. “Are you all right?”

If Tony attempted to smile right now, it would probably come out mangled, so he simply nods. “Yes.” A look at the clock makes Coulson’s visit appear even more suspicious, considering it is long after normal business hours. “You should go home now. And I should probably try to sleep.”

Thor stands up and gathers his things, shrugging on his jacket. “Let me escort you upstairs then.”

Tony wants to protest, to say that he can find the way to the elevator and his own home just fine on his own. Thor was hired for a reason, though, and Tony, judging on his reaction to Coulson simply reaching into his pocket, apparently does not feel safe in his own tower, even if he would not admit it out loud.

With a nod, he starts walking. “Let’s go.”

Exhaustion is tugging at him, making his legs heavier than they should be. Maybe he will even manage to sleep a night through for once.

[coloursflyaway]

A Pattern Of Errors [3/ ?]

Pairing: Dirk Gently/ Todd Brotzman

Rating: T

Words: 3.366

Dirk picks Todd up for a road trip he never planned to go on, with a red cabriolet and a bright smile and a thousand places to go. And although Todd doesn’t know what he expected, he definitely gets more than he bargained for.

Also shout-out to @nekosmuse, who I absolutely forgot to mention last time (because I am bad at that too), but who helped me SO MUCH when coming up with the excuse for a plot that I am using for this. (lbr, there is no plot, there are just excuses for me to have them touch and be cute together.)

List of chapters

He isn’t quite sure how Dirk knows where they are supposed to be going, if somehow Todd’s wish to watch the sun rise from Zabriskie Point convinced the universe to lead them south towards California, or if it’s just one of Dirk’s hidden talents. Whatever it is, though, it seems to be working, because the next stop they make is Salt Lake City.   It’s another city Todd has never been in, and never particularly wanted to, but when Dirk guides their car through the traffic with some mixture of skill and sheer lunacy, he cannot deny that the scenery is beautiful.

The sun hasn’t yet set, but its light has gotten dim, causing the neon writings above supermarket entrances and illuminated windows to twinkle in the distance like their own, personal version of the night sky. Behind them, the mountains look impossibly tall, unconquerable, and Todd sinks further into his seat. They have been driving for hours with hardly any break, except for the occasional stop for gas and drinks and Todd taking pictures to send Amanda. But while their trip up until now has been laughing and telling stories and being free, directionless, Dirk drives with a singlemindedness Todd is not used to now. It’s as unusual as it is touching, and if their hands brush from time to time, Todd pretends not to notice.

 The hotel they check into is by far the nicest one they had had so far, the carpet plush and the wallpaper in perfect condition. Todd almost feels guilty for stepping into the room, knowing that he spent the last night in a car and only brushed his teeth and showered in a truck stop diner. Dirk instead walks into the room like his family has owned it for centuries, duffle bag in one hand and a bag with take-out they got before in the other. He sets it down on the bed, calls dibs on the first shower, which Todd thinks is well deserved. After all, it was Dirk who did almost all the driving.

Deciding that the take-out can wait, he stretches out on the bed, still in his wrinkled, gross t-shirt and worn jeans, flicks on the TV and loses himself for a bit in whatever soap opera they are playing right now. And maybe he’s just too tired, or too used to the thought of Dirk next to him, but it takes several minutes until he notices that the bed is too big for one person, that there’s a second pillow next to the one his head is resting on. But what is even more surprising than the lack of a second bed for Dirk to occupy is that Todd cares.

After having been in a band for years, he is more than used to sharing beds and often with people he liked quite a lot less than Dirk; he shouldn’t be fazed by the thought of sleeping next to his best friend, surely. And yet, he can feel his face flush slightly, his skin tingling, like it is expecting to be touched. It’s ridiculous, he is ridiculous, and yet when the door creaks open and Dirk pads into the room on bare feet, his treacherous, ridiculous heart skips a beat.

Dirk is wearing the Mexican Funeral shirt Todd gave him what feels like a decade ago, the only piece of clothing he apparently thought of bringing, his damp hair slicked back and looking darker than ever. His skin is still flushed from the hot water and Todd takes a deep breath that does nothing to calm him down and smiles. “Still haven’t gotten shot in that shirt, huh?”, he asks, watches as Dirk looks down on himself, brows furrowing like it takes him a moment to figure out what it is Todd is asking.

“Oh”, he finally replies. “Haha. Very funny. No. But you should know that of all people, you were present during almost all occasions I was shot.” He joins Todd on the bed, seemingly oblivious how close they are and how much closer they will continue to be, just snatches up the bag of take-out and produces various snacks from it, spreading them out on the blanket like preparing a little picnic. “We might make it to Death Valley tomorrow”, Dirk tells him and rips open a pack of Maltesers; how the other is so skinny when he constantly stuffs candy into his mouth, Todd has no idea.

“That would be nice”, Todd replies and takes the one single sandwich they bought. “But if it takes longer, I wouldn’t mind it either. This is nice too.” Dirk stops mid-motion, Malteser in his hand, and looks at Todd like he has just been given the most wonderful gift. “Yes”, he says eventually, smiling softly. “Yes, it is.”

 When they go to bed, it’s far past one in the morning, and although his skin is still tingling, Todd finds that it’s easy to lie next to Dirk, to listen to his breathing and feel the faintest of glow of warmth from Dirk’s skin against his own.

 Dirk looks peaceful when he’s asleep, Todd catches himself thinking. It’s early in the morning and Dirk is curled up next to him, hair falling into his face and his eyelashes fanned out over pale cheeks. He should sleep, but he doesn’t know how to, when it feels like every possible secret the universe could hold is written out in the freckles on the bridge of Dirk’s nose.

 Compared to the mattress from the night before, the seats of the cabriolet feel uncomfortable, no matter how smooth the leather is. Still, it feels a little bit like home already when Dirk starts the car and pulls out of the parking space, although it hasn’t even been two weeks since Dirk picked him up from his flat without a warning. A single click and suddenly the car is filled with loud Korean pop, the kind Dirk loves, and although Todd still only considers it music in the vaguest sense of the word, the eye roll he gives is accompanied by a little smile.

 “Is there anything you would like to see?”, Todd asks and watches the landscape pass them by. It’s easy to forget that Dirk is going far faster than he is allowed to when there are no cars around them to remind him of that fact. “Like me and Death Valley, I mean.” “Yes”, Dirk answers after a moment or two have passed, his voice gentle in that way Todd has only come to know in those past days. “But not here. Back in England, there is a town called Penzance, and if you go a bit further than that, you get to Land’s End. It’s a headland, the most westerly point of all of England, and I always wanted to just… stand there. Look out over the sea and know that although I can’t see anything, there is a whole world just ahead. I think it would be very peaceful, don’t you?”

Todd has expected something fancy, Carnival in Venice or the Northern Lights, not this. But it fits somehow, another puzzle piece revealed that makes up the man in front of him, not cheerful this time, but pensive, making Todd wonder what else he has yet to discover about Dirk.

“I’ll come with you”, he offers, adds, “If you want me to, I mean.” Dirk whips around with wide eyes that should stay fixed on the street, a smile blooming on his lips. “Really? You’d do that?”, Dirk asks and waits for Todd’s nod before he continues, “I would like that.” “Alright”, Todd replies and makes it sound easier than it is on purpose. “It’s a date, then.”

 The air around them is slowly getting warmer around them, dryer, stings in Todd’s eyes, but feels a lot more pleasant against his cheeks when Dirk rolls down the roof to enjoy the sun that is burning down on them. He’s fairly certain that Dirk is still going far too fast, but by now, Todd is too used to the feeling to really mind it anymore; Dirk looks too carefree, too relaxed for him to want to change anything at all. Maybe this, Todd catches himself thinking, a thought as light as air and passing as quickly as the landscape around them, is what being content feels like.

 Heat hits him like a punch to the chest when he gets out of the car. It was warm in the car, stiflingly so, and yet it was nothing compared to this. Todd knows warmth and yet has never felt anything like this before, a heat that feels all-encompassing, endless, unchanging, and yet not entirely unpleasant. They have stopped to load as much of the backseat as possible with water and food, and Todd turns to ask Dirk if there is anything else he needs when the words curl up somewhere in between his vocal cords and the tip of his tongue. It’s hot, impossibly so, which is why he shouldn’t be surprised by it, but somehow Dirk looks, acts like he is too far removed from the world to be fazed by something as mundane as the weather. Doesn’t look like he’d stand in the middle of a dusty parking lot, deft fingers undoing button after button of his shirt. The tie is still hanging around his neck, wrinkled and looking like an invitation of some sort, even if Todd has no idea how to accept it.

“I knew it was going to be hot here, but oh, boy”, Dirk comments, shoots a smile that looks as bright as the sun in Todd’s direction, whose eyes keep following long, slender fingers, a line right down the other man’s body. “You could have warned me, really, Todd. After all, you are the one who has lived his entire life here… at least kind of here. In England, twenty-five degrees are considered a particularly warm day. This here, well. I don’t even know if there are words for it apart from very unpleasant ones like hell, or purgatory or the actual inside of a volcano.” It takes far too long for Todd to piece together what it is Dirk is saying, because the other shucks off his shirt so he can pull the undershirt over his head.

He’s thin, collarbones protruding and casting harsh shadows over pale skin, his shoulders looking even narrower without some kind of clothing covering them, and yet Todd cannot look away. Muscles bunch up and relax again under Dirk’s skin as he sets aside the undershirt, starts to put on the pastel yellow dress shirt on again, and Todd knows that Dirk isn’t beautiful in any traditional sense of the word – he’s too skinny, too pale, too gangly – but that doesn’t matter. Because there are faint scars on Dirk’s side, soon to be hidden by clothing again, an elegant curve to his neck when the other tilts his head, the cupid’s bow of his pink lips soft when he starts to button his shirt up once more. He’s not beautiful, but in some way that Todd cannot put to words, he’s magnetic, his movements hypnotic, the blue of his eyes electrifying.

Before he knows it, Todd has taken a step towards him, another, closing the distance between him and Dirk until he can reach out. His fingertips brush over Dirk’s collarbone, the skin warm and damp with sweat, before Todd gets a hold of a button, the corresponding side of Dirk’s shirt. It’s no conscious decision to do so, but his fingers make the decision for him, start with the first button before moving to the next; Dirk’s fingers brush over his chest as he drops his hands, leaving a trail of sparks even through the fabric, and Todd looks up and wonders what the other man can see in his face.

The expression Dirk wears is something between gentle surprise and fond amazement, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly. They are standing close together, closer than Todd would have thought possible, and ever so often, his fingers touch soft skin and light something up in Dirk’s eyes. “I don’t think it’s that bad”, Todd finally says, almost but not quite answers. Dirk’s shirt is almost buttoned up again, and Todd is glad that he can’t tear his gaze away from the other’s face, because otherwise he’d be forced to think about where his hands are currently at. “Yeah, well”, Dirk answers, a playful edge to the smile he wears; he tilts his head, baring his neck, and Todd swallows thickly. “If you put it like that, I think I’ll have to agree.”

 How long it takes them to get the canisters of water, food and two thick blankets they actually stopped for, Todd has no idea; his fingertips tingle the entire time and make it hard to focus on anything else.

 They leave with far too much water and far, far too much food for a single night, Dirk’s shirt sleeves rucked up carelessly and Todd’s eyes straying to his wrist, the tendons in the back of his hand moving delicately under his skin. Dirk seems to look back more often than not, their eyes meeting although the other’s should stay on the street, and it’s almost absurd how natural it feels.

There is no spoken agreement that they will just go on and see where the road takes them, but there doesn’t need to be; maybe Dirk has a hunch, maybe he knows Todd well enough that it’s not necessary to say everything out-loud anymore. That’s how it feels to Todd, at least. So they don’t take the road up to Zabriskie Point, but instead, with the sun setting, drive into Death Valley.

The last few hours, the landscape around them has dried up bit by bit, but this is different, this isn’t dead matter and grass turned the colour of sand, this is the absence of life altogether, or at least looks like it. And Todd cannot look away, glued to the windows to take in as much of this alien looking valley in the middle of nowhere, the cracked ground and salt residues glittering in what is left of the sunlight. The hills around them, that look like someone ripped them forcibly from the earth they belonged to and forced them to keep watch here, guard this dead, impossible place.

Why they stop, Todd cannot say and doesn’t ask, they just stop in the middle of nowhere, Dirk looking over at him with a question written all over his painfully familiar face. Is this okay? Todd doesn’t answer with more than a smile and gets out of the car.

It’s like he has never felt heat before, making him aware of every too-hot breath he takes, his sweat evaporating before it has started to bead on his forehead, the nape of his neck. It’s the kind of heat that makes you forget about ever feeling a gust of wind before, and Todd puts his head back and takes inhales the boiling air as deeply as he possibly can.

Behind him, Dirk must have gotten out of the car, because there is the click of a door being closed, footsteps that sound loud on this rough ground. “Is it like you thought it would be? Or is it a different kind of, I don’t know.  Moon-esque landscape situated in the middle of the world’s oven? Dirk breaks him out of his reverie easily, with a few choice voice, and Todd can’t help but chuckle, turn to look at the other. “I did underestimate the heat”, he admits, and Dirk scoffs. “But apart from that, yes, it’s what I expected. Just as…dead. And beautiful.” “That is a strange thing to find beautiful”, Dirk decides, but looks around anyway. “But I suppose you have a point. It’s a very hot and a very empty kind of appeal, but it is quite stunning.”

Todd wants to look at the dried up salt lakes in the distance, but his eyes won’t allow it, instead stay fixed on Dirk’s soft, fond smile and the patch of skin revealed by the buttons Todd didn’t fasten before.

 They watch the sun set together, their blankets folded together to make an acceptable makeshift bed, at least for the time being. His back is going to kill him the next morning, but with the sky turning pink, turning violet, then blue, Todd cannot find it in him to care. Dirk passes him a bottle of water and Todd takes a long drink, does not think about the other’s lips touching the plastic only a few moments after his own, and sighs. “Dirk?”, he starts, keeps his eyes trained on the stars that are coming out, not slowly, like he is used to, but at an almost alarming pace, all at once. “Yes?” “Thank you.” “What for?”

Dirk sounds honestly confused, although Todd thinks that the other should know, shifts and shuffles next to him. Todd wants to look over, but doesn’t, too scared that he won’t be able to tear his eyes away anytime soon. “This, of course. All of it, the trip and coming here and looking at the stars with me. I wouldn’t be here without you showing up in that ridiculous car and…spiriting me away.” He smiles at the stars, and they twinkle back, getting brighter by the second. “In that case, you are very welcome”, Dirk tells him after a second has passed, and he sounds as genuine as he sounds happy. It’s a feeling Todd knows well by now.

 The stars above them are bigger than anything Todd has ever seen before, so bright that it almost hurts a little bit to look at them; it’s a thought Todd would never admit to having, but it reminds him a bit of Dirk’s smile. Somewhere in between the sky turning from blue to black, their chatter has died down, no words known to Todd that could befit the situation, the feeling of being so small beneath so much light and space and beauty, next to another person, who understands.

Because Dirk does understand, something Todd would never have thought possible when he first met the other man, all wild eyes and frantic chatter, but there is more to Dirk Gently than just smiles and endless optimism, and all of it is still better, brighter, more beautiful than what lurks underneath Todd’s surface. And yet, Dirk is there with him, so far away from home, because of a postcard Todd used to look at when he visited his grandma’s house.

His heart flutters and beats and swells, and it’s hard to deny a feeling you could name so easily, should you want to, when it’s only been you and your thoughts and the stars for so long.

Next to him, Dirk moves, and Todd’s stomach clenches in anticipation, expects the other to speak but no words come. For a moment, he’s confused, but then something warm covers his hand, skin sliding against skin, bones and sinew and flesh finding a way to make itself fit around Todd’s hand. Their fingers intertwine easily, the callouses of Todd’s fingertips catching on the soft skin of Dirk’s knuckles, Dirk’s nails scratching across the back of the other’s hand; just a single point of contact between them, but enough to make the universe stop and think, it seems, and then carve a little niche out for them to fill with whatever this is going to be.

 The stars above them are still bright and Dirk raises their hands, both of them, together, like they are a unit now, and points at a spot above them, that looks just like the rest of the night sky to Todd. “That’s Cassiopeia”, Dirk tells him, and it’s the first time they have spoken in what feels forever, “The brightest one, that’s Shedir, then there’s Caph, Ksora…” They still look the same, a million suns shining down on them, beautifully bright, and Todd lets his thoughts drift, listening more to Dirk’s familiar, British lilt than to the words he is saying, and watches their hands instead.

[lizziebennet]

Order of favorite to least favorite Harry Potter movies and why? :)

i love getting questions like this!!! 

1. HARRY POTTER AND THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN 

this movie is the Official™ best harry potter movie. director alfonso cuaron (who would later go on to win a best director oscar for gravity) completely elevated the series from chris columbus’ movies that were obviously aimed towards children. cuaron took the source material seriously and gave us a well-crafted, well-directed, and pretty faithful harry potter movie. PoA isnt my fave book – not even close to my fave actually but this is both the best movie cinematically and the adaptation that is most enjoyable to watch over and over and over again. there are some sticky moments tho: dan’s acting in the infamous “HE WAS THEIR FRIEND!!!!” scene, the opening scene not making any sense .. at all…,  the character of dumbledore just… in general, the introduction of ron as a vehicle solely for comic relief, and the dropping of wizarding robes at hogwarts. listen, i can complain ab small things from every hp movie for HOURS but overall this movie is just FANTASTIC!! the score!!!!!!!!!! the only movie where they got harrys hair right!!!!! and definetly has the best ending of any harry potter movie. if u wanna know more ab why this movie is awesome check out this video essay which goes in depth about cuaron’s directoral style in this movie.

2. HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

i feel like this is such an underrated hp movie tbh. goblet of fire is such an important book because it sets up the conflict for the rest of the series w voldemort’s return. and thats the main reason this movie gets my #2 spot tbh: the graveyard scene at the end of the movie. this movie isn’t perfect always, but the graveyard scene is a pivotal moment in the series and imo they hit it out of the park in this movie. they didn’t edit the scene to shorten it for time – they have harry and voldemorts first interaction be as tense and lengthy as it is in the books. the scene where voldemort comes out of the cauldron and rubs his head… it gives me chills every time. i think the dark parts of this movie is where it really shines – the opening with frank for example. it makes me SO happy that they opened the movie the same way they do in the book. they do a pretty good job w the character of moody and with showing harrys feelings of isolation and general angst. and yes, everyone has shitty hair in this movie but what can u do. i also take offense w the treatment of fleur in this movie… in fact whose idea was it to make beauxbatons an all female school? and durmstrang all male?? because that was a fucking dumb idea noah fence. another thing that i hate about this movie is the “conversation” between dumbledore and harry at the end of the movie – if you can even call it that. the talk they have in his office in the books is integral to the plot going forward and it is so shitty that they just had like a .2 second scene instead. actually, dumbledore is just horrible throughout this whole movie. another infamous moment w the “DIDYA PUT UR NAME IN THE GOBLET OF FIRE!?!??!?!” i remember that michael gambon (dumbledore) just refused to read the books ever and they completely missed the mark on dumbledore. i actually know of a lot of hp fans who hate this movie but i

3. HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF BLOOD PRINCE

i know this is a lot of people’s fave or second fave harry potter movie, but i just couldnt give it that #2 spot. its tough because hbp is my 2nd favorite book behind ootp and it means so much to me and there are just some things the movie royally fucks up that i cannot give it so much praise even though, overall it is a good movie. simply put: if i hadn’t read the books this might be my #1 or #2 movie. but alas i have so i get to judge it harshly. lets start out with what the movie does well: this movie does a gREAT job of being a coming-of-age film. we really get a sense of the characters growing up and being teens in this movie and its great and hilarious at some points. this movie also does the best job with the harry/dumbledore relationship. michael gambon stretches himself to be closer to the soft and omniscient dumbledore from the books. he doesnt exactly get there for me but its closer than in any other film with him. they do a good job with the pensive stuff and the introduction of horcruxes, and with the climax of dumledore’s death. the reemergence of quidditch is lovely. HOWEVER, this biggest most irksome thing that i just cannot get over in this movie is the fucking MESS that is harry and ginnys relationship. one of my absolute favorite parts of the book is their relationship – the way harry pines for her and the way they get together (”several sunlit days”!) and they just completely throw all of that in the trash along with ginny’s character. i also dont love how hermione is portrayed in this movie. the way they did her and ron’s relationship is just… not great. in the books its so obvious that they belong together but in the movies its like theyre both just stupid. this movie does a fantastic job of balancing comedy – giving us some of the funniest scenes in an y harry potter movie – with the darkness and threat of voldemort. the way the did the whole sequence in the cave is great. the scene where the death eaters attack the burrow is stupid and unnecessary however. and while i think they do a great job like telling the story in this movie, they dont really go deeper into harrys psyche which is one of my favorite parts of the book – harry realizing and accepting his role as the savior of the wizarding world. the prophecy is kind of ignored in the movies which is … lame but we also miss out of some of my favorite book moments: harry understanding why his parents died and vowing to fight voldemort w his last breath, harry flipping out when he learns that snape is the one who overheard the prophecy, harry fighting scrimgeour. overall, this is a fun movie to watch and it isn’t half bad, but it couldve been so much more in my opinion. 

4. HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERER’S STONE

the original!!!!!!!!!! i rewatched this recently and this is ?? such a solid movie?? most of the credit for this being a good movie goes to jkr for writing a great book, but still they coudlve easily fucked up this movie and then there wouldn’t be a franchise!!!!! so i have to give it a lot of credit. it does a wonderful job of introducing us to the wizarding world, giving us our main characters, and giving us hOGWARTS. the pacing of the movie is great, the kids are soo soosososo cute in it i cant even stand it!!!!! the comedic beats hit, the emotional beats hit. the one beef i have with this movie is that they cast like 40 yr olds to be james and lily in the mirror of erised and they are not!!!!! that old !!!!!!! also they do a great job w effects considering when it was made. watching this movie is like being held by a warm blanket of childhood memories and i love it so much. 

5. HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS PART 2 

im sure some of you are surprised to see this movie so far down on my list but guess what this movie fucking infuriates me!!!!! let me just start by saying that the majority of this film is actually really good. but the small percentage of the movie that isnt good RUINS THE WHOLE THING FOR ME!!!!!! ill start with the good tho: the gringots sequences. badass. the cinematography in this movie is just like 5x better than most of the series so well done them. snape’s memories sequence is just like really fucking good okay ill give them that like the moment harry looks up after emerging from the pensive knowing he has to die GIVES ME CHILLS. voldemort killing harry in the forest. this is well shot and executed scene. harry being dead and talking w dumbledore is good too one of the only times michael gambon like acts so. the courtyard apocalypse scene. hermione’s “ill go with you”. while i object to this scene being in the movie that line is [gets choked up and cant continue]. like i said the majority of the movie is good, great even. BUT THEY FUCK UP SOME OF THE MOST IMPORTANT PARTS OF THE ENTIRE SERIES!!!!!!!!!! lets start slow: ariana dumbledore. bet u forgot she was in this movie. dont worry the writers did too. why did they make harry some kind of horcrux gps???? no???? WHY DOES HOGWARTS RANDOMLY HAVE A BOATHOUSE THAT WE’VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE?? AND WHY DID SNAPE DIE THERE?? ron and hermiones kiss in the chamber of secrets was stupid and doesnt compare to the moment in the books. dont even get me stARTED on harry and ginny. THEM NOT MENTIONING THAT REMUS AND TONKS ARE MARRIED/HAVE A KID UNTIL LUPIN IS DEAD RIP. those things bother me but nothing compares to the fucking mess that is everything after harry comes back to life. good god its the fucking most important act in the entire series… and it is a complete disaster in my opinion. just so many?? horrible?? decisions?? starting with voldemorts speech after harry is “dead”.. why did he hug draco. why. also i dont get nevilles speech at all that was stupid. the reveal that harry was alive is stupid. the fact that they dont kill the snake and have it be like this ooo will they kill the snake in time thing is STUPID. voldemort wrapping harry up in his robes?????? why???? voldemort and harry jumping off a building together???? WHY???? voldemort and harry melding faces????? WHY?????!?!?!?!?!??!?! it just doesnt make any sort of logical sense and its not so exciting to watch. why wouldnt voldemort just KILL HARRY ANY OF THOSE TIMES??? iT DOESNT MAKE SENSE?? i fukcinNNGNNG hate it im sorry. and the final like showdown between them is just not as good as it is in the books??? like them circling each other in the great hall with everyone watching as dawn breaks >> them crawling through rubble outside on a bridge. also it REALLY FUCKING IRKS ME THAT VOLDEMORT LIKE DISINTEGRATES INTO PAPER WHEN HE DIES LIKE. that completely undoes a lot of what the books are saying and like lessens the impact of his death imo. the whole point is that he was trying to be like this immortal god but in the end he died just like everyone else he was HUMAN. they also do that w bellatrix like when molly kills her she like ?? explodes?? it just lessens their deaths i think. and the lack of closure with the elder wand like harry just fucking throwing it into the distance is DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ugg ugg ugg. i know my expectations were high and i know its a tough task to finish the series buT they really let me down with the FUCKING CLIMAX OF THE SERIES. like guys it was epic enough in the books u dont need to add this nonsense!!! jfc!!!!

6. HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS PART 1   

noah fence this movie is just really unenjoyable to watch. its a tough movie to make bc its like 95% just setting up for what happens in part two, but i think they def couldve done a wayyy better job in some areas. one of the great things ab deathly hallows the book is harrys psyche and how angry he is with dumbledore, how he is trying to figure out these clues, his desperation, his fascination with the hallows etc. they really underplayed harrys anger with dumbledore imo giving it just one or two scenes and a handful of moments when i think it couldve been such an interesting emotional core of the movie. they do a good job showing the war and having it be like war movie and being isolated. but they struggle with pace in this one a LOT. however two sequences really stand out to me as Good: 1. bathilda bagshot’s house. in the theater the snake was TERRIFYING waiting for it to jump out that was a good action sequence. 2. the tale of the three brothers. beautiful animation. the ron/hermione conflict with couldve been another emotional center of the movie is glossed over in my opinion (maybe this has something to do w the fact that emma watson can not act like she is enraged???). overall meh tho. i dont go to rewatch this one very often. 

7. HARRY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS

this movie is………….. not great. again it relies totally and completely on jkrs work for any of the good parts of this movie and considering that this may be my least favorite book well…. the camera work in this movie is just bad honestly like they just plop the camera in one spot and film the scene???? gilderoy lockhart is HILARIOUS in this movie however a real gem. there are some good sequences and i love this movie but there are also lots and lots of cringey moments. 

8. HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX 

i debated whether i hate this movie or CoS more but ultimately decided on this one because this movie makes me so angry and CoS is just like moderately not great. [deep breath] ok guys heres the thing: OOTP is my favorite harry potter book. and this movie takes exactly zero (0) of my favorite things about the book and does them in the film. the tone of this movie is angst and suffering but not even in a good way. i love LOVE the angst in the book because it is justified it is raw it is harry working through his feelings and being attacked from every side. the movie just communicates…. sad. theyre just like “oh lets uh have this be blue toned… nice.” they do not go deeper than the plot of OOTP, just the events that happen. they dont get into the story, the message, the POINT OF THE BOOK!!!!!!!!! were they afraid to have people yell in this movie??? like ??? they have mrs figg be soft spoken and just like murmur to harry and uncle vernon and aunt petunia dont really go in at harry like its all very tame?? and then THEY MISS OUT ON HARRY DRAGGING RON AND HERMIONE SO HARD WHEN HE GETS TO THE BURROW!!!!! an iconique scene that instead harry just like says some stuff passive aggressively and then fred and george come and are like “we thought we heard u yelling harry” like how??? he was just speaking at a normal voice??? the movie skips out on the fascinating moments with the order at grimmold place and with ginny and the weasleys to instead give us sirius naked in some weird room at the train station and harry dreaming about voldemort in a suit??? why????????? generally they do a good job with the umbridge stuff but again fail to communicate the deeper meaning of what the fuck is happening like the mINISTRY OF MAGIC IS DENYING THIS!! and what does that do to harry?? and his angst?? some of the stuff with the DA is good but some of it is… not. this movie really fails when they try to incorporate comic relief. it doesnt land great and it just makes me think about how much time we are wasting on this when we could be doing other things. FOR EXAMPLE GRAWP????? GRAWP.  i hate the dumbledore stuff in this movie. like. their relationship isnt set up enough in the previous movies to understand how hurt harry is by dumbledore. instead we get like half-assed scenes like when harry just like calls “sir” to dumbledore but he walks away fast like. really?? THE WAY THEY DID SNAPES’ WORST MEMORY [SCREAMS FOR 1200 YEARS]. LAZY! AS! SHIT! GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD WHAT A NIGHTMARE WHAT A TOTAL DISASTER MY GOODDDddddddd AND THEN ITS LIKE NEVER EVEN ADDRESSED AGAIN???? JESUS CHRIST I SWEAR TO GOD THIS MOVIE IS A MESS. the break into the ministry is okay… its starts the david yates trend of like not saying spells while ur dueling and just having like bright lights come from ur wand which i HATE and also the stupid trend of death eaters apparating with black smoke which i HATE. i have mixed feelings about “nice one james.” sirius’s death is GOOD like the way they have it silent with harry like screaming i like that they did a good job a+. however dumledore and voldemorts fight is……….. strange and just not as good as in the books. also when voldemort possesses harry and harry like has a chat w him?? DUMB. and that leads me to the greatest sin of all…… the reason this movie gets the last ranking… THE LACK OF HARRY AND DUMBLEDORE’S TALK AFTER SIRIUS’S DEATH. my absolute favorite moment in the books. unparalleled. some of the best writing i have ever seen in my life. JUST COMPLETELY GONE. IT MAKES NO SENSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY MENTION LIKE THE PROPHECY IN THE MOST FUCKING LAZY WAY EVER IN LIKE HALF OF A SCENE THAT LASTS 1 MINUTE. AND JUST SHOW SOME LAME ASS NEWSPAPER MONTAGE WHICH IS SOOOOOO LAZYYY OH MY GOOOOOODDDDDDDDD. we get NO emotional resolution for harry and dumbledore. we get NO resolution for harry and sirius. its like these events that happen have ZERO consequences. THE PROPHECY!!!! THAT IS THE CENTRAL PART OF THE STORY MY GOD!!! harry finds out he is THE CHOSEN ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST CUT OUT OF THE STORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUT NO WE NEED A SCENE WHERE FILCH GETS BOILS!!!!!!!!! like harry after sirius’s death is so critical like him asking nick if sirius can come back…. harry smashing the mirror… you get none of that emotional depth, that grieving. the ending of the movie is also stupid. also why tf is harry wearing a BLAZER????? god i hate this movie. 

i swear i did not mean for this to get so long but once i start talking about harry potter i CANNOT shut up im so sorry and thanks for asking babe

[zippdementia]

Part 21 Alignment May Vary: Weave a Song for Me

This is the second part of my group’s Celaenos adventure, which began with them uncovering a conspiracy amongst the knights of the monastery to support a slave ring made up of the servants of the Monastery, the sisters of Celaenos. 

Here’s what the players know: the Abbot, Mordekai, seems to be legitimately unaware of what's going on in his monastery. He is debating what the group has told him and plans to contact them in three days.

Meanwhile, The Seneschal, the Abbot's second in command, has been pretty conclusively implicated. In addition, there is a "special delivery" supposed to be scheduled for him in three days. Probably this delivery is the players themselves! Karina intuits that the Seneschal, upon hearing of Mordekai's three day window, is planning to strike before this and thus end the Abbot's suspicions by getting rid of those who have awoken those suspicions.

The players have retired for the night, thinking on the dark plots unfolding around them, yet feeling they have a handle on things to come.

The Night is Full of Terror

No! Let me go! I don’t belong here! I am not supposed to die here!

Karina wakes from her dream with a start, feeling for a brief moment that she is still onboard the Red Hand’s ghost ship (now Twyin’s Vengeance), with the hands of the villagers pulling her down to the deck while the ship is engulfed in flames around her. But no... she is in a room at the inn on Celaenos, the cool breeze coming in from the sea a blessing on this late summer eve.

Cool breeze? She hadn’t left the window open.

Karina rolls to the side and ungracefully off the bed as two knives plunge into the pillow. The screams of her assailants are otherworldly, their language incomprehensible, but their intentions all too clear. The shades standing over her bed turn to her and her skin gets clammy and cold. One of them is Rose, the madame whom they stopped back in Ottoman’s dock. But it is not a Rose who still walks among the living. The shade floating in front of her is wrapped in a black guaze that hangs and sways in a fierce wind unfelt in this dimension. The face is deathly pale and the hands that reach out for her are opaque, through them can be seen the woman’s skeleton.

Karina tries to back away, but the skeletal hand latches onto her shoulder and she feels her strength sapped away. She desperately cries out for help, but even her voice cannot keep its strength and her call withers on her lips.

These Shadows are an excellent example of why you cannot treat CRs as an exact science as a GM. They are 1/2 of a CR, a supposedly easy fight for a party of any size (let alone three level 5 characters). But their Strength draining attack has the potential to no-save-kill Karina in two hits (indeed, I roll a 3 and a 4 on my first two strength hits against her, dropping her Strength score to ONE). In addition, they have them in a bad spot, blocking the door to Karina’s room and getting a critical hit on poor sleeping Tyrion, almost knocking him unconscious in a single blow. Oh, and none of them have had a chance to get on their armor.

It serves as a good reminder of how you can breath new life into lower CR encounters by simply adjusting the situation. Surprise attacks at night by Assassins, Kobolds that lay traps in narrow caverns as they flee, Goblins who inhabit a volcano filled with pitfalls into lava, Werewolves who attack a fesitval where the crowd becomes a moving panicking blockade.

In this case, the Shadows also have a barrier themselves—they have been instructed not to attack Abenthy. Because of a lot of bad rolls on my part, Karina is able to survive long enough to get Abenthy awake and into the fight. Abenthy rolls a couple critical hits and manages to dispatch the Shadows, noting, like Karina, that Rose’s presence here means that she has been killed since their last meeting. By whom? Unknown. 

The fight is vicious. Karina and Tyrion both almost lose their lives and take the next day to rest. While they are resting, Abenthy is sent a visitor by the Abbott. The charismatic white-haired Berthold is a knight very loyal to the Abbott and he informs Abenthy that he and the Abbott discovered an object used in a Dark Ritual, one they think was meant to summon the dead and turn them to dark deeds... like killing pesky adventurers who ask too many questions. Berthold says that it was the evidence the Abbott needed to be convinced of the conspiracy.

Abenthy, after a few insight rolls, feels that Berthold is uncomfortable and knows more than he is letting on. He decides to press him for more information, and slips in that he knows the Seneschal is the one leading the plot. This seems to do the trick: Berthold becomes silent and pensive.

“I am sorry for keeping silent on this matter. We had our suspicions but... well, you do not want to believe your brothers in arms have turned on you, but the seneschal is a man named Athos. He has long been a member of the Monastery. He is the librarian there, the Keeper of Secrets, they call him. He and Dickon—you met him I believe?—they are also in charge of the sisters of Celaenos. Gods, it all comes together.”

And with this, the plan is formed. The Abbott will set up Dickon to be on watch by himself, then will smuggle the players in through a back door. They will corner and silently kill Dickon, then head to the library to wait for Athos to come “tend to his secrets.” There they will kill him and end the slave ring. The Abbott and Berthold will work on a way to free the sisters.

Well Intended

“Alright, I think we are ready,” Abenthy said, nodding to the slender young woman in front of him. She was attractively non-descript, a girl who would strike you as pretty if you saw her, but whose face you would not be able to recall later. Her hair was corded in the fashion of the sisters of Celaenos and on her arms she wore the tell-a-tale bracers that had first alerted them to the conspiracy going on here. Karina hadn’t bothered to name her disguise, she honestly hoped that she wouldn’t be seen at all. But it was a good precaution.

Karina (or rather the skinny sister of Celaenos that she had crafted to hide her appearance) nodded and looked over their group. Tyrion stood out in his bright bard colors, his fingers twitching in the air as if he yearned to play his lute even in their need for silence. Near him Verrick lurked like a misplaced shadow, his black eyes revealing none of his thoughts. Two mercenaries they had picked up in the desert oasis had joined them, a pair she found intensely dislikable: two half-elf brothers, one with a myriad of scars and tattoos defining the hard lines of his face and muscles, the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth suggesting a lifetime of grimacing and smirking rather than smiles and laughter; the other silent but burly and menacing, half of his badly burned face hidden behind a wooden mask painted as monotone and neutral as his personality. A rag-tag band, to be sure. And leading it was Abenthy, a half-angel with a crazed vengeance that scared her, a half-demon, more and more often.

The plan goes awry almost at once. Karina botches her very first stealth roll, so she opens the door directly into the face of Athos, Keeper of Secrets, a white haired older knight dressed more like a monk than a warrior, yet if rumors are to be believed he is also the master of the slave ring being run here. Thankfully, Karina’s disguise and a decent bluff roll convinces Athos that she is naught but a lost sister, and he lets her go without much concern.

The group makes its way to Dickon’s tower and here is where things really fall apart. The group gangs up on him almost immediately, earning his distrust. Only Abenthy’s use of the Command spell and Karina’s arm around his throat keep him from crying the alarum. The problem comes from the fact that the group is torn on what to do here: Tyrion is all for killing him and moving on with the mission. Karina wants him to tell them more of the plot. And Abenthy wants to get him to confess to the Abbott and let the knights deal with this... he doesn’t want more blood on his hands if he can avoid it.

But this is all turned on its head when, after casting a truth spell on the young knight, Abenthy tells Dickon that they know of his plot with Athos, the Seneschal. Dickon replies:

“The Seneschal is not Athos. The Seneschal is Berthold.”

The hairs on the back of Abenthy’s neck stand up as he hears this, and realizes that Berthold may, at this very moment, be moving to assassinate the Abbott. He says they must go to the Abbott at once! He is so eager to get there that he even agrees to leave his weapons in the tower (the rest of the party obliges as well). Dickon, no longer sure who to trust, agrees to lead them to the Abbott. Clearly, Abenthy thinks, this was a plot to get rid of Dickon, Athos, and the Abbott, probably the only opposition Berthold has.

Sing me a Song, Bard

“Abbott, we have reason to believe your life is in immediate danger.”

Abenthy, breathing heavily from their hurried journey to the Abbott’s chambers, watched the black haired man casually settle himself behind a large desk.

“Dickon, go fetch Berthold,” Mordekai, Abbott of Celaenos, seemed infuriatingly calm in the face of the danger that faced him. “We will work out this matter right now.”

Dickon left, and Mordekai indicated that the others should sit. 

“You’ve brought quite the army,” he said, indicating Verrick and the two half-elves. 

“We thought we could use them,” Karrina said. Mordekai nodded. He had clearly been preparing for sleep and was only wearing a simple shirt and breeches, though he had wrapped a dark cloak around his shoulders to ward off the evening cold.

“Sing me a song, Bard,” he said. Tyrion obliged, beginning to play a jaunty tune, but Mordekai stopped him. “Something quieter, more somber. Do you know the Rains of Castamere?”

As the doleful melody began to play, Abenthy caught sight of something on Mordekai’s desk: a framed photo of a woman, strikingly beautiful and instantly recognizable. Another chill went up Abenthy’s spine.

“Let me tell you a story,” he said slowly. “It involves a woman who thought to keep slaves, in a port town called Ottoman’s dock. What she used the slaves for, outside of basic chores, was unknown, but through magical means she kept their minds enslaved, kept their free will in check. Rumor had it someone else was involved in helping her with this task, and that sometimes the slaves would disappear, go to this other person.

“Eventually this woman’s hubris cost her her business. Her plot was discovered, her slavery ended. She fled, maybe to this other person, maybe to somewhere else across the sea. Regardless, she showed up in my rooms last night, or her spirit did. I wonder how such a thing could come to be.”

Mordekai picked up the photograph and ran a loving finger over it. “She was beautiful, was she not?” he said. “Poor Rose. To think that she let you three get the better of her in Ottoman’s dock, well, we couldn’t allow that failure to stand, could we? Such a waste, cutting her throat.”

At that moment, the door opened, and Berthold entered, led in by Dickon.

“Ah, Berthold,” Mordekai said. “Let’s dispense with pretenses, shall we?”

Without a word, Berthold stabbed two daggers through Dickon’s neck. The young knight’s eyes went wide and then they rolled back in their sockets. Blood flecked his lips as he gave a single cough and expired. Berthold led him to the floor, then drew two new blades as Mordekai stood, pulling a mace and a dagger from under the desk. Darkness billowed out from his cape. He removed a ring from his finger and the sudden sensation of an evil presence washed over Abenthy.

“Now, let us begin,” Mordekai said, as darkness swallowed his form.

Next week we will see if the players survive this deadly encounter, and I’ll talk a little bit about how a GM can successfully navigate a difficult “living” set up like the Monastery of Celaenos, where many NPCs with different motivations reside and are interacting with each other and the players. It is a scenario that comes up often in 5th Edition modules, so it is good to talk about!

[unlatinoverde]

‘Are we there yet?’ I ask Don Pedro. 

Cristal, my Colombian travel buddy on the journey, visibly suppresses a smile. By this stage, I am morphing into Donkey from Shrek on the endless voyage to Far Far Away. This day trip is not just taking longer than I expected, but since we passed the mirador above the town of Salamina, it has become distinctly uncomfortable. More to the point, it is now downright perilous at times. 

Banks of fog obscure the mountains around us. It is raining hard and mounds of earth from recent mudslides force Don Pedro to carefully manoeuvre the jeep out towards the edge. The vehicle shudders each time we hit another rock or sink into another pothole. Injured muscles make me aware of their existence…and pain. The fog may lend a romantic beauty to the mountainous topography, but it renders visibility on the road almost nonexistent. 

Why Samaria? 

Every local I spoke to in Salamina told me that the trip to San Felix and Samaria was ‘chevere’. This word of African origin apparently first became popular in Cuba and Puerto Rico. Nowadays, Spanish speakers throughout Latin America use it to describe anything that is good, great or simply cool. Of course, in Salamina they were probably referring to the places in question, not the road on the way up!

The big draw of Samaria is its wax palms. Ceroxylon quindiuense, to state the correct botanical name, grow on average to a height of 45 metres. Some can even reach 60 metres. These giant plants, which are under grave threat, are a symbol of Colombia. Most foreign tourists in Colombia come across them in Parque Nacional Los Nevados in Salento. However, the people I spoke to in Salamina said that there was a veritable forest of them in nearby Samaria. Like my fellow countryman, Oscar Wilde, I can resist everything but temptation.

The Road to San Felix 

Expect the unexpected, as they say. When we left Salamina I expected a short journey by jeep, not a veritable quest. Despite the discomfort, there are moments of bliss- that exhilaration you feel when you experience something unanticipated. As we climb higher into the Andes near San Felix, the jeep is above the clouds and we are looking down on the mountains and the storm below us. It is almost like air travel. Even if the road beneath us continues to cause significant turbulence, the views are just that- pure bliss.

Journeys are, it goes without saying, about more than scenery and pretty landscapes. In this case, my travelling companions bring their own colour to the trip. Cristal, a visual artist from Pasto in Southern Colombia, enthusiastically shares the travel secrets of her native land with me. Apparently, her mother, who runs Hospedaje Rural La Boira in Jardin, has a secret recipe for a delicious herbal coffee that even featured in a New York Times article. As for Don Pedro, he has a great backstory. Having spent decades in the US, he met a local lady on the internet, came to Salamina, and fell in love with the lady and the place. As a result, the road to San Felix may be physically painful, but it is never ever boring.

San Felix 

Downtown San Felix on the road to Samaria

The jeep starts to travel downhill, no longer straining but picking up speed. Finally, not only is the road paved, but the fog lifts slightly, revealing the spires of a church and the terracotta roofs of a small Andean community.

‘That’s San Felix,’ Don Pedro informs us, looking relieved.

Cristal and I are about ready to let out whoops of joy at this point. Don Pedro’s jeep, on the other hand, is not feeling well at all. In fact, a cloud of steam rises from under the bonnet as we park in the main square. While we stop for a coffee and a quick bite to eat, Don Pedro leaves in search of water, lots of water.

Like every town and village in Colombia, a small park sits at the centre of San Felix. However, unlike Salamina, men in heavy ponchos stand around talking in front of the local Centro Social. Although the towns are geographically close, the air here has a chilly feel. There is, after all, a reason why these people wear thick layers of clothing.

San Felix has an Andean feel

  Samaria 

As we leave the little town the road reverts to a dirt track. Don Pedro, normally exuberant, is pensive. Every bump is a cause for concern. The jeep had seriously overheated when we stopped in San Felix. For Cristal and I, our discomfort soon turns to excitement. All around us, gangly wax palms pop up like upturned exclamation marks on the surrounding mountain slopes. Rather than appearing at a distance as in Salento, the trees here are mere metres away.

Arriving in Samaria Valley, Caldas

Our driver is increasingly worried. The engine is not responding as it should and it is getting late. Not only have we yet to reach the mirador, but the return trip to Salamina still lies ahead. A herd of cows grazing amidst the giant trees provides the perfect excuse for another stop. The passengers want to walk and take photos, while Don Pedro needs to give more Tender Loving Care to his jeep.

Jeep against the backdrop of the lower valley at Samaria

Cows amidst the tropical wax palms

The Mirador of Samaria Valley

Once everyone has accomplished what they wanted, we set off again. Not long after, the jeep labours into a property marked ‘El Mirador del Valle de Samaria’. We have finally reached our destination. Luis and his wife, the owners of this attraction, come out to welcome us. They want to serve us some chocolate, but we are eager to see the views of the valley. Don Pedro, by this stage, has no desire to linger because of the rain, not to mention his poor, suffering jeep.

View of the Valley of Samaria from the Mirador

  For all the harshness of the journey, the reward turns out to be simply magical. The sweeping views reveal a green expanse of giant wax palms. Some of the trees seem to be the height of four-storey buildings. An unintended consequence of our delays is that we have arrived close to dusk. At this time, birds leave their treetop homes and fill the air. Consequently, bright green and yellow parrots fly overhead and their song provides the landscape with a melodious soundtrack. Incredibly, apart from us, there isn’t another tourist to be seen.

Valley as sunset approaches

    Approaching storm clouds at the Mirador

A Tale of the Unexpected

The scene radiates peace. I feel as if I could stay forever, just observing the tropical birds and taking in the landscape. 

‘Venga!’

Luis interrupts my reverie.

He has something that I must see. I protest, wanting to take some photos, but he insists. We stop in front of a tiny plant that barely reaches halfway up to my ankle. I look down at the plant and then up at the giant trees in the valley. A sudden realisation takes hold. I can hardly believe what my eyes are seeing!

‘No puede ser,’ I laugh.

‘Siii,’ he answers enthusiastically.

This is a baby wax palm! It turns out that Samaria, due to its pristine environment, acts as a nursery for these trees. Once they reach a certain maturity, they will replant them here or at other sites around the country.

This tiny plant will one day become a giant!

  Current Realities 

When the approaching night makes it impossible to take more photos we enter the main house. By now, the claps of thunder outside alert us that the storm is closing in again.  Luis is upbeat as we discuss the prospects for the future. He shows me the dormitory accommodation that he has built to accommodate visitors.

Clearly, tourism is taking off and more foreigners are making their way to Samaria. Looking through the Visitors’ Book, I notice a few names and addresses from various locations around the globe, though the vast majority of those who make it here are still domestic tourists.  I cannot help but reflect on my experience here. The views of the valley and the birdsong accompaniment provoked the same frisson of excitement that I felt when flying over Iguazu Falls or seeing dawn on the ancient stones of Machu Picchu. If Samaria were anywhere else, it would possibly already be an established destination on the South American tourist trail. But it is in Colombia!

The Future of Samaria 

Years of war, terrorism and general instability have kept tourists away from Colombia, but this is changing. Lonely Planet named the country in its Best of Travel Top Ten Countries for 2017. With Atlantic and Pacific coasts, colonial towns, and the Amazon, it could easily rank as a traveller’s favourite for years to come. Luis and many others see a rising tide that could lift their boats.

As the rain starts to beat down outside, it is time to leave and to brave the storm on the road back. Samaria is a place I will never forget. For now it may be South America’s best kept travel secret. My heart tells me that I must come back someday, but I wonder what I will find on my return…

Can it stay like this forever?

  Samaria Practicalities 

Getting There and Away

Samaria is accessible from the national heritage town of Salamina. Inquire at Fruty Caffe in the main plaza of the town. It occupies the building that used to be the theatre (find out more by following this link). Don Pedro, the owner, provides tours to San Felix and Samaria for about 150,000 pesos ($50). This covers the cost of the jeep, so the price will be less for travellers who do the trip together. Don Pedro spent decades in New Jersey and speaks fluent English.

Another option may be the Tourist Information stand at the top corner of the main plaza. The lady there organises trips within the town and she should also be able to organise transport to San Felix/ Samaria.

To get to Salamina, the easiest option is to take one of the regular buses or shared taxis from Manizales Bus Station. Travellers from Medellin and Jardin may want to first travel to Aguadas, also a national heritage town, and then on to Salamina.

Accommodation

Travellers who want to stay at El Mirador de Samaria will be happy to learn that Luis has been true to his word. His accommodation is ready and it is possible to contact him directly on the Facebook page of El Mirador del Valle de Samaria. Those who prefer to use Salamina as a base should know that the town is not yet on the backpacker radar. Although there is a dearth of backpacker-friendly hostels, Hotel Colonial and Hospedaje La Casona offer good value for budget travellers. Travellers with bigger budgets should check out La Casa De Lola Garcia, a boutique hotel in a traditional colonial house.

Have you visited a destination that stole your heart? Leave a comment below or send your story to me by email at Unlatinoverde@gmail.com. 

Next Post: Monday, October 9th, 2017

  Cows amidst the tropical wax palms

Jeep against the backdrop of the lower valley at Samaria

Travel Colombia: Is Samaria South America’s Best Kept Travel Secret? ‘Are we there yet?’ I ask Don Pedro.  Cristal, my Colombian travel buddy on the journey, visibly suppresses a smile.