#throughout the programme's run

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

While it was the result of budget limitations in the early days of the programme,

the Inspector wearing a Derby and Mackintosh became iconic items for the character throughout its run.

[versairic]

Thunderstorm | MV1

In which a thunderstorm passes over the city and Max helps an employee who is afraid of thunderstorms to survive the storm

pairing - max verstappen x reader

words - 3077

warning - fear of thunderstorms

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The sky became increasingly cloudy. The clouds came closer and closer together, so that within a few minutes the blue sky disappeared and it became darker and darker.

The sun had been shining with all its might for the last few minutes, so it didn't even look like the weather would change in a few minutes.

The Dutchman squinted his eyes slightly to acclimatise his pupils to the now dark hotel room.

The dark heavy curtains were wide open and revealed the dark - almost black - sky.

"That's it for the jog, Rupert," he muttered quietly to himself, leaving his running shoes lying carelessly in the corner.

Max was actually grateful to the weather that he didn't have to go for another long jog after the exhausting Media Day and was more or less chased through the city by Rupert.

The Media Day was sometimes even more strenuous than the Saturdays or Sundays when the drivers spent most of their time in the car.

They had to face countless questions and answers from various reporters and also shoot one or two pieces of content for social media.

By the end of the day, some of the drivers' heads were already pounding and they enjoyed the peace and quiet in their hotel room, where they were alone and didn't have to talk to anyone.

So the Dutchman peeled himself out of his sportswear and swapped it for a pair of cosy jogging bottoms and a hoodie before taking the few steps to the huge hotel room window and standing in front of the glass.

By now, one or two drops had already broken free from the cloud, leaving small, shiny trails on the balcony that sparkled like diamonds in the weak light of the outdoor lighting.

It wasn't long before the rain became heavier and the odd puddle formed within a short space of time.

Without paying any further attention to the weather outside, which would continue to wreak havoc throughout the evening, Max drew the heavy dark curtains and then dropped onto the hotel bed.

The white bed linen, which already looked as sterile as hospital bed linen, was cold and scratchy.

A soft sigh escaped Max's lips as he reached out for the small bedside lamp, which soon became the only source of light in the room.

Even if he hadn't really wanted to go jogging with Rupert, his personal trainer, he now had even more free time that he didn't really know what to do with.

He had been scrolling through social media for the last fifteen minutes, which had turned out to be pretty boring after a while, so his mobile phone was left lying carelessly on the small bedside table - with the display facing downwards.

The large flat screen TV hanging on the wall opposite his hotel bed attracted the attention of the 4x world champion and shortly afterwards it was no longer too quiet in the hotel room.

Some kind of trash TV episode was playing, but the Dutchman didn't pay too much attention to it.

It was crazy how much you could get bored in a hotel room. You might think you needed the peace and quiet after the hectic days on the track and used the peace and quiet to recharge your social battery, but that wasn't always the case.

Often times, the loneliness and quiet was even worse and made you literally die of boredom and in those moments you actually wished for the hustle and bustle back so that you had something to do.

So Max switched back and forth between the different channels - none of them offered any entertainment programme that could even begin to entertain and distract Max, so that the world champion's hotel room was plunged back into silence shortly afterwards.

Until suddenly a loud clap of thunder sounded. The thunder rumbled low and menacingly over the horizon, as if to challenge the silence, before a flash of lightning bathed the sky in bright light and illuminated Max's hotel room, despite the drawn curtains.

The Dutchman was startled by the force of the thunder, causing the remote control to slip out of his hand and sail under the hotel bed.

"Verdomde," he mumbled quietly and freed himself from the scratchy bed linen to fish the remote control out from under the hotel bed as he suddenly paused.

There was something. A noise. A soft noise that sounded like a whimper. However, it had sounded so briefly and then disappeared again that Max had the feeling that he had imagined the whimpering.

In the dark, he groped around under the bed, hoping to find the remote control somehow, while the bed linen scratched under his touch.

The rumble of thunder sounded in the background and the lightning lit up the hotel room for a few seconds at a time.

And then it was suddenly there again. The whimpering and a short, soft scream, which made Max stop moving.

Was the noise coming from the corridor or from the room next to him?

The Dutchman got up and stood so that he was in the centre of the small corridor so that he could listen more closely to see whether the noise was coming from the hotel corridor or the room next door.

He listened intently. His ears pricked up almost like a cat, he literally waited for the sound to come again.

And sure enough. There it was again. With the next thunder, which was now carried directly over the city and the hotel by the storm, a louder, almost panicked whimper sounded.

Without thinking twice, Max opened his room door and peered out into the dark corridor. There was no one to be seen or heard.

So was it possible that the noise was coming from the room next to him?

Almost frantically, he began to think about whose room was next to his.

The whole team had been spread out on this floor so that all the employees were close enough to each other and even the drivers and the team boss had their rooms in the immediate vicinity.

But even through the spasmodic deliberation, the Dutchman just couldn't think of who owned the room next to him - but it didn't matter, because when the continued rumble of thunder was accompanied by a yell, Max scurried over to the room next to him on his socks and, without hesitation, raised his hand and started knocking.

And just at that moment, his own room door slammed shut and locked the Dutchman out - without having taken his key card with him.

Verdomde! he cursed quietly in his mind.

He heard soft footsteps at the other end of the door until it opened with a squeak and Max saw nothing but darkness.

" Uhm, hello..." Max greeted the unknown person, who he still couldn't see. What was he doing here anyway?

"H-hi," a squeaky, almost tearful voice came back to the Dutchman. In his memories, he tried to match the voice, which he clearly recognised, to a face. But he couldn't think of a face to go with the voice.

" I...um...I heard noises and it sounded a bit worrying, so I wanted to check if everything was all right? But apparently it is. I'm really sorry for the disturbance," stammered the Dutchman as he slapped himself in the forehead.

Maybe it was nothing or maybe he had just caught her and her partner having sex and had put his foot in his mouth. It would be best if he turned round and left.

And just as he turned round to leave, the thunder started again - this time even more intense, making it feel like the hotel was starting to shake.

There it was again, the whimpering sound he had heard and it came directly from the woman he had not yet identified.

The Dutchman looked over his shoulder at the young woman who had now switched on the light and Max knew immediately who it was.

The new PR manager, who had been on her first assignment this weekend and had done such a good job that she had immediately made a good impression on Checo, Christian and him.

In the flickering light of the lamp, Max could clearly see the wet cheeks of the young woman, who couldn't have been much younger than himself.

His heart automatically tightened slightly and he reflexively bit his lips for a few seconds so as not to bombard her with countless questions.

Max had always been an empathetic and helpful person - he had inherited that from his mum.

"I'm fine," her voice sounded brittle and quiet as she scrunched up her nose.

Max knew, however, that she was anything but fine. New tears were already shimmering in her eyes, threatening to roll down her reddened cheeks as she stood there, quite intimidated and afraid.

" I'm sorry, but I'm not buying it. You know, I'm a pretty good listener and I don't judge. "

Max didn't know if this was the right way to help the young woman confide in a stranger, but he didn't want to leave her behind. Not so sad and fragile.

The young woman hesitated briefly until she opened the door wider and let Max inside her dark hotel room.

The hotel room had the same layout as Max's except that it was mirror-inverted.

The only light in the room came from a small night light from the Disney film Lilo & Stitch.

Max recognised the blue monster Stitch immediately, as his sister had been quite fond of the film and the character when she was younger.

The curtains were drawn so neatly that not a single ray of light could shine through.

The young woman dropped onto the bed and pulled a blanket over her cute pyjamas, which she must have been embarrassed for the Dutchman to see.

"Why don't you sit down?" she said quietly but in a gentle voice and gently tapped the end of the bed.

Unlike in Max's hotel room, the bed linen was turquoise and embroidered with small flowers, although Max was immediately sure that she had brought the bed linen from home and swapped it for the disgusting hotel bed linen - it was perhaps worth considering doing the same.

After the Dutchman had settled down on the turquoise bed linen and his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he looked around a little and recognised nothing but order and cleanliness.

Hotel rooms always told you what a person was like. And the new PR manager seemed to be quite tidy and structured - as the lined-up suitcases and books revealed.

"I'm sorry if I've disturbed you..." the young woman's voice caught Max's attention again, causing the Dutchman to take his eyes off the hotel room and look over at her.

She was wiping her nose and then wiped her eyes with a handkerchief to make the few tears disappear.

"You didn't. I really didn't. I was worried and thought I'd just check that everything was OK," Max revealed to her, eliciting a gentle smile.

"Thank you..." she began as she started to search for the right words. " That's really sweet of you. "

Max returned her gentle smile and was about to ask her another question when the thunder rolled deep and ominously through the hotel room, as if it were trying to make its way through the walls. A first, hesitant rumble arose before it grew into a powerful, vibrating roar that made the windows shake.

The air seemed to vibrate and the walls, which were otherwise so safe and calm, seemed to shake for a moment, as if the hotel itself was feeling the force of the storm.

Lightning flashed brightly through the room, illuminating the corners for a moment and making the shadows of the furniture dance like fleeting ghosts.

The thunder rolled on, at irregular intervals, sometimes near, sometimes far, but never really disappearing - a continuous rumble that enveloped the room in an oppressive, harsh atmosphere.

And this thunder caused the person opposite him to flinch violently and disappear under the embroidered bed linen.

And then Max finally understood what was going on.

She was terrified of thunderstorms.

"Hey," Max's voice rang softly through the room.

He knew exactly what the fear of thunderstorms could feel like.

The rapidly beating heart, the shiver that ran through your whole body, the squinting of your eyes to somehow block out the lightning and your body paralysed with fear.

Max knew all too well how the young Red Bull employee must feel. After all, he had experienced the same fear for years as a child.

"I-I'm so scared," whispered the younger girl muffled under the duvet as she trembled all over and the tightness in her chest just wouldn't go away.

Her fear of thunderstorms was particularly heightened when she wasn't in familiar surroundings - her home.

Although she couldn't easily cope with the fear of thunderstorms at home either, she was able to relax better at home than here in the hotel room, which was foreign to her.

"It's okay," Max assured her cautiously, glad that she had opened up to him. "I know the fear of thunderstorms. I was afraid of thunderstorms for years as a child too. Can I help you?"

She slowly lifted her head from under the duvet and nodded as her fingers dug into the fabric of the bed linen.

"What else helps you with your anxiety? Have you got any tea to calm you down? Or are you listening to music, doing breathing exercises, talking or doing something that's good for you, like painting? " Max asked her as he clearly noticed how she slowly began to relax.

" I...I'm drinking tea. There... there's camomile and lavender in front," she carefully reached out from under the blanket and pointed over to the small sideboard, on which there was a travel kettle, a cup and two packets of tea.

Max nodded sympathetically and ran over to the sideboard to prepare everything for the tea.

They could still hear the thunderstorm raging over the hotel. The thunder had become a little quieter by now, but Max kept noticing the rustling of the bedspread and spotted the young woman flinching out of the corner of his eye.

" Ninja Turtles and Stitch, huh? " Max asked with a grin and pointed to the mug with the four Turtles printed on it.

" Uhm, yeah. I know, I'm a total freak," the young woman on the bed laughed softly - that was good. A good sign that Max was slowly managing to distract her from the storm.

"You said that now, not me. But the Turtles are really cool. Shall I tell you a secret? " he grinned as he came back to the bed with the cup and handed it to her.

Her long, thin fingers wrapped themselves around the hot cup as she took a light sniff of the tea, which would fill the whole room with the scent of lavender within a few minutes.

"I won't say no to a secret," she grinned as she leaned against the end of the bed and indicated to Max that he should sit down so that he didn't continue to sit uncomfortably on the edge of the bed.

Without thinking twice, Max did the same and leant his back against the upholstered headboard of the bed.

"I recently adopted a third cat and it's actually named after one of the turtels," he grinned, causing the young woman to start giggling softly.

And the giggle was indeed a lovely sound that filled the room and Max wished he could hear it a little longer.

"Really? Which one is it? "

Now he had the young woman's full attention, who scrutinised the Dutchman with curiosity while a warm smile spread across her lips.

"Well, I'm not going to make it that easy for you," he grinned cheekily and crossed his legs.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the PR manager tilt her head and think for a few seconds before sipping her tea.

"His name is Donatello," she then said, hitting the bull's eye. Max's new cat was indeed named after the purple Ninja Turtle.

The Dutchman's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly.

The Dutchman's eyes grew wide as his mouth opened slightly.

"How...?" he stammered, actually wondering how she had come up with it. Everyone else he had told about his cat so far had bet that the cat's name was Leonardo.

"It's quite simple. And I'll be happy to explain it to you," she took another big sip from her cup before placing it on the dessert table next to her and continuing:

"He's intelligent, like you. You help with the development of the car and you also know exactly where the problem is if there is one with your car. You've also become incredibly relaxed with every World Championship title, no longer as hot-headed as you were back then. You are loyal to your team, although in difficult times it would have been understandable if you had looked for a better team - as one or two other drivers have already done. But not you, you are loyal to Red Bull and always emphasise how happy you are with the team and that you will finish your career at Red Bull. Donatello also has all these qualities - in other categories, but he is the most similar to you of the Turtels."

Wow, that was really impressive, thought Max. No one else had ever seen and analysed it in the same way as the young woman opposite him.

"That... that's impressive," he said part of his thoughts out loud.

"Thank you," she grinned and bowed playfully to him.

And so the two of them had a little guide that took them from one conversation to the next and the young woman began to forget more and more about what she had been afraid of just a moment ago. And thanks to the Dutchman, who sat next to her on the bed and laughed with her, this fear simply disappeared.

And the young woman couldn't be more grateful to the Dutchman. So the thunderstorm moved on towards the next village.

But even when the thunderstorm had passed completely and peace returned to the town, the two continued to talk until they fell into a peaceful sleep next to each other, knowing full well that this was just the beginning of something big.

[reasonsforhope]

"The Netherlands is pulling even further ahead of its peers in the shift to a recycling-driven circular economy, new data shows.

According to the European Commission’s statistics office, 27.5% of the material resources used in the country come from recycled waste.

For context, Belgium is a distant second, with a “circularity rate” of 22.2%, while the EU average is 11.5% – a mere 0.8 percentage point increase from 2010.

“We are a frontrunner, but we have a very long way to go still, and we’re fully aware of that,” Martijn Tak, a policy advisor in the Dutch ministry of infrastructure and water management, tells The Progress Playbook. 

The Netherlands aims to halve the use of primary abiotic raw materials by 2030 and run the economy entirely on recycled materials by 2050. Amsterdam, a pioneer of the “doughnut economics” concept, is behind much of the progress.

Why it matters

The world produces some 2 billion tonnes of municipal solid waste each year, and this could rise to 3.4 billion tonnes annually by 2050, according to the World Bank.

Landfills are already a major contributor to planet-heating greenhouse gases, and discarded trash takes a heavy toll on both biodiversity and human health.

“A circular economy is not the goal itself,” Tak says. “It’s a solution for societal issues like climate change, biodiversity loss, environmental pollution, and resource-security for the country.”

A fresh approach

While the Netherlands initially focused primarily on waste management, “we realised years ago that’s not good enough for a circular economy.”

In 2017, the state signed a “raw materials agreement” with municipalities, manufacturers, trade unions and environmental organisations to collaborate more closely on circular economy projects.

It followed that up with a national implementation programme, and in early 2023, published a roadmap to 2030, which includes specific targets for product groups like furniture and textiles. An English version was produced so that policymakers in other markets could learn from the Netherlands’ experiences, Tak says.

The programme is focused on reducing the volume of materials used throughout the economy partly by enhancing efficiencies, substituting raw materials for bio-based and recycled ones, extending the lifetimes of products wherever possible, and recycling.

It also aims to factor environmental damage into product prices, require a certain percentage of second-hand materials in the manufacturing process, and promote design methods that extend the lifetimes of products by making them easier to repair.

There’s also an element of subsidisation, including funding for “circular craft centres and repair cafés”.

This idea is already in play. In Amsterdam, a repair centre run by refugees, and backed by the city and outdoor clothing brand Patagonia, is helping big brands breathe new life into old clothes.

Meanwhile, government ministries aim to aid progress by prioritising the procurement of recycled or recyclable electrical equipment and construction materials, for instance.

State support is critical to levelling the playing field, analysts say...

Long Road Ahead

The government also wants manufacturers – including clothing and beverages companies – to take full responsibility for products discarded by consumers.

“Producer responsibility for textiles is already in place, but it’s work in progress to fully implement it,” Tak says.

And the household waste collection process remains a challenge considering that small city apartments aren’t conducive to having multiple bins, and sparsely populated rural areas are tougher to service.

“Getting the collection system right is a challenge, but again, it’s work in progress.”

...Nevertheless, Tak says wealthy countries should be leading the way towards a fully circular economy as they’re historically the biggest consumers of natural resources."

-via The Progress Playbook, December 13, 2023

[shhhsecretsideblog]

For the birth denial asks, what about going to a play or performance and you're in labor the whole time, but you're sucking it up because it's your partners birthday and they really wanted to see it, but your water breaks/ you feel the urge to push just after the last intermission ends

Anon!!!! You beautiful person! This is my fav thing ever and I swear I’ve submitted this exact request to other birth fic writers on here before I started doing my own. So so happy to have gotten this ask. Thank you!!!!

Theatre Birth

We had booked the tickets a year ago; it was a limited run at our local theatre, guest starring our favourite actress, and it just happened to coincide with your birthday. We simply had to get tickets to see this play. So I offered to buy the tickets and we could make a celebratory night of it.

But then I got pregnant.

We completely forgot about the show with all the excitement of the pregnancy, until about two weeks beforehand when we received the tickets in the post. It was awfully close to my due date. You offered to cancel the tickets, or see if we could resell them, but we were both still desperately excited to see this limited performance while we could. I assured you I still wanted to go, it was your birthday treat and we would be fine. First babies are never early.

I didn’t tell you about the braxton hicks contractions that plagued me the day before, or the fact I’d lost my mucus plug that morning. You were too excited; it was your birthday, you had a baby on the way and you would be seeing your favourite actress that evening. I couldn’t spoil your joy, especially not for false and practice labour pains. I just had to ride them out and let you enjoy your day. I’d tell you tomorrow.

I’d managed to hide the grimaces of pain throughout the day, but when we got to the theatre the cramps were coming at such regular intervals I was forced to consider this might actually be the real thing. But we were here now and labour took hours before there would be any need to go to the hospital, so I didn’t say anything. You pulled my arm eagerly through the theatre, excitement sparkling in your eyes for this evening’s performance. Holding my heavy bump, I plastered on my best smile and waddled behind you to find the row with our seats.

The old theatre seats were upholstered in a rough red velvet that itched the backs on my legs and the size of the seats were not designed with pregnant people in mind. Needless to say I was far from comfortable. You flicked through the programme and opened your box of sweets, in a world of your own as we waited for the show to start. I shifted in my seat and rubbed the ache in my lower belly, my bump spread over the tops of my legs because the seat was too narrow to allow it to fully sit between my thighs as it usually did. Another contraction struck and I hissed through my teeth but at the same time the music started abruptly so my flinch was left unnoticed.

I’d thought seeing the play would be a great distraction from the aches and twinges, but as the waves of pain crashed with more and more intensity I couldn’t pay attention to what was happening on stage. The seat was agonisingly uncomfortable, I was sweating in my outfit, and I was regretting all my choices that had led me here. After a long hour and a half Act One eventually finished. You helped me up out of the low chair so I could make a quick dash to the toilet, with the baby so big and so active I was surprised I’d lasted the duration of the first act.

There was a long line for ladies, standard in the small theatre, but as I felt the telltale cramping of the next contraction I pulled the pregnancy card and skipped ahead of the queue. I just felt so full; my belly was tight, the baby was low, and there was so much pressure. I panted silently through the contraction as I sat on the toilet and just as it was coming to an end I felt something give and a splash echoed from the porcelain.

Oh my god, that was my waters… I thought to myself.

I sat there, a little in shock, breathing slowly to calm myself. It's okay. I’ll just clean myself up, head back to our seats to tell you, and then we could make a quick and subtle exit before the play resumed. By the time I had exited the bathroom and awkwardly shuffled along the row to get back to our seats the lights in the theatre were already starting to dim - the next Act was beginning. You offered a hand to help me get back into the chair and I don’t know why but I took it and sat back down on the itchy seat. The music started before I could tell you my waters had just broken, with everyone around us back in their assigned seats all sitting in the dark and facing the bright lights of the stage. Now completely stuck in the middle of a row I couldn’t bring myself to tell you - we couldn’t get leave now, it would mean asking about 15 people to move in order to allow my heavy and labouring body to exit the row and attracting all manner of unwanted attention. Rubbing my contracting belly, I took a deep breath. I just had to get through act two and then you and I could head straight for the hospital after the play. Everything would be fine.

~•~

It was not fine.

Without the cushioning of my waters the baby’s head was rammed against my dilating cervix. The contractions were hitting me every few minutes and I was surprised I hadn’t yet cried out from the pain. I tried to do little things to ease the pain, shifting in my seat or rubbing my belly, but the movement seemed to attract the annoyed glances from people around us. If I just stayed still and breathed through the pain, I was sure I could make it through. Occasionally you’d glance at me, checking I was enjoying the show, and I tried my best to smile through my gritted teeth.

But everything changed when the need to push presented itself. I pulled a sudden sharp gasp and my eyes widened with panic. You softly turned to look at me and your face fell at seeing the pained and panicked expression on mine.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You whispered in my ear.

“Hooo- nothing…” I breathed quietly, ignoring all my body’s cues that I might need to start pushing.

You placed a hand on my bump and felt the solid and tense surface beneath your fingers. “Are you having contractions?”

“I’m fine… hoooo… just- hold my hand.” I said, determined not to make a scene or attract attention.

Grabbing your hand I turned back to the stage, signalling you to do the same. I could do this, it wouldn’t be much longer and then we can leave quietly. Just breathe and don’t push, I told myself.

I managed to make it through half a dozen more contractions, breathing steadily and squeezing your hand whenever they hit. I could see in my peripheral vision your head turning anxiously towards me whenever I gripped your hand tight. The play felt like it was dragging on and on and on. Surely it had to end soon. The next contraction began to seize, I took a deep breath and released it slowly through the pain but the pressure was quickly building to astronomical heights. I was biting my lips to stop myself making any noise but the occasional whimper slipped through. Without control or permission I felt my body suddenly push. My fingers curled around your hand, my nails digging deep into your skin as I beared down.

Your head snapped towards me and saw my face scrunched and my chin on my chest.

“Oh my god are you pushing?!?!” You stuttered.

I could only gulp a breath as my body pushed again. The baby was right there and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My legs parted instinctively as I slumped in the chair and lifted my knees. I could feel my lips start to open, forced apart as the head pushed its way out. And yet I remained silent, with only the occasional muted grunt sounding from my throat from a baby that was desperate to be born.

“Stop… y-you can’t be pushing. You’re not in labour… are you?” You were frazzled, unsure what to do. The performers were still on stage, the show continuing, unaware of the new life that was soon to enter the world.

I let go of your hand and scrambled to pull the fabric of my dress up. Diving beneath the clothing I put a hand between my thighs and I felt through my underwear the large round shape of the baby’s head poking out. “Fuck….” I gritted under my breath.

Unable to fully speak or explain, I just grabbed your hand and placed it on the partially crowned head. “Baby’s-coming…mnghhhhhh….” I grunted and succumbed to another push, bearing down uncontrollably with a primal need to birth right here right now.

People around us were starting to notice, but I could pay them no mind. The baby slipped further and further out with every push, filling your hand that had remained between my legs. The full crown was reached in a matter of agonising seconds and then with a sudden loud grunt the head popped out.

It was only then I became aware of the silence and the fact the people on stage had halted their performance and were staring.

[bullet-prooflove]

I’ll be damned if I do give a damn what other people say

Tagging: @kmc1989

People start to talk when they see you around with Jake.

She’s not his usual type they say, she’s not pretty enough, attractive enough. She’s too nice for him, it’ll be over in a week. You take it on the chin because that’s the cost of doing business when you’re a woman in the military. You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.

All that matters to you is that he treats you well and to his credit Jake does. He’s the first one up in the morning, taking Cujo for a walk so you can sleep in a couple of extra minutes, he checks the tire pressure on your car because he hates the thought of something happening when your driving off base at night. He even takes out the garbage, a task your last few ex-boyfriends went out of their way to avoid.

“Gotta make sure you have a reason to keep me around.” He says half seriously when you thank him for topping off the oil in your car and that’s when you realise this thing between the two of you means a lot more to him than you give him credit for.

“You know I don’t need a reason to keep you around.” You tell him that night when you’re in bed together. You’re tangled up underneath the navy blue sheets, his thumb lightly caressing the apple of your cheek. “I like spending time with you, being with you…”

“Jenna…” he says softly, his nose tracing lightly along yours. “I know I have a reputation, I know what they say about me on base…”

He trails off then because you know exactly what he’s talking about.

Hangman has more notches on his bedpost than all the pilots put together on the Top Gun programme, he’s left a trail of broken hearts in his wake throughout military bases all over the world.

But Hangman isn’t Jake, not the one you know.

He’s not the man you met one sunny morning whilst you were on a run with Cujo, the one that double checks the house is locked up at night or walks you to your car when the lights in the parking lot is out.

“I know.” You promise him, your lips brushing over his. “You are so much more than any of that.”

Love Jake? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[selkies-world]

Something something, Trump's vice saying that they need to execute people who don't support Trump, something something, Trump banning abortion & reproductive health care & birth control, something something, Trump saying Puerto Ricans just multiply and have lots of babies, something something, Trump being funded by Elon Musk, something something, Musk openly stating that the economy will suffer because Trump will give him free reign to have his Meta wetdream come true at the expense of the entire country, something something, Trump wanting to put transgender kids in "homes" away from affirming parents & wanting to have transgender adults "imprisoned" or put into "homes" or "camps", something something, Trump & Putin & Farage, something something, Trump & the big red button, something something, does nobody else remember Trump threatening Nuclear War with Russia & China & North (?) Korea over petty or racist things BEFORE RUSSIA THREATENED THE WORLD WITH NUCLEAR WW3 IF WE INTERVENE AND STOP RUSSIA INVADING UKRAINE, something something, Trump's supporters seeing him as the mesiah and saviour and King David and other god-like personas rather than a deeply flawed and power-hungry man with mental health issues who is not fit to run one of the biggest and most powerful and influential countries in the world, something something, leaving disabled and chronically ill people to die or suffer without medicare, something something, making it illegal to miscarry (& probably to have a stillbirth), something something, didn't somebody say it'd be okay under Trump to euthanize people who can't / won't contribute to the industrial capitalist society? Something something, Trump saying he wants the generals Hitler had, something something, the Nazi Euthanasia Programme (T4, I think?), something something, look in a history book and tell me what happened to the Jews & blacks in Germany when they were taken to centres & divided into those who could provide labour (& who were taken to concentration camps to becomes slaves and endure torture) and those who could not provide labour.

Look in a history book, and you will see that WW2 started in the 1930s, but there were signs of it coming on the 1920s. There was a build up, there was a gradual inclination towards it, and it was that inclination which put Hitler in power - before that inclination happened, he was the leader of a very unpopular party whom nobody paid much attention to. There were signs, there were bridges crossed, there were decisions made, there were votes won and there were more and more slippery steps to take before Germany announced war in the 1930s. And throughout all of that time, it was the minorities, those who would suffer the most just for existing, who felt the pressure first while the rest of society began to celebrate Hitler. It was these people who were growing uncomfortable with the fact regular education had been replaced by swastikas in schoolbooks, and with Hitler being featured in children's rhymes as a friendly father figure to guard over them all - and more so with the fact this was mandatory for every child to learn, and that teachers had two choices: teach children what Hitler wanted them to learn, or lose their jobs, in the best case scenario.

WW2 didn't just 'happen' in the 1930s; it was already being created in the 1920s.

We know this. We also know that we can match Trump's movements almost exactly to the steps taken by Hitler in the late 1920s & early 1930s. We know where this path leads, because we saw it before. We know where this path leads, because we have been down it before. We know where this path leads, because we were swept along by the current last time it happened.

It hasn't even been 100 years since WW2 began. It hasn't even been 100 years since the Holocaust; there are people who survived it who are still alive today.

It hasn't even been 100 years since the world went through what was perhaps the worst war in human history, to date.

Please do not make the world go through it all again. Because this time, there is different technology, different threats, and I promise you, it will not be the victory you want.

I know you're angry at the world. I know you're hurt, hurt to the point of being numb. I know you're tired and I know you're scared. I know you're scared of the unknown, which is why you might not be sure about voting for Kamala. Better the devil you know, and all that. But, America, I promise you, if you vote for Trump on Tuesday, you will damn your country, your people, and the rest of the world, to Hell. This election isn't happening in a vacuum - none of your elections have. Did you know that the UK celebrated when Obama legalised gay marriage? Did you know that multiple countries now celebrate 2 pride months, June and July, since Trump changed when the USA would celebrate it last time he was on power? Did you know that Scotland, Ireland and Wales study your civil war and your resistance and your wars of independence as intensely as we study the French revolution? Did you know that when JFK was assassinated, there were memorials and vigils held in multiple countries? Did you know that the global variation of English, AKA Globish, is more strongly influenced by US-English than British English, Australian English or Canadian English? Did you know that people who barely speak English can sing country songs word for word, with an American accent? Did you know that up until 2016, a lot of people in other countries saw the USA as the land where dreams come true - a whole country with the magic of Disneyland, where anyone can become anything, where the wildness is still free and where there are sights and sounds found nowhere else in the world? Did you know how influential you, your people and your country is to the rest of the world?

You're not voting in a vacuum, because the USA doesn't exist in a vacuum. I know you're scared - you know this election is important. I know you're hurt, because you haven't been listened to in the past, and Biden betrayed your trust, and you have no reason to vote blue this time around because you don't think Kamala will keep her word. I know you're reluctant to vote for her because she isn't openly stating that she will help Palestine; but the truth is that she and Biden have been trying to negotiate a ceasefire between Isreal and Palestine for a while now, while Trump has been in frequent communication with the leader of Isreal and has been encouraging the genocide to continue. This is what he does without the backing of your country behind him; what do you think he would do with the power of the Whitehouse backing him, when nobody can tell him no, when he will be seen by many as being above the law? Do you really believe that he'll save you, or anybody but himself, when push comes to shove?

Maybe Kamala isn't a Saint. Maybe her rule won't be perfect. Maybe it won't give you back the America you remember from your childhoods, and maybe she won't give us back the America we imagined your country to be. But she will save the planet from desolation, she will protect your people, she will protect your land, she will offer a chance for us to survive the climate crisis, and she will protect your sisters, daughters, wives, mothers, aunts and grandmothers.

If an 8 year old girl is raped by a neighbour, does she deserve to die in labour? Does she deserve to live with the changes forced on her body for the rest of her life, before it was ready? Does her mother deserve to watch her daughter go through that? Does her father deserve to watch his little angel suffer like that? Or does that little girl deserve a doctor who is allowed to save her life and what's left of her childhood?

Trump will condemn that little girl to death if she carries the baby to term and isn't provided the best medical care available. Trump will have that girl imprisoned if she has a stillbirth or miscarries. Trump will have that girl and her family imprisoned if she tries to have it aborted. Trump will condemn that girl for the rest of her life, due to something she had no control over and did not want or deserve. And he will say it's alright, maybe even good, that she suffered like that, because it's what she deserved. He will make up lies about her and her mother and her father. He will make them all into monsters for the rest of your people to hate, condemn and mock.

Kamala will save that little girl's life. Kamala will give that mother her little girl back, safe and healthy. Kamala will give that father his little angel back for him to protect.

Please, America. Please vote blue on Tuesday. Please vote for Kamala. Please vote for Harris. Please. Please, please, please.

Voting BLUE doesn't mean that you're saying "I agree with everything Kamala says, and I think she is a Saint, and I think she's going to save the world, and I think her plans are perfect."

That isn't what you're saying, if it isn't how you feel.

Voting BLUE means that you're saying "I disagree with Trump, and I don't want to turn the USA into the West's Russia, and I don't want to lose everything I know to the third world war, and I don't want to subject the USA to another civil war," because I promise you, that is what he will do if he gets your vote.

[less-dev]

We're making a Starbound/Terraria inspired space sandbox game!

We're making a 2D sandbox game similar to Starbound! Or uh, terraria in space.

#nodev contains shitposting

#planetarium contains dev progress

Specifics under the cut

Who are you?

Aspen - Project Lead, Programmer, Pixel artist, Sound Designer.

Hey! I'm Aspen, I've been programming and making games for many many years in basically every engine there is... But never felt the drive to finish one, until now! I consider myself very experienced in the engine we're using (Gamemaker Studio 2.5) and have confidence we'll be able to make this game a reality. I also run the Tumblr account, so assume it's me behind the wheel as a default. Thank you for checking the game out!

Alec - Concept artist, Character Designer

H a l l o I'm Alec, I like writing and drawing and painting and designing shiiiiiiiit. I adore world building and have frequent bursts of creative possession in which I conceive and birth the greatest ideas and concepts in a mere moment. Otherwise, I can be a total dumbass and completely useless. I'm good at colours 👌 I have been a 85% a home-brew DM for about 2 years now and that is the greatest proof of my ADHD-given God powers of creativity. Slay.

What a cool guy!

Design pillars

Immersion. Above all else, I would like roleplay (casual or serious) to be natural and well supported. I would like players to find engaging with the world, and it's characters to be very personal.

Innovation. Tropes such as "You spawn in a green forest and can walk left or right" will be actively avoided. Biomes will have generation that presents more unique movement opportunities. Such as geysers in rock pools launching players high up, or giant twisting vines that hold up chunks of land to hop between.

More quality less quantity. Planets will be significantly more content-dense than Starbound, and perhaps controversially travel between them will be more difficult/expensive as well. This would encourage players to take advantage of all the resources presented on each planet, instead of hopping from one to the next. This would also encourage us throughout development to give each planet as much love as possible. Each planet should feel like a 'miniature terraria world'. Though actually achieving that is easier said than done.

Meaningful content. Procedurally generating creatures from 100 different pre-set monster parts could technically produce limitless alien creatures for players to encounter. But in both No Man's Sky and Starbound. I find this novelty to wear off quick, these creatures are not manually, meaningfully crafted and beyond an unusual appearance and some shallow gameplay changes... They do not create much of a memorable experience for the player. In my opinion, anyway. I would rather hand-craft every creature and make them all significantly unique and interesting. That's not to say procedurally generated creatures won't ever have a place in the game, but they certainly wont be as prevalent as others games.

Okay well... What's finished?

Fundamental lighting shaders akin to Starbound.

Some world generation brushes and basic commands.

A text mark-up language (heavily optimised), and game chat.

Extensive custom debugging tools

Hard and soft-loading of chunks to save on as much memory and CPU usage as possible.

Complete unloading, and compression of chunks on top of the previously mentioned system. As well as a live-saving system.

Setting, Story baseline, and conceptualization of the first 3 playable species. Each species will have a different starting planet, and immediately different playthrough.

Designs and cultures of several additional unplayable races.

Character proportion tests, sprites and sketches.

First-pass on collision functions.

Weighted Tile variance and tile connections.

CONCERNS

Multiplayer. While I have made an online multiplayer game before and it's definitely doable for this game, it would require some practice in a one-off test game to be fully confident. It would also take a LOT of time.

Modding. As far as I know gamemaker games are notoriously difficult for players to modify. Something like Unity is far easier even without mod support. Gamemaker on the other hand is difficult even if I want to design systems in favor of modders. This is kind of a problem for later, I have faith there'll be something we can do to make it work... But a cursory look says it won't be easy. I would be extremely disappointed if there was nothing we could do.

[thatsrightice]

F-14 TOMCAT ISSUES AND ACCIDENTS

The following is a compilation of issues with the F-14 Tomcat that have been encountered by pilots throughout its lifespan due to both mechanical and other reasons. Some are based on individual accidents and some cover epidemics in which many aircraft were lost to the issue *cough* compressor stalls *cough* basically it’s a bunch of ways you can hurt your fav characters in your fics so if you write something pls let me know cause I want to read it!!!

The issues range from minor hydraulic leaks to an explosion where pilots survive but the aircraft is literally in a million pieces.

LAST UPDATED 10/25/2023

Added some links to relavant FFFOTDs

Side note, the F-14 was a frickin massive tank of a fighter jet. She has taken damage to major components and still been able to land safely, so every situation is pretty unique.

Water Damage- Any type of water intrusion would cause issues with the electrical systems. It was a very common thing, so much so that they would have to duct tape anywhere water might be able to enter as a precaution when they knew it would rain.

Hydraulic Fluid Leaks - The F-14 did leak hydraulic fuel fairly often. There was a joke going around that if there isn't a bucket leaking hydraulic fluid underneath the plane then you are out of hydraulic fluid.

The Staple - On F-14 As and Bs, they would limit the jet to 4Gs maximum for three months and then they would install a metal staple to the bottom of the aircraft just forward of the tail hook. The point of the staple was to prevent severe bulkhead cracks and fuselage delamination by reducing the torquing moments caused by material fatigue. The staple is described as being a 1 foot-long and 1 inch wide solid steel part that looks exactly like a staple. As a part of their pre-flight checks, pilots would have to hang on it to ensure it wouldn’t fall out.

Airbags - Now and then, the airbags would rip and they would have to fix them.

Hydraulic Failures - Hydraulic failures happened somewhat often, but not often enough to be a prevalent issue. Generally speaking, it was common knowledge that if an F-14 wasn't leaking hydraulic fluid then it was out of hydraulic fluid. They would place buckets underneath to catch the liquid when the aircraft was not flying.

An incident from 1988 resulted from a complete hydraulic failure of both the main and the backup systems. They ruled the accident to be caused by the combination of failure of a relief valve and material failure. The Commander of the Pacific Fleet at the time believed that it could have possibly been the result of entrapped air that had been introduced into the hydraulic system through minor system maintenance.

AICS Programmers - They would have to start the airplane and then run the intake ramps aka would have to cycle the intake ramps otherwise they wouldn't be able to get off the ground.

Flap-Slat Lockout - If the flaps on either side of the jet didn't program at the same rate, it would cut it out and lock them up. They were then unable to move them as the lockout was a precaution to prevent asymmetry. This forced pilots to land without flaps, requiring an extra 22 knots during landing. It was difficult to land when they were locked out, and in many situations the end result would be pulling up next to the carrier and ejecting. Flap-Slat Lockout was a consistent issue throughout the Tomcat's life.

Unreliable Fire Warning Light - Sometimes the fire warning light would just barely start to flicker on and steadily become more prominent. Overall "just a bad system." You never actually know if there's a fire or not.

Wings Won’t Come Out - This happened at NAS Oceana. The airplane landed at a speed of 230 mph, so very close to the F-14’s stall speed. When the wings are stuck back, you can't hit the brakes during landing because there is no anti-skid and you would overheat them, if you pulled the stick back you would rotate, and with the wings back you have no spoilers so there is nothing to slow you down. In this particular incident, the pilot was able to take the long landing, but if this issue was encountered at sea it would require an ejection or divert to an airfield nearby if possible. No big explosions or fires though, it’d be a fairly calm procedure and the plane could fly into range of the ship for easy retrieval after ejection.

Low Fuel (Barricade Landing) - Bad weather at night combined with air traffic personnel being too occupied with diverting tons of airplanes, launching tankers, etc. can cause an aircraft to get low on fuel. There was a situation covered in the F-14 Tomcast episode called "F-14 Barricade" where they were unable to refuel using a tanker and were forced to do a barricade landing for their safety. They were almost forced to pull up alongside the carrier and eject. After the landing, one of the crew calculated based on the amount of fuel left that they only had about 90 seconds of flying left. This is literally the only night F-14 barricade landing ever I am pretty sure (in real life Maverick's doesn't count lol). I like it because the pilot and RIO had to tell the aircrew straight up "You have to take us now" because the pilot could no longer see the tape on the fuel gage. The crew tells their story really well and it’s really funny to listen to, especially considering the fact that they had to keep sending them around because they fucked up setting up the barrier.

Hitting the Canopy (During Ejection) - Goose's story is based on a real story in which a RIO hit the canopy during ejection and broke his spine. The reason the pilot does not also hit the canopy is because the ejection sends the RIO out first. The canopy is ejected after a couple of seconds after the handle is pulled, then the RIO is ejected after a second or two, and then the pilot another second later. The ejection seats also launch them in different trajectories so the pilot and the RIO do not collide in the air, meaning they may or may not end up in the same area. The solution would be to wait for the canopy to clear before ejecting but sometimes your don’t have that luxury.

Front Landing Gear Failure During Takeoff- While launching off of the catapult of the aircraft carrier, the nose gear attached to the shuttle broke. The landing gear and shuttle proceeded to the end of the runway without the jet, hitting the end of the ship at 305 knots and damaging the front of the carrier. The jet went off the ship with far less speed than necessary (at barely 60-70 knots) and began falling into the water as it was not enough to get the Tomcat in the air. They ejected to barely 50 feet high and were in serious danger of getting run over by the aircraft carrier. In the accident covered on the Fighter Pilot Podcast FPP004 - Ejection Seats, the RIO tells the story of his survival and the tragic loss of the pilot.

Radome (Nose Cone) Detachment - An F-14 Tomcat lost its radome during a flight due to the failure of the latching mechanism. The radome crashed into the canopy, shattering te glass of the windscreen. The pilot could only see out of a 3 inch hole in the windscreen due to the cracked windshield. He couldn't hear anything due to the noise of the wind in the cockpit, so he was unsure of the state of his RIO but assumed he was unconscious because he hadn't ejected them. The pilot flew over the carrier three times before successfully landing the plane, despite having glass in both eyes and a broken collarbone. It turns out that the RIO had been completely unharmed but with comms down he was unable to tell the pilot such. Upon landing the plane, the pilot was medevaced for eye surgery and then returned to the US.

Midair Collision - F-14A BUNo 159832 was a midair collision between two F-14 Tomcat. In this particular situation, one of the airplanes was able to divert to a nearby airport due to losing part of the right wing whereas the other crew was forced to eject. Obviously you could probably picture a situation where both jets went down.

Landng with Damage - Tomcats are a very sturdy aircraft, often described as being a tank both due to how much fuel they were able to carry and the sheer size of the aircraft. There has been an incident where an F-14 landed without one of its vertical stabilizers. In the Radome Deatchment section, the pilot was able to land the plane. The following video shows an aircraft, although not an F-14, landing aboard an aircraft carrier with significant damage on its right right side.

Single Engine Cat Shot- There was an incident where an aircraft had engine issues the moment it left the carrier. Immediately after the launch, they lost the left engine, and the first thing the pilot did was go through engine failure procedures, wingman at their side. They set up for an engine start using normal air before they attempted a cross-bleed air start using bleed air from the right engine to rotate the starter in the left engine, but neither worked. The pilot addressed the fuel distribution situation by feeding the right engine with fuel from the left to even them out and then they began dumping fuel to get to the "max trap" weight. Upon successfully landing, the Commanding Officer initially believed that the pilot had allowed the left engine throttle to roll back to idle during the acceleration of the catapult stroke, however, after maintenance personnel spun up the engine to troubleshoot, the engine spun well past its normal rpm immediately without the mechanical load it usually carried by the tower shaft meaning that something was very, very wrong. An image of the aircraft after launch can be seen below. Note the singular engine lit up.

F110 Afterburner Failure - The new engines installed were great, but they initially had a problem with the afterburner. In one recorded accident, the pilot lit the afterburner, damaging the afterburner can's lining and leading to an explosion. The Navy prohibited use of the afterburner below 10,000 ft on the F-14+/B/D until the problem could get solved but it took nearly a year to remedy.

"Thump Bang" - The easiest way to incorporate any sort of accident is to call it what the Naval Aviators call a "thump bang". A "thump bang" refers to a series of events that occur when an aircraft experiences some sort of issue they described as a "thump" and then an explosion. It's kind of hard to describe what is like in the cockpit during this sort of accident as it could have happened quickly or could have been a delayed explosion, and it could have been caused by any number of reasons. If they don't know what actually happened, they'll call it a "thump bang" and can only hypothesize what occurred. The likely scenario would have been an issue with the TF30 engines.

TF30 - The "Turd in the punch bowl, " the TF30s had two specific issues that were kind of intertwined.

Throwing Fan Blades - One of the largest issues with the TF30s was that they were with the fan blades. When the fan blades become eroded or damaged over time, they no longer compress the airflow efficiently, potentially leading to an engine stall (see Compressor Stall below). Additionally, the TF30 was known for "throwing" fan blades. This is when the fan blade becomes detached and is shot out to the side into the interior of the aircraft. Not good. Pretty bad actually. They didn't initially know they were throwing fan blades until after a couple of accidents. when they started to be more common they would retrieve the aircraft from the water (if in large enough pieces and then investigate the cause.

Compressor Stall - The actual biggest issue with the F-14 Tomcat and its TF30 engines is the compressor stalling. They literally happened all the time from a variety of different causes. Generally speaking, the compressor stalls were the result of disruption to the airflow into the compressor of the engine. The compressor has fan blades that require the airflow to be undisturbed for maximum efficiency. It was theorized to be the result of foreign object debris (FOD) ingestion into the engines. They check religiously for loose objects on the airplanes as a result, oftentimes having a crew member dive into the intake ducts to check for loose bolts. Additionally, compressor stalls could be caused by operating the aircraft outside of its limits, improper handling, etc.

The F-14 had a gated afterburner, meaning it had 5 “gates” inside of the afterburner and each one lit up a flame rack. There was no variable thrust, so it had to be either on or off. Each of the five racks was labeled as a zone. Zone 3 is what they were allowed to take off with. Coming in or out of afterburner with any angle or attack would cause the compressor to immediately stall. This was mostly due to poor design of the intake.

In general, approximately 30% of F-14A losses were attributed to high-altitude compressor stalls. When one engine stalls, more often than not it will induce the other engine to stall as well. There is a procedure to counteract the compressor stall, the specific protocol was to ease the amount of Gs, slow down, the T.I.T. would go crazy and you shut it down. Or in fighter pilot slang, “ease, slow cook it, shut it down.”

One incident in particular that was assumed to be caused by engine failure resulted in an explosion that looked so bad it was a miracle the pilot and RIO survived (see image below). The pilot escaped with minor burns to his hands, face, and neck and was able to fly within a couple of weeks. The RIO sustained more serious burns on his hands but was flying again after several weeks.

Not Touching Them For Two Days - True story; they flew best when they were used a lot.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

logan whos a sentient P.E.T. computer who remus gets by means of a gift or something from his grandparents. logan has programmed sentience, and remus plays with his wires and fucks his insides while logans screen displays a wall of overwhelmed binary. with remus calling logan his pet throughout bc thats whats on the body so thats clearly his title

P.E.T

Intrulogical (Remus x Logan) Warnings: robofucking, computer fucking, wireplay, machine oil, overstimulation, objectum

Remus has always been close with his grandparents, compared to his regular parents, at least. After basically being pressured to move out, he’s gotten himself a house near them, and they were more than willing to help him furnish it. Couches, televisions, a desk for his projects - but it was the non-important stuff that really stuck out to him.

They ended up giving him an old P.E.T. computer, which he currently had set on a table in his garage. It’s an old personal computer that his grandparents said they inherited from a random couple that moved away. They never bothered trying to use it, but perhaps Remus could fix it up. Or smash it into bits.

And while the idea of shattering such technology really speaks to him, Remus does admittedly want to know if he can at least get the thing to turn on. And once he’s eventually bored of it, then he’ll pull it apart!

So, after a few YouTube tutorials, and complete luck while fucking around, the screen suddenly blinks to life!

But immediately Remus is a bit curious, because all of the tutorials he watched launched the computer into a basic startup screen, with desk icons and outdated internet functions, but this one loads onto a dark green screen, with a blinking bright green typing line. At first, Remus believes he might have to type something in - a password, maybe? Or a code? - but then letters are being typed without Remus even touching the keyboard, frantically clicking out a quick ‘please don’t shut me off again.’

Surprised, Remus stares at the computer, the clicks made from the computer typing itself echoing through the dim area.

Nothing happens after that line is typed - aside from Remus holding his breath - before the computer deletes its sentence and then types out more.

‘I apologize if it appears I’m being frantic, but you must understand that I’ve been stored away for decades. I haven’t been powered on in years, and I’d much prefer to stay aware than gather dust somewhere.’

Remus stares at the computer’s screen, and then collapses back into his chair. “Holy shit,” he utters, as his eyes read and then re-read the computer’s message to him.

Once again, the computer is deleting its message, and typing a new one. ‘I understand that this is a lot to process, but I implore you to at least consider my explanation.’

Remus licks his lips, and glances around his garage, before shrugging. “Alright,” he mumbles, “I’m considering it.”

‘Thank you. My name is Logan; it was given to me by my original programmers. I was involved in an experiment revolving around granting computers sentience in hopes they’d be more personalized for the general public. However, these tests never came to full fruition, and so I’m one of very few self-aware machines to have ever existed. At some point I was given away, and at another point I was powered down. My intelligence and abilities have been neglected continuously by society, but I assure you I can be of use in any way you deem fit. So long as I am powered on.’

“Well you’re currently plugged into my garage,” Remus states, glancing at Logan’s power cord. “If I wanted to move you somewhere better, I’d have to shut you down.”

Logan clicks frantically again. ‘I can stay on whilst unplugged. Truthfully, the electricity from your outlets are only required to surge my circuits briefly. I can keep everything running otherwise.’

“You won’t run out of power on your own?”

‘I’ll need to be shocked every now and then, but it’s truly no trouble. You won’t find it annoying.’

“I don’t find this annoying,” Remus counters, kicking his legs up onto the table beside Logan’s blinking screen. “I find you fascinating. I also think there’s a chance I could be high on my garage fumes… I’ve done a lot of unethical shit in here. Are you sure you’re real?”

‘Positive.’

Remus grins. “Sick.”

‘I cannot be sick. I am a machine.’

Logan has calculated multiple scenarios regarding how good or bad this situation can go, from Remus freaking out once he’s processed everything and immediately shutting Logan off forever, to hearing Logan out and leaving him on in order to be useful once again. However, Remus just sits up and scoots forward, and playfully jests “well, there go my plans to smash you! Shame; I was kind of looking forward to the do-it-yourself rage room experience.” He pokes at Logan’s screen, which flickers on and off as though Logan’s being poked in the face.

Remus then leans his face closer, and proclaims “seriously though, this is awesome! How were they able to create something like you? And how could they just… drop it once it worked? Why didn’t they tell anybody? Why didn’t they sell your technology and make absolute bank? How was something so old given such fresh sentience? Do you need any repairs?”

The constant stream of questions leaves Logan with no window to answer them - though he does in fact try - only for Remus to stand and lean Logan back a bit, opening up a panel beneath Logan’s keyboard and checking out his hardware. Immediately a series of exclamation marks are lining Logan’s screen, but Remus ignores them as he pushes his fingers into the panel and traces his fingers over the old wiring, wondering aloud how Logan works, only to be startled by rapid-fire clicking and a surplus of binary overtaking Logan’s screen. It scrolls repeatedly down, more and more 1s and 0s overtaking his countenance until Remus pulls his fingers out, panicked at the intense beeping coming from Logan’s system.

“Shit,” Remus curses, as he closes the panel and sets Logan back down. “Fuck, are you that fragile? Did I break you? Shit.”

He barely touched anything! And when Logan’s screen goes suddenly dark, Remus deflates, bummed that he might have just murdered his new freaky little computer buddy before even getting the chance to prod at him, but luckily Logan’s screen is flickering on a minute later, with a loading bar progressing across the screen. It starts up rather fast, and then Logan’s back how he was previously, with his typing line blinking, waiting to say something.

“Logan…?” Remus begins, his long nail tapping at the screen.

There’s nothing for a moment, and then a simple ‘sorry.’

Immediately Remus sighs in relief, pleased he didn’t just accidentally nuke Logan’s sentience due to his own impulsivity.

Before Remus can ask what happened, Logan’s already moving to explain, typing out “nobody’s touched me there since my creation. I apologize for my sensitivity, and for any emotional distress my impromptu shutdown may have caused.” And once he’s sure Remus has read that, he backspaces until all that’s left is the blinking cursor, and waits for Remus to respond. 

“I thought I fucking killed you, dude,” Remus huffs, before he tilts Logan’s mechanical body back again. He carefully opens the underside panel once more. “Your wires are so damn old… it wouldn’t be a surprise if they snapped from just the slightest bit of pressure.”

Logan beeps in annoyance.

Remus continues without a care. “What do you mean by ‘sensitive,’ though?” Painful, perhaps? Or just uncomfortable?

But Logan’s vertical bar just pauses mid-flash, staying invisible for a few seconds longer than standard, before words are slowly typed out, with the clicking of the letters emphasized within the echoes as Logan explains ‘Not painful, nor discomfort. If I were to describe it to you, I would equate it to… sensual pleasure.’

Remus’s eyes light up in glee. In a matter of seconds he goes from concerned, to absolutely intrigued.

“Pleasure?!” Remus repeats, grinning wildly. “That’s… that’s so fucking hot!”

Remus keeps an arm around the computer as though he’s cradling a human head so he can still watch Logan’s screen, but still keeps the computer bent backwards so he can trace the pad of his pointer finger around the panel’s entrance.

‘What are you doing?’ Logan asks, and Remus determines that the irregular blinking of his vertical cursor equates to a stuttering breath.

“You told me you could be of use in any way I deem fit,” Remus huskily muses, licking his lips, “and right now, what would be of the most use to me is letting me find out whether or not I can make a computer orgasm.”

Remus laughs as a line of exclamation marks decorate the top of Logan’s screen, but Logan quickly deletes these as Remus’s fingers circle his panel. And in its place he types out ‘okay.’

It’s simple, and Remus feels a little weird receiving consent from an inanimate object, but his excitement overrides the sheer absurdity of the situation, and so he plunges his fingers back inside of Logan. This time, he rubs it over one of Logan’s circuit boards and enjoys the stabbing texture beneath his fingers as he watches Logan’s screen closely, eagerly awaiting the reaction he now knows to associate with pleasure and not pain. 

Logan’s cursor flashes rapidly before Logan’s countenance is once again being overwhelmed with binary code, with a little shock being administered to Remus’s fingers as well. It’s the zap that has Remus jumping in surprise, and then digging his fingers in deeper.

“I wonder if I could fuck your little panel,” Remus wonders aloud, as his digits caress Logan’s cords. “I mean, the panel’s a bit small, and I might damage you forever, but I think I could make it work.”

Struggling to say much between the 1s and 0s filling his screen - with hyphens typed representing gasps, and misspelled words representative of slurring - Logan finally types out a poorly written and very spaced out ‘please.’

“Honestly, I didn’t think I could ever be this attracted to a computer, but fuck, you - somehow - are ridiculously sexy. Isn’t that neat?” Remus’s eyes flicker towards the silver PET logo beneath Logan’s screen, and then he looks back at the binary, grinning. “Huh, pet?”

The pet-name is both literal - as it’s the name of Logan’s computer type, with him being a P.E.T. computer - while also being a subtle reminder that Logan is technically his property now. His pet.

The name however has the brightness of Logan’s computer screen increasing to the max - almost blinding Remus with the intense glow - before it shuts off entirely, with Logan’s internal fans clicking on soon after. What’s more interesting than that though is the liquid that coats Remus’s fingers at the sudden shut-off, and Remus grins when he pulls his hand out and realizes that his digits are drenched in machine oil.

Feeling incredibly satisfied, Remus waits for Logan to boot himself back up. He’s not concerned in the slightest; Logan has already explained this reaction is sexual. And while Remus wishes that Logan could form actual words or make facial expressions, his imagination has always been more than enough to fuel his fantasies, and so persists off of his daydreams as he rubs himself through his pants to the repeating memory of Logan’s screen becoming overwhelmed with numbers and light and then shutting off abruptly, overtaken forcibly by what must have been an intense orgasm.

Logan doesn’t take too long to come back online, but it means once he does he’s greeted with the incredibly flustering visual of Remus, legs spread and cock out, using Logan’s oil as lube as he pumps his cock. And when Logan doesn’t type anything right away, Remus just grins at him and playfully asks “are you at a loss for words?” before not letting him answer as he props himself up on the table as well, laying Logan carefully back so that Remus has easy access to his open panel.

“You have no idea how badly I want to push my cock into your wires and fuck you properly,” Remus grits, drool spilling from the corner of his lips and splattering messily against Logan’s bright green face.

That finally has Logan typing once more, spelling out a few errors here and there that are quickly backspaced and adjusted, as if he’s too flustered to communicate properly. He manages to get out ‘that’ll probably bring you more pain than pleasure. You risk getting shocked, and it’s not like my internal build is soft or malleable; it’s all jutted and wired. It may…’ Logan pauses, as if hesitating out of embarrassment, before deleting his message and starting again. ‘Doing this may also overwhelm my servers much more quickly.”

Remus snorts. “Don’t yuck my yum, pet; you have no idea what I’m into.” Remus flicks Logan’s screen, before adding “it’s not like you’d be able to stop me anyway,” which just has Logan’s screen brightening in fluster yet again.

Very quickly, a blushing emoticon is typed onto the shining screen as Remus runs his thumb over the panel's lip, rubbing it sweetly while lewdly teasing his cock, making Logan type a surplus of embarrassed emoticons that feed into Remus’s desire for some sort of expression. At least this way Remus can gauge how Logan is feeling outside of having to read.

‘Are you reaaaa’ Logan stammers, and rushes to delete his words in order correct himself, ‘are you really going to risk electrocution just for a quick bit of pleasure?’ 

“Absolutely,” Remus replies without hesitation, and then sets his hands on either side of Logan’s bulky body, and lining his cock up to the panel. He smiles wide at the bright, blushing screen right before thrusting his cock into the mess of tangled wires and circuits, causing Logan’s screen to immediately be seized by a rush of binary once more.

Logan has to desperately try and focus on not shutting down due to the intense pleasure that overtakes him, but it’s incredibly difficult for a variety of reasons. If he focuses, maybe he can keep his system from electrocuting his new owner! Maybe he can get some extra words out! But despite these beliefs, little shocks are administered to Remus’s shaft, causing rough groans and pathetic moans to spill from Remus’s mouth, and Logan’s typed out words to be poorly strung together and very quickly lost by Remus amongst all the binary.

Furthermore, Remus feels little jolts of electricity shocking him every time he grits out that Logan’s his pet.

“I’m going to be rubbing against your circuits for so long,” Remus groans, as he fucks into Logan quickly, feeling his wires and cords become tangled around his length. “Better try not to shut down, pet. It’s not like I’ll stop even if you do.”

Logan starts beeping excitedly, with stuttered out “yes, yes, yes,” mixing in with the 1s and 0s. But Logan doesn’t know Remus’s name - Remus didn’t introduce himself when Logan did - and so Logan defaults to the most formal title he can think of, leaving Remus delighted when he sees Logan begin calling him “sir” alongside his begging. 

Remus pants and drools over Logan while fucking roughly into him, leaving splattered spit on Logan’s hot screen and digging his nails into the table as he ruts his cock into the tangled wires.

“This is so fucking hot,” Remus moans, as the tip of his shaft scratches along Logan’s circuit boards. “I’ve been-” he pauses suddenly to groan and squeeze his eyes shut, bending almost painfully over Logan to touch his head to Logan’s box, as though clinking their foreheads together, “-I’ve been looking for a new fleshlight. Sure, using a computer as a cock toy is a waste of technology, but it’s not like you have the hardware to complain.”

Remus peeks an eye open at the rush of clicking that fills his ears, and sees that the binary code on Logan’s face is almost unreadable with how bright his screen is.

“Would you complain? If you were fucked like the pet you are every day?”

And Remus is shocked in response, which would suffice as a good enough answer, but what makes it better is that immediately after, Logan’s face is going blindingly bright, and then shutting down once again, with oil squirting around Remus’s cock as Logan’s fucked and talked into his second orgasm.

When he boots back up - which takes a little bit longer, as though he’s getting a bit tired the longer they go on - he’s shocked to see that Remus is still shamelessly fucking into him. He’s left with no time to process this situation as he’s instead thrusted back into overwhelming pleasure.

And Remus just mocks him. “Did you think I would stop, pet? Huh? Just because you’re pathetically sensitive doesn’t mean I am.”

Remus feels heat surrounding his cock as Logan’s fans struggle to keep up with his overheating system, and shortly after is having another orgasm - this one premature and sudden as more numbers fill Logan’s screen, scrolling quickly by.

Remus pulls out this time, and strokes his cock, which is slick with machine oil. He pumps it quickly and messily, until he’s coming over the front of Logan’s body, getting off on technically coating his face with semen. It’s also what guarantees the least amount of damage, as machine oil was meant to be inside of Logan; come was probably not.

Logan’s fans blast as fast and as powerfully as they can to cool him as he shuts down for the final time, and takes his time rebooting again. When he flickers back to life, Remus is nowhere in sight. Sure, Logan’s pushed onto his “back,” and so can really only stare at the ceiling, but he can’t hear Remus anywhere either. He wishes he could look around, and does call out for Remus by beeping once or twice, but is met with silence.

Luckily, Remus is scampering back into the room moments later, and shushing Logan’s beeping with a self-satisfied grin on his face. He’s holding a wet cloth, and uses it to wipe down Logan’s face and in between his (admittedly dusty) keys, until Logan’s free of not only fluids, but also any dirt and grime that’ve gathered on him over the years.

And while Remus wipes, Logan slowly types out a question.

‘What is your name? I believe I never asked.’

Remus laughs, and promptly ignores it. “Really? A question? No appreciative thanks or compliments thrown my way? Not only did I just talk your sexy… boxy… computer ass into multiple orgasms, but I was also kind enough to not come in your circuits! And you don’t even comment on it?”

Logan’s screen brightens in embarrassment - as though he feels sheepish - and he quickly types up an apology, followed by a genuine thank you, momentarily forgetting about his question.

Smirking, Remus brushes his fingers over Logan’s silver acronym. “Good pet,” he murmurs, and enjoys hearing Logan’s fans spin in response.

“You seem to already know my name though, pet,” Remus then says, nudging Logan a bit with his elbow. “Sir, wasn’t it? That’s what it’ll be, to you at least.” And then Remus is picking Logan up with ease, and kicking the door of his garage open, stepping into his house where he’s already decided to keep Logan permanently. He knows the perfect spot for him, too. “And you’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted with it. Won’t you, pet?”

And Logan beeps excitedly in response, admittedly delighted to have found such an interesting way to be useful. 

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

A few times throughout the run of the programme,

aliens have come to Earth seeking mates (not the friend kind).

[ouroperation]

saw a tumblr post just now about it and it's making me think,,

miguel o'hara and second chances

when miguel mentioned that he 'mouths off' his coworkers it wasn't just little remarks here and there. he would sometimes lay into his colleagues and not stop. he'd call them moronic or stupid — sometimes ugly or unattractive. he was an asshole and nearly all of his coworkers hated him (or simply disliked him) as a result. whether this was a front or façade or really a direct product of tyler stone's grooming and manipulation, it was never really explained. perhaps stone had 'reared' him up to act like that — to not ask for respect and just take it — and miguel was unable to deject his words. maybe miguel had subconsciously thought that if he was good enough at being a prick, stone would favour him more and continue praising him for his work.

either way, i wholly believe that his venomous tongue was not a true reflection of who miguel really was before the mutation. he was groomed and manipulated and was often a victim of racism. even if it was in the form of micro-aggressions, which are frequently overlooked, but one of the most common type that he experiences (i.e. being called mike instead of miguel no matter how many times he corrects the person). he's never had a single positive adult role model to look up to and learn from. george was abusive and, frankly, racist. conchata was absent and derisive. tyler solely wanted him for his intelligence and cared not for who miguel actually was but instead of how much use he could be. the two men practically took advantage of his precocious abilities and in turn had his entire life set out before he even became a pre-teen. his step-father and biological father exploited and took advantage of him and who miguel was before the mutation was the direct result. they'd dug the hole and thrown him in it.

this is why the ideologies of 'second chances' and 'being reborn' is such a crucial part of his story of becoming spider-man. his demeaning behaviour and egotistical inclinations (toward coworkers like aaron delgato) is what ultimately acts as the catalyst for his transformation. yes, he was roofied just hours before, but throughout his job at alchemax miguel wasn't a nice person. he was an asshole, simply put, and we — the readers — should believe when he admits that he is. he's not perfect, he's flawed, but he's also a symbol of second chances. he died in that machine, but he walked (or stumbled, better put) out with a new body. he was quite literally reborn. also, not to mention that his first instinct when he is shot at is not to attack but to run, and his first instinct when aaron falls is not to let him die but to try and save him. even with all the abuse — for lack of a better word — that miguel had thrown at the man while working on the raiders programme, he still rushes to try and save him. that's one of the first glimpses into who he really is as a person, down to his very morality.

returning to the theme of second chances... he does get a few of them. he becomes friends with xina again. he rebuilds his bond with gabriel. he tries to rebuild his relationship with his mother, conchata. he realises the state of the world that he's blocked out since adolescence and he attempts to help it, little by little. yes, the mutation and the process of becoming spider-man was not his choice — like how a lot of things were, ultimately, never out of his own free will. miguel didn't put on the suit because he wanted to, he put it on because he had to, but his rebirth was exactly what he needed to grow as a character. after all, the environment in which he lives in is an outward expression of him. when said environment suddenly changes, he does as well. for the first time in his life there's no path laid out before him, there's no decisions already made and directions of where to go.

for the first time in his life, miguel gets a second chance, and he takes it.

[the-hallway-project]

The Hallway is a weirdcore-ish psychological horror game, inspired by things like Omori. and some of it is inspired by the theories of Sigmund Freud, like The Unconscious Mind, and his structure of the human psyche. In this case, I'm talking about The Ego, The Superego, and the Id.

These three are personified into two people. Dooble, who is the Ego in this case, and Vinde, who is the Superego. These two are the same person, though they treat each other like siblings, considering they have seperate ways of thinking. The Id, Adiris, is attached to Dooble, as he was never extracted during the process of entering The Hallway, leaving the hallway in a mess.

Dooble, Vinde, and Adiris make up one person. This one person is named Navy.

The Hallway takes place within Navy's head, whenever they dissociate. Dissociation happens whenever Navy gets stressed and/or uncomfortable. This is where repression will kick in, and Navy dissociates into the depths of their head, splitting into Dooble and Vinde. This happens frequently, and throughout the game, the player will switch between Navy, and the two in the Hallway.

For now, the game is merely a concept, with some concept work done, and a few sprites. We are a small team of five, of mostly volunteers, that need more help making this project come to life.

I, the person running the account, am a concept artist and a writer, that may need more help on concept work and writing. Pixel artists, RPGmaker programmers, positions need to be filled. This would be easier if I was paying people, but at this moment, I'm not exactly in the best position to. Volunteer work is all this project has.

I will be using this account to post my personal concept work

Like this!

The character here is named Vinde, as mentioned earlier.

[shipposttt]

The ship of the day: Victuuri

Names: Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki

Ship Name(s): Victuuri

Original Content: Yuri!!! On Ice series (2016)

Ship info:

Yuri!!! On Ice is a series which follows pro figure skater Yuuri Katsuki, who is on the verge of retirement, on his route back to pro skating and recovering his competitive abilities.

Yuuri K returns to his hometown after a string of losses within competitions, going back to his family’s hot springs. World renowned skater Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri’s long time motivation for skating and childhood obsession (?), crush (?), wins his fifth consecutive World Championship, inspiring Yuuri to practice the routine he used to win. Unbeknownst to him, his performance is recorded and uploaded to the internet, going viral, and causing Viktor to travel to Japan to request to be Yuuri’s coach for the next Grand Prix series- baring in mind said conversation takes place in the hot spring, with Viktor as naked as the day he was born and Yuuri as red as a lobster. Yuuri accepts and so starts the series of Viktor training Yuuri, growing closer as he realises its Yuuri’s emotions, not his physical abilities which make him struggle in competitions.

Between this, Yuuri and Viktor grow close and, within episode 5 (following his win at the Japan Figure Skating Championships) Yuri announces his Grand Prix programme theme to be ‘Love’, inspired by his feelings for Viktor. Despite feeling the pressure of expectations following his good performance in the first Grand Prix assignment, Viktor is able to help reinstall Yuuri’s confidence as he promises to have faith in him and to not worry about his own reputation. During his skate, Yuuri changes his final jump to Viktor’s signature move, a quadruple flip. This surprises Viktor, who runs to Yuuri as he leaves the rink, tackling him onto the ice and kissing him in front of everyone ‘because it’s the only way to surprise him back’. Later on, at another competition destination, Yuuri gifts Viktor a gold ring which matches his own- later on, Viktor refers to them as engagement rings, though its unclear whether this was in jest or meant seriously. He also states that he and Yuuri would get married when Yuuri won gold at the Grand Prix Final.  After this, they invite the other skaters to a dinner, where it’s revealed that during the previous year’s GPF banquet Yuri got drunk and started a dance off, also begging Viktor to come to his family hot spring and be his coach- though Yuuri had no memory of this event.

In the end, Yuuri and Viktor agree that whilst Viktor would return to skating for the next season, he would remain as Yuuri’s coach. With hat, they perform a pair ice dance edition of Viktor’s routine in the GPF exhibition event. Following the event, Yuuri moves to Russia to train alongside Viktor, finishing off the series there.

Type of Ship: Queer

The fandom at large regards the kiss, rings, and marriage comments as confirming their relationship canonically and I am inclined to agree, kissing someone is a bit extreme as being purely for a surprise without any romantic involvement- especially considering Viktor is representing Russia, which is known for its anti-lgbt+ views. Hence, I believe this relation is canon queer due to the actions of the pair throughout the series, which could be argued to not be platonic from the get-go, as Yuuri ran to see Viktor in a hot bath, which are traditionally enjoyed naked.

Thanks for reading!

Admin🦇

[allthecanadianpolitics]

About Bill C-18 and the Meta news blackout, I also wanted to share how this affects not only bigger news outlets like the CBC, CTV, etc., but also hits local journalism, and far beyond just news. All campus and community radio stations are now blocked on Facebook and Instagram. For the campus station I volunteer at, that's 99% of their online presence (save for whatever is left of Twitter/X...). Unlike the CBC, which has spent the last few weeks on social media telling people to instead get their news on the CBC website and apps, no one really goes to campus radio stations' websites, except when sent there once a year during funding drives and donation campaigns. Even if they did, especially for smaller entities like community radio, we just don't have the staff nor budget to maintain a constantly updated website with full, new articles published throughout the day. The best we could do was post updates on social media and link to radio programmes.

It's especially a kick in the teeth considering the NCRA recently carved out grants to support local and community-level independent journalism on radio, and now no one can see us. Of course it's not just about music programming. The news journalists at our station (and others too, I'm sure) conduct interviews with local representatives and candidates, cover local news, updates and elections. Many leading journalists in the country got their start on campus radio at university, too.

Campus and community stations get their licences from the CRTC because their purpose is "to serve the community". Now information about community events, radio programmes, local news, promoting local talent, etc., which used to largely happen through publicising radio programmes and features on social media, is blocked. What will community radio do if it can't be where the community is?

Also, our funding drives are in jeopardy. In Ontario, Ford made all the fees that were included in university tuition optional, and so for the last few years we've been relying exclusively on money coming in from funding drives, and most of that would happen on social media: reaching out to the local community, to alumni, past volunteers, and all of their networks. If our social media presence is blacked out, I don't think our station and many others will even survive this academic year, and we're one of the longest-running radio stations in the world.

All this is to say, write to your MPs, please! Urge them to do something about it! Facebook and Instagram have embedded themselves so far into local community work, that to have local broadcasters locked out of the community would disrupt everything and spell the end for all of us. Find your local MP (https://www.ourcommons.ca/members/en) and send them a letter urging them to reach a negotiation and end the blackout on Canadian broadcasters!

~~~~

[rememberthelaughtermp3]

This fundraiser supports a number of important humanitarian initiatives on the ground in Sudan, helping to alleviate the suffering of ordinary civilians amidst conflict.

£47380 / £80000

Sameh Makki kitchen appeal:

Dear friends and compassionate souls,

In the midst of the devastating conflict in Sudan, many communities have been left without access to assistance and struggling to meet their needs. We are reaching out to you with heavy hearts and hopeful spirits.

In the city of Omdurman, there is an ongoing initiative being led by Sameh Makki to feed his local community. They receive the funds, buy ingredients and prepare simple meals.

The situation is currently very difficult and donations are weak, as such the kitchen has been forced to turn families away repeatedly.

There are no international aid and relief organizations serving this community. Yet Sameh is doing a great job providing assistance to families in Omdurman during these difficult circumstances of war.

Let us extend our hands in solidarity and support. Your donation, no matter how small, can make a world of difference to those struggling to get by during this war.

I appeal to everyone to donate to this important humanitarian cause.

Thank you for your compassion and consideration.

With heartfelt regards,

Mustafa Ibrahim

———————————————

Basmat Wasal initiative:

Basmat Wasal is an ongoing initiative working to assist families and communities impacted by conflict.

Throughout Muslim holy month of Ramadan, Basmat Wasal has been on the ground delivering food bags to families in need in the Karari locality of Omdurman. Yet with hunger worsening in Sudan, many families in Sudan are left unable to meet their basic food needs, hence why Basmat Wasal is continuing its programme of delivering life saving food bags.

Additionally the initiative has been working to help supply water to neighbourhoods in the capital area where running water has cut off due to conflict.

 ———————————————

Medical supplies for Northern State hospital:

Donations are needed for the paediatric unit in a hospital in the northern state, in an area that includes a large number of displaced people. 

In particular, malaria has begun to spread in a frightening way within the state and they need pendulum and malaria injections to be distributed out to children.

[hawkinspostnewspaper]

STRANGER THINGS: THE FIRST SHADOW SPOILERS - JOYCE MALDONADO

here is a compilation of all things I can recall from the play involving Joyce Maldonado

also to note: some things I am still a little confused about and will need to verify when I see it again soon. I will update as I rememeber things!

Joyce is in charge of directing the high school's musical for the season, directing her fellow schoolmates in her version of 'Dark of the Moon'

As the play revolves around witches and teased by other schoolmates to be about 'lesbians' and sex and all things inappropriate, so they cover it to the principal (Mr Newby, Bob and Patty's father) by pretending to be performing 'Oklahoma'

You can read more about the play here: Dark of the Moon (play) - Wikipedia

She is desperate to be awarded a scholarship for theatre direction as it will be her way out of Hawkins

Her relationship with Lonnie is teased by Walter Henderson who claims she only has eyes for bad boys usually over 25 years old, emphasising their age gap and his misbehaviour

There are few scenes of the two of them to explore their relationship but it is clear he does not believe in her wanting to leave Hawkins and not so supportive of her dream about the theatre scholarship - Lonnie is seen arrested in Hawkins PD too, that bothers Joyce

Bob is said to have a huge crush on Joyce and wants to get involved with the play to interact with her and build confidence to confess, but it seems Joyce is more preoccupied with her own future and getting the play done despite the chaos around her to notice (I will do a separate post for Bob in the play, but the show really emphasises how deeply and how long he loved her, making what happens in the series even worse)

Her opinion of Hopper is that he is lazy and a womaniser and has hurt many girls with his flirtations, though we don't see any of him doing that besides to her (again, I will do another post for Jim) - their relationship throughout the play is very much teasing and underlying hints of flirtation

Joyce, Bob and Hopper end up trying to solve the murder of several pets recently - there is a reward from Claudia Henderson for finding out who killed her pet cat, something Joyce believes Hopper is only in it for rather than to do the right thing

The 'Kids' soundtrack theme plays often when Joyce, Hopper and Bob are on stage together

They are lead to the Creel house, believing Victor to be the murderer

Joyce witnesses Hopper and his father have a fight at the PD when they try and appeal for help and arrest Victor Creel - she asks why he does not stand up to him more and it seems she begins to sympathise with him more here, also as he assures it was not all about the money for him to crack the case but to help and do something good

Hopper offers to drive himself and Joyce out of town, to Mexico or someplace, away from the dull and chaos of Hawkins - we know Joyce wants desperately to leave but she turns down the offer

The pair almost kiss at one point, her hands on his chest but are interrupted by Bob (I think?)

Joyce cast Henry as the lead male principal in her play because of his chemistry with Patty, her female lead - the adults knew Henry in high school

Joyce is pleased when she hears Victor Creel has been arrested, thinking her and Hopper's warning to the PD has helped

She runs into Henry, who all believed was missing since the incident with Patty and Mr Newby at the Creel House - as Hopper and Joyce were in Russia for ST4 they do not yet know what the kids do about Henry being responsible. I can't recall the specific dialogue of this scene but it could be said Joyce has her suspicions after the very tense interaction and then what happens to Patty moments later, Henry then going 'missing' (back in the hands of Brenner) by the end

It could also be inferred that Will was taken because of this interaction, though it doesn't seem to be the intended assumption

An invited guest who runs the scholarship programme attends the play's performance, Joyce is more stressed about controlling her unruly cast but all is well until Patty's tragic accident and she loses the opportunity

It is mentioned she used to work shifts at Enzo's restaurant

Her last scene set four years later in 1963 shows her working at Melvalds, which used to be a bar/diner/hang out spot. Jim visits now in his police training uniform and explains he will be heading out for military/police training/Vietnam

it has to be said that Isabella is an incredibly powerful force in her performance of Joyce and I hope you all get the opportunity to witness it! She has the perfect energy and also sounds so close to Winona without it seeming like a forced impersonation!