#it's not just the threat of deadlines looming

[surrender-souls]

one thing they don’t tell you about adhd is the endless torment

#i have a paper due monday and im really having a bad time #:( you know ever since i started high school the deadline threat stopped pushing me to get stuff done #like i used to be able to finish it even at the last moment. now i just want to finish it but i cant #my fear gets in the way of my work too. the looming feeling distracts me #i speak

[deception-united]

Back again for more writing advice. How dos one write game seven moments? Like there's no second chances if you fail. You screw this up the major villain wins. How do I make the audience feel the tension emphasize the tension and stakes?

Thanks for asking! Here are some techniques you can use to achieve that:

Foreshadowing: Hint at the consequences of failure early on in the story. Drop subtle clues about what could happen if the protagonist doesn't succeed. This builds anticipation and dread in the reader's mind.

Character Investment: Ensure that the audience is deeply invested in the protagonist's journey and the outcome of the conflict. Develop relatable and sympathetic characters whose success or failure truly matters to the audience.

Raise the Stakes: Continuously raise the stakes throughout the story, making it clear that failure is not an option. Highlight what's at risk if the protagonist doesn't succeed, whether it's the safety of loved ones, the fate of the world, or the protagonist's own life.

Intense Descriptions: Use vivid and descriptive language to immerse the audience in the moment. Describe the tension in the air, the sweat on the protagonist's brow, the palpable fear of the looming threat. Make the audience feel like they're right there alongside the protagonist, facing the same dire circumstances.

Time Pressure: Create a sense of urgency by imposing time constraints on the protagonist. Make it clear that there's a deadline looming, adding an extra layer of tension as the clock ticks down.

Confrontation: Build anticipation leading up to the climactic confrontation between the protagonist and the villain. Use short, punchy sentences and quick pacing to reflect the frenetic energy of the moment.

Emotional Arcs: Show the emotional toll that the pressure and stakes are taking on the protagonist and other characters. Let the audience see their doubts, fears, and vulnerabilities, as well as their determination to overcome them.

Twists and Turns: Keep the readers on the edge of their seats by introducing unexpected twists and turns in the plot. Just when they think they know how things will play out, throw in a curveball that raises the stakes even higher.

Sensory Details: Engage the reader's senses by including sensory details that evoke the atmosphere of the scene. Describe the sights, sounds, smells, and sensations that surround the characters, intensifying the reader's immersion in the moment.

Resolution: Finally, deliver a satisfying resolution that pays off the tension and stakes you've built throughout the story. Whether the protagonist succeeds or fails, make sure the outcome feels earned and emotionally resonant.

Hope this helped! ❤

#ask #writeblr #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing resources #creative writing

[grapejuicegay]

A... rather personal defense of Pran

I've seen a lot of people being confused about Pran's behaviour and rather upset by him. But like @waitmyturtles said in their review, "I see Pran dealing with something really complicated." Which, yes. That's what this post is about. I just don't think it's about Singapore.

It's about Pran's OCD. I think there was a consensus last week with the way Pran talked about it that it was a recent diagnosis. And I think this episode just confirmed that for me.

This is where the personal part begins - I was diagnosed with OCD in 2020, in the very first few months of covid. When I told people about it I got about the same response that we had to Pran - it's not surprising but it's good that it's an official diagnosis now.

Such a diagnosis is almost a relief when you get it because suddenly a lot of things start making sense. But it also comes with a very fun challenge - learning to deal with it. Because while you understand why you get so much more anxious and overthink more than most people, you're also suddenly more aware of your thought patterns. You have to be, to find a way to work through them, to not give into the intrusive thoughts. But looking at the intrusive thoughts is one of the best ways to let them take over. You do have to look at them though, because you have to learn to recognise them. Because you cannot deal with them until you do. It's a rough cycle.

I was a few years older than Pran when I was diagnosed, and in a very different place in my life. The pandemic that we didn't know a lot about at that time looming over our heads did not help my anxiety, but the lockdown gave me something really special - time and space to work through it all. I wasn't in college so I didn't have the constant looming threat of deadlines and figuring out my future in that very moment. I also didn't have the very unique set of stressors Pran lives with - friends and family from whom you're hiding a relationship that if revealed could potentially lead to very severe consequences, consequences that in the past have been the worst of his anxieties come to life. Nor a relationship to maintain while being overtly aware at all times that this is not the kind of relationship your partner would really want, that they're only in this because of you.

And there is the sacrifice of it all. There is the thing that keeps coming up again and again - that Pat does so much for him. That Pat helps him all the time, that Pat's sacrificed so much for him, that Pran isn't sure he's good enough or ever will be.

Add to that the regular reminders from Pat that he overthinks. They're meant in a very good way and they do help in the moment, I'm not denying that at all. But it's also a fact that Pran struggles with. It adds to his concern that he's a burden on Pat with the way he thinks, that Pat has to do so much work because of Pran's brain, something Pat had no say over (something Pran had no say over but it's harder to see it like that in the moment).

I've had my diagnosis for the past 3 years now. And it hasn't been until the past year that I've finally started feeling confident in myself and my ability to regulate my anxiety, to finally start feeling like I have control over my brain. Because as much as knowing the diagnosis helps, the work you have to do afterwards is no joke.

So yes, Pran is going through something very heavy, but it's not the prospect of going to Singapore (I don't believe that exists just yet, but it's coming soon). Pran is in the process of figuring out how to make his brain work in his favour instead of actively against him. He's learning to rely on people when he needs to while fighting off constant reminders that he's a burden.

And we've seen Pran make a lot of progress. Any points at which he talks about being anxious are progress. Any time he lets himself be upset is progress. Any time time he says any of his worries out loud (even if he can't say them directly to Pat yet), he has fought his way through who knows how many intrusive thoughts to get to that point. And in the same regard - he probably feels guilty about having Pat say "I can't live without you" first. Because he's likely just as aware that Pat has done so much for him that this is just another thing he's adding on top of that.

But - and I think this is very big - he knows that he needs Pat to say it first, to give him permission to feel this, that this isn't too much for him to ask for. This is him asking for help to express himself when he feels like too much. It helps them both in the long run. And I do think it's a very important step to get what we saw in ep 12 - a Pran that demands love, that demands to be babied. This is him giving himself permission through the hardest part of learning his diagnosis.

I love that we get this between ep 11 and 12 because with this ep 12 also becomes a hug, a way of telling us things may be rough for him but he gets through it. He'll get where he needs to be, wants to be. Just give him some time. Because just like with the parents, sometimes time is just what you need.

#so this is probably the most personal i have ever been and will ever be on here #but i think it needed to be said #so here it is #bad buddy #bad buddy brain rot #bad buddy series #our skyy 2 #our skyy bad buddy #i understand people being upset with him #but i think it's important to understand why he's acting the way he is #especially when you add in a pretty serious mental health diagnosis #and they are dealing with it pretty well! #i think showing the struggle is important sometimes #and at least they're showing a version of it that makes sense #it's not just a need for everything to be orderly - although that can be part of it and likely is for pran #but it never just ends there

[dbh-bb]

Do you like Detroit: Become Human? Do you enjoy creating fanworks for Detroit: Become Human? Do you love participate in fandom events despite the threat of looming deadlines?

Welcome to the 2023 Detroit: Become Human big bang event!

So what's a big bang event? How does it work?

A big bang pairs writers and artists together. Writers will create fanfictions and present a summary of their project anonymously – artists can then apply to create fanworks for the project. The matching will be done by mods to assure that everyone finds a partner.

Are there restrictions and rules for the works you can submit?

The minimum word count for this event is 10k words. For writers, the work has to be a new story, that is to say, something that has not been published prior to the event. Regarding themes and content – there are no restrictions, as long as you write a dbh fanfic. You can write gen or explore whatever pairing you like, just be transparent about the content, especially in regards to rating and potential triggers.

For fanartists, the work you create is informed by and based on the fic you were matched to.

This is a pro-ship event.

This event is intended for the entire fandom, no matter what you ship and don‘t ship. We implore you to be mindful of other's preferences, regardless how you feel about them. Be kind, don‘t harrass. A big bang is for working together, not against one another.

So… where do you sign in?

Signups open on Wednesday, March 8th.

We‘ll publish a post with the link to a form you can fill out.

Signups close for writers on March 29th and they close for artists on April 19th. A more in-depth timeline for the dates will be published soon.

If you have additional questions, feel free to message us. And if you want to spread the love - and share this post - it's highly appreciated.

#detroit become human #detroit: become human #dbh #dbhbb2023

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Before I run off to reply to comments and write for today... Can I take a second to talk about Fit's song choices last night? In particular, We'll Meet Again. Because he's always very intentional, so I'm sure he knows the history around the song.

I don't know how well known it is in America, but it's a very famous song in the UK. It was released early in the second world war and performed by a woman named Vera Lynn (known as The Forces Sweetheart, later made a Dame). It is for obvious reasons heavily associated with soliders going to war and making promises to their darlings - and also their families, promising to wait for them back.

Which... Okay you do get enough of this from the lyrics, but also in context - WW2 in the UK was conscription based. Every man 18-41 who was not exempt due to medical conditions or being in protected work (critical infrastructure design/repair, medicine, some farming and food-based jobs, etc). Those with moral or religious exemptions were required to argue their cases in court. Generally speaking, though, 'every man' is the assumption.

Certainly, a man like Fit would be required to go.

Let's say goodbye with a smile, dear Just for a while dear we must part Don't let this parting upset you I'll not forget you, sweetheart

And thus we come to my analysis of it - Fit knows he doesn't have a choice but to continue with the very dangerous mission he's been put on, and to complete it. He has his deadline, and he has his task, and he has the threats looming over him. Backing out is not an option. Staying with Pac and Ramon (and Mike and Tubbo and Phil and everyone else) is not an option. He has to leave them, and he has to comply with the demands of someone with more control than he.

But, for all he likely won't fully explain himself, he's not abandoning them. He doesn't mean to hurt them, he doesn't want them to be destroyed, he doesn't want to loose them.

We'll meet again Don't know where Don't know when But I know we'll meet again some sunny day

He's not saying goodbye forever - he knows he might die, and knows he will be irrecoverably changed - but he's not saying goodbye. He's promising he'll remember, he's promising he'll come back, he's promising this isn't the end, but also...

Fit's asking them to wait for him, to wait for his deeds to be done, to forgive him what he is being forced to do, to love each other in his stead and to be there when he returns.

It's just a question of if they will or not.

Keep smiling through Just like you always do 'Til the blue skies chase those dark clouds far away

(He could also be referencing Dr Strangelove in which it plays while a nuke wipes out humanity, but I'm supposed to be here with the copium today)

And I will just say hello To the folks that you know Tell them you won't be long They'll be happy to know That as I saw you go You were singing this song We'll meet again Don't know where Don't know when But I know we'll meet again some sunny day

#qsmp analysis #qsmp fit #qsmp fitmc #qsmp hideduo #i'm sure someone can pick apart the lyrics #if they haven't already #i was mostly just picking context and included the lyrics for half my point #I also have some thoughts on wishful thinking and the probability that if you do a lyrics dive its supposed to be pac's PoV #or rather what Fit /wishes/ Pac would say if Pac had the context #it's Fit's dreams not his reality #but in his dreams Pac promises to wait for him and Pac understands he must do what must be done #and Pac promises to look out for their family and let people know Fit's okay #that he'll be back soon #of course Pac will panic instead because Fit told him nothing #and be depressed and upset even if Ramon does his best #but... idk #the lack of a conclusion is why i left that part out

[kithj]

blood4blood was a little under two weeks of work; i really want to try and push myself to make shorter text games with strict deadlines, as opposed to my longer, more elaborate games. i was inspired to make this mainly when i saw strawberry jam, and i decided to make something that i could also submit to queer vampire jam. i set out to showcase two polar opposites of the lesbian sex experience, with a stone main character, and the added complexity of vampirism. not all-encompassing by any means, but i enjoy writing the kind of sex that i personally feel doesn't get represented properly (if at all) in more mainstream media.

i'm going to talk a bit about both blood4blood and bleeding heart under the cut

if you've read any of my other more recent work then at this point it's very obvious i love lesbian vampires. "reclaiming" feels too strong of a word, but i do like using this typically negative archetype of the lesbian vampire and giving a more nuanced depiction of it; the exploration of what society has deemed "monstrous." the fear of being predatory, the fear of hunger, desire, and sex, the potential for harm that every person carries. vampirism is very versatile as a metaphor.

i think of one of the scenes in stone butch blues, when Jess is first learning about butch/femme dynamics and sex, and Jacqueline tells her that she has the potential to make a woman feel both pleasure and pain, and knowing that, and knowing the difference, is what would make her a good lover.

i like depicting vampirism in this way. and i've ranted previously about why i dislike "ethical vampires" and this is why: because it's a metaphor!

in Bleeding Heart, Cecilia grievously harms her brother, potentially killing him, and can also kill Sawhill or Emina. yes, in the narrative she kills them, but it's not meant to be read so cut and dry.

i didn't want Sawhill (or even her brother) to be these Evil figures oppressing Cecilia, i wanted her killing Sawhill to feel kind of bad; he was misguided, but he was doing what he thought was right, and he did really love Cecilia. but it doesn't matter, because Cecilia can't love him in the way that he wants, and her telling him that, and being true to her nature, is what kills him. as someone who is still one foot in the closet myself, there's this looming threat over coming out. it can destroy relationships: with family, friends, coworkers. people will look at you differently, people may hate you, cut you off, disown you. while we live in a more accepting society now, this potential backlash and violence is still very real for a lot of people, and that's what i wanted to allude to. Sawhill is dead to Cecilia, both literally and metaphorically, because he cannot accept her.

and killing Sawhill causes a domino effect: Emina steps in to protect Cecilia, triggering the realization in her that she really is just like Cecilia. if Cecilia does not kill Sawhill, this doesn't happen, and Emina runs off, because she's not ready to face who she is in the way that Cecilia has done - Emina is trapped by Sawhill's expectations of her as his servant. Cecilia can even go so far as to kill Emina in her anger, by essentially trying to force her "out of the closet." all the while Darcy is there watching, ever present, this aspect of Cecilia that she can no longer repress.

in blood4blood, when writing Noor's route, i wanted both the player character and Noor to hold some kind of power. both can make the other feel good - both can make the other hurt. but in the end, they both lay everything out on the table, and choose to trust each other.

with Ramone, her and the pc are both butch, they are both vampires, they both feel like they have this inherent predatoriness to their desires and attraction. they've isolated themselves. but together they talk openly about what they like and don't like, and find pleasure in a way they both enjoy.

of course i could write these stories without including vampires, but i like the severity that it brings to the narrative. maybe it's dramatic, but i think it really emphasizes how dark and difficult these feelings can be for some people; it's not so easy to shrug off and ignore, it really does feel like you're cursed, that there's something wrong with you. and i like taking that and saying yes, there is something wrong with me; it will always be this way so long as society remains rigid and oppressive as it is. you know?

anyways. i love lesbian vampires 🖤

#i've been wanting to talk abt bleeding heart for a while hehe #i have so many thots abt lesbianism and vampirism and just monsters and queer identity in general #i hope my work acheives even a little of what im aiming for #my writing

[astranite]

WIP Whateversday.

I've been working on a bunch of things, none of which are yet completed. But they're getting there, bit by bit. @idontknowreallywhy Thank you for all the chats and encouragement :)

So without further ado:

From a fairly fluffy piece with Scott and John-

A thump followed by multilingual cussing out of the very concept of gravity were not uncommon sounds when John was earth side. Scott still looked up from his paper work in concern. 

John was juggling a telescope, a blanket over his shoulder and his satchel while attempting to pick up several books. Massive, heavy astronomy books splayed out on the floor around his feet.

Also Scott and John, but with some heavier topics and more angsting before the hurt/comfort. Written based on several prompts, (we haven't gotten up to that in this snippet but we will) from @smallfrysblog! They have some great whump prompts so *dramatically gestures in that direction* Also thank you for the writing chats!

Scott crept through the house, sneakers in hand, socked feet near silent on the wooden floors. He edged past his brothers’ rooms, wary in spite of the heavy sound proofing built into the walls. At Virgil’s door, he paused for a moment to listen to the soft snores from within. His Virgil, fast asleep, at home and okay. Not the set of blank brown eyes staring at him in his dreams.

Entering the comms area, Scott tensed at the silhouetted figures lined up against the wall. They loomed in stiff formation. He stumbled back, exhausted mind racing with threats, searching for cover. 

Seconds stretched out, oozing and thick as tar. His heart raced. Then logic caught up, snapping into place. 

Their portraits.

This one's been nicknamed "Scott goes to therapy and gets a hobby." Because the Recharge episode really hammered home for me that he needs something that is not IR related and is just for himself. And as a very long way round reply to @edutainer2022's bit of fic on Scott listening to Virgil ramble about art stuff, and me thinking Scott needs to have something to get excited and talk about too, then it spiralling from there. Scott centric but there shall be Virgil!

Scott was at a loss. He scraped a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. 

This should be simple. A normal person wouldn't even have to think about it. It should be an easy assignment.

But deadline was ticking closer and he still had nothing to show for it. 

Find an activity to do that wasn’t related to International Rescue, and report back in the next session, his therapist had told him. 

At the time, he’d almost laughed. Wasn’t like it was that hard. 

There were dozens of examples he could give right off the top of his head. He’d been helping Alan out with his latest school project yesterday afternoon. He ran and rock climbed regularly for his fitness. Tracy Industries paperwork kept him up the other half of his nights. John’s conference in Switzerland he’d attended to support his brother could even count towards getting out and off the Island.

The week before, he’d spent the day with Virgil and Gordon, fixing the cracked tarmac of one of the runways, where the close proximity to the sea had damaged it. The runway wasn’t even used by any of the Thunderbirds, only their Tracy series of light passenger aircraft, so it had no relevance to International Rescue whatsoever. 

See, he had plenty of things to keep him occupied without IR. 

Then his therapist had vetoed them all and specified, “Nothing related to work, or helping out your brothers either.”

Also I haven't completely forgotten about the autistic John fic from last wip Wednesday, I'm still writing it, I've just been temporarily waylayed!

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #thunderfam #wip wednesday #astrawrite

[v4n1r]

I'd like to say thank you to the @galliversary team today: Emily (@magicofthepen), Scar (@presidentromana), Leela (@trailmixtime) and Alnair (@alnair-jpg)

Hi, I'm Fred and I do the social media graphics for Pride & Politics!

I just wanted to publicly thank all four of my fellow moderators and provide some detail into how amazing this group of people is.

I’m so sorry this doesn’t make complete sense I have a lot of emotions

TW: bushfires

I'm also Australian and...well...it's been a rough start to the fires season. My state had several incredibly awful fires and one of the longest burning one (that is still burning as I type) got too close to my home. For nearly 2 weeks, I have been prepping to evacuate, so much so that I actually spent the supposed "worst day" away from the area. During this time, my mind was not on Galliversary until deadlines starting getting too close.

When it got to the point that my family and I had go-backs packed and an evacuation route planned did I cave and create an announcement banner saying, in short, "Pride & Politics information will be momentarily stopped". I had no backup plans and I would have no time to even think about a bundle announcement whilst on the road. I have an anxiety disorder and it was raging out of control to the point I didn't know what to do.

It was at that point that Emily had decided to create an emergency plan. Scar and Alnair were brought on as back up editor and graphic designer respectively. Leela would keep the group updated if I couldn't and I started to upload everything I had on my laptop so that the team wouldn't be in the dark.

Having a backup plan was amazing. I could work on banners and bundles without the looming threat of "this is all for nothing if you evacuate". Obviously, I was behind schedule, I had about two weeks worth of work to do within an incredibly short time frame.

Well, I did it, we did it (and the fire has been safely reduced too!)

Emily, if it wasn't for your keen organisation skills, I don't know where we would be right now.

Scar, you taking up the job to edit the bundles was so amazing. I cannot express how much having something shift things about helps out.

Alnair, knowing your amazing work on layout and having you ready and waiting to jump into designing graphics was incredibly. Organising such a massive project like Gallizine and then ready to take up media graphics as well? Incredible.

Leela, the fact that you've always been there to check in with me. You're a true and dear friend of mine and I'm so grateful you're there to see how I'm going. You also there for when I go "hey, does this look okay?". A simple "yes" means a thousand words and has kept my faith in my skills.

It has been a rough time and I don't think I would have been able to continue on this project that I have come to love if it wasn't for my teammates.

I can't believe we are nearly done! And I am sadly, still not out of the woods until we hit autumn or winter but, I can truly rely on your support through to the end.

Once again, thank you, all four of you.

#galliversary #gallifrey anniversary zine #bushfire

[the-last-dillpickle]

🥃 Elim Garak/Benjamin Sisko

🥃 Elim Garak/Benjamin Sisko for the rarepair ficlet game.

It was easy, as it turned out, to come up with excuses to be alone with Garak.

Ben insisted upon keeping their debriefs and other work related meetings professional—despite Garak’s hinting, he would not have sex with him in his office—but there were plenty of reasons for a station’s captain to just so happen to end up in the company of the station’s tailor-cum-intelligence contractor and no one else.

Ben would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t planned on using the senior staff dinner as another one of those excuses.

[Fic under the cut due to length.]

It was unusual for Garak to be invited along, even with his recent employ by Starfleet, but not so unusual that it would raise many brows. And, recent circumstances between them being what they were, he’d been certain that Garak would see the invitation for what it really was.

It should have been easy. Convenient.

A nice reprieve from the dark cargo bays and closed tailor's shop—admittedly, it was usually the tailor's shop—that their rushed trysts usually took place in. And while he had hosted Garak in his quarters previously, there were only so many private dinners a station's captain could have before questions would inevitably arise.

So this had seemed the perfect solution.

All they needed to do was wait until everyone else went home or had drunk enough to be sent home, and then they would have the opportunity to savor the experience.

Only, Ben hadn’t accounted for... Garak.

Garak had arrived alone, long after everyone else had arrived, wearing an off-the-shoulder top and bold blue pigments painted on his face and neck. And in case he wasn't being clear enough at projecting his intentions to the crew, he topped it off by casting sultry glances Ben’s way all throughout the evening.

It wasn’t like Garak to be so indiscreet, not without a purpose anyways. And so Ben had done the only thing he could do without starting a scene and likely playing into his hands: he ignored it.

What should have been a relaxing night, instead proved to be excruciating. He felt embarrassed for both Garak and himself every time he so much as looked at the man, and it was evident he wasn't the only one as one-by-one everyone else left, notably earlier than usual. (Ben could only be thankful that Jake had had a deadline he needed to meet for the news service, and thus had turned down dinner.) The lone exception was the presence of Doctor Bashir, who only left, giving Garak a lingering look, when the looming threat of his overnight shift had become unavoidable.

That had been more than fifteen minutes ago.

There were two wash bins set on the counter, one filled with soapy wash water and the other with clear water for rinsing. Ben worked quietly at them, taking solace in the scrubbing clean of plates and silverware. Garak had remained, ostensibly, to help with dishes, and so Ben made sure he did. Every clean dish was handed over to Garak to dry and set on the counter.

He handed another one over. Dry scaled knuckles brushed against his wet fingers, as Garak grasped the dish. Ben didn't let go.

Their eyes met.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ben asked quietly.

Garak’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “Why, I’m helping our Captain clean up after feeding the crew such a charitable dinner.”

Ben stared at him. Then he released the dish into Garak’s hands and turned with a sigh to reach for a discarded wet dish towel.

As Garak finished with the dish and set it aside in the finished pile, Ben grabbed his upper arm, avoiding the bared flesh of his shoulders, to turn him back around. Garak flinched as Sisko's hand came for his face, but instead of the fist he was apparently expecting, it was the wet press of the dish cloth, scrubbing the pigment from him like Ben used to wash a much younger Jake behind the ears.

“Why did you act like that tonight?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Garak,” Ben said, frustrated by the coquette act. He tossed the towel aside, keeping a grip on his bicep.

Garak’s fingers reached out to fiddle with the loose tie on Ben’s apron.

“Does it bother you?” he asked, eyes downcast and fixated on the string. “The idea of them knowing?”

“Yes.” As if that could even be a question. “Garak, I- We shouldn’t even be doing this. I’m in a relationship.”

Garak’s eyes returned to his. “Yes, the sublime Captain Yates who hasn’t been back to the station in more than a month. It’s perfectly normal, you know. On Cardassia, it’s practically even expected, though no one in their right mind would say it aloud.”

“And what is it, exactly, that’s expected?”

“Oh, just a certain level of frivolous companionship. The Archon with the housekeeper... The Gul with his Bajorans...”

Ben scoffed. “Is that what you think you are, Garak? My mistress?”

“Well, it’s not quite the word I would use for it.”

He tightened his grip on his bicep. “What word then? Comfort man?” he said, and then aiming to wound, “Whore?”

Garak stared back, unmoved. “A little on the nose, wouldn’t you say?”

Ben dropped his grip and turned back to the wash bin, holding onto the counter’s edge for support. “We can’t keep doing this.”

It wasn't the first time he'd said those words.

Gentle hands landed between his shoulders, pressing into the tight muscles there and kneading his flesh.

“Oh, but we can. There’s a war on, Captain. There’s no point wallowing in our personal moral failures when we could all die tomorrow. One must live”—the hands smoothed down to wrap around his ribcage and guided Ben to turn around, back against the counter—“while we still can.”

Garak's eyes were almost feverishly bright. A faint smudge of pigment remained on his forehead, smeared outside of the lines of his crest. He leaned in, long lines of ridges visibly darkening with their proximity. He was a hairsbreadth away. Breaths ghosted across Ben's lips.

Ben leaned in to kiss him.

#uhmm fuck 300 word wordcount ig. these things are as long as they need to be

[boliv-jenta]

I don't really know if this is classes as an AU or if it's counted as Joel x reader as nothing major happens between them.

I do know there is swearing and mild spoilers for The Last of Us hotel level. I haven't finished it yet so I made some of it up. I also know that @misspearly1 is to blame for my current Joel Miller feels.

More of Us

"It's a what?" Ruby the proud owner of the desk next to yours asked.

"A zombie running app. It motivates you with a zombie apocalypse survival story." Mark explained from his desk across from the two of you.

"I don't think that would work with me. I'd rather be taken by the hoard than break a sweat. What do you think?" Ruby aimed at you.

"Huh?" You pulled your head away from your work for a second.

"A running app that motivates you with a zombie survival story. You mentioned you were doing a new workout. What do you think?" She repeated.

"I think it could work. Everyone reacts differently to motivation." You certainly did. Turning your attention back to the screen, you typed away, those Phallicyte Numbers weren't going to get themselves together. Every pain in the ass account was referred to as the Phallicyte Numbers. It was much more fun to think of the looming deadlines as a time crunch before a hot vampire turned you. The threat of impending death shouldn't be an excuse not to turn in your work on time, you are a professional after all.

Clocking out for the day, you headed home. The weather was getting colder, the cosy lining of your coat kept your body warm but the cold wind bit at your hands and ears. Your winter accessories were still tucked away at home, a mistake you wouldn't make tomorrow.

A short train ride later and you finally walking through your front door. Kicking off your shoes you wriggled your toes gratefully. The office had a relaxed dress code so you always wore comfortable shoes, no matter how comfy they were they just couldn't compare to the freedom of walking around in just your socks or even better bare feet. The office dress code suited you well. There was no pressure to dress up, no hassle of finding clothes for your frame. Before your weight loss that was a nightmare. There was no pressure to wear make up, something that didn't figure very highly in your priorities when getting ready of a morning. You hair could just be left loose or simple tied back. Sometimes you think about making an effort, it'd be nice to look like one of those put together women. It did feel good when you dresses up a little for parties. That just wasn't day to day you. You didn't put a lot stock in your appearance. Unlike one of your bosses who always had to comment on your weight loss. A tight smile and a polite 'thank you' suppressed the urge to educate her that you shouldn't talk about someone weight so much. You hadn't lost weight for insincere compliments. It had been a by product of getting emotionally healthy. Fixing the part of you that dove into junk food every time something upset you. Or something needed to be celebrated. Or a day that ended in 'Y'. Having someone remind you of the struggle, was not helpful in the least. Shrugging it off, you get on with your evening plans. Showering, slipping into some comfy clothes then enjoying some sushi before your date with a tall, dark handsome man.

Popping the last Katsu chicken California roll in your mouth, you turned on the PlayStation ready for your date.

"Hi, Joel." You sighed. There he was, your date for the night. All broad shoulders, covered in plaid. He was waiting patiently in the water logged locker room you had left him in. Since you finally got over your fear of being terrified or emotionally gutted by this game, Joel had definitely won your heart. His gruff, handsome exterior that clearly held a heart of gold, had you swooning. Like your Max Phillips coping strategy in work, Joel had become your go to to get through difficult workouts. How would you be able to have his back against a Bloater if you couldn't do forty seconds of lunges? Who would help him protect Ellie if you got injured because you skipped your stretching routine? If you keep to your workouts and focus on getting yourself healthy all round, you could eventually turn your attention to getting a Joel of your own. Hopefully you wouldn't get that one killed. Repeatedly.

"Fuck." Those Stalker were creepy. You took care of them pretty easily though. There was no sign of the Bloater that you read to expect. You tried the secure door. Nothing. Ah, the generator wasn't on. Running back down you, well Joel, started it. The noise of Stalker sounded behind him. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Deciding to run for it you maneuvered Joel back up the ramp, down the corridors and to the secure door, which thankfully opened this time. Once he was safely on the other side you breathed a sigh of relief. Then another sigh, a longer one as you felt your body getting heavy. You must have over done your morning workout, suddenly you were so tired. Once you save up, you better go straight to bed. The tiredness over took you before you could even press X.

The sun blazed through your eyelids as your consciousness drifted back in. Shit, had you really fell asleep on the sofa and slept until the sun was high in the sky? Blinking your eyes open the first thing you noticed was the sun was indeed high in the sky. You saw it through the open window, the window that most definitely was not yours. The wooden frame was rotted, the glass pane was smashed. The wallpaper around it was aged and peeled. Sitting up on the bare mattress you took in the rest of the room. It looked incredibly familiar. Identical to the one you/Joel had just searched with Ellie. Wow. This dream was vivid as hell. Standing, you found out just how vivid. The debris under your feet dug in so sharply, it brought you down to your knees, your head hitting the bedside table on the way down, pain bloomed on your temple.

"Fuck. It this some sort of side effect of a prolonged high protein diet? Trippy as hell dreams?" You mutter pulling yourself up. Watching where you step you manage to get out of the room. The hallway floor is a little clearer, allowing you to walk down it safely. Wait, is there such a thing as safely in a vivid, apparently painful, Last of Us dream? Grabbing a nearby plank of wood, you pushed on, more cautiously this time. The whole place was silent, it was eerie, preferable to the sound of Clickers, you supposed. Peeking around a corner you found an old bar, there was a hole in the floor between it and you. If you shimmy across, the bar would be a great place to hide. You weren't at all keen on this dream. Making your way around the bar you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The throbbing in your temple was from a two inch gash. "Not keen at all." You whispered to yourself as you curled in a ball, clutching your knees to your chest. Concentrating on taking slow, deep breaths, you willed yourself to wake up. Too busy thinking about your breathing and wanting to go home, you didn't notice the sound until in was right on the other side of the bar. Footsteps. Light but definitely there. Would it be better to stay in your hiding place and hope they pass or attack them while the element of surprise was on your side? Who were you kidding? Even with surprise on your side, and six months of daily HIIT workouts, you were no Joel. You doubted you had the strength to land a solid punch, nevermind crush someone's skull. The sound retreated from your end of the bar. It moved away toward the opening of the U-shaped bar. 'Don't turn this way.' You prayed. They did. Two green eyes meet yours, as the auburn hair teen poked her head around the bar. She was startled for a second before regaining her wits and promptly hurling a bottle at you. Luckily, it missed but Ellie was already grabbing another one from behind the bar.

"Wait." Your threw your arms up in front of your face. When she listened you lowered them. "I'm not going to hurt you. I don't know how I got here."

Setting her jaw, she looked you over. A battered hoodie and ragged sweat pants clothed you. There were no shoes on your feet and a cut to your forehead.

"They attacked you too?" She asked. The hunters, they just attacked them. They attack and rob people. That explained your lack of shoes, any personal items and the head injury.

"Yes." Man, this dream was truly weird, you were so caught up in it. You wanted her to trust you, to befriend you. You moved to stand.

She raised her next bottle, primed to throw it. "That doesn't make us friends."

"Yeah, I get that. You shouldn't trust anyone. Maybe just don't kill me. Please?" Lowering the bottle she moved away, allowing you to stand and move out from behind the bar. An uneasy truce fell between you until shots ran out below. Pulling her down with you ducked behind a coffee table. A few more shots rang out before everything went silent.

"Joel!" She exclaimed before scrambling to her feet and dashing out of the room. You winced as she shuffled across the ledge a bit too fast for your liking. Slower you followed her across. Catching up to her in the hallway, the sound of a struggle caught your attention. Running a head you spotted Joel down below. He was fighting some asshole. The Asshole go the upper hand, dunking Joel's head under the surface of a large puddle. The next thing you knew there was a freshly discharged gun in your hand. A large, warm hand covered you own to remove the weapon.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" He questioned harshly.

"Joel! Take it easy, she saved your life!" Ellie urged.

"That don't mean nothing. It could just be a ploy to get on our good sides." He hissed at her.

"Joel!" She whined.

"He's right. It's a smart plan. Gain the trust of the strong man for protection. Or lull him into a false sense of security. Easier to kill him while he's not expecting it than in a head on fight." You sounded far away and you were. Your thoughts were still in the moment that you pulled the trigger. The gun so close to the man's head that his brains splattered up your arm. The crimson mess was now soaking into the sleeves of your favourite hoodie. Launching yourself forward to your knees, you drove into the water, scrubbing violently at the brain matter.

"Hey. Hey!" Joel's hand came to guide you back out of the water, coming to rest on an wooden crate. "First kill?"

You nodded. "How did you get here?"

"I don't know. I woke up here." You decided a version of the truth would be best.

"Well, you could head out of here with us." Your heart swelled at his offer. Joel was a good man but he wasn't stupid or nieve. Leaving you behind would be the smarter choice. "You don't get a weapon, you stay where I can see you. If you fall behind or get yourself in trouble, that's on you. Ellie is my priority. I could use a second set of eyes as we cross the city." There it was, the practicality that had kept this man alive for this long.

"Thank you." You stood a little wobbly on your feet, you legs gave way before you all but fell into Joel's strong arms. Blushing you righted yourself buy pushing of his firm chest.

"You saved his life, he should be thanking you." Ellie pointed out.

"Thank you." Joel muttered moving his hands from your sides, where they had been firmly resting. "Let's head upstairs. Grab what supplies we can then make out way out." Joel was already walking ahead of you, a sight you were more familiar with, when he tossed the instructions over his shoulder. Thankfully, there was a pair of shoes in a ransacked pile of clothes. They were a size too big but there were high tops with a velco strap so you tied them tight and hopes for the best. Once Joel was satisfied with his supplies he moved on. Ellie grinned at you as you both followed behind him. "I'm Ellie."

Smiling back, you gave her your name.

"The grumpy one is Joel." She smirked.

"Hey, you live though a few more years of this and see how unbeat you are." You laughed in Joel's defense.

You couldn't see it but a small smile spread across Joel's face. It pushed at the blush on his cheeks from having his hands on you. It'll been a long time since he'd lay his hands gently on a beautiful woman. He and Tess were all talk, they'd never taken anything further. Neither of them were actually interested in each other that way. Their banter just passed the time. Tess. He pushed the though of her away and vaulted out onto the scaffolding outside the window.

At both you and Ellie cleared the window. Joel hushed you. "Shit. Stay down." Crouching, you made your way over to where Joel was looking out. Hunters. Half a dozen or more gathered below you.

Joel slipped a rifle off of his shoulder. "Here." He handed it to Ellie who's face lit up. "She moves shoot her." He nodded his head towards you, her face fell but she aimed the rifle at you anyway.

"Wouldn't she be better covering you? You could tie me up." Joel's jaw twitched at that. "Or I could come with you?" Why the hell were you offering that? This dream was feeling increasingly real by the moment. Everything in you says to run, to hide but what good would that do? You were stuck here in this nightmare, you might as well go along with it.

Joel thought it over. "Fine. Ellie you can cover me. You can come down with me. You hide behind the barrier and keep a lookout for Ellie. You don't get a gun and you don't follow me. Clear?"

When you nodded he moved over to Ellie. As he taught her how to hold the rifle, you thought about what you knew of their story. About Joel losing his daughter, about Ellie growing up in this terrifying world, about the bond that they were forming. Your heart swelled as you watch Joel gently move her into position. For a moment you wished that when you left here you could take them with you, that they could have a safe, comfortable life together.

Shouting from below reminded you just how far from that their lives were. Joel moved with a silence that seemed impossible given his muscular build. Fortunately, you were able to match his stealth and made it down to behind the barriers without a sound. Joel took another look over the barricade, ducking back down to sit on his haunches, he rubbed his hand down his face. "Can you shoot?"

"Ye-yes." A BB gun. When you were a kid. An expert achievement for every gun on Fortnite has to count for something right? The splash of gore from the man's head in the hotel flashed across your eyes. Fuck. You forced your voice to come out strong and steady. "Yes. I can."

"If we don't take them out we're not getting passed. I'm going to throw a bomb, take out as many as I can. After that we take out any that come running." Taking a bomb from his backpack, he looked you straight in the eyes. There was a whole silent exchange, a promise and a pray before he threw the bomb. Once he did, chaos ensued. The explosion rained debris and flesh down on you. When it cleared you could see six hunters down. Unfortunately, there were at least six more headed your way. Three moved in a tight formation to check out the damage. Once you had a clear line of sight both you and Joel opened fire. You fired at least three shots into the man in front of you. Willing him to go down with each one. Joel had clipped the guy it the middle causing him to jerk backwards, his gun clattering to the pavement as he did. Joel put another two rounds in the man on the right, dropping him. Rifle shot whistled passed you, driving into the concrete barrier behind you. Both you and Joel shot in the direction of the shooter. As you both emptied your clips, the man Joel had clipped managed to get his hands on his gun again. He was practically on top of you before Joel could swing his shot gun off his shoulder. As the man raised his gun, setting his sight firmly on you, half his head exploded like a water balloon, his corpse hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. Ellie gave a triumphant 'Yes!' before turning the rifle back to the shooter on the building ahead. By now Joel had reloaded. As your shaking fingers tried to reload your gun, Joel and Ellie took out the last of the hunters. After a long while of silence Joel scooped the gun from your hand. His calloused fingers skimming your soft skin. "Here." He reloaded the firearm before handing it back.

"Thanks." You smiled warily at him. This dream was not fun at all. You much preferred the one where you were on a beautiful beach. Toes in the sand and a book in your hands, while Javi Gutierrez rubbed suncream into your back. Looking up at Joel though, his handsome face looking younger with a smile on it telling you 'you're welcome', there were some perks to it. Joel offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet as Ellie approached.

"You okay, kid?" Joel asked.

"Yep. Told you I should have a gun!" She beamed. "That bastard didn't see it coming." Joel frowned at her, his lips looked inviting full like that. "What? It was him or us."

Rolling his eyes he headed to the next building. Stepping out from behind the barrier he was immediately knocked to the ground by a Stalker. It growled like a rapid dog as it set on him. Joel had been quick enough to turn on his back so he held the thing at bay while it tried to rip him apart. You didn't trust your aim at this close a distance. It would be so easy to hit Joel by accident.

"Fuck!" You screamed lowering the gun and throwing yourself at the creature. Knocking it off Joel you tumbled into a heap with it. Now it was trying to rip you to pieces but at least Joel was a better shot. He blew it's head clean off. It's body slumped down on to you as you fought the urge to throw up. Joel kicked it off before helping you up. After making sure it was clear, you all headed into the nearest building. On the top floor there was a pretty secure room. The windows and doors were still intact. Only one exit. Nice and defendable.

"We'll stay here for the night. You two can sleep first. I'll keep watch." Joel finished up securing the door.

Ellie happily lay on what remained of a sofa. Soon she was fast asleep. You and Joel sat next to each other in a couple of chair you'd straightened up from the floor.

"You not tired?" He asked eventually.

"I am. I guess I'm still running on adrenaline. Big day and all." Your smile small and bright, tugged at his heart. There was something about you he was drawn to. Not just your beauty, there was something else. You had this air about you, as if you were untouched by this world. Even so you had jumped in to save his ass, twice. It was obviously difficult for you but you'd done it. Maybe he was going soft in his old age. He was already protecting the kid with all his worth. The way she'd called for him when he fell down the elevator shaft, the tone in her voice, it reminded him of Sarah. The panic that was there when she was worried about him. Ellie cared for him like Sarah had. Now he was sitting here, thinking about pushing the hair back that had fallen out of your hair tie. He thought about how smooth your skin would be as his finger skimmed it, how soft your lips would be against his.

"Thank you for letting me come with you." Your quiet voice broke him from his thoughts.

"You're welcome." He replied.

"Why did you? Wouldn't it have been safer to leave me?" You probably didn't want to know the answer to that question but it came out anyway.

"Probably. Honestly? I don't know. Maybe I'm going soft in my old age. Or crazy, I saw a beautiful woman and all sense left me." It had been so long since he felt able to be open and honest, the words just came flowing from him. "Why did you risk your life to help me?"

"I don't know. I saw a handsome man and all sense left me." He laughed at that. You chuckled with him before moving closer and laying your head on his shoulder. Both of you revelled in the contact. The adrenaline drained from you as sleep pulled you under.

Awaking with a start you found yourself back home. The TV was off. The PlayStation controlled discarded by your side. The house was dark save for the floor lamp across the room. The dream that had been so vivid quickly began to fade. Grabbing the takeout contains you went to throw them in the trash only to realise it was full. "Damn."

Pulling the bag out of the can you flicked on the porch light before taking the bag outside. Dumping the bag in the trash you made your way back around the house. A noise ahead of you caught your attention. It was in the shadows where the lights on the back and side of the house didn't quite overlap. Keeping your breathing even you tried to fight the panic flaming up your spine. Edging closer you tried to make out what was there. The life was nearly scared out of you when next door's cat came flying out, screeching as it went.

"For fuck's sake cat!" You shook your head at your own stupidity. What were you expecting? A Clicker? Rounding the corner of the house you entered the back yard. You were so on edge you thought you saw something moving in the shadows. As you focus on it, trying to make the outline clearer a shriek rang in your ear. Next to you, was a Stalker. It was cover in blood, it's teeth clashed together as it bit at the air like a rabid dog. Sheer terror had you rooted to the spot. You heart leapt as an arrow sunk into it's head, making all the way through to the other side before the horrid thing crumbled to the floor. Then the shadows came flying at you. Joel emerged into the light with Ellie close behind him.

"Run!" He called as the shadows behind him groaned.

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

[ursamajorstory]

Awakening

[Beginning] - [Part 3]

Word count: 5011

--

Ursa Major held his parents' hands as they stood in line together. They were selected randomly to be part of one of many groups in a rescue project. Ursa didn’t know much about it. He only knew one important thing. His life was going to take a serious turn. 

In the early summer of 1966, scientists spotted an alarming and terrifying object hurtling a direct course for earth. There were many attempts to stop it. But it was of little use. Astronomers described it as the size of a moon. Some newspapers called it “Mors Desuper '' or also known as “Death from above”. The layman who didn’t have enough time to debate what to call it simply called it “Mors”. It was set to crash into earth by 1999. The world collectively fought over what to do. Finally after many debates on television between firing missiles at it and risking Mors shattering into a thousand pieces and making it a shower of asteroids or perhaps praying God would use a golf club to smash it towards Venus, world leaders came together to make hard decisions. 

The first decision became apparent. Stay on earth and accept the end of man, or try their damn hardest to find a new Earth. There was discussion about colonizing the Moon finally. However, the issue became apparent that once Mors collides into Earth, the explosion of the Earth could shatter the rotation of the Moon and make it unlivable for humans. There was also the possibility that the Moon would be hit by Earth’s debris. So the astronomers of the world looked to Mars. Mars seemed like a safe decision. However, Mars wasn’t developed. It had little water to speak of other than ice caps found here and there through the planet. However, when Mars became a questionable location, some astronomers questioned, “Why stop at Mars? Why not look further?” 

The UN decided to split allocations. Huge expenses were sent to two main objectives. Objective one: colonize Mars. This meant terraforming and genetically breeding plant life and animal life to hopefully survive on Mars by the deadline of 1999. The other project: figuring out where else to flee to in space and finding how to get humanity there as soon as possible. It would’ve been such a success if both projects could work together and succeed. One would assume that the looming threat of Mors would mean that the countries of the world should come together and realize that humanity was more important than lines on the ground being ruled by a select handful of humans. 

However, this is Earth. Earth is full of humans. And humans are full of issues. 

In 1970, years after the discovery and confirmation of Mors’s threat to Earth and humanity, NASA felt confident in a possible candidate to send humanity to. They were of the idea of looking further away than just Mars. Mars was simply too far from being acceptable for living conditions and the USA feared that Earth’s explosion would spread debris further than just the Moon. The possible candidate was a planet that was part of a further section of the Milky Way. The planet in question was still trying to find a proper name. But most felt that the name “Spes” was a fitting name. Spes was the Roman name for the God that was the spirit of hope. Humanity looked to Spes for exactly that: hope.

Spes was a lush planet. Blurry photos of 1970 featured various pictures of Spes as a planet that had plant life, some animal life, and plenty of water. Spes was part of a 15 planet solar system, rotating around a gas giant and was the 11th planet back from the gas giant. Spes had photos plastered all over common American television and newspapers. Comic books released on mass from 1973 to 1975 featuring the amazing Sergent America saving the animals spotted on Spes, the great Superbman visiting Spes for high speed adventures, and even the incredible Y-People had a character claiming to be an alien from Spes. There was a cultural boom in the media with the photos of Spes. 

It was the true purpose of naming the planet Spes, it gave humanity hope. 

But there was one problem. Spes was 10 lightyears away.

But never underestimate humanity. Astronomers jumped swiftly in technology. There was a boom in technology to figure out how to get humanity to Spes. NASA worked furiously. Thankfully, since 1966, technology was already swiftly growing thanks to the discovery of Mors. Science had boomed greatly. The moon landing of 1969 proved that it was possible to get man on the Moon in a reasonable amount of time. Humanity would not be stopped by time or distance. 

Some Governors suggested creating space stations where generations of humans could live on till the end of the journey. It wasn’t a bad idea at first. But those voices were hushed after just a couple of television interviews. No citizen understood why. It didn’t seem like a bad idea. Let humanity live out the days on a space station for generations till they reach Spes? It seemed viable and safe. But there was a sudden push about how the sanctity of humanity would be tarnished with time, memories of Earth would fade away with each passing generation. Those who were more conservative insisted how important it was to keep a grasp on the “American Way of Life”. 

So it became a question of how to let humans who were currently alive see Spes one day. That’s when humans sought a new solution. Just like Sergent America, a human could be frozen in ice and awaken in a new world years later. It became the biggest push from the Government. Perhaps it was because the president of 1981 realized he wanted to be President in Spes, as well. 

Astronomers and Scientists got to work. In the great year of 1985, years of hard labor came to fruition. With Mors now looming in the night sky with the stars, humanity was ready to flee. It became a sort of space race of a new kind when other countries heard what NASA was up to. Soon, countries all over the world fought for their ticket off of Earth. There was debate about the wealthy fleeing with all of their cash. The top 1% of the world on the best pieces of equipment. 

That is, until humanity watched a ship of wealthy celebrities explode in the sky when they just barely passed Jupiter. Back to hard work, the wealthy were now more cautious about who to send up there. There was a question on if only the good Christians of the world should be saved or if the risk of death should be tested more to lower class citizens. Humanity once again fought amongst themselves on who to send to space. Many ships were sent to the stars only for many of them to fail. Some landed on the wrong planets, killing their passengers inside due to the wrong resources. Other ships collided right into Mors, herself. Other ships simply just didn’t work correctly. 

And yet, humanity eventually came to the consensus with each passing year that it was worth the risk to try to flee Earth. Attempt after attempt to reach Spes, only a spare few ships were able to leave the Milky Way, leaving the fates of those inside to a mystery to those left on Earth. Mors grew closer with each passing year. Soon, the image of Mors in the sky was the same size as the Moon. Humanity needed to hurry. 

Boarding groups became less about wealth to some space ship companies and more of random selection raffles. Companies would hold a global raffle to select a number of families from all across the globe in the hopes of getting anyone off of Earth as quickly as possible.

That was why in 1988, in the sticky season of July, Ursa Major stood nervously in front of the spaceship that would take his family to Spes. 

It was Christmas in 1987 when they found out they won the raffle. It wasn’t much of a surprise, though. Ursa’s father was an accountant for this company. He had worked with the company since the discovery of Mors. But now that they were given their tickets off of Earth, they knew it was time to act. Their family had condensed all their personal belongings to the necessities. Photo albums, music, any cultural references to Earth that they could keep were stored on the ship. Anything nonessential was given away to humans who had decided to stay on Earth for the end times. They sold their home, transferred their money to the new fancy intergalactic currency, and said their goodbyes to everyone they knew and loved.

The ship that was to take them was named Flagship. Ursa thought it was dumb but didn’t question it much. All he knew was that it was a rigorous amount of training and testing leading up to July. From Christmas to the 4th of July, the Major family was one of many that had blood work done, vaccines boosted, and a handful of week-long tests of sleeping in ice. There was even all of March that they had to test being completely asleep in ice. 

On top of that, the family had to decide what jobs they were to fill once they awoke 10 light years away.

Ursa’s dad stuck with accounting. He spent months studying and understanding the new intergalactic currency that was being pushed globally that would be the main currency in Spes. It was a currency that about 99% of countries were transferring to. The 1% was Russia, China, and North Korea. They were not invited to that meeting due to global tensions. But, the intergalactic currency was what was going to be used by most citizens of Spes so the accountant pounded the dirt to understand the conversion rate. 

Ursa’s mother decided to take a culinary track. She was no means a professional chef, but she was a curious chef. She was eager to be part of the culinary team of the Flagship, hoping to learn the multiple possible foods that were native to Spes. She had to study the life photographed on Spes and attempt to figure out what foods would work and wouldn’t work with a team of other eager mothers. 

Ursa, turning 18 in May of 1988, had to figure out what kind of job he wanted to dedicate his entire future life to. It was a tough choice to make. He wasn’t skilled in a lot of things at school. He was a slacker in every regard. In the many tests he had to take to be ready for Spes, anything textbook he’d flunk. But, he did come to find that he was better with a more hands-on approach to learning. Eventually, he saw the easiest route for himself. 

Ursa signed up to be a janitor. Granted, it wasn’t the most thankful job the Flagship offered, but someone had to clean up the trash that humans created. It was a small team of maybe 15 individuals for the Flagship out of the hundred-some that had been selected. There were scientists, astronomers, biologists, engineers also on board, but Ursa felt that those should be left to people who actually enjoy that stuff. Ursa felt more comfortable working with his hands and just keeping busy if he had to be busy. 

When Ursa stepped onto the Flagship, he gave one last look at Earth. A duffle bag clung tightly over his shoulder filled with last minute belongings that would be stored into his freezing pod. One last moment to listen to the sounds of Earth. He was honestly terrified. He’d seen on television that fateful first ship exploding into a million pieces. When he told his class that he was going to Spes, his teacher sat him down to cry over his departure. Even his Principal wanted to hear final words Ursa may have to add to a memorial that was at the school for other students who had been selected to go only to perish in the cold vacuum of space.

Once inside the Flagship, he had to be fitted into a skin tight suit that would keep his form once frozen so his body wouldn’t deform from laying down for lightyears. He gave his parents one last hug and kiss as they got suited up as well. Honestly, Ursa didn’t know without a doubt if he’d actually get to see Spes, or if he’ll be part of the death toll numbers on the race to space articles. But he did know that he wanted his parents to be with him. 

“Ursa, when we get to Spes, we’re going to have the biggest dinner you’ve ever seen,” his mother said to him, “I want to make you your favorite. I love you so much, papi.” Her eyes were full of tears as her hand held his face. 

“Ursa, we’ll make it. Don’t you worry!” his father smiled at him, patting his back, “It’ll just feel like when you sleep in on Sundays! You’ll probably crawl out of your pod with your bed head and we’ll already have camp ready. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of, boy.” 

“Yeah! It’ll be so great,” Ursa nodded to them both, smiling the best he could despite his nerves. “I’ll see you guys on the other side.” 

Ursa was laid down among the many service workers. He had his air supply hooked up and took one last breath of Earth before he began to breathe the air of the Flagship. He was glad that his possible space coffin at least had a soft pillow. He kind of wished he had a blanket, but his blanket was stuffed into his duffle bag stored in the bottom compartment of his pod with some of his other stuff, such as his good luck charm. He signed one last waiver form as they took a sample of his blood.

Ursa watched as the pod slowly closed. The shot they gave him slowly was pulling him to sleep. The ship wouldn’t take off till everyone was on board and asleep. He watched the lights dim on deck and he gave one last glance back and forth to his parents in their pods on either side of him. His mother gave him a smile, pressing her hand to the glass. His father gave him a wink and a smile, his smile shining in the small lights of buttons and screens in the ship. 

Soon, Ursa was gone in his sleep. The ice slowly took his body and the Flagship fled Earth. 

It had a straight navigation path serviced by computers and robots. The Flagship had a 99% chance of success as advertised on the pamphlet the Majors read. 

And just as Ursa’s dad promised, Ursa woke up suddenly feeling like he just slept in on a Sunday. He woke to bright lights aimed at him and machines wiring around him. He could only blubber some dribble as his first words after sleeping who knows how long. 

Finally his eyes adjusted and he realized something jarring. He was not on the Flagship. The room he was in was sharper in its angles and seemed to be a lab of some form. Ursa looked around to see that there were no other pods around his pod. 

He looked around till he heard something beeping at him, glancing over to find himself staring at what looked like a robot straight from a sci-fi book. Its main body was a sphere with a light in the center, possibly acting as the eye of the robot. The robot had 3 limbs it was on top of, looking to Ursa almost like a spider of some form. 

It beeped at him, almost like it was talking in a language that Ursa didn’t recognize in the slightest. When Ursa didn’t respond, it tried again, adjusting its speech pattern, “Yuu-ri-sah?”

“Are you trying to say my name? My name is Ursa. Ur-sa,” he tried to iterate with a hand to his chest. It felt stiff to move his arms, but he tried his best.

After a long moment, the robot shook, beeping for a second. “Ursa. Ursa. English?”

“Yes! English!” Ursa urgently nodded before looking around the room again. He could see the room was filled with machines and wires, various screens lighting the room. “Where am I? Is this… Is this Spes?”

The robot’s eye blinked as it seemed to try to understand what Ursa was asking before speaking once more, “No. This is not “Spes.” You are aboard the Vortai ship. My designation is LARS. It is an acronym that does not translate in English for you. I own you now.”

Ursa whipped his gaze down to the robot as he tried to understand his situation. “I was…I was on a different ship. How did I get here? What am I doing here?”

“Your ship was found in a wreck site. It is unclear what happened, but we discovered you among the crash site when we were salvaging it,” Lars explained to Ursa, moving across the room on his legs. Ursa watched a robotic arm come out from the top of Lars’s head, pressing a button on one of the computers in the room. 

The screen showed a picture of the Flagship in pieces in space. Ursa’s stomach dropped in horror. There’s no way anyone would’ve survived it. He glanced down at the pod he awoke in, seeing it was covered in dents from the outside.

“Was I the only one you saved?” Ursa questioned in worry, his mind drawing back to his parents. His parents. God, he felt sick thinking of the worst case scenario.

“Indeed. It seems all the other pods you were all stored inside were damaged and broken open. Yours had damage, too, and I had to physically pry your pod open. We found our ship drifting in pieces and we attempted to salvage supplies and items from it. Our salvage team spotted your sleeping chamber and we were able to rescue only you,” Lars explained simply. The screen showed another window, lines of information quickly scanning down the window. “I downloaded what I could salvage from your ship's computer to understand who or what you are. Very rudimentary stuff, if you ask me. I don’t even know how you all got off the ground from your homeworld to begin with.”

Ursa didn’t care about any of that, sinking back into his pod as the weight of understanding was slowly coming down on him. He was nowhere near Spes, his parents were dead, and he was the only one they could find. “What year is it? I fell asleep and… it was 1988. You’ve gotta tell me how long I’ve been asleep for.”

“By what calendar standard? Your home planet? According to your ship’s clock, it is well past that. I think the computer’s clock at the time of the crash stopped at Ju-li 4, 70-56,” Lars answered him.

Ursa realized that this also meant Earth was long gone, probably. Mors would’ve crashed on Earth so long ago. “Where’s… Where’s our stuff? That stuff belonged to us. I need to get my stuff and my parent’s stuff. I gotta… You said you salvaged our stuff, right?”

“We can go to the storage area later. Tell me, could you clarify what your job description was supposed to be on board? Perhaps an engineer or a mechanic? The data is a little corrupted…” Lars tried to move past the grim facts to keep Ursa’s focus.

“U-uh… janitor. I was a janitor…” Ursa got out, “I … I was to help clean the trash. I clean trash up… My mom was gonna be a line cook and my dad was an accountant…” 

“You clean trash? That’s… all you do?” Lars seemed disappointed for a robot, looking down for a moment. “That’s disappointing. We were hoping you’d even be so much as even a teacher to give us clarity about where you’re from or what you are.”

“I’m from Earth. I’m human. I--...” Ursa didn’t know how else to explain it, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but yeah, I’m just a human. Shit, I’m really not up to play 20 questions with you. Where’s the storage area? I’ll go and get my shit.” He tried to stand from his pod, finding his legs wobbly as he tried to pull himself up and out.

“Woah! Please wait before you move,” Lars quickly moved to intercept Ursa, “You were frozen for a long time. Honestly, we were all really confused why you all chose to freeze yourselves… It caused damage to your joints and made them very stiff.”

“Then give me some crutches. I need to get my stuff and my parent’s stuff,” Ursa insisted, looking down at his pod. He knew in his pod was supposed to be his duffle bag, spotting the compartment underneath was dented. He tried to kneel down, grunting in pain as he knelt down to it.

“Oh, the box underneath the pod. Can you open it? It’s password protected and I had difficulties breaking it open due to the damage done on the outside,” Lars tried to push himself over Ursa’s shoulder.

“Back off,” Ursa shrugged him back, “Yeah, I can open it. I set the password. Why were you trying to open this? It’s my stuff.”

“Well, I own you, so I was seeing what you had,” Lars answered simply.

“You mentioned that earlier and I think you’ve got the wrong idea about this all. I don’t belong to anyone,” Ursa shook his head as he pressed his password into the keypad attached. 1970. It’s his birth year so he was shocked that some fancy little robot couldn’t guess it. He heard the lock inside the compartment make a heavy chunk noise, but the compartment didn’t open right away. He guessed this was where the damage had set in. He used his strength to try to pry the compartment open with his hands, grunting as the metal ground against metal. Lars’s robotic pincers came next to Ursa, helping him pry open the compartment.

When the compartment finally popped open, it was enough force to throw Ursa and Lars back. Though, Ursa saw inside was his original duffle bag from before he fell asleep. He was relieved, grabbing it quickly to open the bag. It seemed mostly undamaged thanks to the fact it was protected in the compartment box. Ursa was able to pull out of the duffle bag his tape deck, a change of clothes he had tossed in his bag, a blanket, and best of all, his good luck charm -- a tiny flocked bear that he had snatched from a craft store. He held it up between his pointer and thumb, taking a look at it. Seems it really was a good luck charm given Ursa’s circumstances.

“Is that all that is? What a load of junk,” Lars was disappointed as he tried to look at Ursa’s stuff.

“Nope, this little bear is why I’m alive right now,” Ursa insisted, “It’s a good luck charm.”

“‘Good luck charm’? What’s that supposed to mean? Is it nuclear or something?” Lars leaned back a bit away from him.

“No, no, it’s an Earth thing. It gives me good luck -- like this little guy made sure nothing bad happened to me. Through luck,” Ursa explained to Lars. When he saw Lars still give him no real response, he tried to think of a different way to explain it. “Like uh… Do you robots got luck? Like uh… Fate? I don’t know how to explain it to you. The force? Like from Star Battles? You might not know that one, actually… uhh… Whatever, it’s not important, actually.” 

“Right, well, looks like junk to me,” Lars shook his body as if he were to shake his head. Lars then moved away from Ursa, heading back towards the computers. “How about for now you try to unstiffen those joints and then you have to go meet Captain Vaughn Belmont since he wants to meet you. After that, you need a second medical assessment -- which is very frustrating since I gave you one already -- because they need to register your species in the database.”

“No, I gotta go to storage and get my family’s stuff.” Ursa pulled out the shirt from his duffle bag. Good old Pizza Rocket t-shirt. “Do you care if I change my clothing here? I’m not going out in this space suit I just wore for the last who knows how long.”

“Well, I do know how long. If I computed the numbers right, it’s been--” Lars tried to correct him, turning to face Ursa before quickly backing away, “Oh! You’re just shedding your skin right now!”

Ursa was unzipping the spacesuit down the middle, trying to peel it off of his body, “No, it’s not my skin. I don’t shed like--These are my clothes. It’s a suit. I know you’re a robot, but you gotta know what clothes are.” He got the suit off to pull on the pizza rocket shirt, tugging it over his head. He grabbed the jeans from his duffle bag next, tugging those on. “Hopefully later I can find maybe a proper space suit. But that space suit was literally just so my body doesn’t get weird in space. I don’t like it very much.”

“Alright, well, you’re a weird little human creature. Again, you have to go to the captain soon and--” Lars tried to insist this further till Ursa cut him off.

“I’m going to storage. You’re going to show me where that’s at, right? You’re responsible for me or whatever, right?” Ursa rolled his eyes as he slung his duffle bag around his shoulders, “Where’s storage? I’m going to just wander around till I find it, so you ought to just show me.”

“What?! Look, look, you don’t even--” Lars quickly moved to get in front of Ursa again. “Just stop right there!”

Ursa sighed, crossing his arms. “Why should I meet your captain first? I need my parent’s stuff. Even better if there was a proper space suit among all the stuff you guys stole from our ship.”

“It’s not stolen! It’s salvaged! Very different terms, you know,” Lars tried to correct him, only for Ursa to roll his eyes at that. “Captain Vaughn was very serious about demanding to meet you as soon as you woke up. So we’ll go there first, then the medical staff wants to make sure you’re not sick and you get registered in the database, and then we’ll go to storage. Deal?”

“Fine. Deal,” Ursa pinched the bridge of his nose, “But I’m going to be really mad at you if you don’t actually take me to my parent’s stuff.”

“Good! First, let me get you a translator equipment. It’s standard for all organic beings to use these since us robots just naturally translate what we can. It was very hard to understand your language when I downloaded it from your computer,” Lars moved to one of the shelves of machines on the wall. He plucked up what looked like an ear piece and collar with a robotic arm, moving back to Ursa to hand it to him, “This will help you understand. Though, you’re on your own for reading.”

Ursa pictured it being like one of the fancy devices he saw on Star-Voyages. He placed the earpiece in and put the collar around his neck. “Like this?”

“Correct. Now, hit the button on the earpiece and the collar at the same time. This will allow them to sync to each other. Language will automatically translate into your ear to what you will understand as well as your own words being automatically translated through the small speaker on your collar. I can tell you now no one speaks English,” Lars chuckled a little as he explained it, “You know, it’s such a primal language, English. It’s very rudimentary. Nothing like what we currently have. Everyone generally speaks Vorcilla.”

“Mhm,” Ursa was vaguely paying attention as he got to turning the device on. He wasn’t too sure how it all worked, but figured this was just alien tech that he’d have to get used to. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get used to alien tech, but he figured this was at least convenient. Once it was on, he tried to test it by speaking, curious of how it sounded. 

“Hello? Does it work?” His voice sounded grainy through the speaker, giving him a small headache as he spoke. He didn’t hear himself speak alien, just hearing it come back to him in English. He wondered if maybe that was the catch of the ear piece. Translated his alien speech just right back into English?

Lars shook for a second, blinking as he did when he first met Ursa. “Yes! I am currently speaking to you in Vorcilla and you are also speaking Vorcilla. So it works. But it probably doesn’t sound like it to you because the device is translating rapidly.”

“Cool, ok, then,” Ursa shrugged, “I guess it’s time to go meet Captain Vaugn then, right?”

“Right! Yes. Ok, heads up, the other crew members may say some silly things, but just ignore all that. They just don’t get opportunities like this to meet rare and near extinct species like yourself!” Lars explained with a quick nod of his sphere.

“Mn, is this more about me or you? Because I have a feeling you’re quite the popular guy, huh?” Ursa suspected as he made sure his duffle bag was on his shoulders right before moving to follow Lars.

“What does that mean? Of course I’m popular! I’m plenty popular,” Lars insisted as he opened the sliding doors of the room. “Just shut it and let's go!”

#writing #science fiction #scifi #sci fi #sci fi novels #original content #original story #space

[herrnarkejaponica]

@myersbprd - plotted starter

Finally. Fucking finally. Karl was tempted to stick his head out the vehicle’s window like a dog just to get that first whiff of fresh air. If their destination weren’t so close, he might have.

After what felt like a year, but was probably closer to a handful of intensive months, he was setting foot not just outside his cell but outside the BPRD’s base of operations. Sure, Newark wasn’t objectively much to look at, but it was new and it was different and it was outside. And sure, he was only being let out to capture a wayward werewolf causing some light havoc, but Myers was part of his babysitting team so it wasn’t too bad. Agent John Myers intrigued him as much as Ethan Winters ever had, in the time they’d gotten to know each other. The guy had a soft heart but a stiff spine, a curious mind and a frank tongue. Probably also married or at least taken, with qualities like that plus the All-American look going on, even if Myers could be kind of a dork. And now that there was time to do so, no looming threat of Miranda or deadline for freedom or constant goddamn tests from Umbrella, Karl had even... started to open up. Kind of. A little. He didn’t really bother expounding on his past, as that was probably all in the stupid file the BPRD kept on him, but talked about smaller things - opinions, office gossip, technology - and the guy had seemed pretty gung-ho about it.

Especially when it came to the shiny new set of custom prosthetics now fitted to his elbow and knee. Karl could feel the metal of them, so keenly his cadou felt restless in his chest, waiting there like a freshly-strung violin sitting in front of a virtuoso. But, they were in a car, and if he started now he wouldn’t want to stop for a while. Better not to risk a crash, no matter how sorely and absolutely tempting it was.

Instead, Karl stared out the window at the passing trees and buildings, blinded eye now covered with a patch of soft leather, the knee of his whole leg subtly bouncing. Under his breath, he hummed a few bars of a lieder that had been stuck in his head since Myers had come to escort him from that damn plastic box.

#ic #rp #myersbprd #au: half armed but still dangerous #[hope this is okay!]

[kittttycakes]

It’s been mostly the bad/deadline kinda busy, and still is, but I’m actively ignoring that now to procrastinate and revel in the world that you’ve created.

I love Hob the enabler, and the idea of him having this petty revenge side of him that he doesn’t want Grace to see.

And I do love that Morpheus has the ‘I’m not human so can’t be held to human standards of morality’ card to play (within reason).

I alllmost feel sorry for Dr Ward if that’s the nightmare he’s getting though. That is one of the worst!

Omg thank you for indulging the brain rot and expanding on that scenario so much more!

I have many thoughts!!! (Sorry!).

1. Grace’s ring…

- what does it look like?

- Is she engaged or married here?

- Is it her ring from Hob?

- Does she have one from Morpheus? If so what does that look like and does she wear both?

- If not, is it a ring from both Hob and Morpheus?

- Do they have rings? What do they look like?

2. How does that convo go down when the thugs ask for her ring? Who swings the first punch?

3. Morpheus’ arrival. When I was daydreaming about this I was trying to figure out which would be hotter or more terrifying:

A) the looming, shadowy slightly inhuman version of Morpheus, pale and starry eyed.

B) the icy cold rage of his human form (as in the Calliope episode. Picturing the thugs seeing Morpheus, thinking he’s just a skinny goth and no threat, then seeing shadows coming from him one by one and their co-thugs go down writhing in unconscious terror.

4. Even though Morpheus can’t hurt mortals in the waking world, do you think he’ be above asking Hob to lay the boot in a bit, or letting Hob do a bit of violence on his behalf?

5. *knocks on trash dumpster lid* Yesss, the fussing over bleeding knuckles. Little kisses on each knuckle. The super possessive, don’t touch what’s mine sex. *chef kiss* perfection!

Also, on an unrelated note, I loved the comic you posted of Matthew and Crawley in the cones of shame!

Glad to hear you’re doing well! Sending you all of the ‘you can do it!’ vibes!

Oh, I feel you, I am the worst procrastinator until I panic and finish everything in one very stressed out burst!

I am always happy to receive more thoughts!! I’m jumping to 2 because I’m going to put 1 under the cut (is it spoilers if it’s for a fic? I love spoilers myself but I know not everyone does so that one will be hidden, just in case).

Hob absolutely swings first. He wants the element of surprise and he’s got it. He doesn’t look like the kind of guy who doesn’t have any problem holding his own in a fight. Sure, he’s in good shape, but nothing about him screams “scrapper” in 2023. He’s wearing a nice jacket for their date night and he probably has his very professorial glasses on because Grace likes them, so him throwing the first punch? Very much unexpected, and to his advantage.

Both are such good options! There’s this cold emanating rage that Morpheus can give off that’s just SO highly effective in any form, but I’m just such a sucker for ever so slightly inhuman Morpheus. He’s human shaped…mostly, but when they look right at him, it’s like the edges of him forgot what a human looks like, and his shadow just keeps growing and writhing on the pavement, extending out in all directions until it covers the entire alleyway in something darker than night before the screaming starts. And he doesn’t even have to lay a finger on them!

Morpheus is not above it at all, not when it makes Hob so very happy to be useful for him. Hob wants to be loyal and he wants to prove that loyalty, and if he can do that by the laying on of hands? Sign him right up. He would fight for Morpheus in a heartbeat. Human enemies, challengers to his realm, the hoards of Hell, Hob wants to get his hands dirty where Morpheus can’t, and Morpheus will gladly watch.

Yes yes yes! Kissing each knuckle and the little bit of blood that lingers on the lips after? Immediately yes. Bandaging up after? Perfection. The physical reminder for a few days afterwards? So good. In a completely alternate scenario, I have so many thoughts about Hob bare-knuckle boxing, historically.

It was so cute!! I love Matthew so much, he’s so much fun, and so indignant about the cone of shame (which was very much deserved).

Thank you for the vibes!!! We’re chugging along!

Now, for possible spoilers:

This is great, because there will be instances of the rings in the two epilogue chapters, but to avoid over burdening the fic with too much ring description (which may already be happening, I can talk about it here!

By the time I envision this scenario happening (post fic), they’re all married. Grace has three rings, Hob has two, and Morpheus has one.

Grace has:

- her engagement ring from Hob, an antique gold fede ring, worn on her left hand

- her wedding band, also gold, worn on her left hand and stacked with her engagement ring

- her ring from Morpheus, gold with an oval cut (non dreamstone) ruby, worn on her right hand

Hob has:

- his wedding band, gold, worn on his left hand

- his ring from Morpheus, fairly simple, gold band with an inlaid very slender square cut (non dreamstone) ruby, worn on his right hand

Morpheus has:

- his wedding band which he probably ends up manifesting more often than not, also gold

Hob would have absolutely gotten Morpheus an additional ring, but it’s so hard to find something for a being who can manifest anything he wants. All of their wedding rings match, though, they’re part of a nice matched set of three.

#anon <3 #oc: grace talbot #morpheus x oc x hob gadling

[mariacallous]

The Senate is set to remain under Democratic control in 2023, while the majority in the House of Representatives remains unsettled—though most projections suggest Republicans will enjoy a very narrow majority. Much attention is already being paid to what’s to come in January, but before the 118th Congress is sworn in, the 117th Congress must finish its work in the so-called “lame duck” session. Here are four things to watch:

Two fiscal issues are likely to be a major focus of the last weeks of the 117th Congress: getting an omnibus spending bill done and deciding whether or not to deal with the debt limit.

The current measure funding discretionary federal programs expires on December 16, so avoiding a partial government shutdown requires action before that deadline. Prior to the passage of the current stopgap measure in September, factions of House and Senate Republicans had lobbied to run a temporary spending bill into January 2023 in possible anticipation of a new majority with different spending priorities.

With Republicans likely to take control of the House—albeit narrowly—Democrats will be especially eager to complete work on a full omnibus package for the balance of the fiscal year. Doing so will require both parties actually completing negotiations on a package and ensuring it has the support of at least 10 Republicans in the Senate necessary to end a filibuster. The expected difficulty of managing the House under a narrow Republican majority in January may factor into some members’ calculations; a high-stakes showdown over keeping the government open just weeks into a new Congress may be an unattractive enough proposition for some GOP legislators that they will be willing to leave it to the lame duck session.

Given the expected narrow House Republican majority, Democrats will also need to decide whether to try to address the debt ceiling in the lame duck or leave it on the agenda for next year. Estimates put the date by which the debt limit will need to be addressed at some point in the third quarter of 2023, but lessons from the last shift to a Republican House majority under a Democratic president loom large. Indeed, in 2011, the newly GOP-controlled House saw a sizable faction of members insist on large spending cuts in exchange for their support in raising the debt limit. A complicated deal in the form of the Budget Control Act of 2011, which imposed discretionary spending caps for a decade, meant catastrophe was averted, but threats from Republicans could produce a similar showdown next year. Democrats have legislative options for preemptively addressing the debt limit in the lame duck, but will have to decide whether the brinkmanship being proffered by Republicans means they should spend time and political capital on the issue before the end of the year.

While fiscal issues will be front and center, several other legislative items also remain ripe for further action. Reports indicate that one such measure, to codify the federal recognition of same-sex marriages, is likely to be voted on as soon as this week in the Senate; the House had passed a similar bill prior to the elections. Other priorities include reforms to the Electoral Count Act, additional aid to Ukraine, funding for fighting the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, and extending expiring tax provisions. One item that is especially likely to move—and, perhaps, carry along with it some other provisions—is the National Defense Authorization Act, or NDAA. The annual defense policy bill is seen as a must pass measure, but as a result, it can end up bearing political conflicts that slow down its progress.

And finally, since May 2020, House members have had the option of voting via proxy—that is, designating a colleague who, after receiving directions from the absent member, votes on the floor in his or her place. Originally designed as a way to reduce individual and collective risk from COVID-19, proxy voting has been used more expansively through 2021 and 2022, including by several members running for higher office who, perhaps, took advantage of the procedure to spend more time on the campaign trail.

Proxy voting’s future in the 118th Congress is in doubt. If elected Speaker of the House, Kevin McCarthy has pledged to end the practice—and while his narrow majority may alter that calculation, it is certainly possible that the final weeks of the 117th Congress will also be the final days of proxy voting. Either way, expect the lame duck to feature proxy voting heavily. In 2020, there were 226 new proxy designations between Election Day and the end of the session, including eight departing members who designated a proxy for the first time.

In the contemporary Congress, deadline-driven legislating is a common occurrence, with the specter of the winter holidays often looming as an especially powerful action forcing mechanism. This year looks to be no different.

[lowkeyclueless5137]

The Extravagant Sea Club III

:v

We will be getting onto the real shit right here.

What we will cover:

-more palace exploration

-getting some leads

-a looming threat raising slowly

Yep by these bullet points we know that we aren't yet done with this one. :'D

Yep... This is a gruesome journey for both you and me... You as the readers who voluntarily chose to read this fuckery... And me as the author who pulls self uncomfortable things sometimes just for the sake of the plot... U-U/

Don't worry... It will only get worse :3

Now onto the action!

So not only did they have a deadline now, risked Floyd being expelled and probably charged for assault as well, but also they had to clear the palace by the end of the month, with only half of it done.

It was just pure stress.

And Floyd still did not seem to fully come into terms with the whole metaverse and persona things sometimes, thankfully now Morgana was able to nag him and wipe him properly into shape. The last thing they could possibly afford would be to slip in the eyes of the principal or his watchful 'dogs'. His moods really are the whole bet in this situation.

Meanwhile, at LeBlanc, Ortho and Riddle again were watching over Chonky while Idia was out in the town. Even Futaba noted that Idia was more outgoing since Neige's change of heart. And more happy and giggly. Especially since he came in late.

On the other side of the spectrum, Riddle and Ortho were marking off a historical victory once the ever mischievous Chonky stopped trying to tare both of them down.

And also Ortho and Riddle became familiar with Cheeka, the nephew of the leblanc regular. Ortho faced the money problem, as Idia betted that Ortho cannot possibly make enough yens by the end of the next month to buy the upcoming new star rogue saga. But if he does manage it, Idia would treat both him and Riddle to ramen.

Riddle did ask why was he served to ramen as well if Ortho won, to which Ortho revealed that if he helps him out, he could cut the time by making double the money.

Riddle has learned a new skill: ✨the resting bitch face✨

But yeah Ortho also wanted to make his brother's wallet cry by making him lose the bet and treating 2 people to ramen. Riddle never understood how siblings work and Ortho was the finest example of the 'gremlin switch'. Like yesterday the 2 hugged when Idia brought to Ortho his forgotten lunch. And now Riddle feels like he stumbled upon a warzone for an unknown petty motive.

And it happened for Ortho to mention this at the bar of Leblanc, catching the attention of the regular.

The regular introduces himself as Leona... Just Leona... And if Ortho and Riddle can get the furball off his head for the weekend the whole next month, he will not only pay each of them individually, but also the payment comes half in the morning and half after the babysitting day.

So babysitting it is! They babysitted a bird(and bearly survived it)... Sure they are capable of a human child... :'D

But for now, for the palace investigation.

With already half of the ship being explored, the other half proved to be harder to infiltrate in. The clubs were very secured, with little to no emergency exits they could actually use to get in. And even less of safe rooms, as the principal's influence was stronger in this areas.

Until they hit another bock. They reached the tallest club dubbed 'the office', but to enter, their safest option was through the back, which had a coded lock. The code had 8 digits, indicating a date. There was no other way in so for now, they had to see what exactly was that code meaning.

Unknown to them, something was watching them really closely.

Back in the real world, Ortho tried to do some digging. Rook tried that as well, but they came with no results. They tried everything from birthdays to important school days.

Rook brings up that their last resort would be the Kosei's rumor master: Azul. He was a terrifying opponent as he had dirt on everyone you could name at Kosei. Even on Rook, which proved how much of a threat he could be if you make him an enemy.

Floyd mentioned that he knew Azul quite well... They didn't talk too much at school, but they did text and him with Jade were Azul's 'buddies', hanging out after school usually.

Floyd... Pls define buddies...

Ace did ask 'how close are you 3', to which Jade did say that a few weeks ago they had a sleepover at Azul's. It was a somewhat confirmation.

So the next day, after classes, Floyd and Jade invite Azul out through the city. And the others decided to 'just pass by'. Yeah they were spying on them. :'3

~~~~~~~~

"I heard... That you got in trouble, Floyd... Again..." Azul sipped onto his drink. The 3 did get themselves a nice drink as they stood on a bench in the park. The twin in question awkwardly rubbed his nape, Morgana meowing from his lap.

"Yeah... Nothing THAT serio-" "I think that punching the principal of all people... In the face... Is not something trivial..." Azul cut off. "My my... Azul always knows everything going on in Kosei..." Jade smiled. The shorter just arranged his glasses. "If you want to get on top, you need to know who to crush down... Knowledge is power after all..."

Floyd grumbled. "Ya know... I wanna crush that pesky fucker down as well... Azul... You know what he's done!" "But does it affect me? I believe not..." Azul mumbled. "Knowledge also means... To know when to fight and when to look the other way..." he mumbled.

"But your 'knowledge' costed a lot of people! Come on, Azul! You know something! There has to be something that fucker slipped with that we can u-" Floyd insisted, but Azul gently put 2 fingers over his mouth, shutting him up. "You never make Floyd shut up so suddenly... Perhaps is there a-" Jade piped in, only to receive the same treatment.

It was silence for a few seconds.

"3rd of March, 3 years ago... It was after classes in a chemestry laboratory. The instruments that were used were rope, scissors, paper glue, a duster and a fountain pen. The video evidence was all erased... He doesn't know I know about this... And I would rather forget it myself... But this date... Is a game changer if you want to take him down..." Azul whispered, the tone hesitant, but in that silence it was perfectly clear what he said.

"Azul-" "I do not want to talk about it..." "then... Would you like to walk around a bit?" Jade suggested. "That would be lovely..." The shorter creaked a small smile as Floyd moved Morgana into Azul's lap, the cat accepting for the boy to pet it a little. It was soft!

~~~~~~~~

After that, later, the thieves gang returned to the metaverse trying the date Azul gave them as the code. Surprisingly it worked!

And inside there were LOTS of floors. Each with their own unique theme for a club or a bar. It would all have been fine if the whole action going on in between the shadows did not make you sick in the stomach.

But reaching at the top, much to their unluck, there was no door to the roof, but the treasure had to be nearby from Morgana going batshit crazy about it.

So the group stood to think a bit. Spade proposed to use a window to climb up, to which Poison added that they needed to be fast as they couldn't waste any time after the calling card was sent. Siren suggested that maybe they could make a trampoline kind of mechanism. Heart just proposed to make a hole in the ceiling. :'D

But still, they had to see what exactly was on the roof. So they decided to sent there Rose and Amore, as Siren would use his persona to keep tabs on them and map out the whole roof floor.

So using a window, the 2 got out and used ropes and grappling hooks to get up, noticing something.

The roof was a pink glass dome, as inside there was a lavish garden, with flowers and some artificial waterworks. It looked like a fairytale place. Getting inside through an opened window, the 2 looked around.

The flowers from the garden were out of silver, bronze and gold. The bushes and leaves were all out of green satin, in different hues. The water itself was sparkling, upon closer look being actually champagne.

And the water was all flowing out in small rivers, the center piece being a lavish fountain out of pure white marble, on top of it, a blob of energy resting. That was the treasure. Looking around, Amore noted how all of the illumination was not due to the starry sky, but because of lights imbedded in the floor.

Upon returning, Flame noted that the lights they found were directly correlated to the electricity panel which was on the last floor. Probably it wasn't expected for a lot of people to come here, since the only room available was a big bedroom.

And everyone knew who it belonged to. -3-

But as they were ready to leave, Siren's persona suddenly picked up a strange reading. Something, no, somebody was with them as well. So with that, the group thought it might have been yet another clueless peep wondering in.

At this point Heart does comment on how many people will ever stumble into the metaverse like it's some kind of nearby alley.

But as Jade was going for the coordinates, suddenly he got electrocuted, making him to return to his mask as he was drained of energy. Spade, Poison, Heart and Rose could only recall in fear the possible return of that wierd entity that got Queen and Oracle back then, so they opted to immediately go back to the real world.

Fortunately, Jade still had his persona and he was alright. He just needed to rest a bit and he was back like new.

Whoever did that, they must've been close to hit Jade.

Later that day, Riddle and Ortho were doing a crossword at Leblanc when Idia came in. Yusuke, who was also there along Futaba, did ask why Idia was so giggly today, to which the boy switched to his usual shyness.

At that Futaba immediately is on teasing duty, asking if by chance, Idia was seeing with someone if he was so outgoing lately. That also picked ortho and Riddle's attention as Idia was all pink.

For now, Idia didn't say anything, but Futaba seemed to pick up what was going on, making that funny face Riddle saw Ortho always making when he knows some 'tea'.

Guess that runs in the family. :v

But so leaving Idia's affairs aside, the thieves group did gather up at Leblanc the next day after school. Now that they had the treasure route secured, there was only one more thing left.

Prepare the calling card.

Wooop! Sum smol arcs starting here...

Ya know I like drama sometimes >:3

So far, what do you think the boss of this palace would be like?

Lil hint: Neige's boss might give you a lead.

Hey it rhymes a bit :D

Anyway! Buh bye for now!

#twisted wonderland #p5 x twst #It's a beautiful mess #And yet again we see me starting different plot points at the same time :'3

[eddie]

PLOTTED STARTER for : @phantasmagcrical

⛧˖ ‒‒‒‒‒ IT WAS ONLY THE BEGINNING OF SECOND PERIOD and Eddie Munson had already landed himself in the doghouse; the end result of multiple disregarded warnings that had ultimately culminated into a trip to a familiar post in the hallway and, eventually, a seat in the school’s library. What was it that he’d caused now? A ruckus? A disruption? A commotion? He couldn’t even remember what the choice of words had been this time, which was most likely the product of years of blurred-together transgressions. Ah, well, that was just how the piece of shit cookie crumbled sometimes.

            The metalhead had half a mind to ditch the period all together, but with the very real threat of failure looming over his head like a burgeoning shadow, he’d managed to talk himself into taking another crack at the essay that had been stumping him for the past week. Ms. Calding had been nice enough to extend the deadline for him, after all. It had been in the spirit of sparing him from completely flunking her class, but he was beginning to wonder if there was a deadline in existence that could save him from his soon-to-be doomed fate at this point. Give him weeks or give him months, he couldn’t see how dragging out his suffering would make achieving the impossible any less IMPOSSIBLE.

            Eddie’s last-ditch effort came in the form of crumpled papers and doodles, strewn across the table amongst thin stacks of former attempts that had been aggressively scribbled out; a cover-up for the wreckage of botched sentences that lay beneath them. His last failed endeavor had been folded into the shape of a paper plane, and like it was guided by MISADVENTURE INCARNATE, it flew on a beeline path that led straight to the back of ADAM PARK’S head like it was a damn target. Of course, it had to be a jock. Albeit, he didn’t have any personal beef with this one. He counted himself lucky that it wasn’t someone worse, like Jason Carver or one of his mindless cronies.

            For a moment, Eddie was still and silent, his lips folding inward as he tried to extinguish the fruition of a giant grin. ❝ Shit, ❞ he muttered, unable to stifle the hint of a chuckle that rolled out with the single word. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to make it through an entire sentence. Pushing himself to his feet, he crossed the library to perch himself against the table that the baseball star sat at. ❝ Sorry about that. My bad. ❞ His apology was genuine enough, although the rising grin that was still causing the corners of his mouth to twitch may have said otherwise. ❝ You jocks and your big heads, y'know? Hard to miss em’, ❞ he quipped. It was genuine ENOUGH.

            His hand was extended, palm open as he requested the return of his paper airplane. It had been unfolded now, and he could only hope that Park hadn’t made any attempts to read it. ❝ Think I could … have that back? ❞

#「 ❛ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵃᵏ ❜ 」 ⛧ 𝕰 𝖉 𝖉 𝖎 𝖊 𝕸 𝖚 𝖓 𝖘 𝖔 𝖓 | | ‎‏‏‎ ‎replies #「 ❛ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵃᵏ ❜ 」 ⛧ 𝕰 𝖉 𝖉 𝖎 𝖊 𝕸 𝖚 𝖓 𝖘 𝖔 𝖓 | | ‎‏‏‎ starter #「 ❛ ᵒᵖᵖᵒˢⁱᵗᵉ ❜ 」 ⛧ 𝕬 𝖉 𝖆 𝖒 𝖕 𝖆 𝖗 𝖐 | | ‎‏‏‎ phantasmagcrical #phantasmagcrical #[ ruh roh ]