#Advanced crane technology

[nnctales]

The Backbone of Construction: A Deep Dive into Construction Equipment

When you pass by a construction site, what catches your eye? It’s not just the towering structures or the bustling workers; it’s the array of heavy machinery and equipment that makes the entire process possible. Construction equipment serves as the backbone of any construction project, enabling the realization of architectural marvels and infrastructural development. In this article, we will take…

[apas-95]

Did you know that NASA engineers considered the failure rate of some critical shuttle parts to be about 1 in 100 (significantly greater than what NASA upper-management considered the failure rate to be, and what was considered at all acceptable by the certification process)?

Do you know that NASA engineers currently have no idea how many rocket launches the next mission in the Artemis program (in 2 years!) is meant to involve, because the mission plan relies on SpaceX being contracted to deliver a supply of cryogenic fuel to the crewed Orion (™ Lockheed-Martin) capsule in orbit - a procedure that 1: has never been attempted before on any spacecraft, let alone the Orion™ capsule, not even in uncrewed technology demonstration flights; and 2: would require an as-of-yet unknown number of SpaceX 'Starship' launches, because said vehicle does not actually exist at time of writing?

Did you know they're planning on using this 'starship' as the crewed lander? A design for a lunar ascent vehicle, that is, that does not use hypergolic fuel, that relies on a swing-out crane as the only entry and egress point? During the original moon landings, the LEM had so many redundant methods to make sure it got astronauts off the surface of the moon, that in the most absurd, extreme case, where every single mechanism fails, there's a procedure trained into the astronauts to climb around the outside of the capsule, take a pair of bolt-cutters from the equipment box, physically cut the couplings holding the capsule to the lander stage, and take off to get home. Artemis' proposed lander, on the other hand, is planned to be a vehicle whose design didn't even include heatshields until it was realised it would obviously need heatshields, which are ceramic tiles bolted after-the-fact directly through the steel hull, because SpaceX had decided to mass-produce the original-design hull sections all at once for all the 'starships' first, before doing any integrated testing.

We're seeing the exact attitude that led to the shuttle disasters not being prevented now expressing itself in (and even through) the Artemis program, a project pushed harder and faster through the gates than it should be, by a government (and NASA administration thereby) desperate to advance the eponymous Artemis Accords (that goes unsigned by China, Russia, and much of the world) and reneg on all previous space charters that onsidered ownership, commercial exploitation, and military usage of space forbidden. Something bad is going to happen, and it's going to happen for the sake of SpaceX and the military-industrial complex at large.

[zhongrin]

i'm having my period and i'm soft rn so ー imagine cuddling with zhongli after it's raining outside. i'm also too lazy to pull my usual post format and my taglist sorry i'm on my phone rn hskdkshdslk

tags ー modern!au, domestic fluff, dragon!li

you've taken the liberty to open your shared bedroom's windows wide. there's a relaxing music playing on the radio by the bedside. the sun is shyly hiding behind leftover rainclouds, the occasional cool wind visiting your bedroom to gently caress your skins. occasionally, you hear the sound of vehicles passing by and the neighbor's kids chattering as they take a walk down the blocks.

soft silken bedsheets and countless pillows are strewn around you as your husband spoons you from behind. the scent of tea and the soil, happily celebrating after the sky gifting them with a shower, envelops your senses just like the warm arms glowing with geo lines draped around your waist. your legs are lazily entangled with his, his long hair tickling your skin. scaly tail swiping and flopping against the mattress occasionally, and sometimes you hear zhongli's horns thumps against the headboard as he shifts. you think you should get a new bed; maybe one with soft headboards so your husband wouldn't accidentally chip his pretty horns.

the mugs of hot chocolate and the book you've long since abandoned hours before sits on your nightstand. instead, your entertainment is replaced by the absentminded hum of the radio and the occasional mundane words exchanged between the two of you: "let's make the hot chocolate with marshmallows next time." "you're so warm and comfy, dearest." "did you take out the trash?" "ow. move your leg please. no, the other one."

you wish you could save these peaceful days into an album to revisit it again sometime in the future, but alas the human technology has yet to advance to that point.

"i love you."

you blink lazily and grin, before shuffling to crane your neck sideways, lips puckered. you feel and hear your husband shift behind you, the scent of his shampoo filling your scent as he delivers a loving peck onto your waiting lips, tasting like honey and sunshine.

"i love you more."

[valtsv]

fuck it. silt verses oc masterpost. eat up.

- anastasis crane - god-hunter, atheist, and wandering vagabond. both predator and prey in a single being. does dirty work so others don't have to. it's ya boy annie.

- house crane - old money cult family who rebranded after their god was outlawed following the imago war. now they construct and review binding contracts for both peninsulan and linger straits bodies of commerce and government - with an emphasis on the "binding" aspect. rumour has it they've been granted special dispensation to keep practicing their illegal and rather nasty banned rituals, so long as they're discrete and keep providing their services to the people who matter. they don't mix much with anyone outside of the family except on business, and are rarely seen in public. it's generally agreed that the reports of many of them being not altogether human are just scary stories for children, but a few people have claimed (under the influence of a few rounds at the local bar) to have known someone who worked for someone high up in business or politics who can confirm the truth of such claims with their own eyes. of course, these people have generally since disappeared, which makes corroboration difficult. their characteristic spindly, spidery features are probably just a product of ancestral aristocratic inbreeding. probably.

- fen kahron - ferryman presiding over a treacherous stretch of marshland. you will not be able to cross without her help, but that hasn't stopped people from trying, either out of principle or to avoid the toll, which takes the form of something of personal value to the individual. fortunately, her god's mouth is always open. she's not terribly fond of the parish of tide and flesh - her relationship to her god is personal, and they keep trying to convert her. which is silly, really, because she's been dead for a very long time.

- the carrion-herald / the bleach-bone king - an angel/saint(?) of death and decay that feeds on the dead and dying in extreme, remote environments where rescue or retrieval is unlikely. his coming is heralded by his halo of carrion birds seen circling overhead. those who worship him see this as a sign of luck - either you've been chosen to meet him, or to bear witness to his procession.

- harmony joy - a love-saint who leads a dancing plague. once human, she called a god into her in her aching loneliness after being ostracised utterly from her community and forced to bear witness to their collective happiness together, which blessed her to dance forever so beautifully that she would never want for a partner again. she might seem sentient at first, but spend long enough in her company (not recommended) and you'll soon realise that her apparent personality is simply a fragmented collection of lovingly preserved scraps of her past lovers, who, once in her thrall, will dance until their bodies give out, even if their minds should break and skin and sinew should snap and be torn away in strips. sightings of her procession have dwindled in recent years, likely due to modern technological advancements allowing for more effective deterrence and warning systems, as well as the improvements in long-range weaponry, but she still features prominently in urban legends and cautionary tales about staying out late alone.

[mythologyofthepoetandthemuse]

Symbols of Demeter: cranes, wheat ears, winged serpent, cornucopia, torches, crocus, myrtle, bees, the bull, the pig, honey.

Demeter arrives to her sacred Eleusis with her winged chariot carried by flying dragons, she will later on give this chariot as a present to the hero Triptolemus. This flying serpentine power seems wondrous; can we talk about a forgotten advanced ancient technology involved, or is it a symbol for the serpentine power also known as Shakti or Kundalini... From her realm that is earth the goddess seems to rise.

Art from the tarot deck: Ancient Feminine Wisdom of Goddesses and Heroines by Brian Clark and Kay Steventon.

[loaksky]

— 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳

the lowdown — the one where you witness a tragedy and the sully's are there for you.

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 864

the tags & warnings — TW character death(s), angst, hurt / comfort, implied neteyam x reader (but could possibly read platonic as well).

the notes — based off of this request! tsmuke — sister, & i'm sorry for always writing sad things heh. read with caution; content under the cut!

masterlist

You should’ve listened to your gut. 

One moment, you’re closing in on the enemy, soaring high in the smoggy sky as a spotter for your mother and father who are at the forefront of the unit. The beat of the ikrans’ wings hum like an omen, hushed whispers of action plans culminating as warriors begin breaking from formation. 

But the next moment, creatures caw and squeal ferociously from being hit.

It’s a silent ambush, you realize, no advanced technologies or oversized vessels. Just humans cast in blue bodies, hiding among the overgrown brush of the lush forest using simple tactics to seal their agenda. 

But you’re good at what you do, eyes keen, sharp and you sight the lumbering blue body taking aim. 

From above, your arm pulls taut and sends the arrow sailing, pinning the solider’s chest to the forest floor. 

Your fingers find the button of the comm on your throat, choking out a quick plea to retreat. The RDA is getting smarter, finding new strategies, and it devastates the people. 

Neteyam trails behind you, watching your peripheral like a hawk when he hears your hoarse voice like static in his ear. 

“Fall back.” It’s his father’s voice, Jake Sully’s. 

He’s near the front of the unit with your father, you can see them like specks in the distance, four blurbs flitting through the trees. 

You press forward and your name on Neteyam’s tongue is a warning. 

You crane your neck over your shoulder, chance a glance at the dream walker’s son, committing his features to memory as you give a silent command to your ikran to swoop down into the canopy of the trees. 

The units are dropping rapidly, but you will you and your creature forward, foliage and tree trunks blurring as you whirl through enemy fire. 

You see them up ahead, your parents and Neteyam’s, the colored ends of their arrows landing blow after blow into the force below. 

You hear it before you see it, the curse that leaves your father’s lips, the shout that pierces the otherwise silencing air.

Four blurbs become three, then two, and your heart is lurching in your chest.

The agonized scream tears your throat until it’s raw. 

“Two down, urgent.” Jake reports raggedly. “Fall back.” 

You don’t, you’d never. 

You’re barreling towards the forest floor like a bullet ready to pierce the earth, your name echoing through the air like a mantra. 

You can’t stop shaking, eyes unblinking as you watch the roar of the crackling fire in the middle of the tent. It’s quiet save for the solemn murmuring of villagers outside, but all you hear is the sound of rushing water, like you’re caught in a current. 

They’d found Tsu’tey and Beyral before you could, Neteyam swooping down seconds after you to steal you back to safety. 

And Neytiri had tearily barred you from Mo’at’s tent when they arrived because the tsahik needed quiet and concentration. 

The attempts were futile, you’d seen it on Jake’s face when he ducked into your tent and settled before you, five-fingered hand coming down to rest on your head as your shoulders shook. 

“I’m sorry, kid,” he whispered, eyes brimming with tears as he watches you fall apart in front of him. 

You’d grown into a strong young woman, already surpassing your coming of age, but in that moment, your rounded cheeks streaked with tears, you looked every bit of the little girl he’d watched grow up with his oldest son. 

Neteyam’s entrance is silent, hands brushing your shoulders as a silent notice that he’s there. He settles in front of you, gaze soft as he thumbs away a stray tear. 

You crumple all over again, falling forward into his chest as an anguished wail wracks your tired body. You cry and you cry and you cry, Neteyam absorbing each devastated sob as he rubs your back, the other hand cradling the back of your head. 

He feels a disgusting concoction of dread, sadness, guilt. He doesn’t know what he’d do if it were his own, but to know that you’d gone into battle with two loving parents and emerged without makes his heart tug so hard he feels like it’ll shatter. 

Tsu’tey had been good to his family, did well leading the people alongside his father. Beyral had fiercely given power to his mother, to Kiri, to you, to be mighty hunters. Regardless of the lack of blood binds, he feels the hollow in his chest. 

The hide shifts and Kiri enters, followed by Lo’ak and the youngest. Neteyam’s eyes are warning, sharp as they form a circle around you, each of their hands finding purchase on some part of your body as a silent reminder that family isn’t always blood.

“We’re here, tsmuke,” Kiri whispers. 

You feel infinitely warmer with their bodies surrounding you, Neteyam hugging you so tight you feel like your broken pieces could stick together. 

“Always,” Tuk says, voice small as she slips her fingers through yours

You suck in a shuddering breath, hiccuping as you peel away from Neteyam’s chest.

He watches you closely, brushing your sweaty hair from your face as he seals the reminder. 

“Always.” 

neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e, @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts

[t34-mt]

outdated pilot design

minimum wage worker in sat'thuckthuck

I don't think I could find an in-world name i can write down since they use chirping and various sounds and their crest to communicate. So ill call them pilots, referring to how they can pilot diesel mechas and other machines.

I think of sat'thuckthuck being stupidly industrialized, with a dieselpunk feel. the surface of the moon is harshly cold for most of the year so pilots have underground shelters. Unfortunately, people with no family, that have a shit job or other circumstances might stay on the surface inside of a mecha for the entire winter. Living inside a mecha is not luxurious, there isn't much place and that space they have might vary on the mecha model.

So this moon is in high contrast with altuyur's non-industrial world, without borders or really any money system that has a prehistory/middle age (north Africa) feel to it. It is quite silly that quadrupedal 8-limbed space corgis have more advanced technology and stuff that looks like what we humans have than the more humanoid bird/dinosaur thing that kyhuines and maanuls are. But I like it that's what i want

about the drawing, id imagine this worker operating something close to a crane or just anything harvesting minerals since i also imagine the place they're in to be a mine. They're wearing gas masks on the face because their workplace isn't filtered correctly, and the mineral harvesting outside can release toxic gas.

each line in the red area are like nostrils, they inhale from there and exhale from that stomach nostril. Animals of altuyur have single pair of nostrils which is usually on their chest, while animals of sat'thuckthuck have head nostrils to get the air in and stomach one to get it out.

also if the hand is different from last pilot drawing its cause I'm still figuring out which type of hand ill like better and i think i like the one from previous drawing move honestly.

[the-bitter-ocean]

10 12 and 15 for isat ask game :3

(FULL GAME SPOILERS + 2HATS/A6SE SPOILERS ) Thank you for asking these questions @aroace-poly-show ! I’m going to answer 10 since 12 and fifteen I’ve already in previous asks! If you’d like to know my answers to those you can find them here (ask 12) and here (ask 15) I have a ton of headcanons for both the setting of the game as a whole and also for individual characters but for now I think I’m gonna focus more on the world building aspect in this ask! I won’t delve into all of them but I’ll grab some that I talked about to my friends:

10- any headcanons about the in-game world? (about the forgotten island, craft types, just like. world building hcs, etc)

For the island I like to think the people living there would collect dandelions, folded paper cranes and looked for shooting stars because all of those are methods of making a wish. I also like the idea of there being festivals and ceremonies where people would make and light up lanterns to put in the sky. I also think that the Island had a close trade relation to places like Vaugarde (Bambouche specifically given how close it is to the island + both areas are coastal and how its cultural aspects seem to have major overlap in some areas as well with the favor trees etc). We don’t know a lot about the island or its culture in game but from what little we see from Siffrin’s memories and optional content in game it is very fascinating. I like to think out of all the countries the island is the more technologically advanced (given the studies on the stars and cultural practices of wishcraft/ time craft that region could have been the main ones studying it, hence the lack of info on either of these things once the island got wiped from everyone’s memories). I love when people in aus and fics and art explore the effects of this post game. Seeing everyone’s interpretations on whether the islands culture slowly gets remembered or more stuff about time craft/wish craft gets discovered or explore the effects of the color red being a permanent thing people can see now due to the events of act 5 is wild to think about.

In general I like seeing the different cultures views/ gods / faiths and belief systems and seeing how that affects the environment and characters who live within it. Odile mentioned having multiple gods aka “Expressions” (polytheistic) and that you build shrines / pray to only the ones you need in that moment, Mirabelle believes in the Change God (monotheistic) and Siffrin believes in the Universe (which to me reminds me more of a way of life/ belief system / conceptual idea of “Fate” itself rather than a conscious thinking autonomous being in the way expressions or the change god is ) All in all having these different elements makes the setting feel more open and interesting/ grounded in reality which u appreciate immensely. In the photos listed down below I said my personal HCS about the country of Mwudu since we don’t really get to hear about it in game aside from passing mentions and flavor text when you click certain objects.

[weatherman667]

How would you shove a train into a medieval fantasy setting? Personally I made myself laugh at Dwarven Railroad Monopoly, and Dwarves trading Steam Engines for magic users to help in their building projects (basically using them as living cranes).

It’s funny to me because that basically makes Dwarves the Manifestation of Medieval stasis, not the elves. Maybe you can even play with and make them the ancient high tech race that their descendants do everything they can to not repeat such technological advancement.

So, dwarven assassins/ninjas

Honestly, an easy way would be for everyone else to think it was Dwarven magic.

Or you can have them run off of mana.

[the-whispers-of-death]

this might be delulu but please hear me out

Stone/Sarabi/Kali (seperately) with a loser reader.

now reader isn't actually a loser hes's just kinda.... lame. man has zero rizz, his flirting skills consist of infodumping and making things (did you notice my obssession with handmade gifts yet). reader is in his thirties yet has never had a relationship, he's nerdy, either tall and skinny or short and chubby, works in IT (programms military computers, rockets and misiles and shit but also is resident tech support), has those big glasses and is a little weird.

when it comes to dating he really tries to "live up" and "earn" the attention of his boyfriend. like man pulls out some connections to get Stone into a NASA base so he can fuck around with the big, powerful telescopes and look at the stars closer. he programms a little robot to bring Sarabi flowers and recite him poetry that reader wrote (it might not be good poetry but reader tried). and idk about Kali.... reader just straight up builds him a mech or something. reader is trying hard to get the love and attention of these big men and even if reader is tall he's still shorter than the guys so i imagine reader craning his head up while your ocs shadows just.... cover him entirely.

They'd love their loser boyfriend, though they wouldn't classify him as a loser.

Stone doesn't mind that you haven't been in a relationship before him despite being in your thirties, the man's in the same boat. He doesn't know how to flirt, no idea what he's doing. But at least you're both inexperienced together. Definitely planning to propose if you manage to get him into a NASA base so he can look at all the telescopes.

Sarabi finds you cute, absolutely in love with the poetry your robot recites. Does he care if it's not good poetry? No, he does not care. He loves it all the same. And the flowers. The flowers would make him seek you out so he can pepper your face with kisses.

Kali would help you improve on your flirting, if you were insecure about it and wanted to improve. Otherwise, he's also fine with your inexperience of flirting. Finds it endearing, because we all start somewhere. He'll admit that he's not well-verse in mechanical projects, he understands advanced technology due to his job, but this man prefers nature and doing field work (Kali is thinking of becoming a horse rancher when he retires). Such an odd combination you two make, a tech person and a cowboy, but you two make it work. Would still adore whatever little project you made him and he'd love to watch you work, man loves watching people's movements and seeing how they do things.

[praxcrown5]

The Nuts and Bolts of Car Reproduction: A Headcanon Hypothesis for the Vehicles from the Disney/Pixar Cars Universe

Today's essay will be explore my headcanon ideas for vehicle reproduction in the Cars universe.

Disclaimer: Tactful descriptions (and depictions) of vehicle reproduction. If this ain't your cup-o-tea...you've been warned.

This is a long post. Might wanna get comfy and grab a coffee or sommat. If you read to the end, there's some...artwork. X3

Auxiliary Disclaimer: The following headcanon is only for sapient vehicles. Non-sapient creatures like tractors, balsa thrushes, deere, cranes, coal scoopers, etc may actually be capable of reproduction without factory involvement. I might do a separate post for them at some point. For now, I just want to be clear that when I use the word "vehicle" I mean sapient vehicles only. I also headcanon that reproduction works a little differently for very large vehicles (passenger planes, war planes, ships, aircraft carriers, etc...).

Ok...how how do vehicles do the deed?

In my headcanon, vehicles are created in factories. The factories, themselves, are small city-states with their own cultures and populations of factory "born" and raised vehicles called "angels" whom serve "The Manufacturers" as part of "The Plan." Despite possessing technology that is thousands of years more advanced than anything in the outside world, the Manufacturers cannot create what they call the "flame of sapience." For this, they are dependent on their creations.

Vehicles achieve physical and reproductive maturity at age eleven, after their third, and final, growth spurt. Along with reaching adult size, and all the accompanying changes to the engine block and internal systems, they develop reproductive hardware. The bulk of the hardware is stored internally, and protected by a panel of sheet metal (coupling panel) which is separate from the surrounding body metals. It is usually located near the rear fender on the side of the body opposite the fuel filler inlet in cars and trucks. In larger vehicles like trains, planes, boats or helicopters the location of the coupling panel varies between makes and models...but it's usually located as far away from fuel storage as possible.

In visible light, the seams are so thin as to render the panel invisible. Most vehicles, however, can see farther into the ultraviolet end of the spectrum due to specialized structures within and behind the eye screen. A car checking out a potential partner would see the panel as a vivid purple (male) or yellow (female) square surrounded by magenta markings resembling ancient runes.

Fun (off-topic) fact: Vehicles also have manufacturer markings on their body metals that are only visible in UV light. A car can look at another car and tell right away what factory they were created by. There are model markings as well, but most people don't know how to "read" them.

Intimate encounters are known as "hookups," colloquially. Other terms that have graced local lexicons include (but aren't limited to) knocking fenders, cableing, parallel parking, long idling, carving your name into the steel fortress, tapping the socket, bringing the van to the carport, getting to know one's model, driving around town, packing the trunk, nosing around the garage, etc...

Most civilian-class vehicles are compatible with one another. For example, a car like Sally could easily hook up with most small planes and helicopters...but attempting the deed with anyone larger won't work due to hardware compatibility issues. Boeing and HII have been manufacturing step-down systems since the late 90's...but it's horrendously expensive, and still caters mostly to carrier-class vehicles.

Once two vehicles are committed to the idea of physical intimacy, they retreat to a place that's (usually) private and secure, the later being especially important as the post hookup, nuptial repose period can render them unresponsive for up to scoptersix hours.

Most vehicles adopt a V position when doing the deed so that they can see their partner's face, keep their mouths relevant, and have plenty of space to maneuver their hardware comfortably. Most also engage in various forms of foreplay, and advancing technology has provided additional options for adventurous couples.

The coupling interface, located behind the coupling panel, consists of two parts: The coupling array and the siring array (also called the auxiliary array). While the coupling array is used during every hookup, the siring array is only used if a couple is actively attempting to create a child.

The coupling array is identical for both males and females and consists of four, prehensile cables (coupling cables) located near the base of the interface. Each cable has a contoured, metal tip that rests in a depression on the back wall of the compartment. The body of the cable, all 20' of it, is stored internally. The cables lack fancy names and are simply numbered 1-4, with coupling cable #1 being the most anterior and #4 being the most posterior. Above each cable is a socket called a coupling jack. Like the cables, they are numbered, with coupling jack #1 being located directly above coupling cable #1, #2 above #2, etc...

An intimate encounter happens when two vehicles connect their coupling cables to another vehicle's coupling jacks, and vice versa.

While this sounds simple and straightforward, there's a lot of finesse that goes into the act, especially in regards to timing. The most intense pleasure comes from simultaneous insertion of a cable into an opposing jack...but the engine is necessary, too. Revving it at just the right moment, post insertion, generates a powerful surge of electrical energy which not only helps intensify and prolong the sensation, but also acts to charge special, battery-like bio-tech organs called "surgers." The penultimate moment of the hookup comes when the surgers reach full capacity. Revving ones engine or connecting another cable after this point will cause the surgers to discharge their accumulated charges into the combined neuro-electrical systems of the pair to avoid over exertion. Couples that manage to time their last engine revs/cable insertion with the pending discharge experience pleasure that's described as "out of this world," and they pass out as their sensory and electrical systems overload. During the nuptial repose, a specialized network of HV cables and cells collect and direct this excess energy into the frame so that it can be safely discharged into the ground through the tires.

At anytime during the hookup, a couple may experience full-sensory visions, called "nuptial dreams." In some cases it can feel as a vehicle has been transported into their partner's body, experiencing their memories of an event as vividly as if they had been there, themselves. Other times, people claim to have been transported to a parallel universe where they existed as strange, bi-pedal, organic creatures...

Use of the auxiliary array is necessary if a couple wishes to sire a child. This hardware takes on the appearance of a region of pins (male) and sockets (female) above the coupling array. In males, the pins mark the tip of an extendable HV cable called the "siring cable." Instead of discharging the excess electrical energy from the hookup into the ground, the siring cable redirects it into the female's body via the auxiliary jack. The auxiliary jack is connected to a bio-tech organ called the plasma condenser module. As its name suggests, it condenses the redirected electrical energy into a ball of plasma called a "flame," which is then transferred to a second, smaller organ, the plasma chamber, for storage.

Somehow, the factory network is alerted to the presence of the flame. How they know is subject of much debate. Some specialists hypothesize that the plasma chamber, itself, doubles as a transmitter...emitting electromagnetic waves on frequencies that can't be intercepted by modern technology. Still others believe that the factories can watch and listen to everything that goes on in the world through the eyes and windows of their vehicle creations.

Regardless, after an hour or so, the female will start receiving internal notifications telling her where to take the flame. One's make and model seem to have no bearing on the factory that will ultimately create the body for one's child. Doc, for example, was manufactured at the Hudson factory in Detroit despite his sire being an Oldsmobile and his dam, a Cadillac.

When the female reaches the factory, an angel trained in reproductive hardware temporarily removes the plasma chamber and condenser module so that their doctors can graft the flame to a newly manufactured body and "nurture it to functionality," a process that can take anywhere between 3 and five days, longer if the flame splits en route, resulting in twins. If she can't get to the factory right away, she can maintain the flame for about three weeks by doubling her food intake. Eventually, the energy is reabsorbed by the body and she'll have to repeat the siring process if she wants another chance.

Since this is already a lengthy document, I'll cover growth and development in a future post. In the meantime, enjoy some car sm*t. Pic depicts my two OCs, Sam and Annette (Annette being Doc's dam), in the midst of a siring attempt.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Draft Excerpt from a Potential WIP Fic

This is set in Stymph Forest, during Rise. It isn't a TOTSMOV41 excerpt.

⸻

He tossed his blackened handkerchief into the glade from atop his high perch.

It landed in the circle of Stymphs, the birds arranged much like a fairy ring of living corpses.

His birds stared back up at him. One cocked its head.

Rafal smirked back.

Here he was, airing out dirty laundry. Literally if not figuratively.

Bah! That was Good’s job. Exposing villains. And whatever went on amongst his graduates.

Lately, the lot of them had been disappointments. But really, all that was the decline of the youth. Couldn’t be his teaching methods. His methods had never failed him before.

A few decades ago, villainy was worthwhile. Not now.

Ought he to change?

No. The problem lay with the students themselves. Children were becoming stupider with every passing generation.

Probable that the tales were making their parents soft. Less bloodshed these days. Fewer blood oaths than ever, even if his from a century ago hadn’t been the last. Far from it.

Yet, allowing the stupid duffers to live and procreate had been a mistake on the Pen’s part. They were the culprits, from a few generations back. The tales ought to have not been so merciful, sparing them!

A few too many dimwitted Evers and even the slower Nevers he’d not seen before in his time hadn’t just managed to stall their deaths with the comforts of advancing technology and so-called conveniences. They’d seemingly thrived.

And restaurants! In the densest parts of the Woods, no less. And spellcasts. And squirrely nuts of all things! Even the vermin had longer memories than his students did, if they could recite letters with that much precision.

It was more than he could say about his latest class. Besides the rampant insubordination and how they’d just barely passed their last impromptu examination.

They’d had it too soft for too long. Those conveniences wouldn’t be so convenient when they were stranded alone in the Woods. When they had nothing but birds and cloaks for company. Not even birds in their cases, he reasoned. His Stymphs served him and him alone.

No wonder those parents’ offspring couldn’t keep up with his curriculum. They’d all gone to rot—brains leaking through their ears, moth-eaten attention-spans. Worse every generation, it was.

It was all ludicrous, this, this accursed modernity. Look what it’d bought them: a marked lack of survival skills.

And the result of that deficit was premature deaths when the cushioning ceased to exist, when all the fail-safes excess inter-kingdom tourism had engineered fell to ruins like all enterprises did in time, like the hotels and spas some of his brother’s vapid colleagues couldn’t even begin to live without did. And they called themselves “professionals.”

He tossed his head back, tilting his chin skywards. Nothing endured forever. Not even the stars.

Forever was only as long as you could prolong it to be, through sheer force of will, and that was assuming you were shrewd enough to see forthcoming disaster on the horizon.

And if the tales didn’t result in death, then they ended with the living afflicted by grave stupidity. Which was worse. Incurably worse than ridding the Woods of the problem at all.

Yet, Good’s mortality rates these days were at an all-time low.

He couldn’t ease up. Not now. When he’d return, he’d require better performance from them all—if only so they could crane their necks to live up to great heights and exceed his expectations as Nevers. Prove they were deserving of his attention.

His eyes lit up as he grinned to himself.

And, if they couldn’t, well, there was always the chopping block. Or the pruning shears for Mogrifs.

He couldn’t let old standards decline. Not even while he was gone.

If he could scout out someone exemplary, to replace the rancid, rotted-through students with, those limp-spined lost causes, maybe they’d rally together and make something of themselves. Live to see another day in their future tales, if they garnered the Pen’s attention at all.

It was the best he could do.

That said, he should probably keep up with the tales while he was away, once they were released into the Woods, via printed copies, if not the Pen’s first editions.

There’d be a delay in acquiring storybooks, but what could go wrong in his absence? The manor was secure, even if his brother wasn’t fortress material.

[fly-vertibirds-everyday]

In the same nuclear powerplant near Raptor Lake lies a considerably large fuel reprocessing annex. The technology within is extraordinarily nascient, the result of the bright minds at Los Alamos, Alamogordo, and Sandia working together with a common goal- to power the region.

A semitruck with the shipping container backs into the entry door.

A technician operating a gantry crane opens the shipping container of low level waste and lifts out large blocks of dull metal.

This metal is placed on a conveyor belt and moved into a large metal apparatus. A hydraulic shear divides the metal, and the metal is dropped into a sealed vat of nitric acid.

A technician activates an electric stirrer as the metal dissolves into the acid while organic impurities in the waste begin to froth and produce toxic fumes, which is inactivated by charcoal filters and the harmless gas piped out of the refinery.

The machine continues to stir until all the metal is dissolved in the vat.

The technician calls out to a bunch of people standing at a large table with some terminals connected a group of gas centrifuges cobbled together from various odds and ends.

The technician opens a valve, and the lights flicker as the centrifuges begin to spin up with the acid slurry pumping through their veins.

Impurities are mechanically separated and sent down a smaller duct into a sealed storage vat.

The remaining uranium-plutonium rich slurry goes into another set of centrifuges, separating the uranium and plutonium.

These are piped to another set of centrifuges, separating the uranium into two main isotopes- U-235 and U-238.

The plutonium is centrifuged and it’s isotopes collected for future use.

The uranium isotopes in dissolved uranyl nitrate are brought into an electric denitrifying device, producing lumps of benign uranium.

The uranium is scooped by hand into metal boxes and brought to a mechanical grinder in a ratio to produce 26 percent enriched uranium (U-235) fuel powder.

This powder is then scooped by technicians in advanced hazmat suits into a new set of crates and then a sintering furnace, which over the course of half an hour melts the powders and molds them into an array of benign fuel pellets.

The pellets are shoved into 6 feet long zirconium tubes and capped.

A technician takes the fuel bundle, packs it in a container and brings it to the containment room in the plant itself.

In the reactor containment room, several technicians slide the fuel rods into a large series of brackets and control rods that form the reactor’s core.

The lid is sealed and the technicians depart the containment building.

Liquid sodium at 110 degrees celcius is introduced into the primary cooling loop until it’s full.

Four reactor operators check dials with various information pertaining to things the reactor needs to operate, and command the fuel rods to be lifted out to a specific percentage, as a neutron burst from a neutron generator strikes the rods.

Inside, a single uranium-235 atom captures a neutron and fissions into Krypton-92 and Barium-141, emitting another neutron. More atoms follow suit, only for a good percentage of neutrons to be absorbed by the control rods surrounding the core.

In the control room, various annunciator lights flicker on telling the operators the reactor is starting up.

Heated liquid sodium courses through heat exchangers, a thin wall separating two extremes.

The water within boils into dense high-pressure steam and gets sent through two turbines- high pressure and low pressure respectively.

The steam exhausts it’s energy and is sent through a forced draft cooling tower, causing steam to be blown out.

Electricity is synchronized by some other technicians, and the plant is hooked to the grid.

The lights of Alamogordo and Holloman turns from a dim yellow to a bright yellow as new electricity flows into the grid.

Diesel generators across the town are switched off, and Legion scouts outside the Eagles’ territory notice the plume of steam, but think nothing of it. Sarah, Five, Kyle and Pete stand outside with other soldiers, migrants and children on the base, eying the plume of steam from the nuclear plant as the Joint Chiefs of Staff speak at a press conference about the newly declassified facility over porch radios.

But the Eagles have just changed. No longer are they reliant on fission batteries, microfusion generators or primarily diesel for power- the main stranglehold the Legion had on them.

With the most pressing concern known as electrical shortages out of the way, the Eagles’ high command prepares to use their honed military and covert operations teams in the largest operation they have yet to strike at the most pressing issue- the fact the Legion oppresses New Mexico’s science facilities, controls New Mexico’s oil, uranium mines, phosphate and concrete quarries, farms and trade routes.

Vulpes’ worst fears are set to come true once again.

[dandorime]

Reginald Crane's moustache twitched, the only hint of the frown hiding beneath it, as he plucked a yellow envelope from the stack of intragency mail on his desk.

A training missive? For HIM? There must have been some sort of clerical error.

He flipped the envelope over to examine the address:

Mr. Reginald O. Crane, EOD

Hmph. He'd kindly asked HR to stop including his middle initial in official correspondence nearly a year ago...

Perhaps it's a joke, he thought as he neatly tore a strip from the edge of the envelope. It would be rather funny, he had to admit, if HR decided to send him something about his lapsed field agent certifications, given how often he was tagging along with Agent Phoenix these days. Perhaps he should recertify on the latest technology, just to be safe...

The trifold sheet he slipped from the envelope was surprisingly thick for a single sheet of paper, and textured besides. They didn't often use linen laid stationery these days, Crane thought. And... wait, had this been prepared on a manual typewriter? The uneven, slightly blueish shadow around the black ink letters, deeply embossed by the spring-lever keys that had struck them into the paper, was a nostalgic sight. The entire Agency had switched to electric machines more than a decade ago. He hadn't seen a manual since he'd left field operations for a handler's office.

Very peculiar, Crane thought to himself as he began to read:

To Mr. Reginald Crane, Master Field Agent Handler, EOD;

We hope this letter finds you well.

Our records indicate that you are eligible for participation in the Agency's Advanced Certificate Education (ACE) program. This two-week camp has been established to better cultivate the skills of our most accomplished operatives in a real-world challenge setting.

As a handler, you will be paired with an equally skilled agent to work cooperatively through a series of simulated missions, in conjunction with other agent-handler pairs, in the fully automated Victorium facility....

"Hey, Reggie, you got a minute?"

Agent Phoenix hovered in the doorway of Crane's office with a ripped-open yellow envelope in hand. He looked uncharacteristically nervous.

"I, uh, just got this from HR..." he began awkwardly, but stopped when he saw what Crane was reading.

"Wait, you too?"

"Yes," Crane nodded, "although I can't understand why. I'm up-to-date on all of my requirements..."

He did his best to suppress a cheeky grin as he glanced sideways at his fidgeting agent, knowing full well that Phoenix had been out of compliance for months now.

"Er, I might have let some of my certifications lapse," Phoenix winced, scanning the letter as if he half expected it to self-destruct if he read it too many times, "allegedly... but it's strange, it doesn't seem like the letter is about that."

On a whim, Crane held the letter up to the light streaming through his office window. The shadow of the genuine Agency watermark appeared in the middle of the page: an eye, it's spiral iris the unique livery of the Enhanced Operatives Division.

"Strange indeed," he agreed.

[cayennesugar]

yo i know you didn't technically reblog my ask post butttt i figured since most people like getting asks i'd send one over! any headcanons on the rescue bots status as a team made entirely of triple changers? or in heatwave's case, a quadruple changer? also feel free to just talk about whatever, you can totally just shoot random headcanons off if u feel like it!! 💕

Hiii! You literally dragged me out of my den- Buckle up buckaroos, this is long-

HUZZAH, Optimus is letting all the bots stationed in the safe and developing areas on Earth (including Prof Baranova’s lab and Faxian) choose another vehicle mode, including Heatwave ‼️‼️‼️ this is gonna be a REALLY interesting and chaotic experience…

Heatwave: Heatwave is (probably not) satisfied with whatever he already has, but he would scan a tank whenever he gets the chance, Kade obviously encourages him no one ever took him to museums because of this, but knowing Optimus is letting the bots choose whatever they want, no one can refuse and reason with Heatwave and his deep interest with such vehicles.

Salvage + Boulder: Since Griffin Rock is constantly and rapidly advancing in technology, Boulder and Salvage want to help! Salvage is considering becoming a bulldozer like Boulder. Boulder wants to be a crane to help lift heavy things to higher altitudes. Graham is really happy and supportive about this.

Chase: Although it seems unlikely, Chase had always wanted to experience the thrill of chasing crime from the skies: A police helicopter! Blades had tried many times to talk Chase through it, as he is a helicopter himself, but gave up as Chase kept pulling several papers he typed and printed out himself explaining why he wants to add a helicopter to his list of his desired vehicle modes. (yes, he has a whole list of vehicle modes he wants) Chief Burns greatly questions Chase’s sanity along with everyone else’s.

Blades: The burning feeling of jealousy that rises whenever he sees Dani getting along with the sports cars on the team, including Bumblebee, and his fear of heights that never seems to go away, Blades desperately wants to have a sports car as his third alt mode and try to “fit in.” Yeah, I’m referencing to the episode ‘odd bot out’ Blades had a private talk with Dani and Chief Burns about this and they finally understand his point of view. They fully support his decision.

Blurr: Everyone is horrified of what Blurr will choose, especially Heatwave, though he is more annoyed than afraid. After the incident of Blurr almost blowing his cover by grandly interrupting a race, he did not let that hold him back despite still feeling extremely guilty about it.

..

Blurr chose to have the Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut as his third alt mode and professor Baranova just about fainted and heatwave exploded with complete frustration, Quickshadow questions her place in their little race matches they have every now and then now that Blurr has made his decision. Every time she and Blurr walk by each other or interact, he flashes her a snarky smirk, making Quickshadow want to beat the living frag out of him, the only thing stopping every bot from doing so physically is the law (and Chief Burns) Blurr is quite proud of himself for this, but Quickshadow warns him to stay close to her during earliween and anytime that any outsiders and tourists enter the island: Remembering Quickshadows experience during her first year on Griffin rock, Blurr obliges.

Servo: Nobody expected Servo out of everyone on the team to speak, or I should say, bark up about what he wants. To make this sweet and simple and just as horrifying as Blurr’s case, Servo wants to become a Tibetan Mastiff. High tide immediately lightens up at the thought of having a bigger, more intimidating dog on his ship deck, CeCe starts crying when she sees a picture of the said dog breed, Chief Burns instantly becomes even more concerned for the well-being of his family.

Hightide:

“I already got a giant ship that transforms into a Megabot, I’m personally already a submarine, do ah really need anything else??? OH, I KNOW HOW ‘BOUT AH BIGGER SHIP!?!?!?!?!?! HAHAHAHAHA-“ *maniacal laughter while Heatwave sobs and yells in the background and Optimus simply blank stares at his old comrade, deciding whether or not to question or support Hightide’s decision.*

Quickshadow (saving my fav pookie for last): for some reason, Quickshadow instantly becomes quiet when the opportunity of scanning a new alt mode is brought up to her. Optimus and Hightide, knowing her better than anyone else since she served alongside them on the front lines during the war on Cybertron, approaches Quickshadow in a way that won’t startle her. Once Quickshadows emotional state is revealed to the rest of the team, they immediately come to the conclusion that the reason for her sudden emotional instability was because of what happened during her first Earliween on Griffin Rock. Quickshadow is approached again about this;

“I have thought about it, I do not think I would like a new alt mode, the vehicle mode I already have is an all-terrain anyway…”

It is true, Quickshadow has powerful rocket engines that can aid her in both bot and vehicle mode, she can turn into a submersible and can drive up to incredible, staggering speeds on the road. Earliween wasalready approaching seeing it is almost November, so everyone decides to keep Quickshadow close to them and support her decision of not choosing another vehicle mode. Optimus promised to stay for Earliween too, as last by as the reconstruction of Cybertron does not bring up any sudden issues in his absence.

And once again, the rescue bots are in chaos.

I really enjoyed writing this. Hope you enjoyed reading! ❤️❤️❤️