#the pressure of sustained performance

[nasa]

What We Learned from Flying a Helicopter on Mars

The Ingenuity Mars Helicopter made history – not only as the first aircraft to perform powered, controlled flight on another world – but also for exceeding expectations, pushing the limits, and setting the stage for future NASA aerial exploration of other worlds.

Built as a technology demonstration designed to perform up to five experimental test flights over 30 days, Ingenuity performed flight operations from the Martian surface for almost three years. The helicopter ended its mission on Jan. 25, 2024, after sustaining damage to its rotor blades during its 72nd flight.

So, what did we learn from this small but mighty helicopter?

We can fly rotorcraft in the thin atmosphere of other planets.

Ingenuity proved that powered, controlled flight is possible on other worlds when it took to the Martian skies for the first time on April 19, 2021.

Flying on planets like Mars is no easy feat: The Red Planet has a significantly lower gravity – one-third that of Earth’s – and an extremely thin atmosphere, with only 1% the pressure at the surface compared to our planet. This means there are relatively few air molecules with which Ingenuity’s two 4-foot-wide (1.2-meter-wide) rotor blades can interact to achieve flight.

Ingenuity performed several flights dedicated to understanding key aerodynamic effects and how they interact with the structure and control system of the helicopter, providing us with a treasure-trove of data on how aircraft fly in the Martian atmosphere.

Now, we can use this knowledge to directly improve performance and reduce risk on future planetary aerial vehicles.

Creative solutions and “ingenuity” kept the helicopter flying longer than expected.

Over an extended mission that lasted for almost 1,000 Martian days (more than 33 times longer than originally planned), Ingenuity was upgraded with the ability to autonomously choose landing sites in treacherous terrain, dealt with a dead sensor, dusted itself off after dust storms, operated from 48 different airfields, performed three emergency landings, and survived a frigid Martian winter.

Fun fact: To keep costs low, the helicopter contained many off-the-shelf-commercial parts from the smartphone industry - parts that had never been tested in deep space. Those parts also surpassed expectations, proving durable throughout Ingenuity’s extended mission, and can inform future budget-conscious hardware solutions.

There is value in adding an aerial dimension to interplanetary surface missions.

Ingenuity traveled to Mars on the belly of the Perseverance rover, which served as the communications relay for Ingenuity and, therefore, was its constant companion. The helicopter also proved itself a helpful scout to the rover.

After its initial five flights in 2021, Ingenuity transitioned to an “operations demonstration,” serving as Perseverance’s eyes in the sky as it scouted science targets, potential rover routes, and inaccessible features, while also capturing stereo images for digital elevation maps.

Airborne assets like Ingenuity unlock a new dimension of exploration on Mars that we did not yet have – providing more pixels per meter of resolution for imaging than an orbiter and exploring locations a rover cannot reach.

Tech demos can pay off big time.

Ingenuity was flown as a technology demonstration payload on the Mars 2020 mission, and was a high risk, high reward, low-cost endeavor that paid off big. The data collected by the helicopter will be analyzed for years to come and will benefit future Mars and other planetary missions.

Just as the Sojourner rover led to the MER-class (Spirit and Opportunity) rovers, and the MSL-class (Curiosity and Perseverance) rovers, the team believes Ingenuity’s success will lead to future fleets of aircraft at Mars.

In general, NASA’s Technology Demonstration Missions test and advance new technologies, and then transition those capabilities to NASA missions, industry, and other government agencies. Chosen technologies are thoroughly ground- and flight-tested in relevant operating environments — reducing risks to future flight missions, gaining operational heritage and continuing NASA’s long history as a technological leader.

You can fall in love with robots on another planet.

Following in the tracks of beloved Martian rovers, the Ingenuity Mars Helicopter built up a worldwide fanbase. The Ingenuity team and public awaited every single flight with anticipation, awe, humor, and hope.

Check out #ThanksIngenuity on social media to see what’s been said about the helicopter’s accomplishments.

Learn more about Ingenuity’s accomplishments here. And make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#tech #technology #futurism #space #robotics #inspiration #science #planets #NASA #aviation #Youtube

[sayruq]

Last week, Politico reported that President Joe Biden would “consider” conditioning military aid to Israel if the country launches a large-scale invasion of Rafah, where more than a million Palestinians are sheltering. “It’s something he’s definitely thought about,” said one of the four anonymous US officials cited as a source. This was about as weak of a position as could be imagined: The President had definitely thought about maybe doing something. Still, even this proved too much. One day later, National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan said the article was based on “uninformed speculation” by anonymous officials and that he wouldn’t be entertaining hypotheticals about how the US would respond to a major invasion of Rafah, which US officials have signaled they would accept in a more limited form. The dismissal was the latest indication of the administration’s almost complete unwillingness to even discuss imposing serious consequences on Israel for waging a war that has killed more than 30,000 people, most of whom were women and children. Instead, the administration has adopted a newfound feeling of impotence. As State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller put it last month, “The United States does not dictate to Israel what it must do, just as we don’t dictate to any country what it must do.” The absurdity of this position was made clear when a reporter interjected, “Unless you invade them.” Miller couldn’t help but laugh. It has been obvious for months that there are many things the Biden administration can do to restrain Israel and distance itself from a war that has been condemned throughout the world. The problem has not been a lack of options but a lack of political will. Daniel Levy, a former Israeli peace negotiator who is now the president of the US/Middle East Project, told me, “I think many of us who had very low expectations of the US and of Biden have had a rude awakening as to how much lower the actual performance has been [compared] to even the lowest of low expectations.”

As evidence of how important US backing has been for Israel, Levy cited veteran Israeli journalist Yoav Limor, who wrote in Hebrew earlier this month that without “Biden’s support, Israel would long ago have been forced to stop the fighting in Gaza due to a shortage of weapons, while at the same time it would have been forced to deal with United Nations Security Council resolutions (and possibly sanctions) against it.” Still, Levy thought it might take weeks or months of sustained US pressure to compel Israel to change course. In any case, Biden is under no obligation to provide thousands of bombs to a country whose leader has consistently ignored him as Israel wages a brutal war that has leveled much of Gaza and caused children to die of starvation. “We need to stick to our own values,” Ford said. “If our values say, ‘Starving children is way beyond the pale,’ then we need to react to that and take stern action, whether or not it changes Israeli policy.”

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #genocide joe #butcher biden #genocide #gaza genocide #imperialism

[kamotecue]

the one that got away ❆ l. williamson

pairing: leah williamson x fem!reader

summary: after you had torn your acl, it was deemed that you weren't able to return to your football career. so, what happens when you pursued something different, that the one you love, ended up being the one who got away? singer!reader

agony was what the blonde defender felt, it was the agony of losing you - the one that got away, for the english captain it was a relentless ache, the haunting melody of memories that lingers long after the music has stopped. her silent screams, the tumultuois storm of her emotions that threatens to consume every one of her thoughts and feelings. it was definitely a rollercoaster ride of emotions, the experience you both had together as a couple - the deep sense of grief and loss, the emptiness feeling that was impossible to feel, how every thought is consumed by the memories of you - how you'd both dance in the rain, her watching in amusement as you would always make blanket forts during movie nights, how she held onto you close as if you were going to disappear, and lastly, her favorite - the way she'd kiss you in private, how she showed you what it's like to be loved.

yet there it was, the winter of 2011 - you had suffered an anterior cruciate ligament injury making everything fall down, as much as you tried there was nothing that you could do. and so, you had left the football world, despite being the arsenal prodigy. a knock was heard, as you gazed at your bedroom door - the blonde defender had carefully opened the door, she looked at your eyes to see them filled with tears, knowing how this moment would change everything. your career ending injury, the one you sustained was not just a blow to your body, but a devestating blow to your dreams. you had worked so hard, sacrificed so much, to reach the pinnacle of yourcareer, only to have it all taken away in an instant.

"i won't be playing alongside you, as we thought, lee." your voice broke as you buried your face into the crook of her neck. the blonde reaching to softly rub your back, in an attempt to calm you which it did. the sniffles was heard throughout the house, yet all she could do was be there for you. it took you a while to accept circumstance, so you moved onto something else - music was the second, no third thing you loved - besides football, and the english defender. a year later, you took off into the music industry with a storm - you decided to form a band with your childhood friends, performing in sold-out stadiums, releasing a whole album - and it was even worse when the band had even gotten more famous.

in the early days, the love between you two was a bright flame, burning fiercely and passionately. but as your music career soared to unimaginable heights, the glare of fame cast a shadow over their relationship, changing everything. you had never anticipated the level of fame and scrutiny that would come with the band's success. everywhere you went, you were followed by a throng of fans and paparazzi, eager for a glimpse into your glamorous life. in which the pressure to maintain your image became suffocating, and you knew that any hint of scandal could spell disaster for your career. asmuch as you loved the blonde defender, you also knew that being seen with her in public could invite unwanted attention and speculation. that's why you couldn't bear the thought of her being surrounded by the media, or having her privacy invaded - as she loved being private. and so, with a heavy heart, you made the painful decision to push her away, thinking it was for the best.

at first, lee was confused and hurt with the way you acted, the unnesscary coldness. you tried to explain it, to make her understand the pressure you were under, but the damage had already been done, the trust between you two had been shattered, despite your best intentions - it couldn't be repaired. so as the distance between you two grew, your love began to wither and fade - the bright flame that had once burned so brightly was now nothing more than a flicker, barely illuminating the darkness that crept into the relationship. in the end, you were alone - your fame and success, a hollow comfort for the love that you'd lost. you often find yourself pondering, if you made the right choice, if pushing her away had been the only option, but deep down, you knew that the price of fame had been too high, and that you'd always regret the day that you'd let her slip away.

yet there you were, in front of her eyes - performing in front of 90,000 fans. she still loves you, and a part of her is hoping that you still do. and you do, you still do - there are countless nights were you're looking up at the hotel ceiling, a lingering ache in your heart for the love you had lost, the one that could've been yours if fate had not intervened. you'd often wondered how things could've been different if the acl injury had never happened, perhaps you would've never pursued music with such fervor, instead choosing a quieter life by her side. the lazy mornings spent in bed, tangeled in each other's embrace, and peaceful evenings watching as the sun would set, hand in hand. but reality was cruel, and the injury shattered not just your dreams but also the future you had envisioned with her. and as the final notes of your song had faded away, you closed your eyes, imagining for a brief moment that she was there in the crowd, that the blue eyes you had fallen in love with - and when you opened them, she was. a wide smile was seen on her face, as you noticed the tears in her eyes that were begging to drop, she was watching you with pride and love.

the crowd had cheered, as you looked away - greeted them with a small smile, as you bid goodbye. her eyes followed as you left the stage, a concerned look was seen throughout your bandmate's eyes. the crowd began to leave, one by one - yet a dazed look was shown on her face, you saw her, yet you haven't made the effort to do anything. maybe you shouldn't, maybe you couldn't or maybe you didn't have to.

"come on, lee - the concert is done." beth, her club and national teammate said, as a soft sigh was heard. she didn't notice a tour staff had walked her way. you had given orders to invite her teammate's backstage. the defender had only looked up when she took note of the unfamiliar ones, her eyes locked onto someone in uniform, the lanyard confirming that she worked for, or with you.

"ms. williamson, i presume? i was ordered to give you these backstage passes, as well as to escort you backstage." the worker said, as her eyes gazed to the passes in her hands, beth and a few others, their eyes had widened in shock. she slowly stood up before nodding to the girl, as every step began to feel a bit heavy for the defender, you walked back in forth in your changing room - wondering if it was the right choice.

it was, as the team had been led backstage, leah had caught the eyes of your three childhood best friends - people that she also knows, as she formed a friendship with the trio while you were dating. an amused look was seen on oliver's face, as he stood up to greet the team.

"never thought i'd see you again, lee." oliver's charming voice was heard, catching the eyes of his two other bandmate's "childhood friends". a soft smile was shown on archie's and adeline's face.

"neither did i" the english captain's voice was calm, gaining the attention of oliver who softly hummed.

"we've missed you, but she misses you more." oliver replied, he gazed at your dressing room door - it opened, revealing you.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc imagine #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Fighting junk fees is "woke"

“Populism” isn’t intrinsically left or right. The distinction between the two is often obscured by jargon, but there’s a simple litmus test (courtesy of Steven Brust): “ask what’s more important: human rights, or property rights. If they say ‘property rights are human rights,’ they’re on the right.”

Which is to say, both the left and the right can be populist, but the populist left seeks to improve peoples’ lives, no matter what that takes, while the populist right is only willing to make the world better when that doesn’t interfere with the interests of property owners.

This is how you get the Libertarian Party of New Hampshire equating publicly produced, free insulin with forcing enslaved Black people to pick cotton in the fields:

https://newrepublic.com/post/174485/libertarian-party-suggests-former-black-lawmaker-pick-crops-free

For right populists, the property rights of pharma giants are human rights, so anything that interferes with those rights is equivalent to any other human rights violation.

This is not only wrong, but it’s also a huge vulnerability in the right populist mindset. It’s a button that, when pushed, produces a reliable and reflexive outrage.

This is essential for the creation, maintenance and expansion of plutocracy. In a plutocracy, a small minority owns most of the property (we live in a plutocracy). By definition, plutocracy isn’t popular, since it’s a system that benefits a small minority at everyone else’s expense. In its natural state, plutocracy is only popular with its winners, and not the vast majority of losers it creates.

So plutocrats need to find ways to get turkeys to vote for Christmas. One important trick is to convince us all that the system is fair, guided by an invisible hand that performs mystic passes over our heads at birth and locates the very best of us and elevates us to the apex of the social pyramid.

But there’s a problem with this: plutocracy is self-sustaining. The story that we’re all just “temporarily embarrassed millionaires” who can rise to the top with hard work and smarts falls flat in the face of the reality that nearly everyone at the top was born there. If the system selects rulers based on merit, and if everyone the system selects was born rich, then the rich must have some genetic trait that makes them destined to rule.

This is why plutocracy always turns into aristocracy: the idea that some people are suited to rule because they have “good blood.” Eugenics is, above all, a way to excuse inequality. Fitness to rule is determined primarily by whose orifice you emerge from, and only secondarily by any obvious competence or skill.

So right wing footsoldiers are mired in a terrible and shameful swamp of self-loathing. By definition, their lack of wealth and power is their own fault, and not merely their fault, but the fault of their genes. Being on the bottom is proof that you deserve to be there. Your failure to rise proves that you don’t deserve to rise.

No wonder the right is so irony-poisoned. Remember 2020, when gun-nuts got “revenge” on gun safety scolds by photographing themselves pointing loaded guns at their own penises? The participants insisted that they were just trolling, and they were…by pointing loaded guns at their dicks:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/28/holographic-nano-layer-catalyser/#musketfuckers

Plutocrats understand that there are limits to irony, and that at a certain point, irony poisoning becomes so acute that your rank-and-file literally start blowing their balls off. To relieve the pressure, plutes scapegoat other people based on their gender, sexual orientation, race, or nationality.

This provides an important resolution to the cognitive dissonance of meritocracy. The reason you’re doing so badly isn’t that you lack merit, it’s that affirmative action has elevated unworthy people to the positions that you deserve. You are a temporarily embarrassed millionaire — but the riches you deserve have been snaffled up by welfare queens and DEI consultants.

Cruelty isn’t the point of culture war bullshit: the point is power. Cruelty is merely the tactic:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/09/turkeys-voting-for-christmas/#culture-wars

Culture war bullshit is a very reliable way to get turkeys to vote for Christmas. Take the campaign against junk fees, which have ticketmastered every part of your life with “fees” for things like “paying your rent by check” and “not paying your rent by check”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/30/military-industrial-park-service/#booz-allen

There is no broad constituency for junk fees. Scam artists (including scam artists in the C-suites of Fortune 100 companies) love them, sure, but junk fees make everyone else furious.

What’s a plutocrat to do? Well, it turns out that culture war bullshit can make right wingers point (metaphorical) guns at their own junk — all plutocrats need to do is put the word out that getting rid of junk fees is “woke” and low-information right-wing thumbsuckers will demand the right to be charged junk fees.

Here’s an example: one especially pernicious form of junk fee is the “swipe fees” that credit-card companies charge merchants. In an increasingly cashless age, these companies — dominated by the Visa/Mastercard duopoly — have figured out how to scrape 3–5% out of every single retail transaction in the entire fucking economy.

Every merchant you patronize has to charge more — or reduce quality, or both — in order to pay this Danegeld to two of the largest, most profitable companies in the world. Visa/Mastercard have hiked their fees by 40 percent since the pandemic’s start. Forty. Fucking. Percent. Tell me again how greedflation isn’t real?

A bipartisan legislative coalition, led by Senator Dick Durbin (D-IL) and Senator Roger Marshall (R-KS) have proposed the Credit Card Competition Act (CCCA), which will force competition into credit-card routing, putting pressure on the Visa/Mastercard duopoly:

https://www.congress.gov/bill/118th-congress/senate-bill/1838/text?s=1&r=3

This should be a no-brainer, but plute spin-doctors have plenty of no-brains to fill up with culture war bullshit. Writing in The American Prospect, Luke Goldstein unpacks an astroturf campaign to save the endangered swipe fee from woke competition advocates:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-08-04-wall-street-culture-war-swipe-fee-reform/

Now, this campaign isn’t particularly sophisticated. It goes like this: Target is a big business that runs a lot of transactions through Visa/Mastercard, so it stands to benefit from competition in payment routing. And Target did a mean woke by selling Pride merch, which makes them groomers. So by fighting swipe fees, Congress is giving woke groomers a government bailout!

It’s literally that stupid. It’s being pushed by a dark money group based in Kansas, which is targeting Senator Marshall’s constituents with mailers that warns voters they’ll “lose their credit card points” because he’s thrown his lot in with “liberal politicians”:

https://punchbowl.news/caf-marshall-mailer-kansas/

The fliers also warn that competition could result in “your financial data could be processed by partners of the Chinese Communist Party” (the bill bans foreign companies from routing transactions, and bans China UnionPay by name).

The fliers are anonymous. The only ghoul shameless enough to put his name on the campaign is Grover Norquist, whose Americans for Tax Reform tells its Christmas-voting-turkeys to “side with consumers, not woke retailers.”

The dark money org pushing this line have placed op-eds in newspapers across red states, comparing transaction routing competition to your kids’ data being snaffled up by Tiktok:

https://www.theflstandard.com/senators-rubio-and-scott-must-protect-the-personal-financial-data-of-floridians/

This nonsense was peddled by League of Southeastern Credit Unions president Samantha Beeler, whose org has spent $20,000 fighting the CCCA, claiming that a “cheaper” system would be “less secure”:

https://disclosurespreview.house.gov/ld/ldxmlrelease/2023/Q2/301493985.xml

But that’s small potatoes. Millions are being spent, right now, lobbying against CCCA — $5m from the American Bankers’ Association, $2m from the Credit Union National Association, another $400k from Mastercard.

For these rentiers, corrupting our government with millions is a stellar bargain if it lets them continue to collect rent every time we spend money. And millions of people who’ll end up paying that will demand the right to do so, provided they’re told that they’re fighting “woke capitalism” and China.

I'm kickstarting the audiobook for "The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation," a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It's a DRM-free book, which means Audible won't carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

[Image ID: A mechanical credit card imprinter (AKA 'zipzap') emblazoned with a US flag Punisher logo. It is imprinting a blank credit-card slip with a red Visa card bearing the GOP logo. It sits on a weathered wooden plank table, stained a dark brown.]

#pluralistic #finance #junk fees #ripoffs #turkeys voting for christmas #culture war bullshit #useful idiots #visa #mastercard #swipe fees

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

FORD MUSTANG BOSS 302

BOSS-A-NOVA!

They called it The Boss and for two short years it ruled the muscle car scene in the US, establishing itself as one of the greatest road and race cars of the era. Now, it’s one of the most collectible.

In 1960s US street lingo, if something was ‘boss’ it was cool, tough, the best. And the 1969 Boss 302 Mustang wore its badge with pride. It launched just four and a half years after the first Mustang was revealed to critical acclaim and record sales. Yearly updates to keep Mustang fresh in the face of tough new challengers from General Motors and Chrysler (particularly the Camaro) resulted in the once lean and pretty ’Stang muscling up, both in body shape and under-bonnet brawn, and the 1969-70 Boss models were the zenith of Mustang styling.

Thereafter, Mustangs became increasingly bloated and anaemic as the 1970s fuel crisis and stricter pollution laws cut horsepower and stylists lost their way; the rippling flanks and thrusting nose of the late 60s/early 70s cars gave way to boxy, bland designs. That early look would not be recaptured until 2005, when new Mustangs were given retro styling.

The Boss 302 was launched at the same time as its big-block brother, the Boss 429. Both were positioned as competition specials; Ford wanted to homologate its 302-cuber for Trans-Am and the 429ci monster for NASCAR. In fact, Ford went wild with engines between 1969-70, offering nine V8s – the ‘economy’ 302, 351 Windsor, 351 Cleveland, 390, 428 Cobra Jet, 428 Super Cobra Jet, 429 ‘wedge’, Boss 302 and Boss 429.

For the Boss 302, Ford’s high-compression 302ci small-block V8 was beefed up with four-bolt main bearing caps and redesigned ‘Cleveland’ cylinder heads with bigger inlet and exhaust valves, and ports that allowed the engine to breathe more efficiently.

These ‘semi-hemi’ heads were based on the Ford 427ci racing engine’s combustion chambers, and a balanced forged steel crankshaft and forged steel conrods allowed the engine to handle high rpms for sustained periods. A single 780cfm four-barrel Holley carburettor sat atop a high-rise aluminium inlet manifold, while a dual-point distributor, high-pressure oil pump, windage tray and screw-in welch plugs were further indications of its competition intent.

A rev limiter was fitted, progressively cutting spark from 5800rpm to 6150, but it was easily bypassed and the Boss 302 could reportedly keep making power up to 8000rpm with minor mods. In the muscle car marketing war, Ford claimed a peak horsepower figure of 290bhp at 5800rpm (the same as the Camaro Z/28), but that was extremely conservative.

Two four-speed manual Top Loader transmissions were available: a wide-ratio ’box with Hurst shifter more suited to street and strip use, and a close-ratio unit for racing. Adding to the race or road options list were four diffs: the stock 3.5:1 nine-inch, Traction-Lok 3.5:1 and 3.91:1 and the No-Spin 4.30:1 built by Detroit Automotive. Axles and diff centres were also strengthened to take the loads.

Suspension was also race-inspired with heavy-duty springs, shocks and sway bar up front, and Hotchkiss-style rear suspension with heavy-duty leaf springs, sway bar and staggered shock absorbers. The left-hand shock absorber was bolted behind the axle and the right in front, to reduce axle tramp under acceleration. Amazingly for such a high-performance car, braking was still only discs and drums with power assistance.

Ironically, the Boss 302’s sexy shape was styled by former General Motors designer Larry Shinoda, who is often credited with coming up with the Boss moniker. When asked what he was working on, he replied, "The boss’s car", a reference to new Ford president ‘Bunkie’ Knudson, who was also ex-GM and had recruited Shinoda to Ford.

While the wheelbase remained unchanged at 2740mm, the ’69 Mustang was 96.5mm longer overall to accommodate all the V8s offered, although the big-blocks still had to be shoe-horned under the bonnet. Shinoda’s ’69 Boss 302 was also one of the first production cars to offer an optional front air dam and adjustable rear wing, and his use of high-contrast black panels, rear window SportsSlats, and go-faster stripes made the Boss a real attention-grabber. The ’69 was also the only quad-headlight Mustang, a feature that was dropped for 1970 models.

In 1970, American Hot Rod magazine dubbed the 1970 Boss 302 as "definitely the best handling car Ford has ever built", while the conservative Consumer Guide called it "uncomfortable at any speed over anything but the smoothest surface". Unique Cars resident Mustang maniac, ‘Uncle’ Phil Walker, never read the Consumer Guide review, but even if he had it wouldn’t have stopped him buying the immaculate 1970 Grabber Orange Boss 302 you see here.

Phil already has his beloved 1966 Shelby GT350H, but the Boss 302 really got his Mustang juices percolating. And he wasn’t alone, because the first Boss he saw, some 43 years ago, is still one of Australia’s most iconic race cars: Allan Moffat’s Trans-Am racer. Phil remembers it clearly.

"I saw Moff race it Calder and I was inspired to own one," Phil recalls. "It was the most aggressive-looking car; its stance was something you had to see to believe. It looked like it was doing a million miles per hour when it was parked.

"My Boss was originally a one-owner car and I bought it from a friend of mine in California, Dave, who I also bought my Shelby GT350H from 19 years ago. Dave found it in a barn with a blown engine, but in otherwise pretty good condition.

"The lady who owned it from new didn’t realise it had a high-compression engine and had run it on standard fuel. When it blew up she just parked it.

"Dave did a nut-and-bolt restoration over two years, then put it up on his hoist. He didn’t want to sell it, but I got my way in the end – unfortunately he had the last say on the price (laughs). I didn’t even bother to test drive it; I knew it was a good car. It had 21 (new) miles on the odo when I picked it up and only 54,000 miles in total."

Since then, Phil has only put a couple of hundred miles on the car, but that’s enough for him to have bonded with it.

"I’ve only had the Boss since January and it’s growing on me. It’s different to the Shelby. It’s bigger and very low.

"The engine is incredible. Dave is one of the best engine builders in California and when he rebuilt the 302 he changed the cam spec. US camshaft technology was okay in the 60s and 70s, but if you had a big-cam muscle car they wouldn’t idle and they were terrible for driving in cities.

"A proper Boss engine can rev to 8500rpm all day and for a V8 that’s pretty serious. But they’re not renowned for low-down torque; it starts coming on from 3500rpm. My car still has a solid-lifter cam, but it pulls like a train from 1200rpm in top gear and I can drive it around at 1500rpm in top all day.

"It’s got the four-speed close-ratio Top Loader with the long first gear and with a 3.7:1 rear end it does about 55-60mph (89-97km/h) in first gear. It bloody goes!"

Phil is a fussy bugger and his cars have to look just right, so Russell Stuckey from Stuckey Tyres has ordered him a set of genuine 15 x 8 Minilites from England to replace the standard Magnum 500s.

"I want it to look like the Parnelli Jones race car, and to get the stance I want it’s going to have 275/60s on the rear and 255/60s on the front. At the moment it’s a pretty car that is tough, but I want a tough car that looks tough. And that’s all I’m going to do to it."

After his first real fang in the Boss, Phil felt that his Shelby would be half a lap in front at the end of a 10-lap sprint at Sandown, but now thinks the Boss would be quicker. We might have to put both to the acid test one day. What do you mean "no way", Phil?

It was a nervous Phil who turned up at a Melbourne storage facility in January to pick up his new Boss 302. So nervous, in fact, that he took along Unique Cars art director Ange and a sturdy tow rope – just in case.

The storage people were even more apprehensive – they had been warned about just how anal he is with his cars, as he explains: "The lady there said, ‘You must be pretty fanatical because we’ve been given strict instructions that no one is to touch the car except you’." Fortunately, the car arrived in pristine condition.

"I was pretty excited, I’d been waiting for seven weeks," Phil laughs. "I took the car cover off it, fired it up, and it drove home like a brand new car. It was as good as I thought it would be. I spent the next three hours washing it."

Sounds like our Phil.

PARNELLI AND ME

Three years ago, my mate Dave and I were invited to a Trans-Am dinner at Portland International Raceway where Dave was racing his 1970 Trans-Am Boss 302 and I was crewing for him.

When we were driving there we noticed this black Mercedes following us. When we stopped it did too and this bloke got out and said, "I noticed you guys back at the hotel. You’re going to the Trans-Am dinner aren’t you? I’m lost." It was Parnelli Jones!

I jumped in with him and when we got there I ‘invited’ myself onto Parnelli’s table, which also included Pete Brock – the guy who designed the Shelby Daytona Coupe. There was I, Mr Nobody, with all these US racing heavies, but Parnelli was a real gentleman, not up himself in any way.

The next day they had free lap time at Portland and, when I saw Parnelli there with Ford’s new ‘Parnelli Jones’ Boss 302 tribute Mustang, I asked if there was any chance of a ride and he said jump in. We did 10 laps and the guy hadn’t lost any of his ability; my eyes were getting bigger and bigger coming into the corners.

It was a great experience that I’ll never forget. – PW

IT's MINE...

Moff’s Mustang is probably the most iconic Australian racecar and after seeing it I was inspired to own a Boss Mustang. Then, about 25 years ago, I went to Pebble Beach in Monterey for the first time and saw a 1970 Grabber Orange Boss 302, which was the colour Parnelli Jones raced in Trans-Am. That day I knew I had to own a Boss. It was the car I’d always wanted after my Shelby, which was my lifelong dream car.

My Boss 302 is fully optioned, including the Shaker, extra side mirror, tacho and rear louvres, and it’s got a lot of wow factor. When you drive down the freeway, you get the thumbs-up from all sorts of different people. I think it’s the colour.

It’s closer to show standard than my Shelby. It’s got the paint marks on the tailshaft and all the little concours details, but I’m never going to show it; I’m not into that.

The 1969/70 body shape is still the best. Ford got it right then, but lost the plot after that and it’s reflected in their collectibility today. – PW

#car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #ford #FORD MUSTANG BOSS 302 #ford mustang #boss 302 #MUSTANG BOSS 302 #mustang

[sgiandubh]

So in other words, you agree, Sam and Cait are not very good actors as exemplified by the scene being them and not Beauchamp and Fraser. On that, agreed. She might be a C actor, he's definitely a D

Dear Beauchamp and Fraser Anon,

I suspect you might be a returning one, by the way, hoping to catch me unprepared with a very cheap sophism. Check this concept on Wikipedia if you wish, but I will give you my definition: manipulated or derailed logic, i.e. formally sustainable, but in reality just a fallacy; or, if you prefer, a bunch of crap, just for the sake of it. Also, it would be wise not to try these cheap tricks on someone trained to work with words and doing so every single day: you might find no satisfaction, ultimately.

Fun fact: I don't agree with any single word you just wrote. Sam and Cait are very good and gifted actors. Both of them. They did wonders with a very inconsistent script and under barbaric public pressure. What dragged you in here, Anon? Mrs. Gabaldon's florid, even luxuriant prose? What kept you in here, Anon? Blood and sperm and rape galore? I should wish you were honest, at least for once in your life, and let your answer be 'not really'.

What I meant by that phrase was something very simple: the actors' life experience deeply informing and sublimating their performance. If you think real and creative lives are strictly separate affairs in any intellectual endeavor, then you are probably completely unfamiliar with anything remotely related to writing, singing, playing (an instrument), acting, composing or painting. All these are akin to magic and all of the above are a summoning of sorts: ask any 'content creator', you will probably get a very similar answer. In Cait and Sam's case, their real life story nurtures and elevates their acting, despite people like you.

I am not an actor myself, but a long time ago it was acting that liberated me and taught me to not be afraid of anything. I did not make a living out of it, but I will always have the tools making me able to access that very special energy, any time I should need it. So, I can only offer you an educated opinion of These Two:

C is a very, very good actress. She is classy, sophisticated and knows instinctively how to occupy a stage or a set. She worked and progressed a LOT since Season 1, when it took me a good while to warm up to her. Add to this what I think is arresting beauty. Not really a C-level, in my book.

S is a wonderfully gifted actor who, unlike C, does not have any idea of this potential and, to be honest, gives the impression to even not care about it. He singlehandedly dominated some of the most difficult moments of the series (that unwatchable Wentworth episode comes to mind). His mastery of the Stanislavski and Lecoq methods and techniques is excellent. He is likeable, personable and has an innate emotional intelligence, helping him navigate and compensate the weaknesses of (yes, I insist!) an often insufficient script. I have already written about it, with arguments, when I found some very interesting parallels between The Fiery Cross episode and Laurence Olivier's performance in Shakespeare's Henry V. I will say it again: this guy has been grossly miscast, spare for JAMMF.

Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the whole preparation and rehearsal process when producing a movie or a series or a theatre show. These people don't just learn their lines by heart and turn up for readings and rehearsals. They also read and watch a lot of things that could help them build better, more credible characters. But what makes the sometimes very subtle difference between a decent performance and a stellar one is the amount of themselves they allow inside their acting. And in this respect, I think Sam and Cait have been very lucky, in what is a very clear case of Art (instinctively) imitating Life.

I doubt this answered your question and to be honest, I don't care.

#anon #fandom #shitshow

[genderkoolaid]

Why use transmisogyny as a term to describe transandrophobia?

Transmisogyny as a term was coined to describe the intersection of transphobia and misogyny

Feminism has historically used "misogyny" to describe women's oppression.

The problem with this is, it is a binary, cissexist (and intersexist) way of understanding gender oppression. "Women's oppression" here was understood as the oppression of (white) cis women, which means that they understood misogyny as it affected (white) cis women. This leaves out many people, including all trans people.

"Transmisogyny" carried on this legacy by creating a word to describe how misogyny impacts trans people, but focusing on trans women. While Serano did try to leave the door open for transmasc theorization, "transmisogyny" has subsequently become synonymous with anti-transfemininity

You have people claiming that trans men&mascs don't experience misogyny, or only misdirected misogyny. These same claims have been weaponized against all trans people, as well as butch women (and likely others), as a way of silencing and erasing the impact of the patriarchy on queer people.

It creates this dichotomy of Real Victims of Misogyny who are deserving of feminist support and resources, and the False Victims who only every experience a fraction of Real oppression, and thus cannot be anything but, at best, quiet and obedient allies to the Real Victims.

Terms like "anti-transfem" and "anti-transmasc" can allow us to specify what groups are being targeted, and how those groups face unique challenges, without making assumptions about what group is affected by what based on gender. Anti-transfemininity frequently involves patriarchal beliefs about maleness, and anti-transmasculininity frequently involves misogyny.

"Transmisogyny" is a very useful word to illuminate how transphobia and misogyny work together to police gender. It is frustrating to me that we are expected to avoid using this word when discussing any intersection of misogyny and transphobia that isn't specifically/exclusively anti-transfeminine. I think it emerges from cissexist ideas around gender that we need to reject in order for actual trans liberation. "Misogyny only targets women/feminine people" is something that has always been used to hurt trans people, including trans women. Redefining things so that trans women are no longer hurt by this cissexism doesn't actually fix anything. If anything, it sustains the pressure for trans women&fems (and MTX people) to perform cis-friendly womanhood in order to be seen as Real Victims deserving of support.

#m. #ask box

[stwritings]

I've Got You

Synopsis

Eddie helps reader through a bad trip after she's pressured by her boyfriend to take drugs.

What To Expect/Warnings

This is a rather heavy topic and potentially triggering to some so please proceed with caution. ♡

This fic takes place in 87 and has no mention of the plot from Season 4, apart from Eddie graduating. Also was not expecting it to be this long lmfao, woops. No use of y/n, toxic relationship, drug use, peer pressuring, bad drug trip, anxiety, hurt/comfort, confrontation between Eddie and reader's bf, angst, mutual pining, emotional cheating if you squint??, descriptions of drug side effects, alcohol consumption.

Let me know if i missed anything.

(proofread in a very sleepy state lol, dont mind potential spelling mistakes of repetitive words/phrasings)

Once again, i can't stress this enough, please do not read this fic if any of the above mentioned topics are triggering to you. ♡

You can read pt. 2 here!

"This year's different. This year, is my year. I can feel it... '86 baby!"

And that, it was.

Things finally seemed to be taking a turn for the better in Eddie's life. That year, he geared down and put all of his time and focus into his school work determined not to spend one more second in what was, in his opinion, the most dreadful place in town; Hawkins High. Graduation day finally came and as promised to his fellow Hellfire Club members, who all attended the ceremony, he gave the performance of a lifetime on that stage. 'They can't get me in trouble anymore.' he thought as he shredded an air guitar whilst sprinting towards the faculty, hollering as he did so. Once he was face to face with his long time nemesis, Principal Higgins, all of the cleverly thought out disses he had come up with over the last year seemed to fade away. He blamed it on nerves, but deep down he knew that his distain was overshadowed by an immense sense of joy and relief. To everyone's surprise, Eddie calmly grabbed his diploma with a mischievous smile and exited the auditorium gracefully.

'Finally, a new chapter can begin.'

_

After some much needed time off in the summer allowed him to contemplate his next move in life, Eddie started applying for jobs around Hawkins. His preferred establishments such as the library and record store were, unfortunately, not hiring. Despite the tried and true efforts of his friends at Family Video, they too, were not in need of new employees. He contemplated sticking to his main source of income, but knew that the drug market in Hawkins was not a sustainable nor stable option. Truth be told, he only started dealing as a way of making extra cash whilst still in school. He grew tired of it pretty quickly, but promised himself that the second he would graduate, he would ditch this unconventional side hustle.

His new objective was finding work that would allow him to make enough money to find a place of his own. As much as he loved Wayne and was forever grateful to his uncle for taking him in, he couldn't stand to see him spend one more night on the dreadful pull out mattress.

After weeks of grueling efforts on Eddie's behalf, Wayne came home with some good news one Saturday afternoon. With a hiring flyer and about 8 bags of groceries in hand, he nearly kicked the trailer door down from excitement. "Eddie! Boy, you home?"

Eddie quickly shuffled out of his bedroom to see what the commotion was about. Noting his uncle's erratic breathing and bulging eyes, he was quick to grab the grocery bags out of his hands to allow him to catch his breath.

"Everything okay?" he asked cautiously, unsure what had his normally calm uncle so frazzled.

Wayne waved the flyer into the air and let out a series of chuckles. "More than okay, look what they had hangin' on the wall near the checkout at the supermarket!"

As Eddie turned to face the piece of paper in his uncle's hand, a grimace started to form on his face when he processed the words written on it. "Ah man, i don't know. I'm not really skilled in the art of packing groceries..."

"Come on now, son. You already know the basics, where do the eggs go?"

Eddie stared blankly at his uncle while blinking slowly. Wayne blinked back at Eddie theatricality while motioning for a response.

"Uh, in the bag...?"

"Where in the bag, boy?" his uncle persisted, his once excited tone now slightly annoyed.

"Maybe on top so they don't get broken...?"

"See! It's common knowledge. You could also stock shelves or somethin if you don't wanna pack the bags!"

"Yeah, it's worth a shot, i could use the money..."

_

Come to find out, the supermarket was in dire need of staff members, and Eddie got the job that same day. Given that the entire store was understaffed, he was able to snag his preferred position of stocking shelves. The uniforms weren't great, and having to hear the same tunes everyday was somewhat unbearable, but the money was good so he couldn't complain.

A few weeks into his new employment, Eddie was introduced to the newest addition to the team. Given that she was also put in the stocking department, they spent much of their time working together and got along great. They would often joke around together, their sense of humor practically identical. Along with her kind and rambunctious personality, they also shared common interests such as reading and music. She was the perfect girl, he thought.

Upon getting to know one another, Eddie quickly learned, much to his dismay, that she had recently moved to Hawkins with her boyfriend so he could be closer to his family.

Needless to say, Eddie's love life was never something he had the opportunity or desire to explore whilst in school. The lack of female attention and constant bullying made it difficult for him to find anyone he wanted to get to know in a romantic way. He was rather disappointed to find out that his latest love interest was already spoken for, but quickly accepted it as such.

This minor disappointment didn't stop them from blossoming a wholesome friendship over the course of the next few months. Their normal 7 hour work days always seemed so short, and Eddie was longing to spend more time with his new friend outside of their place of work. Unfortunately, the fear of rejection, accompanied by the constant sense of exclusion he had faced in his prior years had really taken a toll on his confidence, preventing him from ever seeking out friendships outside of his circle of friends.

Those thoughts and worries were momentarily silenced one Friday morning when, to his pleasant surprise, she enquired about his plans for the weekend. This wasn't unusual, they often spoke of their upcoming outings, but typically Eddie was the one to initiate this topic of conversation in hopes that she would suggest hanging out. The idea of potentially spending time together outside of work was thrilling, so he tried his best to play it cool. "A whole lotta nothing, how about you?"

"My boyfriend's colleagues invited him out to this party but i don't really want to go..."

"So you're hoping a conflict arises preventing you from attending this social obligation?" he quipped while smiling.

"Actually, i was hoping maybe you know the person hosting the party and wouldn't mind attending? It'd be nice to see a familiar face there when my boyfriend inevitably ditches me."

Her eyes met the floor as she spoke her last sentence, an action that didn't go unnoticed. The topic of her significant other wasn't mentioned often, in fact, most times Eddie forget she even had a boyfriend. Of the times he was passively mentioned in conversation, Eddie got the impression that he wasn't the nicest person and that she wasn't entirely happy with him. He tried his best to set aside those thoughts, thinking they were definitely biased and he might be reading too much into the situation.

"Does this mysterious party host have a name?" he said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Tom Silverman i think, have you heard of him?" she asked, hope radiating from her eyes.

"As luck would have it, he's friends with my buddy Gareth! I could probably make an appearance." he teased.

"Yeah? Think you could make time in your busy schedule for me?" she reciprocated.

"For you? Anything."

_

The drive back to her place felt like a blur. Her mind was clouded with thoughts of her earlier interaction with Eddie paired with the excitement of spending time with him later at the party. She loved her boyfriend, she really did, but...

She couldn't bring herself to say it, let alone think it. The reality was, he didn't treat her the way she wanted to be treated. Hell, the way she deserved to be treated. Prior to them moving to Hawkins, Samuel had cheated on her for months on end with a close friend of hers. The betrayal was unforgivable, at least, that's what she thought at the time. Samuel had a way of getting into her head, planting ideas of his own and spinning the truth in ways that would make her question everything.

Following the infidelity, he had managed to convince her that the best way to make amends and save their relationship would be to move away from their hometown. Far from all distractions so they could focus on rebuilding what was broken. This was far from what she wanted, now more than ever since meeting Eddie. He was always so kind to her, a luxury far too often stripped away in her current relationship with Samuel. She loved how she felt when she was around Eddie, even in their strictly platonic relationship.

The hypocrisy of the situation made her want to melt away into a big pile of nothingness. She could feel herself growing fonder of Eddie with each passing interaction, no matter how mundane they were. Something as simple as Eddie asking her about her weekend, or when her birthday was, warmed her heart. Did Samuel even care to remember? He forgot about it last year.

Guilt was eating away at her the more her feelings grew. She would never cheat on Samuel, knowing all too well how heart wrenching of an experience that is to go though. Despite that, she couldn't help the gnawing feeling of infidelity as she felt her feelings for Eddie become more prominent and the distance between her and her partner growing. It wasn't all her fault of course, she suspected Samuel was still up to no good whenever the phone would ring at odd times throughout the night and he'd shoot out of bed to answer it. She knew interrogating him was no use, so she kept mental notes of all the occurrences, in hopes of one day working up the courage to leave him.

Apart from him persuading her into staying, there was also the web of lies she felt she had to uphold to avoid judgement from her loved ones, Eddie included. She felt awful lying to him about the reason for her move, but at the time, thought it was necessary for some sense of self-preservation.

As she pulled into her apartment complex, her racing thoughts came to a halt. She put the car in park, let out a sigh and made her way into the building. Once inside, she was met with none other than Samuel, already plastered at 4:48pm, the party wasn't until 9pm. This would make for a long grueling night. She quietly greeted him before excusing herself to go freshen up.

Samuel's work friends arrived shortly after she got into the shower, the sudden ruckus alerting her of their presence. She hurried out of the shower so to not hog the bathroom for too long and tried sneaking into their shared bedroom without alerting the group. Her efforts were overshadowed by a distasteful comment made from one of the men. She wasn't sure what bothered her more, the unsolicited remark about her body from a complete stranger, or the fact that her boyfriend, the man who was supposed to look out for her, laughed and entertained such disrespectful banter.

The frustration made tears well up in her eye as she quickly shut the bedroom door and locked it, hoping she wouldn't have to face the men for a few more hours until they had to leave. All the while, the only thing keeping her sane was the prospect of seeing Eddie later.

_

Eddie was a bundle of nerves from the moment he clocked out of work until he pulled up to the party with Gareth. Six pack in hand, he nervously made his way towards the front door before being stopped by his companion.

"Hey man, there's nothing to be nervous about, alright? If you wanna leave at any point, just let me know."

Gareth's reassuring words did little to alleviate Eddie's stress, but it was still nice for him to know that he had support tonight. With that in mind, he gave his friend an anxious smile and they let themselves into party.

Upon first glance, the party was lively and everyone was having a great time. The pair made their way towards the kitchen to put their beer in the fridge, then made an attempt at finding the host to greet him. Eddie had never met Tom, but had heard good things about him through their mutual friend. Whilst on the hunt for him, Eddie's eyes made contact with a sad looking girl sitting alone on a dingy sofa in the back of the living room, red solo cup in hand. He excused himself from Gareth and quickly made his way over to his friend. The moment their eyes locked, excitement was riddled on her face. She jumped off the couch and embraced him in what was arguably the best hug he had ever received.

"You came!!" she exclaimed, visibly intoxicated.

"I'm a man of my word." he said in a playful tone, placing a hand on his heart.

She playfully shoved his shoulder while taking a sip from her drink, giggling the entire time.

"So uh, where's your boyfriend? Am i finally gonna meet the man of the hour?" Eddie's tone was less than enthusiastic, through no fault of his own. Luckily she was too drunk to notice.

"Well," she began, "as presumed, i have been abandoned. Yet again!" although she tried covering it up with a laughter, her eyes gave away her true emotion.

"Well," he said mimicking her tone, "i am more than happy to entertain you until he gets back."

He could have sworn he saw a faint tint of pink painted on her cheeks for a moment. A tender smile was shared between the two before he was abruptly shoved by an unknown subject who was quick to wrap an arm around her.

"Oh sorry man" the lack of sympathy along with his cocky grin gave away the man's identity.

Samuel.

"Don't sweat it, man." Eddie retorted, annoyance prevalent on his face.

She gave Eddie an apologetic look before introducing the two. Her boyfriend quickly brushed off the pleasantries and turned his attention back to his girlfriend.

"Where have you been babe?" he slurred, his hold on her arm becoming increasingly tighter. Her discomfort was clear and as Eddie was about to intervene, she calmly lifted his arm off of her while stating: "Waiting for you, babe." her tone replicating the one Eddie had adopted moments ago.

Samuel grew annoyed, muttering something under his breath before once again, disappearing into the crowd.

"He seems friendly." Eddie stated in an attempt to break the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry about him, he's... not the best at introductions."

"No kidding..."

Moments passed without further dialogue, Eddie debated mentioning his concerns but felt it wasn't his place. I mean really, how would he even put into words what he was thinking? 'Hey, you know that douchebag boyfriend of yours? Yeah, he doesn't deserve you'.

"Well," she broke the silence, "I better go check on him, will you stay a while?"

"As long as you need me" he responded.

She shot him a warm smile before venturing into the crowd to find Samuel. Eddie waited until she was outside of his line of vision before letting his smile falter. He quickly ushered to the fridge to grab a can of beer to calm his nerves. The rush of euphoria from seeing her accompanied with the displeasure of meeting Samuel left him feeling very disgruntled. He was zoned out, sipping the beer in his hands relentlessly, when he felt a hand tap him on the bicep. Turning his attention towards the person to his right, he was met with a familiar face.

"Hey, you alright?" Gareth asked, concern prevalent in his tone.

"Nah man, wanna go have a smoke?"

_

The initial effects of the alcohol she had consumed in an attempt to numb herself seemed to have faded away quickly following Samuel and Eddie's interaction. As much as she wanted to spend the night with Eddie and let her boyfriend mingle on his own, she felt obligated to go looking for him. The party wasn't held at a mansion by any means, but it certainly wasn't a small house. After searching for what seemed like 25 minutes, she finally found Samuel along with a few of his friends in a bedroom in the basement. Upon entering, the first thing she noticed was a dark green colored table with small plastic bags on it, filled with what looked to be pills. She was quickly ushered into the room and prompted to lock the door before being urged to sit down.

"Sam, what are you doing-"

"Babe, baby, hi!" his tone was drastically different from their previous encounter. He seemed much more erratic and his pupils were blown out.

"Are you okay? I've been looking for you-"

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah. I'm great baby. How are you?"

His frantic eyes and antsy demeanor, accompanied by the unknown substance beside him gave her all the context she needed: He was high. She contemplated her next move, being careful not to upset him.

"I'm fine," she started, "actually, i'm a little tired, i think i'm ready to go home." She knew little could be done to grant her wishes at this point given that she had had far too much to drink to operate a vehicle and Samuel was much less equipt to in this state.

"What... Really? No baby, the night's just starting. You're not having fun?" She was getting ready to answer before being abruptly cut off, his question apparently rhetorical. "I know what will help. Have this." He grabbed her hand and placed one of the chalky pills in her palm.

"I'm not doing drugs, Sam." she said firmly.

"Do you trust me?"

She paused, knowing this was a trap. This wasn't the first time he'd used this tactic to get her to do something she didn't want to. Her delay in responding seemed to aggravate him and he was quick to snap at her.

"Fine, go home then. I just wanted to have a nice time with you tonight. S'what i get for trying." He began shifting his body away from her, turning his attention back to the group.

Through no fault of her own, it had been hard-wired into her brain that in order to avoid an argument and mental torture for the next week, it was easier to agree with whatever he was saying.

"No, no! It's just..."

"You're scared?" his friend said while snickering.

"I've just never done this before..." she replied looking away so no one could see her anxiety ridden expression.

Samuel cupped her face with his hands, an act of intimacy he hadn't shown in years. She melted into his touch, craving to feel a sense of worthiness. "Baby, you'll be fine. I took it and feel amazing. We'll feel amazing together and i'll take care of you if you don't feel good. I promise."

Samuel had often made promises he couldn't keep, and although the little voice in the back of her mind was screaming for her to walk away, she fell victim to his manipulation once again. They exchanged a few promising words to one another before she swallowed the small narcotic, internally comforting herself: 'What's the worst that could happen?'

_

Following a much needed cigarette break and pep talk from Gareth, Eddie composed himself and entered the house once again. Once inside, he scanned the room in an attempt to spot out his friend, but was unsuccessful. He figured she might be using the restroom or mingling with people around the house and decided to enjoy his second and final beer of the night with Gareth.

_

20 minutes had passed since she took the unknown substance from her boyfriend, and up until this point, she had convinced herself that she probably wouldn't feel it, or that if she did, it would feel the same as marijuana. But oh, she was wrong. So very wrong. She noticed her heart began to beat faster and her palms were significantly more damp than before. She felt this overwhelming sense of anxiety wash over her and her ears began to ring. Still sat next to Samuel, she grabbed ahold of his arm in a subtle attempt at getting his attention. Whether he was too high to notice or purposely ignoring her, he had no reaction to her touch. Initially feeling embarrassment, she put that feeling aside and decided to vocalize her distress.

"Baby, i don't feel good, m'heart's beating really fast and-" words kept spilling out of her mouth at a much faster rate than she normally spoke. The chatter in the room never faltered, the noise adding fuel to the fire, making her anxiety worsen. Samuel eventually cut her off, insisting on the fact that she was fine. His invalidation floored her feeling of distress, her heartbeat increasing in speed. She could now hear it in her ears. "I don't like this baby, i wanna go home. Please, can we go home." she pleaded, tears starting to form in her eyes.

Samuel grew annoyed with her, his high being compromised by his girlfriend's distress. He offered to take her to a different room, away from all the noise and she agreed, the commotion from the room she was currently in proving to be too much. Luckily for her, there was an additional guest room in the basement, one that was currently vacant. The prospect of spending one on one time with her boyfriend, especially while in such a vulnerable state brought a great deal of comfort to her. That sense of relief was short lived as he stated that he wanted to get back to his friends, insisting on her trying to get some sleep.

Unbeknownst to her, the drug she took was a stimulate, making sleeping next to impossible. Information that Samuel conveniently didn't mention for his own benefit.

He tucked her into bed and promised that if she called out for him he'd be there within seconds. With a kiss goodnight and more reassuring words, he shut the light, closed the door and headed back to the adjacent bedroom to continue his antics. She was left with her wandering anxious thoughts, but tried her best to fall asleep.

After a short while, her attempts were unsuccessful and her anxiety worsened. She tried to calm herself down to no avail and resorted to calling for her boyfriend. No answer. She tried once more, this time a little louder. Still nothing. Time seemed to escape her. She wasn't sure if an hour or 5 minutes had passed. All she knew was that she had been calling for him for what seemed like forever, to no avail. The most hurtful part of it all was overhearing him talking and laughing with his friends in the adjacent room. Surely if she could hear him, he could hear her? Perhaps he was choosing to ignore he cries for help. The idea of getting out of bed to venture into the other room was far too overwhelming in this state, so she settled into bed, holding onto the sheets tightly and hoped that he would come check up on her soon.

_

With almost an hour having passed since he had last seen her, Eddie grew concerned. He figured with the amount of time that had passed, it wasn't unreasonable to ask the other party goers if they had seen her.

His efforts, although valiant, were unsuccessful. Once he established that she wasn't on the main floor, he decided to wander around the house in hopes of running into her. When he overheard Samuel and a group of men cackling in the basement, he made his way down the stairs.

Once he reached to bottom of steps, he noticed a source of light coming from a closed door, the secondary living room he was now standing in vacant and dark. 'Mystery solved.' he thought, she must be in there with Samuel and his friends. As he started up the stairs again, he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a faint voice coming from the back of the basement. He slowly made his way towards the unlit room and placed an ear against the closed door. That's when he heard it again, only this time, he recognized her voice, calling out for her boyfriend.

Eddie wasted no time opening the door, only to find her laying in bed in the dark. He carefully made his was towards her, crouching down to her level.

"Hey, hey. It's Eddie. Are you okay?" he gently asked. The only response heard was a series of whimpers. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his heart broke. The light from the living room that leaked into the guest room reflected off of her tear stained cheeks and puffy eyelids; she had been crying for quite some time. Eddie wasn't an expert on body language, but judging from her tight grip on the bed sheets and her limbs curled into the fetal position, he could tell she was scared.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, you're safe. I promise. Do you need water? I'll get you anything you need, just tell me..." he stopped himself from uttering anything else, worried he would overwhelm her with questions. After pausing for a moment, he swallowed his pride before asking: "Do you need me to get Samuel?"

She let out a soft cry, her grip on the bed sheets tightening. The mere mention of his name reminded her of the betrayal she felt. He promised he would look after her, but didn't. Instead, he left her in such a vulnerable state, a state she never wanted to be in in the first place.

In her best attempt at composing herself, she was able to mutter out a sentence before her breathe hitched again: "I wanna go home, please." she buried her face in the covers as her body shook, a combination of crying excessively and the drug shaking her form. She was so cold, no amount of heat from the blankets seemed to help.

"Okay, okay, i'll get you home. Just... One minute. I'll be right back, i promise."

Eddie carefully got up and exited to room, gently shutting the door. He made his was towards the room Samuel was in, politeness the last thing on his mind as he barged in. He glanced around the room, noticing the drugs littered across the table, then met Samuel's gaze.

"Are you aware that your girlfriend is crying her eyes out 10 feet away from you?" he spat, shooting daggers at him.

There was a moment of silence, followed by snickering from a few of the men in the room. One of them who, Eddie could only assume was a friend of Samuel's spoke up. "Jesus, what a buzz kill, you owe me for that pill, Sam."

It all clicked. Eddie's vision blurred in what could only be described as a cloud of fury. The echo's of their laughter only fueled his rage as he started putting together what had happened. With every ounce of restraint he could muster, he gave Samuel once last death glare before storming out, being mindful not to slam the door to prevent startling her in the other room.

Slowly opening the door, he tried to come up with the best plan on how to proceed. The two beers he had drank over the last 2 1/2 hours were in no way enough to inebriate him and he knew she needed to be taken home. Once again crouched down by the bedside, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder and began speaking softly.

"Hey, it's Eddie. I can take you home, just need to know your address."

Her crying had subsided but she was shivering and grinding her teeth uncontrollably, a side effect Eddie recognized from whatever drug she had taken. Her lack of response prompted him to try again, this time in a much softer tone.

"Sweetheart, i'll take you home just please, i don't know where you live. Do you have your house keys? Where do you and Samuel live?"

The whimpers that left her lips broke his heart. Eddie figured if he couldn't get an answer out of her in this environment, maybe removing the stress factor would help.

"Okay, can you stand up for me? Here, let's get you up"

As he began helping her from the bed, her sudden exclamation startled him. "No! Please, m'really cold. I need a blanket." Distress painted across her face as she wrapped her arms around her frame, Eddie pondered what the best option would be. After a few seconds, he figured Gareth could deal with the repercussion of his next action later.

"Okay, come on, i've got you." he said as he gently wrapped the giant comforter around her shoulders, guiding her out of the room.

Once they arrived at the base of the steps, he grabbed the excess blanket that was previously dragging along the floor to prevent her from tripping. She was unsteady from the drug, her legs felt like they were made of jelly. Eddie helped her up the stairs, supporting the majority of her weight. Once they reached the main floor, he directed her towards the sofa she was sitting on earlier in the evening and helped her down onto the soft cushion.

"Wait right here." he said in a caring voice. As he began getting up from his crouched position, he felt a cold, damp hand grabbing his.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?" her voice was low but filled with worry. He turned to her, finally getting a good look at her face since being in the dark basement and his heart sank. He tried his best not to show any signs of concern, but this proved to be challenging. Her normally light hazel eyes were almost completely black. Her hair was disheveled and her face slightly puffy from crying.

Eddie had been around plenty of people under the influence before, but never anyone he felt such deep adoration for. It was torture seeing her like this. He once again crouched down so he could meet her eye level and gave her hand a gentle reassuring squeeze. "I've just gotta find Gareth to let him know i'm leaving. I drove him here, don't want him to be stranded. I'll be right back, i promise."

Her gaze softened a bit, and with a small nod, Eddie took that as a go ahead to proceed with his plan. He lifted her hand up to his mouth to give it a quick kiss before getting up to find his friend.

Luckily, with one quick sweep of the main floor, he was able to find Gareth and get him up to speed on the situation.

"What a prick, we should fight that guy."

"Yeah, normally i would agree but i gotta get her outta here. Are you cool finding a ride home tonight?"

"Oh ya, don't sweat it! I can always just crash here if it comes down to it. Get her home safe."

"Thanks man, i'll see you later."

Gareth patted him on the shoulder and with that, Eddie made his way back to the sofa. "Alright, let's get you home, yeah? Up you go."

Taking the same precautionary steps he did while going up the stairs, they made their way out the door to Eddie's van. He helped her into the passenger's side, carefully closing the door and hurried over to the driver's side. Once in, he buckled both of their seatbelts, started the car and began driving away. Once the car was nicely heated and her shivering had subsided, he figured it would be a good time to try to find out the location he should be driving to.

"So uh, am i going the right way? Do you live close by?"

He glanced over at her, smiling sweetly once they made eye contact. She returned the smile, but the sadness displayed on the rest of her features made her true feelings apparent.

"We're far" she mumbled, "i live next to work..."

Eddie sighed internally. He didn't mind the drive, he was more concerned about her having to sit in a car for 45 minutes. "Alright, i'll get us to work and you can tell me where to go from there, yeah? You have your house keys?"

She paused to think and let out a defeated breath upon realizing; their shared house key was kept on Samuel's lanyard. She brought her hands to her face in despair and began apologizing profusely. Eddie wasn't quite sure what she was apologizing for, or to who even. He softly put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, gently moving his thumb over the blanket that was still draped over her.

"It's okay, look we're not that far from Tom's place. I'll turn the car around and we can get the key. I can go in, you don't even have to leave the car-"

She shook her head in quick motions, her hands dropping from her face suddenly. "No, i can't, i'm..." she trailed off, turning to face the passenger's window.

The silence was broken by small cries leaving her mouth. Eddie slowly pulled off to the side of the road and put the car in park so he could focus all of his attention on helping her as best as he could.

"Are you worried he'll be upset?" he began, trying to get to the root of the problem. His question was met with more tears falling from her eyes. Her breathing was becoming more erratic and her hands began to shake. Eddie was torn, he knew she desperately needed to get home, but at what cost? He couldn't live with himself knowing that once he dropped her off, she would be left alone to face that jerk again. He made a snap decision, once again choosing to deal with the potential consequences in the morning.

"Alright, let's go to my place for now. It's not that far from here and we can figure out what to do from there, yeah? Is that okay?"

In an unexpected turn of events, her crying stopped almost immediately following his words. "Can i please stay there tonight?" she muttered softly, eyes glued to the floor of his van.

She knew it might be asking too much, but the thought of facing her boyfriend tonight was too much to handle. Eddie's eyes widened, but he quickly composed himself before responding. "Of course, anything you need."

_

Obeying the rules of the road was out of character for Eddie, especially when it came to speeding, but tonight was different. He made sure to make the drive to his trailer as peaceful as possible for her, not wanting to worsen her distress.

Once there, he was relieved to see Wayne's truck was gone. At least she wouldn't have to worry about his uncle seeing her in this state.

He quickly hurried her inside and onto the sofa before scrambling around the trailer gathering anything he deemed might be of use. He came back into the living room with additional blankets, a glass of water and a can of soda from the fridge, setting them down on the table. He proposed switching out the blanket for a fresh one, doubting the cleanliness of the one currently wrapped around her.

"S'too cold." she slurred, grinding her teeth once again.

Eddie knew better than to try to rationalize with her so he thought of a solution that would make for the blanket swap to be more pleasant. He grabbed one of the blankets, walked over to the dryer and tossed it in. Making his way back to the living room, he picked up the can of soda to open it and slid closer to her on the table. "Here, have a sip, you must be really thirsty."

Up until he mentioned it, she hadn't noticed how dry her mouth was, or how chapped her lips felt. Now that she was in a comfortable place and felt safe, the fear and adrenaline wearing off, she was very aware of the physical discomforts she was feeling. She quickly grabbed the cup of water, opting for the least cold drink made available and downed the liquid within seconds. Eddie's eyebrows raised and he let out a small chuckle. She met his gaze with a shy smile, clearly embarrassed by the intensity of her gulps. Their exchange of grins was interrupted by a shrill ringing coming from the hallway; the dryer alerting them of it's cycle being complete. Eddie shuffled over to it, quickly returning to the living room with the warmed up blanket.

"Here, feel this." he started, placing a corner of the fluffy material in her hands "Nice and warm for ya. How about we get rid of that dingy old thing?" he said gesturing to the stain riddled comforter.

She agreed with a nod, preparing herself for the sharp cold she would feel once the blanket was no longer on her. Eddie attempted to make the switch as seamless as possible, quickly wrapping the fabric around her. Once the warm blanket was snug around her, Eddie lightly tugged on either side in a playful motion. Their faces were mere inches from one another, he wished they could stay this close forever.

"Better?" he inquired in a soothing voice.

She nodded in response. "Thank you."

He stayed crouched in front of her, his hands remaining on the blanket for longer than he probably should have. He scolded himself internally, before retreating onto the adjacent chair. She instantly missed his presence.

It was fairly late at this point, the clock reading 1:04am. Eddie knew she wouldn't be getting much sleep while the drug was still in her system, but offered to set her up in his bedroom, reassuring her that he would take the pull out bed, not wanting to cross any boundaries or make her uncomfortable. She pondered for a few moments before agreeing. They walked over to the back of the trailer, Eddie leading the way with the extra blankets in hand. He breached the entryway of his bedroom and thanked his past self for tidying up the mess that was littering his bedroom floor earlier in the day.

Once there, she took in her surroundings admiring all the art and little trinkets laying around. Eddie grew nervous from the extended period of silence and cleared his throat before saying "Is this okay?" referring to her sleeping arrangement for the night.

"S'cozy." she responded with a warm smile. She made her way towards the bed and plopped down rather sloppily, her legs still feeling like they could give away at any second. She settled into bed and he began turning off the lamps, pausing before switching off the last one.

"Want this one on?"

"Yes please" she responded quietly from under the blankets. She had the soft material pulled up to her nose and was laying on her side watching him maneuver around the room.

"You got it" he said, a dorky smile painted on his face as he turned to look at her. Despite still appearing strung out, Eddie was enamored by her. He always thought she was beautiful, her current state never wavered that. He thought she looked especially adorable all tucked into his bed, her eyes glistening with gratitude and what appeared to be admiration. She closed her eyes for a brief moment letting out a content sigh, the feeling of safety and comfort engulfing her like a warm hug.

Eddie took this as a sign he should retreat to the living room, making sure to wish her goodnight, as well as reassuring her that she could call for him at any point in time if she needed anything. Although she had been let down earlier by a similar unkept promise, she knew Eddie meant every word he said.

Once in the living room, Eddie opted to sit on the sofa for a while to ensure that if she did call out for him, he would be awake and ready to help. He turned on the television in hopes of keeping his mind busy, his thoughts currently consumed with the image of her in his bed. He despised his heart for making him feel so fondly of someone who was in a relationship, albeit an unhealthy one. Was it so wrong for him to hope that she would leave him? The rage he felt accompanied by sorrow for the way she was treated tonight was overbearing. With a grunt, he stood up from his seat and made his way to the refrigerator in hopes that there would be a cold beer stashed somewhere in there. Wayne wasn't opposed to him drinking his supply, so long as he replaced what was taken. Behind the milk carton were two cans of Pabs Blue Ribbon. He grabbed one of the cans and headed back to the sofa, making sure to open it slowly to minimize the noise from the aluminum cracking.

_

The second Eddie had left the bedroom, the feeling of anxiety she had previously felt slowly crept it's way back into her core. She shook her leg in an attempt at self-soothing, trying her best to remind herself that she was safe now. She knew that she could call for Eddie at any point and that he would be back in the room within seconds, but the feeling of embarrassment and fear of bothering him prevented her from doing so. She tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep without success. Out of frustration she sat up from the bed, the blanket still wrapped over her head in a cocoon shape. She began looking around the room once more, admiring the posters on his wall. His bedroom was exactly as she had pictured it to be. Having only seem him in their work uniform up until tonight, his haircut and ringed fingers had given her a pretty good idea of what his style would be; his bedroom reflecting that perfectly.

His bedroom was quaint and felt like home. A feeling she hadn't felt in years since being with Samuel.

Samuel.

The mere thought of him sent a cold shudder through her that shook her form. She worried about his reaction to her not being home once he arrived at their apartment. He always accused her of infidelity, likely projecting onto her his own bad behavior, and would surely lash out at her the next time he saw her. She began to spiral, images of past mistreatments and abuse at the hand of her partner crashed into her like a violent wave. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably, as they had many times before.

She had spent many nights crying into a towel in the bathroom alone so she wouldn't wake him with the sound of her whimpers, as he laid in their shared bed without a care in the world. He lacked the ability to comfort her, expressing it many times, usually by saying: "i don't know what you want from me". In those moments a simple reassuring hug would have sufficed, or any act of compassion or intimacy, but he didn't care. Not then, and certainly not now. This sudden realization was all too much for her to handle in this moment.

She desperately needed comfort. She attempted to compose herself before slowly creeping out of bed and pausing at the ajar door. Part of her knew it was wrong, but the desperate need for consoling overshadowed the morality of her decision. In a barely audible tone, she called Eddie's name and waited nervously inches from the door. Almost instantly, she heard him getting up from the sofa and walk hurriedly to the back of the trailer. The door opened quickly startling her and Eddie let out a small yelp, not expecting to see her standing so close to the door.

"Jesus," he let out with a sigh, clutching his chest. "Sorry, ah, i thought you'd be in bed." After recovering from the small arrythmia he was almost certain he suffered, he chuckled and asked, "Everything okay?"

Upon his arrival, a sense of dread and self-loathing washed over her. She feared rejection but also reprimanding from Eddie. He knew she had a boyfriend, and had been so considerate of that all night, was she really about to ask him if he could sleep in the same bed? It wasn't in a sexual way, but somehow the lather felt worse. Seeking emotional intimacy from someone other than the person she was dating? She felt despicable. The worse form of betrayal in her mind was emotional infidelity, which is exactly what had been taking place over the last few months. She couldn't be blamed though, not entirely. Her absent and neglectful partner had driven her into the arms of a more caring, emotionally intelligent man and for that, he only had himself to blame.

"S'worse when you're out there. Can you stay here? Please..." she managed to mutter.

Eddie's heart skipped a beat. He would do anything she'd ask to help her feel better. "Yeah! Yeah, of course. Let me go get the extra blankets and a pillow and i'll set up on the fl-"

"Could you sleep next to me?"

Her broken tone of voice shattered him. It had become very apparent to him that her relationship was far more damaging than it appeared to be on the surface. Every question she had asked him, whilst in her most vulnerable state, had a sad undertone expecting rejection. The mention of her partner's name alone had caused her intense distress. Without letting another second go by, he sprung into action. He gently agreed and motioned towards the bed, letting her get comfortable before climbing in himself. Not wanting to cross any boundaries or make her feel uncomfortable, Eddie held off on laying down. Instead, he sat up on the bed with his back against the wall, trying to take up as little space as possible as he nonchalantly stared ahead.

She was laying on her side facing him, when he caught a glimpse of her looking up at him. He turned to face her, trying to think of any topic of conversation to hide the fact that he was screaming inside. All the feelings he had for her that he had managed to suppress all this came crashing down on him. She was the girl of his dreams, and she was laying in his bed with him. He quickly shut down those thoughts and focused on her well-being; it was his top priority. He took in her facial features, now that the blanket was no longer covering the bottom half of her face, and noticed she was grinding her teeth still. "Try and relax your jaw." he said with care.

"M'sorry"

"Don't need to apologize," he reassured laughing lightly, "just don't want you to be sore in the morning, is all."

There was a brief moment of silence as her smile grew, then a snort escaped her as she buried her face in the blanket. The innuendo now becoming apparent to Eddie who, also broke out into laughter.

"Oh god, i didn't mean it like that!" was all he managed to say, bringing his palm up to his face. His embarrassment was short-lived, her laughter filling the room was music to his ears.

"I know, s'just funny" she said between giggles.

The room went quiet again, the sound of their breathing being the only audible noise. The effects of the drug were slowly wearing off, evidence of that came from her suddenly yawning.

"Wanna try and get some rest?" he offered.

"That sounds good" she responded.

"Okay, lights on or off?"

"Off please."

"Okay," he said, making his way towards the lamp to shut it off. He excused himself to go turn off the rest of the lights, as well as the TV still playing and made his was back to the room shortly after. He carefully climbed into the bed, this time laying down but still taking up as little room as possible.

Eddie was the kind of sleeper that liked to take up as much of the bed as humanly possible, so he know he wouldn't be getting the best of sleep tonight but he didn't care. Knowing that she was safe meant more to him than a good night's rest. They wished one another goodnight and attempted to drift asleep.

A few minutes of stillness passed, she turned to face him, craving closeness and warmth. Tonight's series of events had proven that Eddie was a gentleman and certainly wasn't the type to take advantage of her or intentionally cross any boundaries. She inched slightly closer to him and whispered: "Can you hold me?"

He hummed in response extending his arms for her to settle in. She nestled into his chest, their bodies fitting perfectly with one another like a puzzle. The feeling of contempt and security she felt while in Eddie's arms was unmatched. It was as if nothing could hurt her as long as he was around. He felt her grip on his shirt tighten slightly, her body pushing onto his in an attempt to get closer. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, feels good. Safe." she replied sleepily. Eddie understood in that moment how touch starved she was. She craved intimacy in it's purest form. He readjusted his arm so he could lightly rub his fingertips on her back soothingly. She was beginning to drift asleep, but was still clenching her jaw, an action Eddie was quick to notice. With his free hand, he lightly cupped the side of her face and rubbed gentle circles on her cheek and jaw in an attempt to sooth her likely sore muscles.

"Try to relax your jaw sweetheart, unclench your teeth." he gently reminded her.

His caring instructions were met with a low hum followed by a barely audible "thank you", the tension in her face releasing almost instantaneously.

Eddie bent down slightly to give the top of her head a kiss while softly uttering: "Goodnight sweetheart.", her only response an even sleepier hum than before. In a matter of seconds, they both drifted to sleep comfortably in each others presence.

_

The end ♡

-

This is my first time posting in a while, i hope you liked it, lmk what you think! xo

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson oneshot #angst #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x hurt/comfort #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfiic #eddie munson x female reader #st4 eddie #hurt/comfort

[wookofwallst]

(Article) SAG-AFTRA union members overwhelmingly agree to strike.

With the WGA strike wrapping up today after 148 days of stoppage and strong protections being negotiated. It looks like another strike is gearing up and getting ready to go.

SAG-AFTRA claims that 98% of those who were asked if they would participate in a strike agreed to do so. 35 thousand members have agreed to walk out and strike if nessicary.

Several attempts at negotiations since October of 2022 have failed with the following game companies:

Activision Productions Inc

Blindlight LLC

Disney Character Voices Inc.

Electronic Arts Productions Inc.

Formosa Interactive LLC

Insomniac Games Inc.

Epic Games

Take 2 Productions Inc.

VoiceWorks Productions Inc.

WB Games Inc.

These companies have refused to offer acceptable terms on a number of issues, including wage increases, protections against artificial intelligence, and safety precautions. Without the hardworking labour of these companies employees they wouldn't be able to publish the games they do. Without the immense pressure put on the employees, they can come out with a game that actually works and is created. Companies, especially video game companies, have been seeing record profits and record profits should mean record wages.

President of SAG-AFTRA Fran Drescher says that:

“It’s time for the video game companies to stop playing games and get serious about reaching an agreement on this contract, The result of this vote shows our membership understands the existential nature of these negotiations, and that the time is now for these companies — which are making billions of dollars and paying their CEOs lavishly — to give our performers an agreement that keeps performing in video games as a viable career."

The biggest concern of union members is the unfettered use of artificial intelligence. AI has already been used in several key places like posters and in-game art. SAG-AFTRA wants to ensure that its voice actors and actresses, writers, and anyone else who is a memeber are not being exploited for their labor.

Looking at the WGA strike that just ended, several consessions were made in favor of the workers. They will receive a 12% pay increase, 5% on ratification, and 3.5% over the next 2 years following the agreement. They also relieved a 76% increase in streaming residuals. Depending on the size of the next project, laborers will receive a garuenteed 10-20 weeks of work.

I'd expect something similar to take place with the new SAG-AFTRA strike. It will be interesting to watch, I stand with all those in a union to create better working conditions and a more sustainable future for themselves!

#personal #video games #twitch #gaming #live streaming #twitch streamer #livestream #armored core #elden ring #starfield #sag aftra #wga strike #sag strike #strike #news #article

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

lee! changbin and ler! chan and minho!!

who wreck changbin really good😼

Diagnosis:

𝒍𝒆𝒆: Changbin

𝒍𝒆𝒓: Chan and Minho

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘢 𝘪 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨! 💗🧋

[Medical AU]

I choose to keep the warnings secret to sustain some level of surprise to the story. Read at your own risk !!!⚠️ 

@jeonginsdiary HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE 💕

-Changbin is a soloist in this story-

also i wrote this 4 months before it released, so the template's the same LMAO

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33@v--143@wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday@inkytornpages@lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry

Being a soloist certainly wasn’t easy. Especially if you live alone.

Changbin felt pretty lonely, watching as all the other groups in JYP file into their dorms after a long JYP NATION concert. 

He watched as all the members congratulated each other with hugs and happiness, and that feeling of loneliness only increased. 

He smiled and waved at everyone until he got back to his dorm, following by shutting the door and then facing the dark silence. 

He usually feels at home, but the place only feels cold now. 

Sometimes, he regretted choosing to work alone. Other times, he realizes that he’s too shy to work with other people. 

Changbin slumped down onto his couch, hating the way his stomach rolled up and fixing his posture. 

He wished he had someone who would help him feel the same love as the others did. But that was impossible. 

The days only passed, his break becoming filled with his thoughts. He had no one else to think about.

Soon enough, this mindset became increasingly draining, leaving Binnie exhausted constantly from overthinking and feeling overwhelmed. 

However, the company noticed this soon enough, and they scheduled him a psychological evaluation for the next day. 

Changbin scowled at the schedule. He hated doctors visits. 

The questions that his doctor asked him always made him feel small and uncomfortable, and he was certainly not looking forward to it happening again. 

But it had to be done. 

The next morning, he prepared himself for the crippling questions that pierced through his confidence, hoping that maybe, maybe things would be better today. 

Changbin arrived at his appointment on time, making sure that his doctor had nothing to criticize. 

But it wasn’t his doctor. 

“Mhm…Ah! Seo Changbin?” A man said, smiling sweetly at him. 

“T-That would be me.” Changbin cursed at himself internally for stuttering. He probably looked like a idiot. 

“Right this way.” 

Changbin tried not to scrunch his nose up at the strong smell of hand sanitizer, it was making his eyes water. 

The man, whose name tag said ‘Christopher Bang Chan’, led him to the room, where Binnie took a seat on the chair. 

He prepared himself for the uncomfortable questions. He was an idol after all. He was used to this. 

However, this doctor didn’t say anything like that at all.

“How are you feeling today?” Chris asked with a dimply smile. 

“I’m feeling good…” Changbin lied, the words came so easily to him. 

“I don’t think so.” Christopher replied nonchalantly as he pressed a sphygmomanometer [blood pressure cuff] to the rapper’s chest. 

“Your blood pressure's increased drastically...are you okay?” Chris furrowed his eyebrows at Changbin. 

“I guess idol work has me feeling a little anxious, nothing more I guess…” Changbin trailed off, avoiding eye contact with the doctor as if it was embarrassing. 

But instead of making him feel uncomfortable, Chris had actually listened. 

“What part of your work makes you feel this way? Is it the producing, the deadlines, the performances…?” Chan smiled sweetly at Changbin as he spoke, leaving the shorter feeling considerably relieved and relaxed. 

“I think I just feel a little…lonely?” Changbin tried to communicate, feeling as if he needed to more in depth, but before that could happen, Chan cut him off. 

“Ahhh, you’re a soloist, right? That makes sense. I think you just need to have a good time with someone who wants to be around you. That one thing could decrease that feeling.” Chris diagnosed, scribbling on his notepad. 

“Oh-Okay. But I…” Changbin didn’t feel like saying more. 

He didn’t have friends. At least, friends who wanted to be around him for his personality and not his money. 

“-You don’t have friends.” Chris replied, smiling at the way Bin’s eyes widened. 

“You are famous. It makes sense. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m retiring from this job soon. I’m going to become a producer, so you’ll probably see me around.” Chris talked, clearly trying to cheer the rapper up.

“O-Okay.” Changbin didn’t know how to respond, but he was considerably happier knowing that the doctor was going to do what he loved.

“We have another way to fix that, but only if you want to…” The taller clicked his pen a few times before checking a box on his sheet. 

Let’s say Binnie was a little more than desperate. “That’s okay, I want to do it.” He replied, smiling shyly back at his doctor.

“Okay, let me call the psychologist, his name is Minho, by the way, and he will explain the procedure.” Chris stood up and left the room, leaving Changbin waiting on the chair. 

“Good afternoon.” A man walked into the room, who Changbin presumed to be Minho. 

“Good afternoon.” Changbin replied quietly, feeling a little shy. 

“Right. So Chan told me everything, so I’m here to explain the procedure.” Minho stared down at his clipboard as he spoke. 

“Okay…” Changbin watched as Minho took his seat, leaning forward to clasp the rapper’s hands with his own. 

“Do you know the effects of laughing on a human being?” Minho almost whispered. 

“Laughing lets you release endorphins, and enhanced your intake of oxygen.” Binnie recalled. 

“Oooh, we have a smart man here!” Minho smiled heartily down at him, squeezing his hands once, which Changbin found surprisingly relaxing. 

“So we have to find a way to destress you, and make you laugh.” Minho continued, Changbin nodding along with him. 

“So, we’re going to have to take an injection. Are you scared of needles?”

Changbin shook his head, confused.

But if the company trusted this psychologist enough to assign him to Changbin, then he must be safe. 

Minho walked over to Changbin and gently removed his jacket, causing the younger to shiver from the sudden chill hitting his skin through his tank top. 

“Oh, you’re wearing the perfect shirt. I don’t even need to do anything!” Minho gently took Bin’s arm in his hand and lifted it above his head, earning a little squeak in return. 

Minho pulled a long piece of metal from the table and strapped Changbin’s hand to it, high above his head, making sure it stretched just enough not to hurt, adjusting the strap so that it was snug, but not uncomfortable. 

The psychologist did the same with the other arm, guiding Binnie to a sitting position and strapping his legs down as well. 

“How is this going to help me laugh?” Changbin asked, nerves increasing as he tried to unsuccessfully pull his arms down. 

Minho just smiled and scribbled up the boy’s side. 

Binnie squeaked loudly and jerked away, his eyes widening in realization. 

No. They wouldn’t. Would they?

 A bewildered Changbin watched as Minho opened a box and grabbed a needle, sterilizing it before walking over. 

“This’ll hurt for a few seconds, then it’ll feel really tingly, okay?” Minho smiled when Binnie nodded, bracing himself. 

The needle went in, piercing the underside of his bicep, and nothing could’ve prepared Changbin for the pain that followed.

However, he held it back. A few strained whimpers escaped him, but most of it was muffled. 

“Okay. We’re done. You okay?” Minho patted Binnie’s bicep, eyes widening in awe at the size of it. 

The older attached a bandage to the bleeding point.

“Mhm.” Changbin suddenly felt extremely tingly, the feeling spreading from the area on his bicep, down his arm, and throughout his body. 

He stifled a giggle at the incredibly ticklish sensation. 

“Okay, I would tell you what this injection does, but I think it’s better if I show you.” Minho called Chris back into the room, who looked delighted to see the shortest okay. 

"Okay! How was the injection? I bet it hurt, huh? Well, how about we cheer you up..." Chan gave the pinned boy an evil smirk before ducking his hands down and squeezing once at his side.

The youngest jerked harshly with a loud squeal. 

Changbin didn’t think he was that ticklish…but his thoughts were cut out a few seconds later by his own laughter.  

Chan’s fingers continued to tickle all over his torso lightly, and the eldest watched as Changbin muffled his own giggles by biting his lip and hiding his face in his bicep. 

“Aweee! He’s so cute! Don’t try to hold it in, that shot was just to make you more sensitive.” Chan teased, giggling when Changbin’s face turned a bright pink. 

“mhmhmAHAHAHA!” Changbin squealed through his laughter as Minho joined in at his underarms, and the fact that he was wearing a tanked shirt made the unbearable feeling at his bare underarms insanely strong. 

Changbin tugged at his arms, forgetting that they were pinned high above his head, leaving him at the complete mercy of the two doctors. 

“PLEHEHEASE! WHYHY AHARE YOUHU TIHIHICKLING MEHEHE?!?” Changbin made out through his loud hysterics.

“Eh. You were cute and needed a laugh. Why else~?” Minho teased even further, moving slightly further down and startling himself with the scream that the helpless boy underneath him emitted.

“NAHAHAT THEHEHERE!” Binnie cackled, suddenly throwing his head back when Chan’s hands curled around to his back, leaving the boy twisting and squirming weakly. 

“Fine. Later, though.” Minho frowned, instead moving downwards and squeezing Changbin’s thighs. 

“NOHOHO IHIHITS TOOHO BAHAHAHAD! AAAAAHH DONT!” Chan’s fingers had resorted to digging at his v-line, throwing the youngest into another round of loud laughter. 

Changbin had never felt more ticklish in his life. 

He was pretty sure the shot was to make him more ticklish, even Chan had said so. 

Binnie didn’t even know it existed. He wasn’t complaining though, he definitely felt better than before. 

“AHAHAHAHA! PLEASE! STOHOHOHOP!-” Bin screeched, the feeling becoming way too overwhelming for him to handle. 

“Okay, break time!” Both boys let up on the heaving boy, who panted and gasped for breath. 

“ahaha…whyhy…” Changbin let out the last few giggles, smiling softly up at the two lers. 

“Never mind that. Why are you so freakin’ cute?!” Chan squeaked, pinching softly at the youngest’s cheeks. 

Changbin couldn’t help but blush, only to giggle lightly when the other two cooed even more. 

He finally caught his breath, only to start squealing again when Minho stroked lightly along the area between his armpit and highest rib, an obvious weak spot. 

The metal strap above his head clanged, Binnie squirming around as Minho dug one hand into the previously mentioned area. 

“AGGHAHAHAHA! PLEHEHAHAHA-” Changbin screamed uncontrollably and thrashed desperately at the insanely ticklish sensation. 

"Ouuu, this must be your worst spot!" Lino looked like he had found a pot of gold, making sure to contast the tickles on each side of Binnie's chest, one side lightly stroking, and the other side digging harshly.

"NOAHAHAHA! MINHO! MIHIHINHO PLEASE!"

Changbin didn't know which side to twist, both types of tickles were absolute torture for the poor soloist.

"He's too adorable! What's wrong bun? Someone's got the giggles?~" Chan cooed in a baby voice, squeezing Changbin's cheeks as he giggled at the flustered blush on the boy's face.

"Come on Chris! Help me tickle him! He isn't laughing hard enough!" Minho scolded, ignoring the loud screech emitted from the rapper.

"NOOOHO CHRIS DOHON'T HELP! I'LL DIHIHIE! PLEASE-"

"Of course you won't die! We're doctors, we know when to stop!" Chan glanced at the machine situated behind Binnie, which displayed the boy's statistics.

He was going to tap out soon.

Changbin begged and begged, tears streamed down his face, and he was twisting in every direction humanely possible.

Then Chris wriggled his fingers deep into the crevices of Binnie’s ribs, driving the helpless boy underneath him ballistic.

Changbin screamed as loud he could, which was pretty loud, and desperately tugged at his arms, which were infuriatingly still strapped above his head, unwilling to crash down anytime soon.

"OOH he's so loud!" Chan whined, as if he wasn't the one breaking the poor boy beneath them.

"Good thing the room's soundproof. It sounds like we're murdering him!" Minho winced as he pulled another scream from the soloist beneath him.

But Changbin would be lying if he said he hated it. 

"Say that you're happy, and we'll stop." Chan decided to give the poor boy a chance.

“BAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP! IHIHIM HAHAHAHAPPY!!!”

And just like that, the torture stopped. 

Chris unbuckled his wrists, and Changbin slumped, breathless, against the chair. 

Minho handed him a pill and a glass of water.

"What's this fohor?" Changbin stared at the small pill resting in his palm.

"It's the antidote for that injection you took. Though I would have liked it to stay like that, don't ya think?~" Minho teased, wiggling a singular finger in Binnie's face and watching him squirm.

The soloist popped the pill before downing the glass of water, slumping backwards against the chair and panting slightly.

“Do you feel better?” Minho asked, gently rubbing at his sore wrists. 

“Y-Yehea…” Binnie gave them a wide smile, and Minho couldn’t help but squish his cheek again. 

“Sorry ‘bout that. It’s kinda something we do for anxious or sad patients. Especially idols who need a laugh. You feeling better?” Chan giggled nervously.

“Y-Yeah. I’m definitely coming back later.” Changbin flushed when the other two cooed at him, exchanging numbers with him. 

-----

Changbin went back to his dorm, the flat looking a lot more comforting than before. 

He slept. A lot. 

Then someone knocked on his door.

Distracted from the light of his laptop (chop chop cooking up a hotpot-), Binnie opened the door.

"Hi! I'm apparently supposed to join your group? I'm your new leade-WAIT. Changbin?!" Chan squealed.

i hope you enjoyed! please check my intro post before interacting! love ya! 💕💗💖

#kpop tickle #midzywannabeitzy #stray kids #skz tickle #skz #BAHSJD #IM SORRY ABOUT THE CRAPPY ENDING #this flustered me WAYY TOO MUCH #my brain is empty haha #I KNOW I SAY THIS EVERY TIME #but this may be the best fic i have ever written #agree with me?

[grendelsmilf]

the cutest thing about luz and amity is that they are both hardcore fans of the same obscure fantasy book series that no one else they know is into. like it was literally the thing that sustained them in their childhoods, luz with the death of her father and ostracization from her peers, and amity with her abusive upbringing and overwhelming academic pressure to perform; it was their escape. and discovering that they both love this thing that no one else in their lives has even read, that people think is silly and trivial and dorky, is how they’re first able to connect and form a tentative friendship. and the closer they get, they’re able to bond over theories and creating fanworks, and they even do an elaborate couples’ costume together! this thing that got them through their difficult, isolated childhoods is now something they share with each other. and I think that’s really, really sweet and special.

#the owl house #lumity #o.tv #100 #it’s by far my favorite aspect of their relationship #it’s really adorable and also a very lovely meta message too #it’s clear that dana really appreciates her fans #it’s funny bc I was just going to leave this post one sentence #but then I kept going #their sincerity got to me... alright....

[science-lover33]

Exploring the Intricacies of the Respiratory System 🫁💨

Welcome to my Tumblr blog, where we embark on an exciting journey through the intricate world of human anatomy and physiology. Today, we're focusing our lens on the respiratory system – a wondrous network of organs and tissues that orchestrates the exchange of gases essential for our survival. So, fasten your seatbelts as we venture into the fascinating realm of respiration!

Anatomy of the Respiratory System: A Symphony of Structures

At its core, the respiratory system consists of a highly organized ensemble of organs and structures working together seamlessly. This symphony of components includes the nose, pharynx, larynx, trachea, bronchi, and, of course, the lungs. Each of these elements has a crucial role to play in the intricate process of breathing, ensuring our bodies receive a constant supply of life-sustaining oxygen while effectively eliminating carbon dioxide.

The Alveoli: Tiny Powerhouses of Gas Exchange

Now, let's zoom in on the alveoli, the star players in the respiratory system's performance. These microscopic air sacs, nestled deep within the lungs, are where the real magic happens. Through the process of diffusion, oxygen from inhaled air enters the bloodstream, while carbon dioxide, a waste product of metabolism, is expelled from the blood into the alveoli to be exhaled. It's here, at this cellular level, that the respiratory system's vital exchange takes place.

Breathing Mechanics: The Art of Inhalation and Exhalation

But how does it all come together? Breathing, a seemingly simple act, is a complex process guided by the contraction and relaxation of specialized muscles, primarily the diaphragm and intercostal muscles. These muscular movements manipulate the volume of the thoracic cavity, creating changes in pressure that facilitate the flow of air in and out of the lungs. Understanding the mechanics of breathing is fundamental to comprehending various respiratory disorders and their potential treatments.

Regulation of Respiration: A Symphony Conducted by the Brain

The respiratory system doesn't operate in isolation; it's under the watchful eye of our central nervous system. The medulla and pons, two regions of the brainstem, serve as the conductors in this symphony of breath. They continuously monitor factors like blood pH, carbon dioxide levels, and oxygen levels, adjusting our breathing rate and depth to maintain the delicate balance required for optimal body function.

Recommended Resources to Dive Deeper:

Book: "Principles of Anatomy and Physiology" by Gerard J. Tortora and Bryan H. Derrickson - This comprehensive textbook provides an in-depth exploration of the respiratory system, complete with detailed illustrations and accessible explanations for all levels of learners.

Article: "The Physiology of Respiration" by Stephen A. Ernst and John R. Helliwell - Published in the New England Journal of Medicine, this scholarly article offers an authoritative look into the physiological mechanisms of respiration, making it a valuable reference for those seeking in-depth knowledge.

Book: "Respiratory Physiology: The Essentials" by John B. West - For a concise yet informative journey through the key concepts of respiratory physiology, this book is an excellent resource, perfect for those looking to grasp the essentials of the subject quickly.

I hope this extended entry has sparked your curiosity about the intricate workings of the respiratory system. Feel free to reach out if you have any questions or if you'd like to explore another captivating topic in the realm of medicine and biology! 🌬📚

Here is my YouTube channel where you will find interesting videos, here is the anatomy and physiology of the respiratory system

Don’t forget to like, share and subscribe

#respiratory system #anatomy #human anatomy #physiology #teaching #science #biology #college #education #school #student #medicine #doctors #health #healthcare #nursing #nurselife #nurse #Youtube

[sundownsquad]

In honor of Disability Pride Month, here's part 1 of a look at some of the characters in the Sundown story that have disabilities! First up is Drums.

Drums received severe electrocution injuries during a mission while trying to disarm a generator. As a result of the injury, Drums sustained serious (but not complete) hearing loss in his right ear, gained a tremor in his right hand that manifests when trying to perform tasks requiring fine motor skills, and began exhibiting a marked, intermittent loss of focus he later started referring to as bouts of "brain fog". In addition, he began experiencing painful flareups around the areas with scaring.

Initially, Drums (and his brothers) kept his symptoms strictly under wraps out of concern of him being pulled from the squad. This fear kept Drums from seeking treatment of any kind, and his symptoms began to worsen as a result. This caused a rapid loss of function, and contributed to a sharp decline in Drums' confidence and self esteem. The compounding pain of untreated injuries and pressure of not wanting to be discovered eventually pulled Drums into a deep depressive episode.

Only after becoming a Shadow Trooper and receiving help from Nitsani did he get to a point where he felt safe enough to not hide his condition any longer. It wasn't easy for him to accept help, but he eventually did and soon acquired a hearing aid, a special set of tools with weighted handles that mitigate the tremors in his right hand, and medication to help with the flareups. These aids and treatments significantly improved his quality of life and gave him the resources he needed to begin effectively managing his condition.

#Star Wars #Clone Troopers #Trooper Drums #Sundown Squad #Pictured above are the hearing aid and one of the special weighted tools that Drums receives! #Will be posting the other parts to this over the next couple days <3

[manifestingunicorn]

Why neville’s teachings and theories might ruin your mental health.

This post might be controversial, but it’s coming from my own experience. As someone who has a deep knowledge of neville, i feel it has done me more harm than good, and it was definitely something I wasnt ready for. While Neville covered the law in the most extensive manner, not everyone will resonate with him. And it’s fine. We treat him like the God of LoA but it’s not true, he was just another human. Dr. Joseph murphy had the same teacher as him, but his teachings seem more believable and gives less scope for overthinking.

I am not ready for ideas like non-dualism, solipsism and other heavy terms. And it’s fine. Im not even ready for EIYPO because I don’t want to see people as mirrors. I want to see them as individuals. And I dont think they’re just my mirrors, they’re as much God as i am and we’re all coexisting. All the ideas that neville taught were too depressing for me tbh. I was existing pretty normally even before i found Neville out. So now, just because i have found out i am “god” should i be pressured into finding the “real meaning” of life? Should i find the external world meaningless when it has shaped me in today’s world? Maybe i don’t want all that. Maybe i just want a pretty house, a nice career, a nice boyfriend. I want to enjoy my human experience. That was the reason i was placed in this world, it was to enjoy the human experience. Otherwise what is the point of it all? What if the point of me interacting with others. I trust whatever is right for me will come at the right time. But the neville community has such a hold on you with it’s heavy terms. The point is not to denounce the external world, it is to enjoy it. The journey. Be fulfilled.

That’s why I recommend you guys, if you’re not ready for theories of non-dualism, the promise, etc, dont force yourself into it. After all, if you’re god, and everything is under ur control, these things can just be as fake as Law of Attraction is. For my own personal benefit, i have decided to disconnect myself entirely from neville’s teachings and stick to joseph murphy, or even sammy ingram for that matter. Because ill tell you what, SATs may guarantee one time results, but it will not help u sustain it until you change ur beliefs. Everything is a game of beliefs. You weren’t performing SATs in first person perspective when u unknowingly manifested all those shitty circumstances in your life.

That’s it for my rant.

#neville Goddard #law of assumption #manifesting

[nsewell]

thank you to my beloveds @aztarion @nat-seal-well and @serenpedac for tagging me on this wip wednesday…i have another opera house date nat/detective snippet to offer, i promise this is inching close to being done i'm just being stingy with it. i'll tag @kirnet, @thee-morrigan, @sustainably-du-mortain no pressure of course 🫶

“You’re a vision,” she murmurs, honey-thick. You breathe in a whiff of her chosen fragrance for the evening--unfamiliar to you, it must be new. Sweet and earthy, blended accords that suit her well.  “For the price of these tickets, you’d think we’d pay more attention to the performance than each other," you say, schooling your expresion to something tamer than your thoughts. She laughs clear as a bell and rakes a gloved knuckle up your arm, right where your vein runs hot. You feel briefly like a sculpture admired by an artisan, a patron. There’s something about her hands, long fingered and elegant and covered as they are, the suggestion of desire veiled beneath smooth fabric. Caught up in the allure of it, you're completely unprepared for what she whispers next as she draws impossibly closer. “I’d pay obscene amounts just to admire you in beautiful places. Theaters, museums, gardens. There's no scenery you can’t improve upon.” The word obscene unravels from her lips and tinges your cheeks darker. It’s almost enough to make you forget that you have the upper hand here--your world has shrunk to the dilated pool of her eyes dropping down to your mouth; moments like these, she eschews the pretense of humanity and forgets to blink. In some forgotten realm, Orpheus hits a peaking crescendo. You clear the tightening chord of your own throat with a swallow and say, “There’s a thought.” Nat smiles her best I’m-enticing-and-I-know-it-smile and straightens, neck lengthening to return her focus to the performance. "But you're right," she says lightly. "This is a treat to savor–so eyes on the stage, ya rouhi. I don’t want you to miss a thing.”

#my writing #nat is wearing black orchid by tom ford if you were so inclined to know!!!

[gatheringbones]

[“My father died in his sixties of sarcoidosis, an inflammatory disease that affects multiple organs in the body, including the lungs and heart. The physician who performed my father’s autopsy told me that his lungs, heart, spleen, and brain were so damaged that he must have had undiagnosed and untreated sarcoidosis for decades, and that, given the widespread damage to his vital organs, it was surprising he was even able to remain upright toward the end of his life. For years before his death, his body was a Jenga tower one move away from collapse.

Though this appeared nowhere in the official cause of death, one could certainly speculate that my father’s premature death was the result of unrelenting social pressure on top of childhood trauma—or, in other words, weathering. And there was a generational legacy of weathering to contend with, too—not just his own, but the weathering that was passed down to him from his family, whose uphill battles began in the shtetl and continued after their escape from persecution in Russia, when they came to America as poor immigrants and settled down to a difficult life in a working-class urban ghetto. Being targeted for genocide, and suffering the losses of two of her children and the slaughter of her parents, plunged my father’s mother into depression and left her desperately anxious about the health of her youngest son.

In current parlance, we would speculate that my father was affected by adverse childhood experiences (ACEs), a type of trauma that is associated with diminished health in later life. Examples of ACEs include losing a family member to death or to prison, being depressed or having a primary caregiver who is depressed, going hungry for long periods, and suffering neglect or abuse. Today, scientists have found evidence that if you were subject to ACEs during critical periods of your brain development, your brain architecture may be affected such that your threshold for physiological stress arousal is permanently lower (meaning it is triggered more easily). To the extent that you will live your life in similarly adverse circumstances, having this lower threshold can be adaptive. But what if the adversity you actually face is entirely different from the circumstances in which you were born?

Imagine what it would be like if your brain architecture was calibrated by a world rife with ACEs, yet, as you grew up, you entered an environment that contained none of the kinds of threats or stressors your brain had prepared you for. You went to school with, worked with, or lived next to members of communities whose neurological threshold for stress arousal was shaped by enjoying lives of privilege and safety. Your hair-trigger reactions to perceived threats could get you dismissed as uncivil, touchy, hot-tempered, a troublemaker, or a snowflake. Your more privileged classmates or coworkers or neighbors could feel superior as they patted themselves on the back for remaining civil and calm, letting verbal provocations roll off their back or, worse, being happily unaware that the substance of their civil discourse could, in fact, be a verbal provocation to race-conscious ears. They would not understand that your brain and body were adapted for responding to a world filled with threats and that you had been primed to be in a continuous state of vigilance. Or you knew that when the privileged performed civility, that alone did not imply they weren’t proliferating racist ideas.

This appears to have been my father’s lived experience as an adult. He probably lived in a permanently sustained or easily escalated state of physiological stress arousal, which over time weathered his body. For my father, achieving an advanced education conferred real material benefits and privileges. These were important prizes, and they offered my sisters and me a degree of financial security and opportunities he never had in his youth; yet, for my father, this alone was not enough to heal his early and intergenerational traumas, or to prevent the physiological damage that led to his early death.”]

arline t. geronimus, from weathering: the extraordinary stress of ordinary life in an unjust society, 2023

#arline t. geronimus #cw medical #currently reading #cw genocide