#also honoring the dinner prompt in this. like half of my entries

[ervona]

Day 7: Profane / Sword for @tes-summer-fest

Out on the Inner Sea, where Ebonheart had crossed to Vvardenfell with one one bold leap set in stone, the port was rocked to sleep by languid waves. Southwards lay the vast expanse of Thirr, eastwards the City of Swords over which loomed a frozen moon, and thence a ferry sailed in worn and weathered. One of the passengers, a young lady, bowed to the boatman as she disembarked. 

Rather undistinguished in her clean but simple clothes, she was glad for it and took a deep breath of sea air that mixed with the cooking from Six Fishes, watching as stevedores hauled barrels and crates onto a merchant ship. For a few more paces across the cobblestone, she needn’t have been a duke’s daughter up until the bridge to the castle, so she took a slight turn at Forth Hawkmoth.

In the Skyrim Mission hall, she asked of a friendly ambassador all the latest rumors brought in on western winds, while in the neighboring Argonian Mission she exchanged a courteous greeting and hidden scrap of paper with the consul. The significance of each meeting was not as it must have seemed, and she continued to Castle Ebonheart whither the Imperial knight at the bridge led her in without issue.

The guards inside were all aglint in silver, but the mer that strode up to her was in beetle-green silk, embellished with countless shimmering wings. Uncle appeared to her more boyish than ever, though he’d never been older, as his face and hands showed no signs of age that more closely followed the working mer. She leapt into a hug, for the illusion of their friendship was always worth upholding.

“You look like a pilgrim,” he said with a smile; she trimmed the condescension off of it like the hands of Fishmongers’ Hall fileted fish and moved on, carving a smile on her own face. “I see them crossing the lakes daily now, all sorts of pleasant people, long traveled–”

“Good evening to you too. But where’s Father?” Often enough he would have been holding court at this hour, now his seat was an empty ornament flanked by his personal guard.

“Up in his dining hall. Shall we go, then?” So she took him by the hand and followed up the spiraling staircase, soon liberated from his idle chatter by the fact that the chamber with her drawers stood afore Father’s. She excused herself to go change her clothes before sitting at the dinner table, and he proceeded rather than wait for her, which was suitable just fine.

It was apt to call it a guest room, but it had more or less been reserved for her, and all the things she hadn’t taken with her were where she’d left them. She wasted no time dressing, though she did not miss the more restrictive, overly ornate clothing she’d worn at court. Her neighbors in Saint Delyn on the other hand would work themselves to the bone for a brocade blouse like hers. 

Once when in Tear visiting Mother’s kin, she’d taken a liking to the airy anther fabrics they favored in the humid marshlands. Grey was their color, but the city had soon been wreathed in black after a high councilor’s undisclosed passing, strife had been sown and blood ran cold. These days the young, the dissidents, and all those who’d lost their spirits and loved ones in the war had many high seats to fill. 

Her time there had taught her not the evils of slavery, for she’d already looked upon them in Empire-chartered lands, but certainly more ways to strive against it. Even with her Serano cousins had she found kindred spirits, and through them much needed contacts, Black Marsh and beyond. The Dren side of the family was truly no better or worse, distinguished Hlaalu nobles as they were, but she would put that thought aside for dinner. 

Father awaited her in his golden moth robes, and she sank into a silent embrace with only the murmur of endearments into her hair and the clatter of cutlery. There was no need to say too much. He already had the perfect image of her in his mind, carefully cultivated, unable to grow beyond it even when they were alone, for too much shared grief weighed on them. The table was set for three, each with ample space of their own and the appetizer already served. 

She nibbled on a wickwheat biscuit as Uncle seemed to continue what he’d been talking about, his newly established netch ranch, the fine leather it brought, and she bit her tongue in frustration. Him and his blood-stained netch leather and the yoke that pulled lives and souls asunder. The three of them were in different worlds by now, though still only a ferry away from each other in the isles where the sacred and worldly embraced with hidden blades. 

Then he turned to her, wondering aloud why she’d chosen to live in a pauper’s residence. Without breaking her composure, she took a sip of her mineral water. She’d explained it enough to Father, and had lived well for a better part of the year, so where had he been?

“I’d seen it and thought to myself of what wisdom I could take from living in modesty. Our kin in Tearmarsh live simple but the light of the Three hardly touches them, unlike us,” she recited something akin to what she had before and before. Uncle whose kena had been a blademaster of Saint Felms giggled at that, and Father cut him a glance across the table.

“What? We’re not in Vivec, but in Ebonheart,” he stressed that last word with a Cyrod lilt, “I’d hazard to say the Three are asleep at the helm when the people are wanting for them.”

“The Three do not judge mere ill-spoken words, but the people do. Let us eat,” was all that Father had to say before calling the next course, ornada marinated in plum and comberry.

She continued to sup in silence, but imagined if they’d cleared the table and dueled in a knightly manner. A challenge of honor, for the gods at that, had been more common in warlike times but the custom was very much alive. Say they fought to the death, Uncle if he by chance won would get his final rival out of the way and send her to wed the King’s heir Ser Talen Vandas. Father had planned much the same, though not urgently, and he would hesitate to kill his brother in the first place but if he did, she would carry the Dren name.

What did she want, then? For the dinner to carry on in peace, not to lose her composure, and not have to marry the King's dear nephew. But perhaps a queen of Morrowind would carry power, more so than a duke, only the profane ruler of all Vvardenfell. There was a cloak of decorum about Father that fit a very refined doll, having his armor shined as if every day was a holy-day, little else for him to do but dictate legally worded letters for contractless builders on Azura’s Coast and hang his head. She could never become so complacent.

Father ate rather delicately to not stain his bead-woven beard and mustache, and his younger brother followed the lead, though prior stabbing his cooked ornada without grace. The knife he sliced with, dueling the carapace, was as her cutlery gilt and engraved to go along with the ebony plating. Overhead the chandelier of green glass hung as a sword pointed at them, a thousand shimmering blades. Cruel and acute was the castle, had been from its very first stone.

After dessert, she retreated to her chambers still chewing on the apple sweetcake. Father and Uncle having bid her good night continued talking, for which she was too tired, tired of her studies at the Temple and the fragile cover they made, of parlaying with smugglers or worse playing as abolitionists, of crossing betwixt and across sharp edges, and most of all knowing that she was ill-fit for their beautiful world even if she’d ever wanted to return.

She fell upon her bed face-first and rose back up, hair tousled from the impact giving her the feeling of peeking from a thicket. Through her eastward window she could see the lanterns of the city below, Ebonheart’s diadem. Further still across the water was the palace dome awash in cold fire, circled by celestial spheres that seemed like marbles from this distance. In there did Vivec dwell, as far from the cries of the helpless as one could be in the Ascadian Isles.

Once the gods had walked among them, before her time. Perhaps it rang true that they were asleep at the helm, or had spun the wheel and left it to turn uncontrollably as gods were wont to do. It fell to the people to take hold of, but only in hands that meant well could a better tomorrow be spun from the frayed yarn of the past. 

Her bed here was softer than in Saint Delyn, only the finest, most delicate fabrics for the Duke’s household, but it didn’t let her rest easy. In the morning, or the next, depending on how much Father wanted her to stay, she would disembark once more. She would watch the waves play, sway corkbulb boats like merlings on the seaside who had been told the world was their oyster. 

There was much work to be done, but it could wait the morning, or the next, as it had waited for far too long. And she cast a wish, just a small one, to each of the three moons that adorned the sky and sea.

[ikemenshakespeare]

Title: Deviled Eggs and Sandwiches

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution

Character(s): MC, Black Army, and mystery suitor. 😉

Warnings: N/A

Prompt: Valentines First.

Authors Note: A creativity contest is being held in one of the many discord servers I’ve joined into, and this is my entry! It was due today 2/24. So although it’s no longer Valentines Day, I still hope this was a little something cute to get ya through your day. Thank you for reading!

“No! No way!” My face burned with embarrassment.

“Oh c’mon MC, it could be fun! After all, it’ll be Valentines Day. It wouldn’t kill ya to be a little spontaneous for once” Fenrir’s grin was nothing short of mischievous.

“Listen, I know you get a kick out of teasing me but I’m not naive enough to believe in love at first bar meet. Especially not when I’d have you for a wingman.” His laughter in response was almost infuriating. “What’s so funny? I’m being serious.”

“Okay. I got a better idea.” Fenrir and better ideas were almost always anything but. Still, I waited expectantly for him to finish. “Why don’t you put an ad out in the paper? A lot of people do it to find dates. When we find a guy who seems suitable-”

“We?...”

“Okay, when you, then the two of you could write eachother back and fourth to set up a nice date you’d both enjoy. And BOOM, just like that you won’t be ms. lonely anymore.” I’ll admit, if this idea somehow does work it would be infinitely better then the last. Not only that, but theirs no promise anyone will actually respond in the first place. Plus it’s only a little over one week till Valentine’s Day actually arrives, which doesn’t give anyone much time to figure arrangements out.

“Fine. If that’s what it takes to get you off my back, I’m willing to give it a try.”

“Alright!” I smiled slightly but quickly frowned. Why do you care so much anyway? As if sensing my thoughts, Fenrir stopped his celebrating. “Huh? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m gonna start dinner.” And with that I left the room in a hurry, no longer wanting to think of what scheme he had up his sleeve. I ran into Ray and Seth on the other side of the door.

“Alice?! What’s going on?” Seth squealed as my face smacked up against his chest.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Ask Fenrir.” The sly smirk on Ray’s face gave me the sense he was ready to be filled in.

“Suit yourself.” A short second later they were both sitting next to Fenrir on the couch. “What’s MC going on about?” A tricky look appeared on Fenrir’s face.

“I have a master plan for MC’s first date night in cradle, and I’m gonna need your help.”

“ALICE?? My poor Alice?? Oh no no no, we absolutely will not-”

“Oh relax Seth! I’m sure you’ll approve of this one, just make sure not to tell Luka or the old man.” While Seth continued to worry over MC’s innocents, Ray had a devils smile to rival Fenrir’s.

“You can count on me.” A couple days passed by all to quickly, and there was only 7 days till MC’s first Valentines in Cradle...

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“Come in!” I heard a knock at my door and sure as the sky was blue, Fenrir came yelling in his usual fashion.

“Mornin’! You ready to respond to your future boyfriend?” FUTURE WHAT??

“You’re telling me it worked??”

“Well of course it did. I’m the one who wrote it after all.” The cocky look on his face was already getting old.

“YOU wrote the ad?? And beyond that, I thought we discussed that I would be choosing the candidate- wait, why am I even taking this seriously??” I huffed. Even though I just woke up from an amazing sleep, I couldn’t help but throw myself back onto the mattress. I’m already tired from a couple minutes of talking to the black army’s very own maniac.

“Yeah, yeah, but we were running out of time and there was only one responce.”

“Wow, doesn’t that make me feel great?” I spoke sarcastically but I knew I was looking at him hopefully. Maybe it won’t be all that bad after all, it’s just one silly date. Fenrir wasted no time, as quickly as he had entered my room and shut the door, he began reading the response aloud.

“Dear MC, I’ve thought about it and I’d be extremely interested in meeting up, how about a late lunch date at the park in central quarter? Please respond to let me know.”

“That’s pretty vague, did he leave his name?”

“No, but I think it’s worth a shot.”

“Eh, I don’t know about that... but still, lunch at the park doesn’t really sound all that dangerous...” I went back and fourth with myself for a while until I finally came to a conclusion. “Alright! Let him know he’s on! BUT also let him know that we’re each responsible for cooking half of the meal, just Incase I get a bad feeling and it seems like he’s trying to poison me or something.”

“You worry to much, but now you’re talkin’!” And just like that Fenrir sat down next to me and we began brainstorming what to write in response. Just as before the next few days flew by, the air outside filled with love, the 14th of February had arrived.

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Fenrir and Ray both got the day off to help assure things went to plan, a carriage headed toward the park in central quarter. It just so happened Sirius would be working in that same direction today, so all four of them rode together. Finally the ride came to a stop and MC jumped out nervously with the food she prepared in hand, she was already looking around curiously for the man writing her letters. But before the other two could follow her out, Sirius firm voice rose up.

“Before any of you get yourself into trouble, do you mind giving me a heads up of what’s really going on? Because all I could get out of Seth is that he absolutely would not participate in such a horrible act of indignity towards MC, but he promised not to say why.” Ray and Fenrir exchanged a glance.

“I guess since the plans already in full swing it wouldn’t hurt to tell him.” And so Ray did the honors.

“We tricked MC into thinking she’s going to be meeting a stranger here for lunch today. Truth is this man is no stranger, in fact she knows him quite well.” Sirius was one to keep his expressions under control but when he went wide eyed the two knew they’d got him good.

“But... that could only mean...”

LUKA?! Why does he have a blanket set up by beside the pond?? More importantly, the pond I’m supposed to be meeting my mystery date at. The facial response Luka gave back when he saw me standing there said the exact thing I was thinking.

“Angie?...” he started to stir around in his sitting position.

“What are you doing here?” I didn’t think things could get anymore awkward until Luka began to blush furiously.

“Honestly, I’d rather not say.” I just stared at him until finally he sighed in defeat. “Okay, Ray just wouldn’t leave me alone about needing to find some sort of Valentines Date. I guess you could say I gave in, and now I’m here waiting for her... if there even is anyone coming.” He hung his head low, and my heart broke just a little.

“You think you’re being stood up?”

“I think those two over there are playing a prank and now I just look stupid.” Off in the distance, standing on either side of a tree was Fenrir and Ray. They were laughing so hard, they were almost in tears. In unison they both shouted over to us a good luck and ran in the opposite direction. What a bunch of kids. I turned back to face Luka.

“I don’t think YOU look stupid, I think we both do. They set us up.” I splat down on the space next to him on the blanket, looking like a piece of old bumble gum on pavement. “How do we always get sucked into things with these two!” Luka wore a shocked expression, giving me a crooked eyebrow. I took the next thirty minutes to explain all that I assumed happened. When my story was over he looked grumpy.

“I see.” We stayed silent for a moment. Just listening to the sounds of the park around us. I closed my eyes and before I knew it I was opening them wide again. “But I guess if we’re already here we might as well finish our date- I mean...” he trailed off. I was the shocked one now, to see Luka wasn’t running away from me at full speed from embarrassment was already a surprise. Now he’s actually agreeing to go through with what I assumed would be his nightmare. A date, and with me? It only took a second before the wheels started turning in my head again. I gave him the softest smile I could muster.

“I guess you’re right. Here, I made some deviled eggs and brought some fruit. You can have some if you like.” I opened my basket to share and he gave a sheepish grin. He popped an egg in his mouth and the look of delight sent a small rush of happiness to my brain.

“Those are amazing! I decided to go pretty simple myself since I didn’t know what to expect, so if you want a sandwich have at it.” I looked at the array of different choices to choose from.

“This is supposed to be simple! Luka, you’re truly fantastic, thank you!” The rest of our afternoon was spent talking about our favorite foods and other things we liked to cook, we even took a stroll around the park. As it started getting darker Luka reached for my hand, holding it softly.

“It’s getting late, we should get on our way home.” The way he took my hand in his was so natural, it had me feeling like I could get used to this. As much as I didn’t want to admit thanks to Fenrir and all his shenanigans, I was really happy not to be Ms. Lonely, even if it was just for the day.

[fortysevenswrites]

2019 A Year In Fic

According to my AO3 stats, I wrote 75,129 words this year.

Coming in to 2019, I planned to write 0 words. So, that’s wild.

Many of you don’t know this, but from 2015 to the end of 2016, I spent every inch of my free time working on an original fiction manuscript that I intended to see published. But then, 2017 happened, and my family imploded. Because so much of what I was working on was tied to my family’s bullshit, I haven’t been able to touch my manuscript. Thanks trauma, you’re a bitch.

But in February of this year, I started actually noticing those Kastle gifs from TPS1.11 in my dashboard, the infamous elevator scene, and finally decided to see what that’s all about. Took me long enough, I know.

And writing for Kastle, along with being a lot of fun, has also helped me re-learn how to write fiction. And that’s going to help once I get back into my manuscript, which IS going to happen in 2020, because it’s been long enough and I can’t—I won’t—let me family and it’s epic fuck-up stop me from getting what I want.

It also needs to be said that none of this would have happened had @ck90 not started cheerleading my way back into writing, courtesy of her story, I See Heroes, which is one of my favorite Kastle AUs.

In honor of the end of 2019, I wanted to give a little BTS commentary about the fics I wrote this year:

I Wouldn’t Know Where To Start (One-shot, 6,644 words) All of this happened because @ck90 dedicated Death Was an Invited Guest, which is an absolute delight of a post TPS2 romp, to me. I love me a good fix-it, and I Wouldn’t Know Where To Start is exactly that. Some TPS1 callbacks, some expanded interactions between two characters who briefly met during TPS2, and Louboutins. What more could you want?

There Is No Easy Way To Explain (One-shot, 4,436 words) Part 2 of the These Shoes Are Made ForWalking ‘verse, came about because of that throwaway line in Part 1 about Marci being convinced that Karen had a secret boyfriend. The idea of Marci finding out about Karen’s relationship with Frank, and about Matt being Daredevil was just something I could not pass up, especially after reading chapter 7 of @the-restless-brook’s BRILLIANT story Carrying.

And World Peace (5 Chapters, 30,631 words) My first long-fic that I’ve written in YEARS, this was a birthday gift for @nxbodygoesafterher, which took me about a million and a half years to write. Having Karen embody Agent Grace Hart was a lot of fun, as was adapting the movie to be a little less—early 2000s ew, you know? One of my favorite parts was the relationship between Karen and Billy, and this fic is probably going to be the first and only that sees Billy as not being a villain. Because I have plans in future fics, and none of them are going to look kindly on Mr. Russo.

After (One-shot collection, 4,585 words) This collection came about because every once in a while, I decide that it’s a cool idea to challenge myself to write something short. The goal for this collection is that all the fics will be around 1,000 words, and I do have plans for a couple more entries going into 2020. Part one, 5 Things Frank Learned From Sephora, is ALL @ck90’s fault, and the other three, The Farce, Man and Man’s Best Friend, and Road Rash were all written in October when I was on a cruise down to the Mexican Riviera with my family.

5 Times Someone Asked Karen Where The Punisher Is Now (One-shot, 4,781 words) This was originally intended to be an entry into After, but then it got really, really long. I don’t know why I started writing it, especially with all 800 WIPs I have, but I did. My favorite conversation in this fic has to be the one between Karen and Trish, because I choose which pieces of canon to accept, and which ones to ignore, and I ignore the shit out of a LOT in the NMCU. I also love playing with the post-TPS1 timeline, and have a lot more plans to do that in 2020.

watching over someone from afar (One-shot, 24,052 words) Written as part of @kastlenetwork’s Kastle Secret Santa 2019 for @goddamnitkastle, this is by far one of my favorite fics that I wrote in 2019. When Megan prompted me with her Kastle playlist, I KNEW I was going to go with Taylor Swift’s The Archer. The drama, the intensity, Karen and Frank’s attempts to navigate their relationship in the wake of their conversation in the hospital, was so much fun. I never expected it to end up as long as it was, but hey, that’s what happens when you let the characters run the show, I guess. I also loved being able to get Karen and Sarah Lieberman in the room together, that is also something that is going to happen more often in 2020.

What’s coming next?| I have about 800 million WIPs and fics that I want to tackle in 2020, starting with what I’m calling What’s In The Folder, a post TPS1 AU, where Karen gets some startling news that leads her to the Lieberman’s, and ultimately means Karen and Frank taking a cross-country road trip to make right a massive, devastating wrong.

After What’s In The Folder, I’m probably going to tackle The Big Indulgence (I mean, they’re all indulgences, but this is my BIG one), one of the first long-fic ideas I came up with when I started thinking about fic again. This TPS1 AU will see the N actually being put into the NMCU, with Karen befriending the likes of Pepper Potts, Darcy Lewis, and Natasha Romanov while navigating her career as a reporter. There will be the discovery of a surprising familial relationship, a serious crisis, and Tony Stark making a “Harold, they’re lesbians” reference. Also, Frank might be a little psychic.

I also have the New Orleans indulgence, the Kastle Star Trek Discovery AU, the Cruise AU, the Soulmate AU that @ninzied prompted me with a million years ago based on Halsey’s song Colors, the time travel fic that will see not one, but TWO Franks protecting Karen, the third in the These Shoes Are Made For Walking ‘verse, which will see Karen and Frank attending the world’s most awkward dinner party, the fourth in the These Shoes Are Made For Walking ‘verse, inspired by Amy Rutberg’s episode of TLC’s Say Yes To The Dress, the one post TPS2 where Karen meets Beth, the role-swap AU that will see Karen as the Punisher and Frank as the intrepid reporter, and so freaking many more.

Even though we might not be getting any more new The Punisher content anytime soon, I’m not letting that stop me from continuing to churn out fic. I’ve got so many ideas and they’re so much fun to write, so I’m going to do it, and I can’t wait to see what else the fandom comes up with in 2020.

You’re all amazing, you’re my favorites, and I’m wishing each and every one of you a happy, happy new year!

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #30: The Sunless Sea

Prompt: darkness | Master Post | On Ao3

WARNING: Spoilers for Shadowbringers MSQ. This fill is also a spiritual sequel to Stargazing, from FFXIV Write 2018 (prompt sixteen), and to Tonk!, from this year’s challenge (first free write).

Four Lightwardens were dead, their crackling glass Light contained in Synnove. Tomorrow, they’d march on Kholusia for the last of the Lightwardens of Norvrandt. But tonight, the Warriors of Darkness—and one Warrior of Light—fled out into the mountains of surrounding Lakeland. The Warriors of Darkness found a large, flat plateau, far to the northwest of the Crystarium, so far in fact that the Crystal Tower was a sliver of blue on the horizon. As they landed their chocobos on the plateau, Ardbert walked into existence, whistling cheerfully as he looked around.

“Desolate, isolated, little to no chance of untimely interruptions,” he said. “Very nice, ladies.”

Synnove slapped him on the shoulder and handed him Ivar, collecting Chantilly’s reins and walking after the others. Ardbert cuddled the ruby carbuncle closer, scratching under his chin, as he followed the Highlander; Ivar purred loudly in delight, one of his hindlegs kicking out. Ardbert chuckled at him.

They settled the chocobos down for the night first, the four of them creating a wind break for their riders. Each chocobo was unsaddled, feathers groomed into place, then fed and watered. Then as the chocobos laid on the ground in makeshift nests, legs and feet beneath themselves, blankets tucked around them to stave off chills—and Chantilly’s beloved flyer’s shaffron buckled under her beak to keep the mountain winds from blowing it away—the giant birds all settled down to sleep with content little kwehs. Meanwhile, their people and one ghost chattered.

“—oh, come on, a king behemoth? Synnove, I know you’re not precisely sane—”

“He was a sweetheart and just wanted a cuddle!”

“And you wonder why we drink, Ardbert.”

The discussion continued throughout the setup for dinner. Rereha and Alakhai set up the kindling they had packed, place a ring of stones around the makeshift firepit. Ardbert held Ivar forward, the carbuncle obliging belching out a lick of flame that ignited the logs and sticks, then gestured with Ivar still dangling from his hand as he argued axes versus swords and Synnove set up the pot for dinner.

“Now a good two-hander I could understand, that’s got a nice heft to it—Synnove, you’ll need the turmeric and cumin for that recipe—”

“Got it!”

“—and once you get your momentum going swinging around something that big, you’ve left yourself open for a reprisal. No, sir, I like keeping my feet firmly planted exactly where I like them.”

“Oh, come on, Heron—”

Ivar went back to sleep even as Ardbert kept gesticulating with him.

Dinner went as expected: as Synnove minded the stew, Ardbert peering over his shoulder and muttering about proper spice ratios—“Ardbert, I swear, you are worse than my aunt.” “And if you’re going to make a proper Nabaath stew you need to add more turmeric, do it right now.” “Alakhai, smack him for me, please.” WHACK! “Ow!” “Thank you. My pot, my stew, now back off, dead boy.”—and Heron and Rereha got into a heated discussion about the last game of Founders of Tanac they had played while Alakhai sharpened her knives and shook her head at all of them.

More banter over dinner—“Branden named himself Dark Heart, just how extra were you lot trying to be?” “You say it yourself all the time, Rere: go big or go home.” “There’s big and then there’s melodramatic.”—and yet more through cleanup. Then after banking the fire, the Warriors of Darkness crawled into their bedrolls, while Ardbert sat on one of the makeshift benches they’d set up using the larger rocks, Ivar curled up in his lap while his siblings burrowed in with their mama. They all stared heavenward, at the jet-black sky spangled with rivers of stars; it was a new moon, so only the stars lit the world.

“And now, Ardbert,” said Rereha with a great amount of satisfaction, “it’s time for that most time-honored tradition: Make Your Own Constellation.”

“Let me guess, that one’s a pair of breasts?”

“A man after my own heart!”

Ardbert stuck his tongue out at her, the spectral glow of his soul making it easy to see. Rereha cackled at him.

“How about this,” said Heron, the ever-exasperated peacekeeper and group mother, “we’ll point out the shapes we see—no genitalia, Rere—”

“You ruin all my fun, Heron!”

“—and you tell us about the constellations that were recognized back before the Flood and you can remember, Ardbert.”

He scratched his chin. “Sounds fair. Nyelbert could have named them all, and told you all the stories besides, but I’ll do my best.”

“Alakhai, you start,” said Heron.

The Xaela hummed thoughtfully, then pointed to a string of three stars next to a half loop of four more. “That looks like a bow to me,” she said.

Ardbert tilted his head thoughtfully, leaning back on one hand as he followed where her finger indicated. “Well, not bad, Alakhai,” he said. “Already nailed it. That’s actually one of the old ones, Chorra-Mai’s Bow. Legendary mystel huntress; Renda-Rae knew all the stories about her. If you follow the string a little further along,” he gestured with his finger, dragging it ‘up,’ “that big blue beauty? That’s Ronka’s Tear; same as your Navigator’s Jewel, that’s the one star you can always use to find your way home.”

“Synnove.”

Synnove took a bit longer than Alakhai, studying the sky intently. Finally, she pointed out a cluster roughly east of Chorra-Mai’s Bow. “Amaro,” she said. “There are the points for the head, the chest, the wings, and the tail.”

“Huh,” said Ardbert, blinking in surprise. “I can see it. Oddly enough, I don’t think any of the star charts had an amaro constellation. That’s a shame. But you’re not far off from a Norvrandt one, though: excluding the ‘head’ star, that’s the Manticore.”

“…That is not a manticore,” said Synnove.

“Maybe not an Eorzean manticore,” he said wryly. “But the ones of Nabaath legend? Head of a hume, body of a lion, tail of a scorpion.”

A very long moment of silence, broken by Rereha: “Respectfully: what the fuck.”

“Don’t look at me!”

They continued like that for another bell, maybe two, laughter and shouting echoing off the surrounding mountains, until the Warriors of Darkness finally began to drift off to sleep. When Ardbert was the only one left he awake, he carefully leaned back on his stone perch, dragging the sleeping Ivar up to his stomach, and crossed his arms behind his head. He felt a smile slowly stretch his lips as he gazed up at the glittering beauty of the sunless sea, basking in the welcoming embrace of a moonlight night.

He’d forgotten what hope had felt like over the past century of mad, lonely wandering. Now, here he was, as sane as any ghost could hope to be, with four more brilliant, ridiculous siblings of his heart, and the chance to finally see his mistakes righted once and for all. Even should they encounter setbacks, he knew Dancing Heron and Synnove and Rereha and Alakhai would find their way to victory.

Hope…hope felt rather wonderful.

[flashingcursor]

Fic: Tell Me You’re Joking

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Loki Rating: Teen. Warnings: No powers AU. Word Count: 3,994 Square Filled: Blind Date. Summary: Darcy and Loki haven’t had a date in a while for various reasons. Jane and Thor think they’d be perfect together so they set them up.  A/N: @marvelfluffbingo Alright so like with my last bingo card I thought I’d kick things off with some Tasertricks. Ironically, anonymous had prompted Tasertricks - Blind date in my ask around summer 2018 when I last opened my ask to prompts. So why not? This also serves as a fill for my fluffbingo card on Dreamwidth with the prompt first date. I got a three in one hit go me.  Somehow in the writing of this oneshot and AU, Darcy became Tony Stark’s daughter. Which is a trope I kind of dig in Darcyland, I just never had a story that lent well to that particular line of thought. 

Fill for my First Date prompt on my Fluff Bingo Card. Marvel Fluff Bingo Masterlist Read on AO3

“Please tell me you’re joking?” Darcy bursts when Jane finishes.

“What do you mean?” Jane asks with a confused look for her friend's disbelieving response.

“You set me up?” The intern starts, “On a blind date with your boyfriend’s younger brother?” The disdain drips from her voice as she enunciates each word.

She loves Jane don’t get her wrong. Loves that the astrophysicist is happy with her hulking blond beefcake of a man. He helps drag Jane from the lab at decent hours, though both have terrible eating habits no matter what happens. Both her and Thor are all too content to live on processed sugar and coffee and it makes Darcy’s stomach churn at the thought.

“When you say it like that it actually sounds sort of bad. But he’s exactly your type and you’ve both been having terrible luck on the dating front.”

Darcy raises an eyebrow at her friend. “Terrible luck on the dating front?” She says the words slowly, maybe they would sink in for the older woman on the other side of the lab.

“You can’t tell me Ian was a good idea in retrospect,” Jane breathes putting her work aside for the first time in the whole conversation, her work forgotten. Boss lady wasn’t going to like that she was going to need to rerun the model she set up, but it serves her right for dropping a bomb like this on Darcy.

“Not the point. Maybe I’m happy in singletown right now.”

“Are you happy in ‘singletown’?” The air quotes clear in her voice.

“Happier in singletown than I will be on that date you set up for me.”

“Just go, give it a try. If you don’t enjoy yourself, I will let you boss me into eating and sleeping without complaint.”

Darcy raises an eyebrow at her, “Can I have that in writing?” 

“Brother, I have wonderful news,” Thor boasts entering the library in their family estate.

Loki places his thumb between the pages of the book he was reading and glances toward his older brother and eyebrow raised in question. Thor had a hard time keeping things to himself when he was in such an exuberant mood. If he didn’t say anything and just let him speak, his brother would explain why he was so pleased with himself.

“You aren’t going to ask me what it is?” Thor asks when the silence stretches too long.

“You asked Jane to marry you and she said yes,” Loki responds flatly.

“Not yet, but mother helped me secure reservations for dinner next month at The Skyline.” Thor’s shoulders droop a little that Loki would think he’d jump so far ahead of himself when there was still so much to plan for the proposal. Shaking his head, he smiles at the slim dark-haired young man waiting.

The younger son of Odin can feel a headache forming. His brother can be a bit dense at the best of times. He was also capable of sharing the intelligence of a rock at the worst. But in the years since childhood and the transition into adulthood, Thor had grown greatly. His selfishness tempered, his cruelty near entirely erased after Odin nearly cut him off two years ago. For almost two years Thor had to live like the average citizens of the United States and find a way to make it work. It had done wonders for his older brothers’ temperament, he’d even gained a surprising amount of wisdom.

“Shall I start guessing then?” he asks replacing his thumb with a bookmark and setting the book on the coffee table, his expression bland. He’s glad Thor is so happy in his relationship with Dr. Jane Foster. As it is he’s still amazed the woman has managed to outlast Sif’s passive-aggressive attempts to drive her away and their mother’s false sweetness in the early months of their courtship.

“No need. You have a date in a week with Jane’s best friend.” Thor explains looking pleased with this development.

Loki blinks owlishly at the hulking at his brother, a date? With Jane’s best friend?

“And I am to do what exactly?” He wishes he could summon the energy to be annoyed, all he can summon, however; is bewilderment. HIs happy self-centered to a fault brother was setting him up with his girlfriends closest friend.

“Go on a date,” Thor says it slowly as if the meaning is obvious.

“No.”

“Brother, please!”

“I said no. I have no interest in having my older brother find me dates. I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own.”

He doesn’t wait for Thor to try to convince him, Loki sweeps by him intending to leave the library. Instead of walking past as he normally would though, Thor catches his wrist and pulls him up short. His eyebrows raised at  Loki's claim as if to say they both knew his words for the lie it is. Not that he would say as much aloud after his time away.

“Just meet the girl. If it doesn’t work out, you’re free to leave.” Thor gives him his best beseeching look and Loki’s frown deepens. Like their father, he doesn’t explain why it is so important that he go on the date. Knowing the happy couple, he was likely to be Thor’s best man at the wedding and if she is as close to Jane as Thor says, she’d be the maid of honor. Pinching the bridge of his nose and inhales deeply, he is in no mood for the lovebirds playing matchmaker.

He might be known for spinning tales and crafty stories to get what he wanted or manipulate others, but he had nothing on Thor’s earnest manipulations. The way he made you want to do what he was asking because it would do nothing more than make him happy. It worked best on their mother and Sif, and Loki had thought he’d long ago grown immune to the look. Apparently, that was not the case as he sighs.

“Fine. Where am I to meet this girl?”

Thor beams as he rattles off the address for a chain restaurant that skirted the line of middle-class fancy and casual and Loki wonders if he just agreed to some horrible punishment for some prank Thor finally realized he pulled. His green eyes narrow at his brother. He looks far too pleased with his acquiescence to the request. That never bodes well in the long term.

"If you think I’m going to like her you’re sorely mistaken.” Loki snaps.

“Of course, I would never think such a thing. I just wish to see you have a good time away from your books for one evening.” Thor agrees his mouth spread into an amused grin as he walks away, hands folded behind his back. 

 In the end, Jane does put their agreement in writing, Darcy will have free reign in determining the length of lab activities for a week if she doesn’t have a good time on her blind date. Once the agreement is carefully filed away in Darcy’s shoulder bag, she tilts her head at Jane.

“So how am I going to know his brother from every other Joe Schmoo in the place?” She asks.

She made it a rule when Thor and Jane started dating that she wasn’t allowed to google anything about Thor’s family. The general idea is that if she didn’t look them up in the media, she would be able to develop an opinion of the hulking blond that made her friend blush like a school girl on a regular basis. For the most part, that rule has worked perfectly well for Darcy. Overall, she finds Thor to be a good guy, a little goofy, somewhat ridiculous, and very larger than life in attitude and action, but a good guy.

“I forgot you haven’t seen a family photo. I’ll get back to you on that.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve a rose and a favorite book, I will probably be okay with it,” she flips through a few pages of notes only half seeing the scribbled contents, “And just how fancy is this place going to be? Like do I need to buy a new dress for the occasion or is the black number I wear to faculty cocktail parties going to be fine?”

Jane makes a vague grunt of acknowledgment which means she’s already back in work mode. Sighing Darcy settles in for long hours of transcription and data entry. Her friend would get back to her eventually. As things stand now she's leaning toward her black cocktail dress. Knowing Jane and Thor they were going somewhere nice but also low-key. Her cocktail dress was perfect.

  A week after agreeing to the insane idea of taking Jane’s best friend to dinner, Loki pauses in his research to find a slew of texts waiting for him on his cell phone. The notification light flashing a brilliant green demanding his attention. Giving up on ignoring it, he picks up his phone and checks his texts. All of them from his brother.

How would you prefer Darcy recognize you? Brother? Loki are you there? Loki this isn’t funny.

Sighing heavily Loki pinches the bridge of his nose. Did no one respect the workload of a Ph.D. student? He had work to do, there wasn’t time to be discussing how he was going to reveal himself to Darcy. The entire date wasn’t important enough to warrant so much of his attention. Frustrated that Thor was so insistent about the whole thing, Loki responds with the first thing that comes to mind.

I’ll bring her a rose and one of my books. At least if it turns out to be terrible, I can get some work done.

Perhaps something else? She explicitly said she would prefer not to have such items used to identify you.

Then maybe she should pick how I’ll identify her.

Jane says she’ll be wearing a black cocktail dress and a gold necklace with a jade pendant.

The colors catch Loki’s attention. He’s always preferred black, gold, and green. At that thought his eyes narrow at his cell phone. His long fingers typing out another message to his brother.

Did you tell Jane what colors Darcy should wear?

No.

Truth.

I did not. She picked them herself.

For a moment he stares at his phone unsure of what to say. She picked those colors herself. No coaching. It could mean she liked them herself, it wouldn’t be strange. Plenty of people liked those colors together. But it felt too pointed to be natural. Not that it stopped him from trying to visualize what she would look like in them.

Very well. Tell Jane I’ll meet Darcy out front at 7 pm sharp.

Of course.

He can almost hear Thor’s pleasure in those two words, and it makes him scowl as he returns to his work. Twenty-four hours to go and he would find out just what made his brother think this girl would be a good match for him. And probably prove how wrong he was.

  On the day of the date, Jane somehow manages to wrap up on her own. She nearly forces Darcy from the lab, with some half-baked excuse that she had dinner plans with Thor that she couldn’t miss. The harried actions and the way she wouldn’t meet Darcy’s eyes when she asked why she hadn’t told her about this date spoke volumes. Jane wanted her out of the lab and getting ready for her date. Heaving a heavy sigh, Darcy packs up more to humor her friend than over any excitement for her approaching date.

The actual process of getting ready seems to drag by. Setting up your friends on blind dates when they aren’t actively looking for someone to date takes all of the fun out of getting ready. The usual excitement missing, there are no flutters in her stomach making the whole process robotic and she finishes a full hour before she needs to leave. It’s enough to make Darcy think she shouldn’t get excited about dates at all if it makes her hair and make-up cooperate for once.

Her hair styled into careful waves over her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes rimmed in thick black lines of eyeliner that wing at the outer corners of her eyes. She's looking fine if Darcy does say so herself.

She paces her apartment after that. Thumbnail between her teeth as she attempts to reign in the desire to chew on the nail. Her frustration with the whole situation serving to make her stomach twist. Not helping.

Going into the kitchen she gets a glass and pulls a bottle of ginger ale from the fridge.

“I could stay home, tell Jane I got sick.” She mutters to herself as she fills the glass halfway with the soda. Her eyes flicking to the amber liquid in thought. It wouldn’t be a complete lie if she texted right now. She did feel terrible and it wasn’t nerves.

Taking a sip, she leans a hip against the counter, “If I do blow him off I’ll never hear the end of it.”

God, she was losing it if she was debating herself in her kitchen. Draining the glass, she sets it down and goes to get her purse. If she has time to act like a crazy person, she has time to leave and give it a try. She has an agreement to enforce, and she's looking forward to bossing Jane around for thinking she needs help getting a date.

Pulling out her phone she pulls up the messaging app.

Call me fifteen minutes into the date to give me a convenient out. I will not forgive you if you don’t.

You sure about that kid?

Very.

How will I know you don’t need it?

I won’t answer.

Fair enough.

Satisfied that her “dad” would help for once, she shoves her phone back into her purse and leaves. It was better than the endless memes he sent about the blind date for the last week. She doesn’t know how Pepper puts up with him sometimes, but she gives the woman credit for it every day. That woman is a god damn saint in Darcy’s book.

  Loki sweeps across the sidewalk outside the restaurant for the fifth time. She’s late. He’s watched no less than fifteen couples go inside and six different women. None of them wearing a black cocktail dress with a gold necklace and jade pendant. He swears if she stands him up after he actually showed up (with minimal cajoling from his brother at that), he is going to be livid.

“If you’re Loki I deserve a refund just for showing up,” a voice states with a click of heels.

“You’re late,” he shoots back as he turns to look at the speaker.

He isn’t struck by her beauty. Nothing so mundane. She’s pretty, she put effort into her hair and make-up. She’s shorter than he imagined given his brother's stories, but the heels help close the otherwise large gap in their height. Her necklace rests peacefully on her chest the jade pendant stopping just above her ample cleavage. His gaze quickly shifts up before she can correct him. Something about the way she’s standing with hand on jutted hip screams she would in less than a heartbeat.

“What were you doing timing me?” She asks her lips twitching like they want to form into a smirk.

“It doesn’t matter, shall we?”

She gives the restaurant a once over and shrugs, “May as well.”

Her easy nonchalance comes as a surprise. Based on her greeting he would think she didn’t want to be there any more than he did. But the way she heads for the door like a woman on a mission, he comes up behind her and pulls the door open a little wider as they press into the lobby.

“You have a back-up plan don’t you," he presses a little closer than strictly necessary to whisper in her ear.

“Of course, I do. You probably do too. You scream planner.” She replies stepping to the hostess station, “Hi we uh called ahead under Odinson.”

The hostess looks relieved and her smile goes from polite disinterest to genuine. “Of course, it’ll be about ten minutes.”

“Cool thanks,” Darcy replies and turns to come nose to chest with her date. Her eyebrows rising in curiosity as she tilts her head back. She bites back the sassy comment about getting too close. The lobby was quite full so she was willing to give him a little wiggle room.

“I scream planner?”

“Don’t get offended. Every family has to have at least one. Though based on stories, the only one that doesn’t really plan in your family is Thor.”

“He does have a way of running headlong into everything.”

“That he does. Do you,” she waves her hand between them, her fingers grazing the soft dark material of his button down as she does, to illustrate he should move.

“Sorry.” He takes a step back.

“Mhm.”

Darcy walks away and takes a seat on the bench along the wall as they wait.

“What’s your back up plan?” He asks after she’s settled.

She grins leaning back into the cushion of the seat. He can’t help but return it, her attitude is almost infectious. She might be unhappy about the arrangement as he is, but she seems to enjoy toying with him. Add that she has a plan to escape the situation much as he does, doesn’t even seem to mind that he does, and Loki is suddenly much more intrigued by her. More than he was when she walked up.

“Is this one of those ‘I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours’ situations, because honestly, that tends to go over better when I’ve had a couple of drinks and have a decent buzz going. Remind me to stop feigning enjoyment for Jane and Thor when they drag me to burger joints.”

“Stop feigning enjoyment when Jane and my brother drag you for burgers,” he responds, she laughs, and it isn’t one of those ‘wow-that’s-so-lame’ kind of laughs. He amused Darcy by responding with equal amounts of sass as she gives.

Either way she doesn’t respond at first, and Loki remains quiet. He can wait out his most stubborn tutors and professors, he can wait out one young woman that his brother is fond of and routinely refers to as his sister. The prolonged silence doesn’t appear to faze her at first, but after a couple minutes of them staring at each other and then pretending not to look at each other at all, she starts to fidget. Her hands go from her lap to her hair, to sitting on the bench at her thigh, back to her lap, and finally crossing her arms under her breasts when the hostess call them.

“Odinson, party of two.” The hostess announces and Darcy is on her feet, brown hair swaying about her shoulders as she crosses the small lobby to the hostess station once more.

The hostess smiles at them and leads them to a table in the back, the lights just far enough away to create a romantic atmosphere. There’s a small tealight on the table already lit and flickering as the hostess places their menus across from each other on the table.

“Your server tonight will be Angela and she’ll be right with you,” the hostess states before leaving them to figure out what comes next on their own.

Darcy starts shrugging out of her dark coat.

“Let me help you,” Loki offers moving behind her he takes her coat from her and hangs the coat on the hook at the top of the booth before she can protest. His own follows a moment later and he slides into the far side of the booth. His back to the rest of the patrons his head cocked to the side waiting. His mouth turned up into a cocky smirk as she studies him.

“Keep that up and I may reevaluate my desire for a refund,” she quips taking the open seat across from him.

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“And if it is?”

He leans forward until the table stops him and his smirk widens considerably, “Consider it accepted.”

Her eyes widen and he watches how she swallows like something he just said was particularly enticing. Too bad there was a table firmly between them. He wouldn't mind discovering how else she might react to him.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance as her phone starts ringing. A low gravely almost computer sounding voice growls ‘I am Iron Man’ as guitars start in the background. His brow furrows in confusion as she pulls the device out of her purse and clicks a button on the side before laying it face down on the table, silent once more.

“Do you need to get that?” He asks leaning back.

“Back up plan.” She says simply with a shake of her head as their server comes up.

“Hi, I’m Angela and I’ll be server today. Can I start you with anything to drink?” The perky blond server asks.

Darcy has a bemused expression as she orders without ever taking her gaze from Loki’s, “Water with lime please.”

“Coffee please.”

“Alright, I’ll go put these in and give you a few more minutes to look over the menu.” The server leaves and Loki tilts his head at Darcy.

“Your back-up plan was to get a phone call fifteen minutes after we were supposed to meet?”

Darcy is starting to answer when his own phone starts ringing. His cheeks flushing as he works to get it silenced before it disturbs the dining room. Perfect timing.

“Need to get that?” Darcy asks a self-satisfied smile plastered to her face as she leans back.

“It’s just an alarm.” He hisses as the ringing goes silent.

“I’m sure. So are you going to bolt on me or are we both in agreement to see what happens next?”

“Let’s see what happens next, shall we? I’d to be accused of not giving things a legitimate chance.” He pauses as their serve returns with their drinks.

They ask for a few more minutes before ordering. Loki leaning forward in his seat and Darcy does the same her grin mirroring the one he can feel splitting his face. She is beautiful he realizes once he stops trying to dismiss her. Now that he’s paying attention instead of thinking about his thesis project. And if he was gauging her reaction correctly just as much interested in a little payback at her friends as he was.

“What do you say to telling them that it was a terrible date?”

“Sounds like an idea I can get behind.”

“Excellent.”

Dinner goes well. As they eat the pair plan all the ways they plan to convince Thor and Jane that it was a horrible experience. They start simple, keeping the beginnings as close to what happened as possible. Mixing truth with fiction was the easiest way to remember a lie, a fact he was pleased to see that she was already familiar with as they talked.

When they finish, Loki lingers. She lingers. He couldn’t remember feeling quite like this before. The last time a person caught his interest like this was a long time ago. Getting up from the table he picks up her coat and holds it out to her to help her put it on once she stands.

“Can I drive you home?” He asks putting his jacket on.

“No, I’m good, but you can call me tomorrow if you’ll give me your phone.”

“Of course.”

Handing over his phone he watches her type in her phone number and her name. Red-tipped fingers returning his phone to him.

“I’ll do that.”

“You had better mischief. Otherwise, our little prank will be very real.”

“I promise Darcy.”

[inaweofdiana]

Hanzos super dramatic edgy angsty diary entry vs mcree's goofy one + like, a shopping list or a note he jotted down for the same days entry. Also they have crushes on each other. I cant brain phasing for a writing prompt but it sounds cute

Hanzo kept a journal. It was a battered little book. Black, cream pages, unlined. It was filled with tidy rows of Japanese and messy lines of English, intermixed with folded papers, pressed flowers, and polaroid photographs. 

... my heart plummeted like a comet when I realized that it was my own long-dead brother that was standing before me as firmly as a mountain. It was a reversal akin to looking in a mirror, where he is the stronger sibling sent to kill me in my moment of weakness, even as I mourned deeply for him and deeply honored his memory... was an excerpt from an earlier page. tucked needly inside that page was a boarding pass to Gibraltar, doodles on the back of a badly rendered dog, a poor likeness of a tree, and a sketch of a flanking plan for a three story house. 

... in an hour of fragile weakness, I was convinced to come here by my damned conscience. Given where it has led me before, I should not have trusted it to lead me down this tumultuous path. Genji is more different than I ever could have guessed, which is largely my own fault, due to my vast oversight and negligence.....which is why I shall never trust that horrid, scrawny man to cook for me again. And yet all of this is not yet the worst part. The worst part of all the terrible things to happen to me is that damned cowman who insists upon pestering me, aggravating obnoxious... was a lengthy stretch of complaining, with several notes folded in.

Several small notes of welcome from various members, most notably his brother, but one in particular stood out.

Hey there! Welcome to the base! I heard from Genji you’re another sharpshooter I would love to get together with you sometime to run you through some of the training programs I’ve put together I think it would be a lot of fun especially from some of the stories Genji’s told me let me know if you’re interested! -JM 

It was loopy writing, slightly cramped. There was a small smiley face beside the initials, right over an equally cramped xo. It was written on sunshine yellow stationary.

Several weeks forward there was another note: Thanks for making sure I got back okay last night next time we go out drinks are on me okay? Friday sound good? Let me know darl -JM 

This was a page ahead of a rather mournful entry. I have never had a more horrendous hangover. I wish that I was not so utterly foolish to deliberately seek out the things that make me most miserable in life, but certainly nothing is more miserable than missing your morning run to kneel in front of the toilet. I feel utterly pathetic and defeated by mere alcohol. If I am remembering correctly, the bane of my existence is called tekilla. I shall not make these grievous mistakes again, no matter what that damn cowman says in a sad attempt to convince me otherwise. 

A mere three pages later was a printed photo of Hanzo, Jesse, Lena, Hana, and Genji, all standing around a table, faces flushed and shots of tequila held high, a plate of limes and a half empty bottle of tequila in the center of the table.

Closer to the end of the journal were more bad doodles. Genji’s faceplate, one of Zenyatta’s orb, Jesse’s beloved hat that wasn’t too terrible, Soldier’s visor that was absolutely horrible. Shorter entries were more prevalent as well.

Another successful mission. Soba and Udon were happy to stretch their wings.

Solder 76 made a “proper American dinner” today. I suspect he used all of the butter on base. Mei is quite put out that there is none for her tea. 

Jesse sheds like a dog. My bed is covered in his hair.

Today’s mission was successful, though barely.

I think Junkrat has fleas.

Jesse wore his boots without spurs today and managed to sneak up on Genji. He almost took out his hat. 

With these shorter entries came more notes as well.

Ask Lucio about his new single. I think you’ll see he took some inspiration from you. Could be Gen, but I think it’s you. -JM

Dinner tonight? -JM

Remind me to get more butter tomorrow when we’re at the store. -JM

Found your hair ribbon in the locker room. Looks mighty fine on my hat. Come find me -JM

I think Junkrat has fleas?? -JM

Love ya darl -JS

[goodlawdmaude]

Madrid, Spain

Day 1 (3/24)

After landing in Madrid, navigating our way to our AirBnB, and napping for two hours, Jarod and I were woken up around 1:30pm by a knock at the door. Our host had told us that a man named Ous would come to clean the apartment at 2pm. What she didn’t mention was that Ous--while incredibly nice--did not speak any English. In a mixture of Spanish and charades, we managed to agree that we would leave the apartment for an hour so that he could clean. 

In a daze, we piled on our layers (it’s cold in Madrid in March!!) and headed out. We walked through the Barrio (neighborhood) of La Lavapies and into La Latina, walking until we came to La Real Basílica de San Francisco el Grande. We sat in a plaza on the South side of the church, admiring the structure’s large, yellow dome and resting our very weary bones. From there, we wandered North past El Palacio Real de Madrid, through La Plaza de Oriente, and finally back through the center of Madrid to our apartment. 

Even though my body was dull with exhaustion, taxed heavily by the previous day/night, I was awestruck by the beautiful city streets and extravagant monuments. Everything was picturesque. There were balconies on every building with ferns growing in ornate pots and flower beds snuggled up against decorative railings. At crosswalks and through cafe windows, I saw people smoking cigarettes and sipping espressos; talking quickly, excitedly, rhythmically with wide eyes and exaggerated hand gestures. We were in a new place, and I was stoked to explore it!! 

By now, it was around 4:30pm, and we were hungry. We set off in search of a restaurant nearby and found two whose kitchens were closed. This was our first inconvenient encounter with ~siesta~. Even hungrier now, we found a market and bought tortellini and vegetables to cook back at the apartment. That night, we were in bed by 8:30. 

Day 2 (3/25)

Our first real (still surreal) morning in Madrid, we woke up at a reasonably early hour after an unreasonably excessive amount of sleep. We made eggs at home, then went to a nearby cafe recommended by our host, Maria. Again, it felt like there was culture everywhere. The people around us were dressed neatly in scarves and hats and boots (still freezing!), ordering pastries and warm drinks, dipping the former into the latter and eating them slowly and gracefully. Here, we each got two coffees and drank them quietly, soaking up the environment around us. I admit I was (I still am) a bit self conscious; I didn’t want to speak too much or too loudly in my ugly American accent and identify myself as an obnoxious outsider. 

At this cafe, we started to suspect that coffee in Spain is different than coffee in the US. In Spain, a coffee is served small in a cute little teacup on a saucer with a packet of sugar on the side. You can order a couple different variants--cafe solo (shot of espresso), cafe americano (still small), or cafe con leche (larger, but half milk)--but there is no order that will get you a giant mug of good old fashioned black coffee. (”Cafe negro” will get you the prompt: “Cafe Americano?” to which you will nod, confused and disappointed when you get a tiny teacup of slightly diluted espresso.) I digress. 

From the cafe, we headed to El Museo Del Prado, where we spent hours admiring--or more often puzzling over --thousands of paintings. My favorite was a small piece, entitled “The Painter’s Children,” which portrayed two young girls lounging on a futon, one wrapped in a pretty Japanese blanket, the other sprawled on a cushion. Jarod’s was a huge portrait of a Roman (??) leader dead in a bathtub--a suicide referenced as honorable in The Godfather. 

When we thought we might die of hunger, we tore ourselves from the Prado despite only seeing (maybe) half of the art on display. We wandered up the street and into a tapas restaurant. This was when we truly started embracing Spanish culture with a mid-day glass of wine and four sequential plates of tapas rich with meats, cheeses, and oil. This was also when I learned that a “Russian salad” does not contain lettuce, but lots of potatoes and mayonnaise. 

We went back to our apartment, took naps (Jarod) and studied the city (Lizzy). Still feeling full and generally out of sorts, we headed to the Santa Ana square//Barrio de Las Letras (the literary district, where the paving stones of the main street are engraved with some of the best known lines from 16th and 17th century Spanish literature). We got mixed drinks and a plate of tortillas and hummus at a hipster joint full of trendy young people, then proceeded to a lively gin bar called Carbones 13, where we each had a gin and tonic--the first that I have ever truly liked. 

We stopped at home briefly before rushing out to catch an authentic live flamenco performance at a bar on our corner, El Candela. We put our names down to reserve seats, then had half an hour to kill before the performance started. We spent that time in a lively, divey Bodega (wine bar) down the block. Our drinks were cheap (5€ for two) and came with a plate of potato chips. 

The performance itself was fabulous. There were only 4 people on stage and only one who danced. It was the first flamenco I’ve ever seen live, and I was struck by the drama of the production. The dancer’s heels banged loudly on the hollow stage floor, the tassels of her outfit swung wildly as she moved, and her face and hands were full of intense emotion. The crowd shouted “ole!” and the end of each piece--and sometimes during--to show their appreciation and admiration. (I didn’t know that was a real thing, but I loved it.)

After, we went home and stayed up a while longer, confused as to what time zone we were in. Suddenly, it seemed quite late--3 or 4am--but we were not exactly to be counted on to know the time. Little did we know, day lights savings had occurred that night; a phenomenon which would further confuse us in the morning. 

Day 3 (3/26)

We woke up around 10am, with 1pm lunch reservations at one of the oldest restaurants in the world quickly approaching. Jarod was a little hungover as we embarked towards Botín for our lunch date. He ordered shrimp, which came with the legs and heads still attached. Decapitating them was a task that hungover Jarod liked even less than spry Jarod would have. I ordered cod, which was smothered in a soup of delicious tomato sauce and was impractically humongous (I am notorious for clearing my plate and could only eat half). We drank half a pitcher of sangria--which may have been ambitious given the night before, but when on vacation...--and finished the meal up with a DIVINE chocolate mousse cake. The meal was tasty, but pricey (80€) and the restaurant itself was lovely, but packed with tourists (ourselves among them). It didn't turn out to be quite the cultural endeavor I had imagined, although we did see (what I imagine to be) some very traditional Spanish dishes, such as "baby squid, cooked in his own ink." Harsh.

After lunch, we went in search of Madrid's famous flea market: El Rastro. I had the driving interest in El Rastro, but had done a poor job of researching the actual location (I knew it was in La Latina from 10am-3pm... And not much else). In our search for the market, we stumbled upon a giant amphitheater type hole in the ground, covered in weeds and graffiti and tattooed young people. There were two guys playing live music, the speaker too weak to allow us to hear them from the entrance ramp on which we stood. It was a little silly, but I felt alive being there, like I was seeing an authentic, grimy part of modern life in Madrid.

With Jarod's guidance, we finally found El Rastro as it was closing down. We walked through the stalls of leathers, rugs, fans, and clothing, admiring everything but avoiding wanting anything (I could hardly order coffee for myself let alone haggle with a street vendor). At the end of the road, we found ourselves at an old tobacco factory, La Tabacaleria, that had long ago shut down and repurposed as an art gallery. Atlas Obscura had called this out as one of the hidden gems worth seeing in Madrid, and there was no entry fee, so we headed in.

The art exhibit was eerie--one piece was a TV hung from the rafters and entwined in a chain, broadcasting silent black and white footage--fitting for the cold and dark hallways of La Tabacaleria. There were lots of other videos in Spanish (which we didn't watch), but also some cool images of Mayan ruins (which interested me more).

When we finally got back home, we siesta'd--as is the Spanish way--and woke up some time later, ready to get our first real exercise in. We went to the Parque Del Buen Retiro, and ran around its perimeter, then walked through the interior, stopping to admire the Palacio De Velazquez, Palacio De Crystal, and a man-made lake--full of couples in paddle boats--that flanks the Monumento a Alfonso XII.

Our stomachs were still very confused so we elected to make dinner at home that evening, stopping by the market for rice, chicken, and vegetables. 

Day 4 (3/27)

By day 4, you would think we would have at least somewhat adjusted to Spanish time. And in a way we had: we were waking up late, taking naps in the afternoon, and staying up later. So on day 4, we slept in. When we finally tore ourselves from the cozy den of bed, it was around 11am. We still needed coffee, so we headed out towards La Plaza Mayor and stepped into a coffee shop along the way. 

From the Plaza, we headed out to revisit the west side of Madrid: the Royal Palace we had seen on day 1 in a daze, the old theater (Teatro Real) we had missed entirely, and the Egyptian temple (Templo De Debod) we hadn't known about. After walking for several hours, we were famished. We came home, pooled some leftovers to snack on, then exercised in our living room and cleaned up in preparation for our impending departure.

We headed out for our final dinner. We planned to go to Museo Chicote: an old restaurant and “Madrid landmark” frequented by famous people (Ernest Hemingway among them). However, it was closed (as are a lot of shops and restaurants on Monday in Madrid, apparently). We backtracked to the literary district and chose a restaurant called "La Vinoteca." Obviously. There, we feasted on shared plates of cheesy croquettes, flavorful meatballs, and crostini topped with mozzarella and tomato. On the way home, we stopped at a nearby Bodega, which was dark but inviting and buzzing with activity. And with that, our time in Madrid had come to an end. We packed and prepared for our jarringly early 530am wake-up the next day, after which we would take the metro to the airport and fly to Porto, Portugal.