#[ OOF I AM UP IN MY DA ORIGIN FEELS THOUGH

[aworldofyou]

   .... so in all of the canon of Dragon Age aside from one mention in Origins there is absolutely zero inclination that the Reapers of Mass Effect of currently being fought against. Isn’t that just mind blowing? like there could be some ultra massive galactic bullshit happening out there but we will never know about it. because even if the entire galactic system was destroyed it would be a few million years before we would even feel any ripples on it.

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct: Chapter 6

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6200 (yup, the words ran away from me!)

Warnings: Language, mention of death.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

To an untrained eye, need and love are as easily mistaken for each other as the real master's painting and a forgery.

Deb Caletti

Chapter 6

A low lit room- more fitting of an old jail than an art lock up- surrounds you with cool air that tickles the tiny hairs on the back of your bare neck, as you bend over double, digging through the equipment in the abyss of your bag. A gap forms between the waist of your jeans and t-shirt, revealing the tiniest bit of the lace edging from your bra band- a tantalising fact that catches Marcus’ breath, alerting you to his presence, “Hey, you ok?” you ask straightening up, “Did you find something?”

“Yeah, uh sorry. Think I just had a bit of dust in my throat,” Marcus stammers, utterly thrown by that glimpse of your underwear, as he tries to clear his throat and remember the reason he was standing in front of you, “So, uh, yeah, um- we found a couple of signatures from Paul Guillaume and Albert C Barnes- weren’t they the guys we had to look out for?”

Looking over the papers with your cotton gloves still on, you pour over the shaping of the letters that made up the signatures of the possible previous owners, “I dunno. I’m not convinced- the positioning of the letters seem odd- like a crude rendition of someone’s signature. Almost like someone’s faking their mum’s signature to get out of PE class. Only the thing is, you know the movement of your mum’s hand as she signs something because you’ve watched her do it a million times before. Those signatures do not seem real to me, personally.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise as he crosses his arms, desperately trying to hide the smile that was creeping across his face. “You faked your mom’s signature a lot?”

“Poacher turned gamekeeper,” Élodie remarks as she crosses between the two of you, straightening your t-shirt up where it has caught upon the back of your jeans.

Marcus tries not to let his disappointment show. Calm down, Pike, you’re hardly a horny seventeen year old. But that was how you made him feel and certainly the uncomfortable pressure building in his jeans might prove otherwise.

“I don’t think we will necessarily manage to get this solved today,” you begin, “The section that Élodie looked at dates it reasonably within the time period but those signatures are now tingling my spidey senses. It’s probably going to need to be sent for further investigations at a proper lab. I’m about to look at it using the stereomicroscope- do you want to have a look with me?”

Marcus nods eagerly, earning a grin from you, and you start setting up the pieces you need- ensuring that the video camera is linked to your iPad so Marcus can see everything you are looking at in real time along with you.

Marcus drifts closer to the painting. You haven’t seemed to notice his closeness yet, and he half hopes you don't, as from where he’s standing the aromatically pleasing scent of your shampoo wafts dreamily from the dark shimmer of your hair.

“So tell me more about this piece. I love listening to you speaking about art. You make it seem like I’m looking over the artist’s shoulder as they’re painting it.” Marcus remarks, smiling when he notices the flush creeping over your cheeks that his words bring.

Impressed by your decision to play into his words rather than focus on how awkward you feel at the compliment, he loves how you fan yourself and flutter your eyelashes at him, “Monsieur, you flatter me! Well, looking at this piece it’s not difficult to imagine that Soutine may have had a longstanding beef with food. Though he was fascinated by food and frequently painted these edible arrangements, this stands as one of his most memorable and dare I say, raw interpretations.”

At these terrible puns, Marcus pretends to drum, “Ba da boom tish!”

“Do not encourage her!” Jacques shouts from the other side of the room where he is labeling the bags for the slide samples that Élodie had been collecting, “Once you acknowledge one pun, she’ll ensure that everything she says has one. Queen Nush of the dad jokes!”

“So at the meat of Soutine’s obsession,” Marcus half-snorts, half-groans, intending to encourage you as you add, “You find that a combination of not having anything to eat due to extreme poverty and using what food the family did have to practice Kosher traditions is largely to blame for his playing with his food rather than eating it.”

Marcus watches you flick through your phone so as not to interrupt the finally clear feed from the stereomicroscope focussing on how you bite your lip. You quickly google the Rembrandt that you want him to look at. “The remains of this omnivorous…”

“Oh you’re still gonna continue with that theme, yeah?” Marcus’ feels his lips curve at your humour, shaking his head at the ridiculous word play.

“Oh, I can keep this going all day,” you say with the cheekiest of winks, and Marcus hopes you will.

*****

“Omnivorous obsession,” you continue, “was based on his adoration of Rembrandt whose 1655 Flayed Ox was frequently salivated over by Soutine on his regular visits to the Louvre. Rembrandt’s carcass is noted for its vivid colors but when compared to Soutine’s, which was coated almost daily with fresh buckets of blood by his assistant, Rembrandt seems downright dull. The smell of rotting beef and fresh blood became so oppressive that neighbours called the police, who almost threw away the fermenting flesh before, what I can only assume was the Frankenstein-esque assistant, shooed them away like so many flies covering a carcass.”

“Always with the focus on the graphic elements of art,” Jacques calls out with a snort at your zombie-like impression before receiving a sharp nudge to his ribs to focus on the job Élodie has asked him to complete.

“Art is just a reflection of the things that humanity finds interesting and what can be more interesting to a temporal being than their own mortality or that of the creatures and objects that surround it?” At this statement, you tug Marcus’ coat sleeve away from the piece to come and look at the feed you have set up for him, “Come on you, we’d better focus or Élodie will have my guts for garters for not concentrating on what I should be doing!”

Marcus allows you to lead him over to a black metal folding chair to look at the feed, “So what are we looking for, Mademoiselle Pathologist?”

“Hah, did you just call her mademoiselle? She’s too old for that!” Élodie shouts in your direction.

Refusing to respond verbally to Élodie’s rudeness, you flick a finger up at her and turn back to Marcus, “Madame Pathologist will do- I am comfortable with my age. So what we are looking for are any bits of difficult to detect damage, fading, repairs and the ways paints and other coatings are distributed. Also if there are any strange fibres that we can spot using the double lens.”

Hovering the microscope over the bottom left hand corner, you start to scan the piece, “So what we’re looking for are any irregularities that we might not have picked up on a first scan that Élodie did to take the samples. The stereomicroscope helps us to understand the art in more 3D terms- so we can see something that generally looks flat becomes a landscape of hills and valleys.”

“Why’ve you chosen that corner to start?” Marcus probed inquisitively, wondering as to whether there’s method in your madness.

“Just felt like it!” You shrug and snort at his look of mock horror. “Nah, it’s where the signature is and ‘cos I’m not sure about the signatures on those documents you found, I want to take a closer look at Soutine’s over here. Kinda feels like a sensible place to start.” Your eyes squint as you drink in the images in front of you, snapping up when you hear a small grunt of consternation from your boss, “Have you found something, Marcus?”

“That’s weird. It kind of looks like the signature has been scratched into the art,” Marcus squints at the signature on the screen, reaching over to the table where the possible documents with Guillaume and Barnes’ scrawls lie, “Also, I am not an expert in graphology but the letter e looks consistent across the three names- they all arch at the same point.”

“Waouh- that’s a good catch,” Élodie agrees, pulling Jacques with her to look over Marcus’ shoulder at the finds upon the feed.

Jacques escapes Élodie’s clutch and starts to flit back and forth, checking between the painting and the feed with a mild look of confusion on his face, “This is preposterous. Why have they done the signature in a different medium to the one used to paint it? It’s almost like they want to be caught.”

“It looks like it has been lacerated by a needle,” Marcus scratches at his patchy beard in astonishment, “Spot on Jacques, it’s like they can’t even be bothered to hide their tracks.”

“Ok, I think we may have found one of our fakes,” a smile slowly creeps across your face, “Obviously, we can’t be definite -there are still so many tests that need to be done but I don’t think this is an original,” you shake your head with a half smile, “Élodie, I think we need to organise for this to be couriered back to the labs.”

An excited squeal from Élodie and a soft oof from Jacques puncture the cool air as she flies into his arms, squeezing him in sheer delight. As the pair embrace with joy, you and Marcus are left there- Marcus on the fold out chair, gripping the iPad tighter than necessary- I swear that man never quite knows what do with his hands- and you sitting cross legged on the floor with the stereomicroscope lying in your lap- grinning like idiots at each other.

✪✪✪✪✪

More coffee and cakes are devoured in the aftermath whilst you await a courier to come and pick up the likely forgery- you are not entirely sure that the blood in your body hasn’t entirely transformed into sugar and caffeine at this point. After checking alongside Élodie that the painting had been carefully loaded into a van, you sit next to her on the pavement outside the auction house.

“Do you know where Marcus and Jacques are?” you question as you sink onto the dusty ground next to her.

“Yeah, they’re inside taking an informal statement from the auction house owner before the local police quiz her properly,” Élodie rests her temple to your shoulder, “Today has been wonderful. I really like Marcus - from what I have seen of him. I think this will be a good move for you.”

“I do miss having you here though. Today feels like the first time I have had both of my arms. Since you returned to London, it has felt like a part of me has been missing.”

Hauling a deep breath into your lungs to try to quell that gnawing ache in your belly, you turn to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, “I am sorry, El. To be honest, I don’t even know where to start explaining what happened or even truly understand how everything fell apart so badly.”

The mountain wind decides to blow an icy gust that cuts through your clothes to the bones of you, “It was a normal undercover job- we’d been watching the comings and goings of the gang from a inside a local greasy spoon for ages-just trying to get a clear idea of what their patterns of behaviour were and it just all went South so quickly.

“Being a tiny caff on an industrial estate by the Thames, it was open 24 hours and the day it happened, it was during the middle of a night shift when the gang decided to up the ante. They’d obviously clocked that we weren’t exactly who we said we were,” you snort softly at the memory, “I mean Jas’ accent was a bit sus for being a short order cook but still.

“The gang openly marched the illegal immigrants out of the container and made them kneel in front of the caff as a lure to us, trying to get us to drop our cover. These fucking innocents just trying to find a better life and the evil fuckers just started executing them- one after the other. Jas just ran out there straight away- dropping his cover without any proper back up, a flak jacket or anything. His stupid, kind self trying to save at least one of them without a backward glance.

“I said the code word so we could have armed back up within minutes but I knew it wouldn’t be there quickly enough,” your voice starts to falter as your throat tightens over the words.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, chouchou,” Élodie squeezes the thigh nearest to her.

“I know but I should tell someone, somewhen. You’re probably one of the few who would understand.”

You pause, squeezing your eyes tight shut as you allow that stagnant, putrid box of memories to reopen, flooding your senses with the foul gangrenous smell of the past.

Having called in backup, you make the decision to slip out of the back door of the caff and run for cover behind the large communal bins. The incessant rain was giving zero sign of stopping and the noise was deafening as it bounced off the metal sides and drummed upon the tarmacked surface. You could barely hear the desperate negotiations that Jasper was trying to make for the lives of these poor, exploited humans.

From here, hiding amongst the shadows, you could catch the eye of one of the kneeling men and signal to him as to when he should try to make a run over to you. He’d reached his little finger out to the person to his right to alert them to the plan. Achingly slowly, tiny gestures had passed down the line of five remaining fellows, from person to person, notifying them of your presence and how you were attempting to save them.

You counted them down and then screamed for them to run. Gunshots rang throughout the air as they made a break for the supposed safety of the bins by you as blue lights and sirens swirled, announcing their arrival between the shipping containers. You counted them as they ran for their lives past you.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

But the gunshots…

Jasper.

As you ran to your former partner’s lifeless form, three more shots rang through the air, taking out the associates who’d been ruthlessly gunning down their illegal chattel. Jasper lay there in the harsh headlight of the armed response unit car, his apron and chef’s jacket were no longer the starchy white that glowed under the strip lighting of the kitchen but his skin had taken on a similar pallid tone as his life force pooled around him, staining the oily surface with a bloody bloom. Knelt there with the grit from the floor biting into the skin of your knees, you held his head in your lap, stroking his cold cheek as a shadow cast across you both.

“He’s gone, Nush.”

Tears course down your face in tiny rivulets and spill into Élodie’s hair, “If I had said yes at Fourvière. If I had accepted the position St Vincent had offered me, he’d still be here. He would still be here.”

After putting a hand on each cheek, Élodie then taps you upon the nose making your red-rimmed, watery eyes look into hers, “You didn’t shoot the gun. You didn’t kill him,” she says so matter of fact that you almost feel an inclination to believe her, “You have to stop blaming yourself at some point.”

“He made the decision to go out there without back up or any protection. If I remember correctly, it was Jas’ decision to head back to London too, effectively ending the freedom you had out here,” she adds gravely, “Everyone has to make decisions, Nush. Ours just tend to have more life or death outcomes and remember, the choice you made- you saved five people.

“As for marrying him, you didn’t want to and I don’t know quite how to clearly say this but you don’t have to marry someone because they ask you. Or because you think it’s the right thing to do. You saying no to him, had zero implications in how his life ended,” Élodie smooths a tendril of hair that has escaped your plait behind your ear, “Your relationship didn’t have a true balance because you spent so long trying to hide it- everything feels so much more amplified if you are constantly watching your coattails.”

Rubbing the exhaustion from the onslaught of emotions from your eyes, you turn to face Élodie, “What if that’s it? What if that was my chance of happiness?”

“Okay so you’re now fully in the ridiculous territory, idiot! So bloody naive,” Élodie rolls her eyes and slaps your knee, “ There’s no one person out there- nobody is perfect for you. There are just people who enter your life at different times and there is a certain compatibility…”

“Like you might want to jump their bones,” you giggle through the snot.

“Yep, that definitely helps! But after a while, other stuff comes up and again, you have to make those decisions whether you want to move to the next one or work at the relationship you have,” Élodie says frankly, “ Your first proper grown up relationship wasn’t ever truly allowed to develop into something normal and healthy but please don’t ever think for a second that is all you deserve or will ever get.”

“More happened than just Jasper’s death,” you confide in your ally.

“I know sweetheart. You tell me when you are ready,” Élodie pats your leg, “You will always have Jacques and I here for you. And I reckon Pierre would take you back in a heartbeat if you ever need to escape Marcus, not that I think you will.” You feel a little confused by Élodie’s last statement but don’t have time to swell upon it as the door to the auction house swings open.

Noticing two figures- one wiry and talking rapidly with his hands, the other broad and showing great interest in what the other has to say- walking towards you, you offer Élodie a hand up from your pavement seat. You feel a gentle hand brushing over your bottom and crane your neck to see who it belongs to, “Well, I’d hate for you to make my car any dirtier,” Élodie winks at you.

✪✪✪✪✪

The trip back to Lyon didn’t allow for any more rest for tired eyes against cool car windows. Excited chatter filled the car as between the four of you, you were all busily beavering away from making shouted calls to the science laboratories in Interpol- calling in favours to get your samples tested first- to fingers tapping on screens, flinging emails back to offices trying to inform everyone who needed to know. Although the journey was far longer, it felt as though five minutes had passed from the moment you’d left the auction house- the exhaustion from your disclosure to Élodie giving way to the adrenaline pumping through your veins with the excitement of having found a piece of the puzzle.

Jacques quickly parks in the Interpol car park, where you all pile out of the car, heading back towards the offices. As you walk together, you hear Marcus answer the phone to Andy back in London, filling him in on the events of the day- thankfully leaving out the parts where he’d talked you through a panic attack or accidentally held hands with him.

You didn’t need anyone else in the London offices thinking you were unprofessional. There were enough of those already.

Marcus. So much of the fear has ebbed away about the new role, and in such little time, thanks to your new boss. This straight-speaking American, who makes you speak up and want to stand up a bit taller. For the first time in what felt like forever, work doesn’t feel like a chore to pay the bills for a small, damp flat in South London. It isn’t so much the work as you know that like the back of your hand- it was that feeling of appreciation.

That feeling that someone sees what you can offer and values your contributions- not just as some rookie in an established office but as an equal. You know you are lucky- you get to use all the knowledge from your art history degree (oh how your family had groaned in consternation- doctor or lawyer- those were the proper options. Y’know, a proper career path not something seen as being so wishy-washy) and use it to protect the beauty of art from the shadier underbelly. Not that you could ever explain that part to your mum or her sisters, who just thought you were in some IT job with ridiculous hours.

In fact, it was the first time. You’d worked your way up from being a rookie with Stephens and although you'd got to work in a field with which you had a borderline obsession, you were still always seen as the new kid, even though others came and went after you’d joined and that got a bit wearing, especially when you’d hit your thirties and as you edged ever closer to your forties, it had bordered on the ridiculous.

But Marcus. He didn’t just listen to what you had to say, he positively encouraged you to speak- never expecting you to hold your tongue or wait for the “grown ups” to stop talking.

“Hey, Earth to Anushka,” those ridiculously warm eyes try to call your attention into focus.

“Sorry, heard you on the phone to Andy and took the opportunity to disappear with my thoughts for a bit. It’s been a bit of a day, hasn’t it?” you mutter as the knuckles of your hands almost rub holes in your eye sockets.

“Yeah, I thought we’d find zip on our first check as a team but that was something else,” Marcus nods, pouting his lips in thought, “I honestly thought it was an authentic piece when I found those signatures- just shows how careful we have to be with these crooks.

“You look about ready to collapse- that sleep on the way over, not help? I was about to ask if you fancied grabbing some dinner together but you’re dead on your feet.”

“Didn’t really get much sleep last night. Was kind of dreading what today would bring but,” your hand extends to squeeze Marcus’ forearm, “But you’ve made today far less painful than it could have been.” You feel a warmth creep through you, blooming from the spot where Marcus has placed his hand on top of yours, his thumb unconsciously tracing small circles upon your skin.

“How about a slow walk back to the hotel, we grab some pizza on the way back and sit and watch Sharknado 4 this evening?” you suggest, still not removing your hand from his arm, ”I need to eat something other than breakfast pastries today.”

“Hmmm, I would say that dinner is the best time for breakfast food but yeah, probably best that we find something a bit more substantial,” Marcus relents reluctantly like a petulant child as Élodie and Jacques turn towards you both.

“Oh, why the sad eyes, Marcus? Has she been mean to you? ” Élodie teases, “We have contacts- we can make her disappear…”

Jacques shoots you a despairing look from under his arched eyebrow. The aching sadness returns in your tummy- you’ve missed them so much and missed out on so many special moments with them, “Oof, hey Nush! This isn’t goodbye- no matter the threats Élodie makes upon your life!”

Élodie leans in to sandwich you between the pair of them, “No, Marcus has given me your phone number and your email address- and he has promised me that even if you don’t respond to my communications, that he will send regular updates.” You look over at Marcus, who sends you a sheepish grin and a slight shrug of his shoulders, flashing that goddamn dimple in his right cheek.

“Élodie, are you going upstairs to get everything ready?” Jacques questions his wife, “ There’s only twenty minutes before I need to pick up Xavier from my parents so I’d probably better head off. Can you grab a taxi home afterwards? Nush, I love you and I will see you soon.

“Marcus, it has been a pleasure. I will ensure that all the details are shared with you in London. Let’s keep the lines of communication open between us, oui?” A firm handshake was not the only thing to pass between the men, as Jacques pats Marcus on the back and they wordlessly share a thought, Marcus’ eyes flickering back to you with a small smile.

“Come on, let’s find food and a film before we collapse,” Marcus beckons you towards him with a wave back to Élodie and Jacques before they head off in their respective directions, Élodie’s hand stroking yours as she walks away.

✪✪✪✪✪

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing barefoot outside Marcus’ hotel room door, oddly nervous about knocking. Your hair hangs in waves around your shoulders, still holding some of the twisted kinks that the plaits you wore it in had formed over the course of the day, face scrubbed but you are second guessing your choice of wearing pjs to your new boss’ room. Not that they were in any way indecent- just a good old pair of cotton jammies from M&S and you’d kept your bra on underneath, because not even the worst war criminal deserves to be tortured by the sight of you with your bra off. Just as you were about to head back for a hoodie to perhaps offer an ounce more decency, the door swung open and a slightly surprised look adorns Marcus’ face.

“Hey, I was just about to check where you were. Pizza’s getting cold and you should probably have something warm in your belly that isn’t coffee today!”

“Oh, I was just going to swing back to my room for a hoodie,” you awkwardly mutter in the direction of the deliciously soft looking man, wearing grey joggers and a white t-shirt in front of you.

A small pout crosses Marcus’ lips, “Come on, if you’re chilly, the pizza’ll warm you up but if you’re still cold after eating, you can grab one of mine- that is if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” he checks by lowering his eyes and gently lifting your chin.

Deciding not to keep the pizza waiting, you nod and shuffle past Marcus, the plush carpet deliciously soft underfoot, “I haven’t forgotten that we were halfway through a conversation this morning when El and Jacques arrived to pick us up. You want to tell me why you don’t feel like you are where you feel you should be?” you don’t look at Marcus as you ask him, picking the olives off the top of your pizza.

“I thought you said you like olives?” Marcus questions confusedly as he grabs a slice himself.

“Oh I do, but I’ll eat them afterwards as I like to savour them by themselves,” you giggle at your weird pizza eating habits, “Was that a wish to evade the question? Would you prefer to put on a film?”

“Hah, no! You’re full of quirks, y’know? It’s cute,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Cute?” you raise an eyebrow at this affectionate comment, “Eh, I dunno. I don’t think you can get to almost forty without embracing your quirks at some point.”

“I just hoped that by this point I’d be married with 2.4 kids, a dog and a nice house. Y’know, settled- never taking it for granted, obviously but comfortable with a family,” there’s a flicker of pain that passes through Marcus’ eyes as he speaks and it cuts through you like a knife.

“How on Earth are you not in a long term relationship with a lucky person? From what you’ve shown me over the past two days, you’re kind, considerate and thoughtful- although you should never tease a woman about her supposed snoring,” you pull an ugly face at him, sticking your tongue out and wrinkling your nose to diffuse the tension in his forehead, forcing him to laugh.

“Oh, I was married once and had long term relationships but neither worked out, sadly,” Marcus shrugs, focussing intently on his next pizza slice, “Can’t the same thing be said about you? You’re a beautiful, funny and intelligent woman and although you are a menace to yourself and those around you with a coffee cup in your hands, I don’t get why you haven’t been snapped up.”

Grabbing the pizza box and Marcus’ hand- pulling them both towards your room, you say, “Come with me.”

Thrusting the pizza box towards his hands, you put the keycard in the door and the light flickers to green. Guiding Marcus by the food container through the room to the balcony, you swing the French doors open to be greeted by a stiff Alpine air and the twinkling lights of Lyon spreading towards you.

“As you know from today, I was here in Lyon before. My partner and I were seconded here to work alongside Interpol on an art smuggling case- that’s how I knew El, Jacques, Pierre and everyone else from this morning’s meeting. We weren’t just work partners, we’d been hiding a romantic relationship for just over a decade in London as we knew that our supervisors wouldn’t allow us to continue to work together,” you clear your throat and see a flash of concern from Marcus seeing how much your hands were trembling.

He reaches for your hand with the lightest of touches grazing your ring and little fingers but not letting go.

Drawing a deep breath, you continue, “You see the beautiful cathedral up there- Fourviere?” you catch Marcus giving a gentle nod as he looks in the direction of your hand, the one he’s not holding, “Jasper asked me to marry him up there. And I, um… I said no.” Your eyes guiltily shift to the left after owning up to your shoddy track record.

“I mean, I did love him but I couldn’t offer him what he wanted or needed from life or from me. We’d hidden too long in the shadows and the thought of trying to explain everything to our families, to our friends, to our workplace was just too overwhelming. I had a lot more to lose than him.

“As you said earlier, our work is very much an old boys network and as a mixed race woman against a white man- who’d got his position due to a bit of nepotism as his uncle was our London boss- I stood to lose so much more. I have always had to work harder and to be a more impressive candidate to be taken as seriously as any white man in the room.”

“Had we returned to London as a married couple, there would have been so many unspoken questions about when we would think about having babies so there’d never be a chance of going any higher for me. And although seeing El and Jacques today- they have it so balanced. El was telling me that they split her maternity leave equally and that even now their baby is one, they have flexi working times so although they have such a little one and such intense jobs, they can still be there for bedtimes and neither of them be sidelined. But I know that’s not how it would have worked with us. Jas would have worked full time and I would have been a simmering pot of resentment.”

You notice that despite your confession that Marcus still hasn’t stopped holding your hand and regardless of the evening chill, warmth spreads through you at the thought that you haven’t entirely repulsed him with your actions.

“Where is he now? DId he ask for a transfer when you headed back?” Marcus gently questions.

“He took the ultimate transfer. We were working together undercover and he was shot multiple times trying to save some people from being murdered,” with a small shrug, you take your hand back from Marcus despite the comfort it is bringing you and cover your face. As you do so, he pulls you towards him, holding you tightly into his chest, resting his chin on top of your head.

With a gentle push back from his broad chest but without leaving his arms completely, you tilt your face up at him, “In fact, other than Jas’ death the bitterest pill was me being transferred out of the department. As you can probably imagine, a lot of shit went down after that night and a lot of the blame from it was laid at my door. Whilst it was all happening, I wasn’t allowed to have any contact with work colleagues and of course, your family can only know so much of what’s going on when you follow our line of work.

“So, I spent eight months in a stupid kind of limbo- being paid full whack whilst sitting at home, mourning a man who I’d been with for a quarter of my life but didn’t want to marry.” Shaking your head slowly, you continue, “That’s why I was a bit of a mess today- I kind of dreaded seeing everyone and how they might blame me for everything that happened with Jas.”

“Shit, I’m sorry sweetheart,” with that affectionate nickname confidently trickling from Marcus’ lips, you look up and smile broadly at him, “I am sorry that you went through all that. I have to be honest, as I am a terrible liar- there is a part of me that is glad that our paths have overlapped- I just wish it could be under happier circumstances.”

“No,” you pat him upon his chest, “You don’t get to our age without some kind of baggage and in our occupation, it’s hard for most people to understand our commitment to our job.”

“Hah, you can say that again- that’s what ended my marriage. That and her new partner,” you scrunch your face in consideration of Marcus’ pain, your thumbs rubbing back and forth, “And the failed engagement is what brought me to London- kept seeing her and the man she left me for around the DC offices.”

“Let’s go toast to those ghosts and our converging paths with what will be now a very warm bottle of white wine and cold pizza,” with eyes widening in amusement you smile at him, your hands still on his chest and his hands on your back, “But indoors as it is fucking freezing out here, no matter how pretty it is.”

“Agreed,” Marcus chuckles deeply, moving his hands to rub some warmth back into your arms.

“Just going to grab a hoodie,” you call over your shoulder as you go back into your bedroom. As you rummage through your bag, you miss the flicker of disappointment on Marcus’s face that he wouldn’t get to smell your perfume on his clothes.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Hey,” that beautifully soft baritone meltingly drifted up from the sofa in Marcus’ room, “Comfy now? I hope you don’t mind but I chose Casablanca instead of Sharknado 4.”

As you cross the floor in socked feet to try and thaw them out from your balcony adventure, you shake your head with a lopsided smile, “Not ok,” but to put Marcus’ raised eyebrow at ease, you add, “It’s my favourite - but you’d better have tissues at the ready as it will make me a snotty mess.”

“Already prepared,” he holds a tissue box aloft, “It does the same to me too.”

Instead of sitting at the other end of the sofa, you grab a glass of wine from the table and slide into Marcus’ side- half sitting up, half leaning against him. He reaches over, pulling your head onto his shoulder, stroking your hair away from your face and there you stay, comfortably curled into his side. Not for the hour and three quarters of the film, but until rays of spring sunshine filter through the blinds the following morning.

Tag list of glory: If you’d like to be added or dropped from the tag list or have any thoughts, thots or suggestions, please do get in touch! I don’t bite hard 🥰

@astroboots @silverwolf319 @lunaserenade @danniburgh @leonieb @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @tardisfangurl @zukoyonce @absurdthirst @green-socks @pedropascalito @disgruntledspacedad @mouthymandalorian @the-ginger-hedge-witch @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[secretsfromwholecloth]

Dragon Age: Origins (and DLCs), day 15.

Goodness, I didn’t realize Velanna would be so enthusiastic about taking the Architect’s deal.

That said, with this party? Yeah, I’m going to take it. I’m not worried about the fights, but Justice is lower-priority than Nathaniel or Velanna, and taking the deal legit gives the better endings, at least in the short to medium term.

And Nathaniel is now back up to +100 approval, where he should be. (He’s still the only one, but Velanna made it to +99 with the bump from taking the Architect’s deal.)

Velanna, what the fuck, that is entirely too many childer for you to be trying to melee. Get back here.

And it’s very sweet of you to hover directly over Isaura when she’s on the business end of a childer’s Overwhelm, but please for the love of the Maker cast those spells from somewhere safer. She’ll be unhappy if you get eaten, seriously.

Anyway, it’s Mother time. Let’s see if I can do this relatively cleanly.

Answer: Nope. Nathaniel and Velanna went down distressingly quickly, and Nathaniel was back down again before Isaura’s Revive could recharge, at which point I took it as a sign to leave them down and let Isaura and Justice try and hack their way through the childer and tentacles on their own.

Oof, Justice just went down after clearing the first wave of mooks and taking a couple of swings at the Mother. Time to use the healing tower, I think.

Nathaniel, sweetie, why are you close enough to the Mother to get physically taken down by her? Get the fuck back.

...and he’s down again. On the other hand, him being all up in the Mother’s business means that the Revive I soon had to toss Justice when he got squished also caught Nate.

You know what, sweetie, no, you’re not doing this, I’m walking you back to the Designated Ranged Fighter Area manually. Please don’t wander off again. You are an archer. Just in case you managed to forget again despite the fact that you’re currently physically shooting things.

...and she’s dead. Whew. Eat flaming death, Mother. (And what was that capital-L Look Nathaniel and Justice exchanged afterwards, anyway? “Told you so, edgelord, you can’t trust darkspawn” answered with “Told you so, dead boy, we would’ve all been dead if we’d had to fight the Architect first and then wade into that”?)

Got most of my usual endings, though I’ve never had this one for Velanna before, where she becomes moderately less mean to humans and takes several years to disappear off after Seranni. Very sweet.

And that’s that for Awakening. Next up, Witch Hunt.

I wouldn’t quite say they were besties, but Isaura and Morrigan were good enough friends that her motive for seeking Morrigan out is fairly clear.

It’s good to see you again, doggie.

Hello, Ariane. You’ll become friends with the dog in time, don’t worry.

Ooh, fourth specialization time. I waffled for a bit, but ultimately, it feels more likely that Isaura would’ve picked up shapeshifting from Morrigan than Keeper magic from Velanna; maybe a Surana would’ve had some claim on the latter, but my shem girl, not so much.

Right, yes, with a non-rogue Warden this DLC becomes Happy Fun Got No Rogue So I Can’t Open Shit Time. *sigh*

...so were the “illustrations of Templars being eaten by a fierce tiger named Ser Pounce-a-lot” added by Anders when he gave that guest lecture a few months ago, or did he recycle the name from a cat he or someone else had when he was an apprentice?

Hello, Finn. *sigh*

So many opportunities in this series to rag on the supposed incompetence of the Dalish at preserving and reclaiming their history. I am discomfort.

You know, the “actually, I, a dominant-culture person, am the real heir to your ancestors’ legacy, and you don’t count because Reasons” thing touches me in real life, in some small way, so when I see it in DA, I start screeching demonically.

*screech*

Heh, some of the things I’m encountering in the repository are a lot more meaningful now that I’ve played through the Magi origin.

Yeah, I’m sure the apprentices’ phylacteries are somewhere more secure now after that business with Jowan.

This DLC sure loves callbacks, doesn’t it? Just in general.

Wall-to-wall witty sniping, fun fun fun.

The lighting in here makes Morrigan look like she’s wearing a giant Fruit Roll-Up around her tits.

And that’s over, whew. A picture of the baby as per SOP, and then on to DA2!

(I swear I didn’t push the eye size slider up. Not deliberately, anyway.)

[bubblymiracles]

((meta canon meta canon meta canon :3c

oof 3 topics …

Clown religion? Clown religion. Or: Gamzee is no proper clown!

Gamzee’s relationship to his faith is … Rocky and not very stable, in a sense. He used to be a little faithful follower of the cult, back on Alternia. Or better put, a faithful follower of the idea of belonging to something. He didn’t know a lot about it - it being a rare cult with few open accessible resources, Gamzee never having met any living troll face to face until he got sucked into the game, him being too high to really care to learn more most of the time … many reasons.

During his time alone on his comet, he lost touch with this. He understood that he actually doesn’t know anything and blamed the crash he had after seeing this video sent by Dave for the death of his friends. He picked it up again after coming together with Tavros and seeing sense in things again. Feeling like there was a higher force - that he knows literally exists - that was partly reason for his way of life so far, helped a little to just … accept everything and not get lost in endless, “what if” loops about the past. Also, it helps to be able to hide behind the paint and feel like a part of something. Something that might not really exist anymore, but he feels not alone as much simply by putting on the paint.

During their travels Gamzee lost his scars and since then the paint also became a way to express himself, by painting those scars back into his face [so he doesn’t snap one day, takes a knife and carves them back into his face].All of this is pretty amusing if one takes into consideration that he literally met a godtiered Calliope that created their planet. To Gamzee, she, and the Lord out there that still haunts anything that’s connected to the game, are gods. The new Beginning and the End, Creation and Destruction. Both is needed and both got their place in his view of the world.

This is where it comes to a loop for this character too. Based on what he knows, what he experienced and witnessed, he made kind of his own branch of the clown religion. He might not know a lot about the original clown cult but …

(full size: https://64.media.tumblr.com/76f9d5179c0bbfed80d3698b7b8c4f44/2b0317a30343d411-da/s2048x3072/41185c3d3e8f92baa324bfe1321c0dbfe365e331.png)

(I as mun avoid him having discussions about what is the “right” belief or however one wants to call it … it’s all fanon at best and I don’t want more insecurities based on someone having another imagination.Also, I miss that Karkat a lot and am SO sad that these convos had to be retconned …)

Gamzee … and their goats

This one is shorter, promised. Those that visited them might know this.They have two goats: Cinnamon and Sugarpep. They were gifted them by Artifex (geminidoomed) at a young age for the sake of producing milk some day … and quickly became Gamzee’s pets. He spoiled them to no end. With his highblood strength he carries them around a lot, sometimes under one arm, and then just shoves them at others like, “here, hold a goat, it’s good for u” … and doesn’t consider that they are not cute and very light snuggle-buddies for everyone. He thoughtless literally blocked people into sitting at the fire longer by putting a full grown goat into their lap, which then spoiled thinking they’re a pet dog curled up against them for pets.Sometimes he just like … honks and bleats with them, but he can’t actually communicate with them. Though, with the help of Tavros’ communer abilities they trained them to react to certain calls, e.g. to make them come to the source of the call to be safe.

Gamzee’s tendency to smear quads

Emotions are complicated. Very complicated. Even more complicated when you flipped from pale to flushed and then continued for a sweep to pile your flushmate because both of you need it. It results in connecting actions to the wrong responses …Even even more complicated, when you let your body be used in hopes to gain some kind of emotional bond so someone in exchange. (When you’d let everything be done to your body for the sake of feeling wanted and needed.)That aside, Gamzee is a mess regarding quadrants. One day the mess with Tavros might be sorted out. Someday he might not have confused reactions anymore. And yet … I start to doubt that this boy will be able to have proper and clear quads. His pitch is way too much just “aggressive caring and I force-feed you if needed”. His pale is way too much “kick my ass when I fail to act healthy and let me snarl at you, beat you up so I can start to face my anger issues”— HEY WAIT NO. Kidding you, I already know it. He’s looking for a pink spade and it won’t end well, so yeah.Anything around Gamzee and romance is a big mess of smearing. 

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

🌙 for Abjid???

🌙 If your OC could have one wish come true what would it be and why? Would there be consequences to this wish or would they regret it once they get what they want? What would they give in return for this wish to come true?

Oof, here’s the thing About d&d and da Abjid, they really don’t have any wishes. Bcuz of that I’ll go further into talking about that lack of wishes. I broke down in a meta post about D&D Abjid their lack of motivation/desires/feelings:

abjid is an interesting character wrt being someone who doesn’t want to hurt people or kill people, but hasn’t had much of a choice and has ended up hurting people anyways. they could handle that a few ways, they could try to change something, fist-fight god and take back control, but instead, they end up isolating themselves for years as a way to keep other people safe and to stew in their own self-hatred. They tried many times to fight back but after failing so many times they’re so beaten and worn down all they can summon is apathy, they don’t have the energy to keep fighting. They’re not someone who’s evil, or who wants to do bad, but someone who doesn’t feel like a person anymore, they just feel like a weapon, a pawn.

it’s also interesting given their own view of who they are in regards to morality. They know they did something bad, but they don’t have the context of their own actions or decisions. They don’t know if they were justified in their actions, if there was a complex reason behind them, or if they did a bad thing for the sake of being bad. They don’t know what they are, they think they’re a bad person but they don’t know anything for sure. They’re very neutrally aligned because they very much just go along with whatever, unsure that they really have a free will and always just following whatever someone else does.

Abjid truly doesn’t have any wishes, any long term motivations. Originally they wanted to personally drag the people who sacrificed them, but over the years it’s been hard to hold on to. It’s not just that they’re afraid of admitting they have desires (which they are) but that all desire has long since been beaten out of them. They’re tired, they’re worn out, and they’ve given up on being a person.

For DA Abjid, they have a lot of similar apathy, though because of more good influences and less isolation, they’re in a slightly better place. Ideally, Abjid would like the Templars and the Circles not to exist anymore so they could live with their husband and their clan without endangering either. But they’ve really just accepted that’s not gonna happen, and even if it does, some other shit’s gonna happen. 

But in the DA Verse Abjid also has to deal with the fact that they’re infamous, or at least their story is. And because of that and how it’s overshadowed them, they’ve similarly given up on being seen as a person. Which is kinda summed up in a banter piece I had laying around for Abjid in DA:O Awakening

I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m dead and don’t exist on levels except physical. But as mortals, we are often doomed to… whatever the opposite of solipsism is. How do we know we exist outside of how others react to us? If nobody cares or remembers about us then do we really exist? Reality is whatever we make it, and it has made so I am a no longer person. I am nothing more than a ghost, a forgotten rumor, a scary story to frighten children with.

As well as from my Anders and Abjid fic:

“I can’t believe all the Templar’s stories about you are true,” 

Abjid had shrugged, “That’s fair. Templar’s tell stories of the blood mage who was possessed and killed Templars and innocents. Mages tell of some lucky bastard who managed to escape the Circle after being locked in solitary. Other people will say I was just some poor soul that a demon took advantage of.”

“And? What’s the truth?” Anders asked.

They were quiet for a moment, face impassive as they ran their fingers over the grooves of their staff.

“None of them. At the end of the day, I’m just a person.”

More or less, they’re just a person, but Abjid is a story, and Savitri is a forgotten rumour. They have separated who they are from these stories, but outside of those stories they don’t really exist. The stories exist because they’re repeated, shared, passed on, but they as a person don’t exist comparatively. It’s a weird and kinda layered and complicated view that isn’t entirely logical, but nonetheless it’s Abjid’s view. 

Overall Abjid doesn’t have any wishes, because they’ve never thought ahead in their life, they’re living moment to moment, desire has been beaten out of them, and they struggle to view themselves as a person.

Idk if any of this is coherent but honestly? Nothing about Abjid is entirely coherent.

[survivor-mountmerapi]

Ep. 8: “This isn't really my drama” - Anastasia

Elle

Me getting votes in the first post-merge tribal? We absolutely hate to see it folks!! I feel like I'm being so pessimistic about my chances in this game but also like... shouldn't I be 😂😂 God I hope those two votes were Julia and Pietro (but still like, r00d. lol) I have a 10% DA in this next challenge... I'll be Frank [-but then who will be Elle?] Things aren't looking amazing for me but I don't think I'll go home next round (unless Julia has another idol 😭😭😭). I don't even know what to say I'm just bad at thisss 😅 I mean the game not confessionals I've been leaving my heart and soul in these lol. Anyway I'm gone for now I'll just leave with this: Liability is the best song off of Melodrama not Ribs mmk bye ✌🏽✨

DeNara

Oh my gosh, that tribal!!! When Raffy pulled the idol I was like.... what the heck is happening?!?! I can understand Raffy playing it because he wasn't solid with the other warriors and newbies voting with him, but it was a waste of an idol. TBH I am glad he played it though since I didn't know he had it. I felt bad that Pietro went home just because he was aligned with Julia, but it happens. I had to try and do some damage control with Moth and Elle, as well as Rachel after tribal. They were shook when Julia pulled an idol and Pietro got votes. Anastasia just out right told me the magic beans she got at the auction allowed her to see if people have idols and said she would use it for me (I think she said this to everyone). I don't think Elle, Moth or Rachel suspect me playing both sides hard, but who knows. I really don't know who I should work with. I was thinking about making a big move and flipping to my new "Lucky Charms" alliance with Moth, Elle, Ginnifer, Rachel and potentially Julia, but it could be too early for that. The sad thing is I want to work with Rachel and Elle for sure but they aren't in my core alliance. I am suspicious of Gian because he seems to be playing pretty hard and he isn't aligned to me much. Madi and I don't talk much so that gets me worried as well. Raffy is super fun, but he is a big threat in this game. I honestly think it is just Steven keeping me with that group because he is my #1 in this game. I honestly am finding it hard to figure out who I want to work with because I like everyone in this game!!!!! I just can't get caught in the middle or I am hecked.

Raffy

The plan went off without a hitch. I did waste an idol, but now no one can say that I have one. I am considering telling my alliance that I have the "Safety Without Power" so that they don't have any reason to distrust me. It might have hit a sour note with them to find out I had an idol that I didn't tell them about. Gian didn't seem to mind, but most people put on an act in this game. It would be a hard decision, however, since they can easily use that against me at the next tribal. I hope that neither Julia nor Ginnifer win immunity. Julia speaks for itself. I am targeting her, and I want her gone. However, Ginnifer has now alarm bells ringing in my ear. DeNara told Steven and I that Ginnifer wants us GONE. Like, Ginnifer is on some sort of vendetta mission to take us out. While we don't have the exact reasoning, we can assume that she is targeting us for simply being winners. She seems to think that we think we're master manipulators and puppet masters who need to be brought down a peg. Here's the thing with that kind of logic though. It isn't going to work with people who don't care about us being winners. My allies don't care, and they are even ratting on you to me. I love DeNara. She's a great ally. I told Steven that maybe we should reconsider our target and make it Ginnifer. He seems down, but he doubts there would be numbers (as do I). Speaking of numbers, I need to be way more social than I already am. I don't have as much social capital as Steven or Madi or DeNara. So, I am going to start with the people who are probably near the bottom of people's ally list or are considered non-factors: Elle, Moth, and Anastasia. If I get in good with them, I can gain some solid numbers. Moth and Elle had no idea about the split, so I had to do some damage control. Whether that worked... I have no idea. However, I need to be more transparent with them so that I can gain their trust for future tribals. Plus, I am pretty sure that Elle has an idol.

Julia

BITCHES THOUGHT I WAS DOWN AND OUT FOR THE COUNT. Found another idol baby. I’m basically Rick devens. Anastasia is going to use her stupid magic beans on me again though but I simple don’t care. Let them know I have an idol great. Then they’re going to have to figure out who they want to vote for instead, which will create massive cracks for me to work around. I love this

Ginny

Since I went to exile I was safe from a tribal council on the first round of merge then when I got back I saw pietro was voted off in a chaotic tribal council but I’m in many different alliances but I’m choosing the original warriors alliance because warriors strong duh

Raffy

I did not win this immunity challenge which sucks. I think I might want to use my SWP because if I don't then I'm just going to be a target everyone wants for now. And I want to at least make single digits. I told my alliance of Gian, Madi, DeNara, and Steven about my SWP to gain their trust after not telling them about my idol. And if I do plan to use it this round, it doesn't hurt to tell them about to plan around this. I've been focusing a lot more on socializing, so we'll see if it garners me any favor to not be voted out. Julia has tried reaching out. I think I want to get her to target Ginnifer since the latter is coming after me.

DeNara

Heck ya, I may win individual immunity today! I find out soon if I will be competing in a tie breaker challenge to see if I win. I sure hope I do, I would feel great!

DeNara

I am playing the middle so hard right now I may end up getting voted out because of it... oof

Raffy

The vote should be unanimously Julia. I threw Ginnifer under the bus to Julia so that... she doesn't vote for me. Though, I doubt she has an idol. Plus, if she does, we are going to ask Anastasia to play a bean on her to see if she does. DeNara told me about an alliance with Ginnifer, Elle, Moth, Rachel, and herself. Apparently, Rachel is getting suspicious of Gian and Madi because they didn't tell her about the split vote. This works in my favor as it splits the newbie tribe a little bit because Gian and Madi seemed very pressed about it. This will sow the seeds of implosion for the newbies. The planned boot order would be Julia then Ginnifer. Apparently, Ginnifer, Elle, and Moth are a trio (but Ginnifer is the only person who cares about it). I'm not too concerned, but I am going to keep an eye on Rachel too now.

Ginny

Since I went to exile I was safe from a tribal council on the first round of merge then when I got back I saw pietro was voted off in a chaotic tribal council but I’m in many different alliances but I’m choosing the original warriors alliance because warriors strong duh

Julia

I miss Pietro so much, it’s so fun deciding which person to send to jury with him tonight

Julia

GOD THIS IS FUN. Bitches being saying straight up in the tribe chat, oh I’m voting for Julia. Hwuxixkejwor this is actually so funny. I’m idoling elles ass out tonight and feeling absolutely no remorse

Elle

Not Julia coming for me within an inch of my life and then denying it 💀💀💀.

Moth

Holy fuck

I literally leave for 20 minutes and suddenly people are arguing and demanding tribal happens now Like noooooooo I hate this so much I need to do an exam in 20 minutes

DeNara

What in the actual F is happening. All I was doing was trying to get ready for work and Julia just full on started calling everyone out. Apparently Rachel tried to make an alliance with Julia and included me in on it, then Julia sent that to Raffy. So I had to try and do damage control and try and get Rachel to stop talking to Julia. THEN apparently Julia tried to frame Elle as trying to plot against Ginny which isnt true and now EVERYBODY is fighting in the tribe chat. Like this is so crazy rn. I just hope me playing the middle doesn't heck me over. I may need to ditch one side to save my game.... rip me

Anastasia

This isn't really my drama. I am a spectator and my name is out of peoples mouths which is perfect. I really don't understand what just happened. Like I saw Julias and Ginnys texts but I don't understand what it means lol. I will probably quietly ask around what people thought of it and vote with them as to lay low and stuff. Don't worry, I am going to plan to get someone threatening out soon. I'm still new at this and I'm learning everyday what to say and what not to say. But hopefully I can try to convince people to get out my target (raffy) next round. He really needs to go because he dominated the last org. He is too good at this game and if people ignore that he literally won half of the challenges and the entire game last org they are dumb. Luckily we have Rachel that keeps winning immunity so none of the actual targets get it. But of course, this is a concern. Rachel might have to go at some point sadly.

Julia

https://youtu.be/8EPTKjTqKFQ

Elle

Okay... so today I decided to pop off a bit (may be related to me being a little Done with irl stuff but that's not what this is about lol). Ginny came into our alliance with Moth DeNara and Rachel (we have another one without Rachel bc she's kinda on Julia's side/helped kick James off/p sure she knew what Anastasia's beans did and lied to us so she's very sus but we're keeping her close for now) and guns blazing was like "so I heard all of you were gonna vote me off" to which i was like ?? and then she said Julia told her I was a ringleader convincing everyone to vote Ginny out which. Incorrect. My now one and only goal in these games is to get Julia out and avenge James that's IT 😂 . And I have told so many people today but 👏🏽I👏🏽Am👏🏽Too👏🏽Dumb👏🏽To👏🏽Be👏🏽Conniving👏🏽. The idea that I could be a ringleader is hilarious honestly, and the idea that I would vote for anyone except Julia until she's out even more so. Anyway, I went into the tribe chat and said "So I've heard that there's a question as to who I'm voting, or who I'm endorsing, so I just want to clarify: *I'm voting for Julia* that is all ^_^" bc all I have is my word and the fact that I'm voting for Julia isn't a secret or anything lol. This got things very spicy at 11am and I'm sorry for everyone that had a class or job 😂 including me lol. me? missing an entire half of my class because survivor drama is way more interesting than typography? it's more likely than you think! We didn't end up having tribal right then and there even though I think about half of us were yelling for it 😂 (sorry again for the people at work or school idk why i woke up today and chose violence ajkjakhlalsjsj) We got on call with Julia to give us receipts but eh I don't trust it At all. Mostly because the receipts she gave weren't on the same stuff we were talking about??? Like she was calling out Raffy and Steven in them but that's not even where the convo started 😒. And nothing about how I'm this all-powerful ringleader trying to shoot someone down from my original tribe. I have to laugh. Anyway, I hope she goes tonight, if not it better be me bc this is getting 🎶frustrating🎶 and l am a complete angel until you talk shit about me or one of my closest allies and then you better be prepared for war it's that simple 😇

Moth

Julia claims that I refuse to talk to her when she legit hasn’t even reach out at all since the swap- like o k my dude- Jesus this is nuts

Julia

Why are people so obsessed with me 🤩

They really started a whole fight with me in the tribe chat today. It’s honestly super frustrating. But I think this could be good for me maybe? I think Elle is getting idoled out tonight, and then Ginny is still here. And Ginny has proved she’s a liar and a snake and is really chaotic so maybe she’ll be seen as a liability going forward

Gian

Rachel is trying to flip. Julia & Ginny are dangerous blabber mouths. The warriors won't take out one of their own and we still barely have majority. This is getting messssssssssy.

Madi

hey hey so heres the tea rachel is being a mf snake because she feels “betrayed” bc we “lied” to her for the pietro vote but like sis..... we didn’t LIE we just left out some details also have now tried to pin onto her that she has the other idol also so much tea went down while I was at work??????? it was pretty spicy but im just happy my name was nowhere near that I hope rachel does not start working with juli bc that would truly suck but having elle and moth and anastasia as numbers for us is very very good also anastasia has kinda gone AWOL and idk how much longer we are going to be able to keep her in too much longer but thats another story for another time I am scared people are starting to murmur my name, I might just be paranoid but Idk I hope this julia vote goes well

Raffy

This morning, Elle took to the tribe chat to confirm that she is voting Julia. This is because, according to Ginnifer, Julia has been telling Ginnifer that Elle was trying to ring leader Ginnifer's vote out. Ginnifer also got in on the action by saying that Julia is a liar and trying to snake other people. As it turns out, Ginnifer might just be paranoid, but, at the end of the day, whatever makes the target on Julia bigger.

Steven

https://youtu.be/2NGxkNjrGdk

Rachel

this game is so mentally draining. even if i've won immunity, i certainly don't feel safe. julia blew up the game by telling secrets, and it hurts cause i felt like i could trust her. i hate that i'm seeing viewing this game so personally, but i feel that i have lost such an epic battle and it is so frustrating.

Elle

Still the same tribal in a little less than an hour... I feel like I went a lot wild today, sure hope it isnt enough for everyone to switch and vote me out 🤷🏽‍♀️ I very well might be next after Julia though, or that's the paranoia. Idk, I miss pre-merge when I was just playing games with friends and not going to tribal 😂. Now it feels like a Lord of the Flies or Danganropa RPG and I feel like I let the craziness get to me a little. I don't know what's gonna happen, but I don't really ever know really. I'm tired 😅 and want to maybe read some fanfic before whatever happens next (maybe I'll have a lot more time to read fanfic after this lol).

DeNara

Seems like this morning's craziness is calmed down a lot to the point of making people nervous because it is so quiet. I am hoping the plan is still to vote out Julia, but I am sad she is going. I do like her a lot as a person. Hopefully she doesn't take any of this personally!

[overeducatedandoverworked]

Accidentally On Purpose: ...Can You Even Tase An AI?

“Uhhhhh…” Darcy moaned, holding her heels in one hand and her taser in the other.  She slumped further onto Thor’s shoulder, hoping the elevator stopped soon.

Thor let out a gentle laugh, carefully shifting Jane in his arms so he could better support her.  “I suppose your Misgardian mead was a bit too strong for you this night?”

“Hey, big drinker, don’t tease me about alcohol,” she slurred, wanting nothing more than to lay down on the ground and use her purse as a pillow.  At least she still had her purse this time around.  “I lasted way longer than Jane did.  Three tequila shots and she was dead to the world.”

“Indeed,” Thor said, stepping forward as the elevator doors opened onto their floor as Darcy stumbled behind him.  “I don’t understand the convention of licking salt off someone’s body, but it is not an unpleasant experience.”

“Don’t wanna know, dude,” Darcy said with a groan, scrunching her nose at the memory of Jane licking salt out of Thor’s belly button.  That’s going into the list of ‘things I want to have blacked out of my memory by alcohol’.  Hopefully some sleep would relieve her of that mental image.

“I will escort you to your room once I have prepared Jane for sleep,” Thor said, heading into their bedroom, Jane cuddled into his (really quite nice) chest.

“No worries!” Darcy called back, taking a few steps forward and having to brace herself against the wall to keep from toppling over.  “I’ve got this!”  That was a complete and total lie, but she wasn’t about to deprive Thor of his Jane-care time.  He had such a sweet, nurturing side, one that he really didn’t get to use on Jane nearly enough.

“Oof!” Okay, she just ran into a wall.  Less thinking, more doing.

“JARVIS!” she urgently slurred, trying to keep

her voice low enough that Jane wouldn’t wake up.  “A li’l help here?”

“Of course, Miss Lewis,” the AI replied, in his beautiful, British voice.  Mmm… she needed a boyfriend with a British accent.  They were absolutely intoxicating.  He turned on the lights hidden in the sideboards that lead her to her room.

“You’re a champ, Jar,” Darcy responded, with a bit of a smile, before carefully feeling her way along the wall to her doorway.

Once she made it in, she had JARVIS turn on a few of the lights in her room, and peeled off her sparkly silver mini-dress, throwing her purse, shoes, and taser towards the nearest wall.  Her hand slipped, though, and she could have sworn that the taser was on when it collided with the power socket.  She gasped, falling backwards onto her bed, and the lights flickered a few times before returning to normal.

She hesitantly picked up her taser, but it was all out of juice.  Huh, she’d have to charge it in the morning before she left the tower.  She looked between it and the bed, trying to decide what to do.

Nope, she was way too drunk for this.  She’d deal in the morning.  She crawled into bed without changing, and managed to mumble “JARVIS, lights off,” right before she became dead to the world.

Of all the terrible things to happen in the morning, being awakened at seven am by your boss yelling about a mandatory, emergency meeting in twenty minutes was definitely the worse.  Especially with a hangover.  Oh good Thor, had she really forgotten to lay out the water and pain meds?  Her tongue tasted like she’d licked a metal pole, and her head was about to explode.  She groggily turned on her light, before hissing at the pain that it caused.  “JARVIS, for the love of Thor, please dim the light!”

To her utter relief, he did, although without the usual sassy comment about alcohol inhibition.  She grabbed the first clean clothes that she touched, and threw on shoes, glasses, and a hat before stumbling into the elevator with a bottle of water from her fridge.  She groaned when the elevator opened, cursing the loud noise and the fact that she couldn’t find her giant sunglasses that fit over her normal ones.  Stupid eyes, with their stupid nearsightedness and stupid needs.  Who let eyes error out, anyways?  Humanity in general should fix that, just for her.  Maybe Tony would figure it out someday.  Or maybe Bruce.

She managed to stagger her way into the meeting room, where the table was set up with, thank Thor, coffee already made up.  She grabbed a cup and curled into her chair, slowly peaking around the room, trying not to let the light make her head hammer any harder than the rock drummer in her brain was already pounding.

Naturally, Tony was at the head of the table, although he looked like a semi-truck had run him over.  Then backed up.  Then ran him over again.  If it was possible, he looked to be in even worse shape than Jane, who was leaning on Thor’s shoulder, sunglasses on and coffee in hand.  Knowing her, it’d taken Thor dragging her out of bed to be down here, and even now she was whimpering softly.  Clint was also in the corner of the room, the dark circles under his eyes in juxtaposition with his upright stance.  Must be a superhero thing.

Naturally, the rest of the Avengers looked to be wide awake and perky.  Natasha was chatting intently with Bruce, both of whom seemed to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.  Darcy couldn’t help but smirk at her own joke.  And even though Captain Underpa—Steve (damn Tony’s nicknames!) was in sweaty workout clothes, he was still sitting with a cup of coffee and better posture than she’d ever had.

All in all, it seemed like a pretty normal morning, if one that started far too early.  There just seemed like something was missing.  Wait a minute…

“Tony?” Darcy croaked out, her vocal cords still rusty from disuse, “Why isn’t JARVIS calling the meeting?”

Tony looked at her, and the spark in his eye seemed to intensify.  He slammed his fist onto the table, and the sound made every conversation in the room stop, along with causing the drummer in her head to start a new solo album.  She saw Jane whimper across the table, and even Tony winced.

“Let me explain in quiet, for the walking hungover among us,” he oh-so-generously stated, making Darcy consider kissing him if it wouldn’t lead to so very, very many terrible consequences.  Like getting fired.  Bad brain, back on track!  She focused on Tony’s voice in time to catch him say, “I noticed this morning that JARVIS was a bit… off.  JARVIS, would you like to explain it yourself?”

“Nah thanks, partner,” JARVIS said in… is that a Texan accent?  His robotic voice had gone from the pleasant, soothing lullaby that the Brits did so well to a gruff drawl.  She saw the others were confused, too.  She took another sip of her coffee, because if the Avengers were baffled, this was a problem she really needed to be caffeinated for.

“This is particularly bizarre,” Tony continued, “Because I never programmed JARVIS for this type of intonation.  I’ve been working on it since three, when I noticed it.  I checked his records, and the switch occurred at 2:11 this morning.  So,” he turned to look at each person at the table in turn, “who’s gonna ‘fess up?”

“I was in my room by half past eleven last night,” Bruce said, getting up to get himself another cup of tea.  “I’m sure JARVIS can pull up the recordings in my room.”

“I sure can, buccaneer,” JARVIS said, sounding almost embarrassed for himself.  Darcy raised her mug in solidarity with the AI.

“And you, Lewis?” Tony asked.  “You look like death warmed over.  How late were you out?”

Darcy pulled her hat down further as she answered, “I can’t remember what time we made it back.  It’s all pretty blurry.”

“We arrived at the tower at three minutes past two this morning!” Thor cheerfully declared, causing Darcy to sink further into her chair and Jane to let out a low moan.  Thor’s smile turned into a concerned grimace, and he leaned down to pet Jane’s forehead and, she assumed, whisper an apology.

“Sir?” JARVIS interjected, although it sounded more like ‘saa-er’ to her.  “I think I found ‘da problem.”  The AI let out what sounded pretty close to a sigh, and said, “I do here think I need to get fixed right quick.”

“What is it?” Tony asked, ignoring the way Clint and Thor were quietly laughing.

“Well, it here does say that this do-hicker was caused by an electrical overload, that originated at ‘da 86th floor, where Thor, Lewis, and Foster slept.”  He paused, and said, “I do here ‘pologize for ‘da informality.”

“We’re good, keep going,” Jane mumbled from her seemingly-unconscious position.

“So, which one of you hacked into my AI’s system and screwed with his voice?” Tony asked accusingly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands on the table as he looked from her to the others.

“I do not believe that this happened due to the interference of one of us,” Thor calmly stated, with a protective look at both her and Jane.  “By the time we reached the tower, my Jane was asleep from too much liquor, and Lady Darcy quickly left for her room.”

The lights flickered for a moment, and Darcy groaned as the memory came back to her.  She slowly raised her hand and said, “Uh, I might know what happened.”

Tony gave her a look, and motioned for her to continue.  “Well, I was putting my stuff down last night, and I think my taser was on, and hit one of the electrical sockets…”

“You tased.  My AI.”  Tony’s jaw just about dropped, and he looked up at the ceiling for conformation.

“It here-does look like ‘dis looker caused the electrical system in y’all’s floor to short-circuit, causin’ an electrical reboot ‘dat made mah system ta restart.  ‘Dat must uf made mai original Bridish accent become jarred, an’ caused it ta become ‘da accent I heard last, ‘da one on ‘da western channel Barton was watchin’.”

“JARVIS,” Clint absently said, “Your accent is thick as pea soup.”

“Thank ya kindly,” the AI replied.

“Okay, so you tased JARVIS,” Tony repeated, seemingly still in shock.  “I have no idea how you did it, but you tased JARVIS.”

“Apparently,” Darcy said, standing up to get another beautiful, precious mug of the life-giving coffee.

“Ser, it looks mighty like y’all’ll need ta do a manual reboot ta cause my systems ta run as normal.”

“In other words, turn it off and back on again?”

“That’s right, sugar plum!”

“JARVIS, stop flirting with my employees,” Tony said from where he was face-down on the table.  “Everyone, expect a small brown-out some time in the next two hours.  Meeting adjourned.”

Fortunately, between Bruce and Tony, JARVIS’s voice was back to normal by the time her hangover was over.  Still, Darcy was pretty sure that JARVIS had forgiven her, and found at least some humor in the situation.  At least she thought so, based on the way he kept changing the music in Tony’s lab to the sound track of Oklahoma!.

(She sends a smile at the nearest security camera every time Tony flinches upon hearing a southern accent.)

(Tony keeps twitching for the next two months.)