#radiator exporter

[fthindustries]

Understanding the Vital Role of Coolant in Vehicle Radiators

Understanding Coolant’s role in your vehicle’s radiator is key to optimal engine performance. Coolant helps regulate temperature by absorbing heat from the engine and transferring it to the radiator, where it cools down. Learn why choosing the right coolant and keeping it at the correct level is important for your radiator system.

[crickets-everywhere]

So i drew everyone in the my party lined up (and height accurate)

None of the players have tumblr except @eefanator who plays Izar so credit for that design goes to him.

[lovlidollie]

Feyd spanking-

yes. oh my god yes. went a little bit overboard with this one, hope u enjoy !

feyd has rules. rules that he expects you to follow. he needs you to listen, to be obedient and good. he likes it when you’re soft, and floaty and treat him like he’s the only thing you need (which let’s be honest, he is). he likes having control over you. likes to tell you what you can wear, who you can talk to, what you can and can’t do around geidi prime. if you obey him, he treats you. spoils you with gifts exported from other planets, takes you to his favourite childhood hideouts, lets you cum as many times as you want. if you’re really good he uses his mouth on you and makes you cum so hard you black out.

feyd doesn’t give second chances. the second you start acting up, say your outfit is more low cut than usual, or you’re being bratty and saying no to him, he will waste no time. discipline is very important to feyd. he would drag you by the wrist, ignoring your shocked outburst at his sudden aggression, to his private chambers. you think you’re so smart by telling him that he’s overreacting, and that you’re not doing anything wrong. feyd would snarl in response, veins in his forehead ticking. he would be fuming, you’d be able to hear his teeth gritting together as he throws you over his lap. this entire time he hasn’t said an entire word and you’re starting to get worried. you realise that maybe trying to rile him up was a bad idea. “feyd,” you’d say uncertainly, wriggling in his strong hold. “let me go.”

the sharp sound of fabric tearing is his response. he’s ripped a gaping hole in your clothes, giving him full access to your ass and upper thighs.

“here i thought you were good. here i thought i had taught you manners.” his voice is gravelly, fury barely contained as he strokes your skin.

“feyd-feyd m’sorry okay? i won’t do it again, i promise!” he’d reduced you down to a whimpering, pathetic, mess and he hadn’t even started yet. “please let me go.”

feyd laughs at you. it’s menacing and scary and you tremble where you lay. “it’s too late for you. if you were my pretty pet we wouldn’t be here right now. if you were the good pet i know, you’d be cumming on my cock tonight. but you aren’t good are you? no, good pets fucking listen to their owners. you deserve this.”

the first spank against your ass hurts. he wasn’t starting off soft or giving you a chance to get used to it. feyd puts all his power into it, years of warrior training being obvious with how the pain radiates through you. you cry out, tears immediately running down your face. “f-feyd!”

“count.”

you whimper out a quiet ‘one,’ and he hums, “maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

he spanks you again, this time it hits the thin skin just under your left cheek, and you jerk up his lap from the impact. feyd doesn’t offer comfort through his punishment; doesn’t soothe the reddened skin with his large hands. he doesn’t even wait long enough for you to catch up before he’s doing it again.

feyd makes you count all of them. he keeps going until he’s satisfied he’s erased the badness from you. if you lose count or take to long to answer, he starts again from the top. he keeps going until you’re just a sniffling, drooly wreck with a bruised and battered ass.

when he’s done he would pick you up and seat you over his hardened cock, not caring if it hurts you. your head would find itself burrowing into his chest, wet faced and snotty nosed. “m’sorry, m’really really sorry. m’gonna be good for you, m’gonna be a good pet for you, won’t make you mad ‘nymore. won’t be a brat, i’ll listen and be good.”

feyd’s palm would come up and rub your head, and you’d start crying again from how good it felt to finally have comforting touch from him. he’d bring his other arm across your waist, hugging you tight into him, continuing to stroke your hair.

“c’mere sweet thing. you took your punishment well, pretty. did good for me didn’t you? yes, that’s right, did so good for me baby. you’ve learnt your lesson haven’t you? perfect pet, i’ll take care of you now.”

[novankenn]

Can do... with "I DO"

Unlike what many think... Jaune Arc's father, Nathaniel, was not a huntsman. No he was an average, but shrewd business man, who loved his wife Jasmine, and all his children more than anything. So he often took them all with him when he was required to make business trips...

Jaune (Age 4 - Argus)

Jaune: MOMMY!

Jasmine: Jaune! There you are I've been...

Jasmine notices that Jaune is holding the hand of an adorable young red-haired girl about his age. Her cheeks were bright red, and her emerald eyes just radiated adoration for Jaune.

Jasmine: Who is this. sweetie?

Jaune: This is my wife.

Jasmine: I see. What is your name dear?

Pyrrha: My name is Pyrrha... Pyrrha Arc.

Jasmine's heart wanted to burst from the over load of pure adorableness...

Jasmine: So how did Pyrrha, become your wife, Jaune?

Jaune: I asked her if she wanted to hold hands while we played on the swings, and she said "I do"... and I said "I do" when she asked me. It's just like what you and dad said that when you held hands last year.

Jasmine: Yes, yes we did. Pyrrha, honey where's your mom and dad?

Pyrrha: I don't have a daddy... but mommy is by the fountain.

Jasmine: Well Jaune take my hand, and Pyrrha you take my other hand. Let's go meet your mother.

Jaune / Pyrrha : Yes Mommy / Yes Mommy

Jaune (Age 5 - Atlas)

Jasmine was not enjoying her time at the Schnee Mansion. She was tired, and trying to wrangle all her children while her husband finished negotiating an import/export contract was taxing. Yet when she saw Jaune approaching her in his little suit, holding the hand of a darling white haired girl, her heart skipped a beat.

Jasmine: Jaune, who is your little friend?

Jaune: This is Weiss.

Weiss: Mama Arc. I am Weiss Arc, Jaune's wife.

Jasmine's heart skipped another beat.

Jasmine: Jaune. Weiss, how did you become husband and wife?

Weiss: Jaune saw I wasn't happy and asked me to if I like to dance. I said "I do".

Jaune: Then I held her hand and said "I do" like to dance as well. Then we had a dance.

Weiss: It was very exciting, and it made me very happy.

Jasmine: I see. Jaune you take my hand. Weiss honey take my other hand. Let's go find you mother, shall we?

Jaune / Weiss: Yes Mommy / Yes Mama

Jaune (Age 6 - Menagerie)

Jasmine's heart was skipping beats as she watched her only son Jaune walking up to her, holding the hand of a young faunus girl his age. She bit her lip, just hoping he wouldn't say what she knew he was going to say.

Jasmine: Jaune, who is this little angel?

Jaune: This is Blake, my wife.

Jasmine: Is that true... Blake?

Blake: Yes. I am Blake Arc now.

Jasmine: And can I ask... how you became husband and wife?

Blake: I found him wandering on beach, and asked if he wanted to play. He said yes, so we played for a bit, and then he asked if I liked Ice-cream.

Jaune: We were holding hands and she said "I do", and then she asked me and I said "I do"... then she kissed me and gave me cooties!

Blake: You can't get cooties from your wife.

Jasmine rolled her eyes, and prayed to the brother gods that she would be strong enough.

Jasmine: She is right Jaune.

Jaune: Okay.

Jasmine: Blake, where's your mom and dad?

Blake: They work in the big building, near the center of town.

Jasmine: Jaune take my hand. Blake take my other hand, we're going to go see your mom.

Jaune (Age 17 Beacon)

Jaune was feeling slightly better, after emptying what little was left in his stomach into the trash. Sighing, he took a minute and a deep breath. He was here. He was at Beacon. This was his chance to become a hero. To make his parents proud.

????: Jaune is that you?

Jaune: Huh?

????: Jaune? I didn't know you would be here, too!

Jaune: What?

????: Jaune! I missed you!

Jaune: I'm confused. Do I know...

Pyrrha / Weiss / Blake: I'M YOUR WIFE!

Jaune: Uhhh...

Pyrrha / Weiss / Blake: NO YOU'RE NOT! I'M HIS WIFE!

Jaune: Wait... mom told me something about this...

Pyrrha / Weiss / Blake: Pyrrha Arc! / Weiss Arc! / Blake Arc!

????: Ah here you all are.

Jaune: Aunt Glynda? I forgot you worked here!

Glynda: Yes I work, here. Now if you will all come with me, I will escort your accommodations, and I Jaune I suggest you call your mother.

Jaune: Yes, Auntie.

Glynda: And to your three...

Pyrrha / Weiss / Blake: Yes Auntie?

Glynda: You will all be on your best behavior, am I understood? There will be no "grand-babies" until AFTER you graduate.

Pyrrha / Weiss / Blake: Yes, Auntie.

[marzipanandminutiae]

also someone on that post of McMansion getting renovated into a different McMansion was like "people who love old things don't realize that a lot of it was just cheap mass-produced stuff like the furniture and household goods they hate today!!!!"

and like. okay. there are articles on how cheap mass-produced stuff has gotten worse in just the last ten years. is it really that hard to believe that it was vastly better-made 100+ years ago?

also that should make MORE of an impact, I think, than simply assuming it's all the same as exquisite artist-crafted furniture in mansions. even the equivalent of Wish.com housewares in the 19th century were often 100X more durable than what we have today

(and no, that doesn't mean Western Society BetterTM or anything else the marble statue PFPs spout. forms of mass production happened in many societies, from cheap ceramics made in China and Japan for export to copies of ancient grave goods made in Egypt and the Mediterranean during archaeological revival crazes)

I have been living in Working or Middle-Class People's Apartments c. 1910-1920 for the past ten years. one of them was just rendered uninhabitable by fire, but a surprising number of the walls and doors were still standing. I firmly believe you could run a tank into those radiators and not damage them. things WERE often better-made in Ye Olden Times, and it doesn't make one ignorant or a Trad to say so

[raccoonfallsharder]

you are cordially invited ★⋆.࿐࿔˚⋆˙‧₊ currently is at 75 pages and 33,525 words and i don't quite have the last few paragraphs done, nor have i gone back for an editing round. i don't know how i am going to refine this in time for october 31st and i am still on the fence with whether i should make this multiple installments even though it's intended to be halloween-coded (and the kink isn't really there until the last half) ughhhhh anyway here's a little peak

you are cordially invited ★⋆.࿐࿔˚⋆˙‧₊ to the fifty-second bicentennial masquerade exhibit on exitar (hosted by the tivan group).

KINKS/WARNINGS: wolf/bunny play, exhibitionism, voyeurism, sex pollen, noncon/dubcon*, public sex, edging & overstim, dacryphilia, begging, praise/degradation, humiliation/comfort, come-eating, too many orgasms, biting/marking, aftercare. discussion of ailing parent/parent death; too much lore for a kinktober oneshot + very unhinged plant-science. *neither rocket nor reader are necessarily the "aggressor" in this scenario, but have both been forced to ingest an aphrodisiac by a third party.

You’re certain you can feel every thread in your bodice, the prickle of every gem teasing and taunting your nipples. Your shoulders collapse inward and you try to wriggle against the abrasiveness of it, struggling not to pant, just needing the stimulation on your tight, aching, needy nipples—

His fingers loop around your wrist. “Frickin’ — stop it. You’re gonna make it worse.”

“It can get worse?” you ask, and it sounds like a whimper.

He snorts, and when you look down, you can’t help but notice the hard ridge against the front of his jumpsuit. No, he’s not unaffected — not even nearly, not at all. The cuff of his hand around your wrist — the prickle of his claws against your pulse point — radiates heat. He seems to notice at the same time you do — practically flinging your wrist away from him, like it burns. You hold your abandoned wrist to your chest, foolishly wounded by the rejection, and try to peer through the foliage instead: the trumpet-shaped violet flowers, anthers heavy with sunset-gold pollen — the twisting vines with their glossy-wide leaves — the orange-streaked purple gourds, flecked with shiny copper.

“Yeah, bunny. It can get a lot worse. If we can get somewhere and wash the pollen off, the effects’ll eventually run their course. But while you’re in active exposure, the only way to counteract it — get a sort of temporary immunity — is by combining frickin’… body fluids.”

You lick your lips again, and then bite back a scream of frustration as the flavor of powdered pixy stix again sparkles on your tongue. You scrub both palms over your mouth, trying desperately to wipe away the glittering residue — probably making it worse, you realize miserably. 

“Can’t you just — uhm, spit on me or something?” Spitting has never been your thing before, but suddenly making the request has your abdomen doubling up on itself, your knees trying to buckle. 

God. What if he does spit on you? In your mouth, maybe — chin gripped tight in his dark claws, forcing your lips into a soft, slippery-lipped little o. Or right on your—

Rocket’s eyes flash up to you from behind the wolvish gunmetal mask. “Don’t tempt me, bunny. But no, that’s not gonna be enough. You want spit, and sweat, and tears. You want come.”

I do, some part of you agrees fervently. I do want — all of that.  

Fill me up, please, everywhere.

You tear your wide-eyed, glossy stare from him and try to peer through the foliage again, but your vision is sequined and blurring. It should be just a few steps to ahead and to the left, you think — but you can’t see through the vines and the flowers and gourds. 

“How do you — how do you know so much about this?”

He grunts, and glances back at you. “They manufacture a lab-created version on Conjunction — refine it, export out to  Contraxia, the Hub, and a couple other shit-holes, too. Make recreational drugs out of ‘em. But this — this is pure. Too strong. Bad news.” 

Your abdomen cramps and you hiss through your teeth.

“F—fuck,” you gasp, wriggling in your dress. Your pussy clenches and you grip at the low neckline of your bodice, trying to pull it away from your sweat-dampened skin, to get some air. “Oh. Is it supposed to — to hurt?”

“Depends on if you’re doin’ it right,” he mutters. “We’re not.”

“Fuck,” you pant. “Fuck.”

“Don’t fuckin’ play with yourself, bunny,” he snaps, and you blink at him before realizing that you’re scrubbing the heel of your palm across the crest of your left breast. 

“I’m not,” you try to protest, but he shakes his head and you can tell he’s scowling behind his mask. 

“For fuck’s sake, you’re gonna make it worse. Just — frickin’ hold on till we can get through this and get you hosed down.”

Your mind feels soft — hazy. You stare at the floor. There should be a door here. 

“Stop wasting time, Lupid,” someone calls out. “I’ve wagered two of my favorite planets on you getting to the end in time.”

You blink sequined eyes at Rocket, but he only rolls his own.

“Like I give a shit about your favorite planets,” he snarls, and a handful of the onlookers laugh and snicker.  “Fuck off and die.”

“Give us a show then,” the Erotist purrs from the other side of the glass. “An exhibition, if you will — one to match the grandeur of my brother’s great emporium.”

You turn tear-dazzled eyes out to the crowd. From the sidelines — annoyed and unimpressed — the Collector rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to his goblet of mead.

“Yes,” the Trader agrees, sounding gleeful. “Perhaps we can give you an advantage — extra time, or a hint in the right direction. Just — show us the girl’s cunt.”

Your stomach suddenly squeezes so tight that you hinge at the waist, gasping, and a fresh wave of wetness pulses into your panties. Oh, your clit is throbbing. You sink your teeth into your lip, gold pollen forgotten. Not because of the thought of the Trader seeing you — he’s a fucking creep — but because of the thought of Rocket, holding you open and on display. A strangled little moan pushes past your teeth. 

Where’s the fucking door?

“Leave her,” someone else calls out. “Or fuck her.”

“Or fuck her and leave her,” another guest leers, and there’s a spatter of giggling and guffaws and evil chuckles from your audience. 

Your hand snaps out and reaches for him, fingers feathering through orange glitter and gunmetal fur and oh god, you want to wrap yourself around every inch of him, rub yourself against his fur—

He whirls with a snarl and you snatch your hand back, a whine rising in your throat.

“Don’t leave me,” you beg. “Not before I find the door—“

You can practically hear him grinding his teeth. “You’re already holding me back. You’re already in my frickin’ way. You’re—“ His voice cracks off, hoarse and bitter and resentful. 

Your heartbeat thumps in your clit.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize feverishly. “Just — wait till — just give me a chance to—“

You sound pathetic. You know you sound pathetic. Rocket knows too. And so does the rest of the gallery, smirking and sneering. You lick your strawberry-sparkle lips, all the risks forgotten as your belly twists again and your pussy clamps down on nothing. Your knees sag beneath you until they kiss the earth without you even realizing it. 

“The least he could do is show us her tits,” someone utters scornfully.

“Sure,” the Trader agrees. “Show us her breasts, Lupid, and we’ll have Chronolos give you more time to get through the maze.”

“And we’ll point you in the right direction — if you can make her bounce them for us,” the Erotist adds slyly. 

You’re so weak. You’re so overheated and achey and empty. 

And where is the fucking door? What if he can’t get out, and it’s all because you screwed up, all because you got poisoned by… by sex-pumpkins? 

“I hate this,” you whisper, tears filling up your eyes. “I fucking hate this—“

“You think I don’t, bunny?” The words are a spitting sneer and they twist your heart at the same time another cramp of need wrenches in your abdomen. You double up, wrapping your arms around your waist and folding your breasts against your knees. “You think you’re such a fuckin’ prize that I’m excited to be in this situation with you? You think if we were anywhere else, under any other circumstances, that I’d wanna fuck some spoiled-brat baldbody—“

Your eyes sting and blur. You’re not sure if it’s because of how raw and exposed all your feelings are right now, or because of the relentless, aching clench of your poor, lonely cunt. “N-no,” you stammer. “I don’t think that.” You climb back up to your feet and then immediately stumble, dropping to your knees again in the tangle of tendrils and vines.

Another puff of burnt-copper fairydust releases with a puff into the air.

You flail, trying not to breathe it in, and fail anyway. Rocket curses, grabbing a handful of the corset laces at your back and yanking you through the growth. Your legs tangle and tumble before you get them back beneath you, only to crumple again when another overwhelming cramp hits — so hard you feel it knotting the muscles of your thighs. You can feel the slickness of your pussy dripping through the diamond-dusted panties that Carina had given you, down the doughy, dimpled flesh above your hosiery. 

“Don’t fuckin’ touch yourself,” he orders furiously. “Get up and get moving—“

“I can’t,” you pant, “I can’t — Rocket, please—“

kinktober 2024 | navigation | fanfiction masterlist 18+ only | no use of y/n | f!reader | ???? parts | word count: pending.

you'd do anything for enough money to care for your ailing mother — including agreeing to a night working for the collector. too bad you weren't prepared to be part of the entertainment.

KINKS/WARNINGS: wolf/bunny play, exhibitionism, voyeurism, sex pollen, noncon/dubcon*, public sex, edging & overstim, dacryphilia, begging, praise/degradation, humiliation/comfort, come-eating, too many orgasms, biting/marking, aftercare. discussion of ailing parent/parent death; too much lore for a kinktober oneshot + very unhinged plant-science. *neither rocket nor reader are necessarily the "aggressor" in this scenario, but have both been forced to ingest an aphrodisiac by a third party.

[generic-whumperz]

Apocamerica Map

Apocamerica Masterlist

Understanding this map: Please note that I’m not a professional map maker and know absolutely nothing about cartography. This is simply a quick visual reference guide for navigating post-apocalypse America.

That being said, this map is subject to change and not wholly accurate or representative of safe/unsafe zones, as they constantly change, and there is yet to be an official database within this alternative universe. Think of this as an approximation. Also, keep in mind that this is 12 years after the initial outbreak, and things did not always look like this, nor will they continue to remain the same. Take this all with a grain of salt.

Zone breakdowns

Red, orange, & gray zones: AVOID AT ALL COSTS! Death is almost guaranteed from radiation and mutant anthrophages alike.

Blue Zone: Republic of Arcadia

Yellow zones: The yellow zones on the map are areas where human settlements still exist, and some communities are even thriving. However, these areas lack military protection and government aid, so they are considered unsafe (however subjective the word “safe” is within the context of this map). Yellow zones are also susceptible to radioactive wastelands but are often unexplored, classifying them as "unknown." Travelers in these areas risk encountering various dangers outside of anthrophages, including mutant animals, extremist groups, wasteland gangs, marauders, raiders, and other unsavory characters. Despite their predicted presence, these groups are not marked on this map as they tend to move around and are hard to keep tally of.

Green zones (power & economy): Areas designated as green zones are not entirely safe from security breaches, nemaxys outbreaks, and gang wars over territory and supply runs. These zones consist mainly of civilians striving to survive and establish a livelihood. As a result of the volatile post-outbreak landscape, the green zones are divided into constantly changing sectors. The few remaining "safe" human settlements are widely dispersed, leading the remaining Governors and congressmen to propose the formation of nation-states to exert better control over their respective areas.

However, the current de facto President, the former Speaker of the House, is determined to maintain control over sector territories and military command. They face the challenge of navigating a fragmented nation while contending with threats from the ROA and other factions attempting to seize power, testing their leadership in their efforts to restore order and unity to the ravaged remains of the US.

Despite the President’s efforts, the power vacuum in the sectors continues to expand as power-hungry politicians spare no effort to secure civilian allegiance. Some congressmen and governors have carved out their own fiefdoms within green and yellow zones, effectively becoming warlords of their respective regions.

Following the outbreak, the Hawaiian islands and Alaska are presumed to be the safest and untouched land masses. Hawaii closed its borders and halted all imports/ exports as soon as the first case of the nemaxys contagion hit the news. Meanwhile, a mass exodus of people left the continental US and headed up to Alaska, and the new capitol was relocated to a small Alaskan fishing town.

After the establishment of the Provisional Emergency Relief Agency (PERA), a federal-level build-back program was implemented in all green zones. The Bureau of Labor & Exports (BOLE) oversaw the program and regulated Chattel Services Inc. (CSI) and the remaining corporate-owned labor forces, which had a significant impact on the reconstruction efforts.

Under stringent government sanctions, an underground illicit black market has flourished, giving rise to new crime families that have ascended to power. These new syndicates replaced the previously dominant players, seizing control of the markets and territories once held by their fallen rivals.

Economic collapse rendered money worthless for a period, but eventually, the monetary system was reinstated, allowing for the revival of commerce through traditional means and ration tickets.

While crime and punishment were primarily addressed at the local level, the aftermath of the chaos led most people to abandon violence once their basic needs were met. Gainful employment provided them with a sense of purpose and belonging in society.

What about travel?

Transportation outside green zones mainly involves using trains, planes, or boats, as navigating on the ground with vehicles through a post-apocalyptic wasteland is considered too risky. However, some people still opt for ground transportation despite being viewed as dangerous and ill-advised compared to other means of travel.

[synchodai]

Just finished the Fallout TV show! Observations and spoilers under the cut:

GOOD: It's actually pretty lore accurate and canon compliant.

I don't understand the complaints that it retcons New Vegas? People argue that the Battle of Hoover Dam and "the fall of Shady Sands" both happening in 2277 renders FNV non-canonical, but that's not necessarily the case? It was clear from the chalkboard the fall of Shady Sands and the nukes dropping are two separate events? Meaning Shady Sands "falling," whatever that entails, doesn't necessarily contradict the NCR presence in the Mojave. Shady Sands is the capital of the NCR — not the entire NCR. Even without control of Shady Sands, they would still have rangers and citizens in their other settlements.

I think this is because people are so invested in this narrative that Bethesda hates FNV, and yes, they could have treated Obsidian way better and shafted them in numerous ways during game development, but developer Tim Cain himself said that Todd Howard loves FNV.

Yes, certain details in the show can be contradictory to its source text, specifically with how they handle ghoulification, but it wasn't like the games ever had a clear canon explanation for ghoul biology either. Fallout 4 showed that exposure to radiation isn't even the only way to turn into a ghoul — and I was certain the previous games emphasized that ghouls are ghouls because of overexposure to radiation.

All in all, the little details they do get right — the brand names, the music, the general vibe of how each faction operates — vastly outnumbers the ones that are a bit iffy.

BAD: They revealed who dropped the bombs and it doesn't make sense.

The twist of the entire series is that Vault Tec dropped the nukes because it wanted to increase sales and recreate the USA as a utopian, monopolistic corporatocracy. This doesn't exactly contradict established canon. In fact, with Mr. House being part of the corpo meetings discussing this, it explains how he was able to predict the nukes and shield his beloved Vegas before the bombs fell.

What this mainly contradicts for me is just...logic. This show clearly wants to tell its audience that corporations will prioritize profit over public welfare every time. It's a good, clear, and necessary message. However, corporations — no matter how evil they are — just wouldn't wipe out their own customer base, right? Who would they make profits from if 90% of Americans were dead? And let's say they don't care about the poors who couldn't afford their products and services anyway — they've just significantly reduced even the one-percenters' purchasing power by basically scorching the earth. Capitalists want to extract as much resources as possible. They will abuse and torture their golden goose so that it'll lay more eggs, but they will never just...kill their own goose.

There could have been a more logical scenario here. War is a one of the most lucrative times for corporations like Vault Tec. And American corpos ARE known for orchestrating wars and destabilizing entire regions, BUT they always do so outside the US — a safe, far distance from the paying customers and away from the company's executives.

If that board meeting talked about purposefully disrupting the hardearned peacetimes they were in and dropping a bomb ON ANOTHER COUNTRY just to incite people to buy more vaults, then yes, I can see that happening. I can even see them anticipating nuclear retaliation, but they're too blinded by greed and the need for infinite growth that they're willing to take that risk. Add some dialogue about how this is their way of manufacturing and exporting American nuclear annihilation anxiety so they can take their tech global, and we have something that's closer to reality than just....one-step self-immolation.

House in FNV more or less had the same motivations to recreate the world as a technocrat dictatorship, but FNV handled it better in that House knew that people, even rivals like the tribes, were better kept alive and converted to paying customers and/or employees than outright exterminated.

Unfortunately, since the entire theme is about how corporate capitalism can lead to the destruction of the world, the show portraying the "fidicuiary incentive" as akin to an ideology (a set of beliefs on how the world should be structured) is misguided I think. A corporation profit motive isn't ideological because only people can have ideologies and corporations are not people. They don't prioritize profit because they think this is the best system we have to achieve a utopian society — they do it because it is what corporate systems are designed to do. They do not care about societal good anymore than a cancer cell cares about the body it is in. All they want is to grow exponentially.

Corporations like Vault Tec and its ilk are more like machines made to churn money, and that has resulted in sometimes progress and sometimes destruction. But it is always uncaring of those consequences and the methods it has to utilize as long as it fulfills its end goal of continually making profit — and THAT'S the problem of capitalism. Not that corporate execs want total political control. Because if lax control meant they could continuing exploiting and siphoning resources and pleasing shareholders, they wouldn't care about governance or politics at all.

STRAY THOUGHTS

Mr. House at that table gave me everything I wanted. I'm so excited for season 2 being New Vegas centered.

I love the portrayal of vault dwellers. They all had quirky and distinguishable characters and there wasn't a vault dweller character I wasn't entertained by.

Vault 4 is such a good episode! It was so funny and such a good way to show Lucy and Maximus that kindness is still possible in the wasteland without making it uncharacteristically sappy or too after-school special.

Norm is such a compelling character. I didn't expect him to be such a big part of the story but I'm glad he was.

They did justice to the scenery. I love the deer because it shows it's been a while since the atomic bombs and how life inevitably recolonizes the land.

The twist that Hank Maclean helped nuke Shady Sands because his wife escaped to it? It's kind of a weak excuse to nuke an entire area again. I hope this gets elaborated on in season 2 and why Vault Tec decided to let the NCR become a full-blown national power before taking action.

Cooper Howard? No notes. Perfect performance.

I'm not a big fight scene person, but I appreciate the tribute to the games with the splattered body parts and how main characters didn't just curbstomp their opponents.

The vault scenes were the funniest but I hope they also lean in more to how weird the wasteland can be too.

A lot of threads left hanging. Who is Lee Moldover and why are the refugees of Shady Sands worshipping her? Why did she need whatever was in the Enclave scientist's head? Whatever happened to Vault 33's problem with their destroyed water chip? Why did Hank give Moldover the code just because Lucy told him to? WHERE IS FINAL PAM???

CONCLUSION

Amazing adaptation. Well-written characters that felt very at-home with the setting. It understood the games deeply enough to know that Vault Tec is the overarching villain of the series. Plot has holes and logical inconsistencies, but aside from what I've already discussed, these aren't egregious enough to take away from character arcs and the show's themes for me.

**Fallout games I've played:

Fallout 2

Fallout 3 (only got through half of the game)

Fallout: New Vegas

Fallout 4

[amadholes-lostre]

Citadel redesign/some lore improvement or change

I have an idea of some time now (6 years lol) of changing the Citadel structure and that the CC/race themselves. Mainly that while I like the Citadel design itself (one of my favorite space stations), it's not that impressive, especially the size and shape itself. Citadel is meant to imitate an O'Neil cylinder, which is not good as those space habitats meant to be built by today technology. What happened if an alien race, who built hundreds of cylinders already, come across the Citadel? They will laugh themselves silly. So, I came up with my own version.

The Citadel itself

I based the idea of mixing the Original Citadel and Omega stations itself, with the arms fully open and spread.

With the arms attracted around Omega uppermost section. The version itself looks like this:

The Citadel total height is 1,000 km, from the upper-section (the round head) to the cylinder bottom (referred to as the lower-section). The antenna-like structure in the mid-section is the main space port, where all the goods are imported and exported. The lower-section is a regular cylinder (I think 500 km in height), using configuration for gravity.

The upper-section uses eezo for artificial gravity and uses "levels" for separating. Each levels has 2.5km of space height, connecting by pillars. So, in a way, the upper-section is similar to Aincrid from SAO.

The arms- which has 5- 500 km in length, and around like 20 km in height. Like the upper-section, each level has 2.5km space height, with a total level of 6. Some levels have strict biome and meant for national parks (with some towns and whatnot). Some are only meant for certain species like volus so they could live without suits. There're likely 2 levels that are heavily urbanized, with some population density of 100k km².

The arms (and majority of the upper-section, let's be honest), are fully enclosed, meaning the uppermost does not have glass/transparent metal. How they receive light is through hundreds of light overheads with radiators. So they do have some kind of sky, being bluish hue, but it's possible seeing the next level floor. It's like the sky in Requiem from Halo 4.

(Notice the mechanic sky hued by the atmospheric gas.)

There're parts where glass/transparent metal is placed so people can gaze at the Serpent Nebula or the stars, usually parks and lounges. However, there're likely private space that rich people could own (like owning an apartment/housing adjacent to the glass/transparent metal).

The very uppermost in the upper-section is where the Council and species-nations/states embassies are located. I called this part The Crest. The Crest has it own space port meant for diplomats, nations/states military (like the Normandy), certain organizations, or very wealthy people kr business.

The arms could close (like the original), sealing upwards to the Crest. That, and with the kinetic barriers, it's nearly impossible to break through (unless you have 1 peta-ton weapon). The Citadel Fleet itself is far bigger, having 30k of warships guarding, with the Turians having 20k, including 1.8k dreadnoughts and battlecruisers. Asari also has 25 Ascension-class, with the lead ship, Destiny Ascension, being the flagship (their main reactor generates 2.5 peta-joules per second; fuck you Halo fans 🖕🖕, suck at these blue clit lol). There're also hundreds of space defense platform, ranging from arsenal missile platform-using metallic hydrogen as payloads and rocket propellant- to fucking mass accelerator (each ranging from 250 tera-joules [60 kiloton] to fucking 100 peta-joules [24 megatons]). They are going make you work for it lol.

I don't really know the total population. Either 15 billion or, at maximum, 100 billion. There are likely people who not only never leave the Citadel, but never even venture out of their arm or level.

I can't really think anything else to add that isn't about the station itself.

Turians

Nothing much to add, except fleet and ship size. There is an ME book that said there're tens of trillions of beings, and I took that fact seriously. However, of that true, than their fleet numbers has to be fucking huge. I saying they have likely 10 million ships, with 900k dreadnoughts (400k) and battlecruisers (500k). An average dreadnoughts size is 2.5 km in length, with a reactor core of 450 terawatts. Battlecruisers is 2km in length with a reactor of 340 terawatts. Their ships size are similar compared to other species nations/states military, though they have a numerical size advantage to back it up. (It's not the ship size or crew that makes a ship expensive, but the mass effect/eezo core is what limit it.)

Like what many codex and books say, Turians have multiple alien clients, with a more concrete number of 5. Two submit willingly for protection, however really fuck-up their chance having a seat in the Council. The other 3, however, were forced into submission, doing a "fuck around and find out" situation. Turians did so, so they will never be a threat to them again. Because of this, some of their client race form extreme Sangenists rebel/terrorists (Sangenism from Latin, Sanguis [blood] + Gen [race/people], mainly species nationalist). Humans almost suffer the same fate if the Asari didn't interfere.

Asari

Nothing much change for the Asari either, only adding or making it definite. Asari has around 25k planets and satellites (Turians has maybe 30k planets and satellites), the majority of which are in the Athena Nebula. They don't really have a large population. Actually, humans (300 billions, will explain) will nearly reach theirs at (1.95 trillion) by the end of the millennium. This is thanks of never needing to expand their lifespan.

I think this is already canon, but Asari mostly romance their own kind (I saying 80%), with only being a taboo of having a pureblood. Also, they are not actually omnisexual, with around 70% preferring females, other mono-sex, or hermaphrodite (i think the hanars are hermaphrodite, not sure).

They have 100 Ascension-class dreadnoughts, though it's a fucking financial nightmare due how large the Eezo Core has to be. I think increasing it twice or thrice it size. Something like this:

Humans

Instead of the canon events taking place in the late-22nd century, this took place in the late-23rd century. Humanity did discover the Prothean artifacts at Mars in 2148, however they didn't contact the Turians until 2256. So they have like a century of colonization expansion.

The reason why Humanity population explored is due to discovering expanding a human lifespan (decreasing telomerase shortening through mitosis) in around 21th century, increasing average life expectancy to 180 years. Even though this solves the so-called "fertility crisis", it cause an overpopulation crisis since now the death rate is nearly absolute zero lol. Actually this common for any other race that increases their lifespan. I took the idea from my races, Indrin/Rin/other species, who, in 1955, have a population of 50 billion, and by 3456 (first contact with Earthian humans), reach 25 trillion.

Other races/history/etc.

The books and codex said there're dozens of species instead of just the ones in the game (the game engine could only handle so much). I put the number at least 76 species, with a total population of 1.5 quadrillion. Turians have one of the highest populations, at least 20 trillion, and Turian females are one of the most common bedmates (genetic donors) or lovers for Asaris. At least have of the species are gonochoric (having only two sex for reproduction like humans), though some of those races are not similar to humans (I strongly in the belief Turian males do not have dick; Garrius tribs the living shit out of femshep [I'm a strong Shiara shipper lol] and he does well). Mono-sex species like Asari (though even other mono-sex species found Asari odd for theirs) are evenly proportion with gonochoric, other S.R like hermaphrodite, multiple different sex (think Andorian from Star Trek), and others.

Can't really think of anything else: some ideas i have like the formation of the Citadel Council and why the Treaty of Farixen was signed. The idea I have is that there were multiple other international organizations like the CC (though CC is the strongest) and that it lead to multiple arm races, some of which lead to wars (causality up to dozens of billions of death). These I.O. merge with the CC and the Farixen was signed so that there wasn't another interstellar war. Another idea is that the Rachnie War (taking place at 900CE, last for 1 century with interspersed skirmish for another 2 century) led to 1 trillion deaths (oof) and the Krogan-Citadel War (1300-1400 CE) cause 250 billion deaths (the Krogans throw a fucking Moon-size satellite at a Turian planet the fuck?).

I also thinking of an alien nation having a robotic army before the Rachni War, and use it against a war with the CC (like the CIS Droid Army from Star Wars). Only, the robots, after gaining sapient, didn't like to being told and cause a brutal genocide against them. Through the CC managed to stop them, this incident, and Quarian Genocide, what drives the fear of AI to them.

Not much else to add, Bye-Bye!

@dr-jekyl @dr-ladybird @stealthydentist @keeper-of-the-flames @berryshiara @masseffectfanwork

[b1asho]

Oh no, there's lines in there!!!!

This is a (once again, a leetle outdated but still good enough) political map! The border lines are a bit wacky, don't worry it's annoying for everyone living there too. Anyway, here's a horrid lore dump if you care to read it XD :

Blue represents the DRSS (Democratic Republic of the Solar System) its just about what it sounds like. This country is made up of a collection of states similar to the USA, and it is largely populated and governed by humans. much of their internal infrastructure is meant for humans, too, making it very difficult to live there as anything else. However, some areas within each state are Enclaves, where other species have been given say over the laws and architecture and are more or less free to govern themselves (with some intervention from the big government). The grayish blue area to the west is known as the Outlands. It's legally a part of the DRSS, but extremely undeveloped and sparsely populated beyond rough farming and mining operations. They got this land in the afotementioned treaty ( and a considerable amount of say in other territories outside their borders, since they won the war. And still have some nukes.)

Orange is the Seru Empire (Cerest Empire or just 'the Empire' to most people). They are related to the interplanetary Imperial power I talked about in the geography post, though the so-called Seru Empire is much newer, created thanks to the resurgence of Old Empire sympathies and ideologies. There are no good empires, and this one is no exception. It is a widely known fact that those living within its borders are subject to harsh working conditions, strict legislation and swift brutal punishment, and of course are separated by species into a rigid caste structure. Besides humans, there are 5 other intelligent species stranded on this planet. 4 of them make up the bulk of the population in the SE (more on all them later I promise) . Technically, the SE is made up of different internal jurisdictions like the DRSS, though led by associated arms of the dictator, but those have much less autonomy and no authority under the central regime. They have limited access to pretty much everything everywhere because they're the losing side. And everyone hates them.

Purple is the Muttreazik Territories, named after the species that mostly lives there. While characterized as a 'Wild West' of sorts, this land is actually separated into very distinctive cultural regions of muttreazik that are highly organized within their own turf (though not very interested in working together). This place is largely unexplored and presumably largely untouched by exo terraforming, making the West the only place you can go and still see the original plant life that was there before your species crashed a ship on it. On a related note, it is very unforgiving to pioneers, both because of the lack of anything edible/any infrastructre to help you survive and the parasitic mutant-inhabiting locals who look like you but not (muttreazik are a fun bunch).

The yellow/grayish blue area in the middle is the Skyfall Exclusion Zone, or the SEZ. This was originally a smaller area unofficially sectioned off/avoided by the world because of the high levels of Radiation from Unknown Universe (RUU) leaking out from that damn lake (or rather, the thing in that damn lake. I should probably mention, RUU was used to power many of the human spacecraft. It's a barely understood energy that was supposed to stay in the machines. It was never supposed to get out of the machines.) The SEZ was officially established with the treaty as a vassal state to the DRSS to act as a demilitarized buffer between the warring powers, since neither of them want to cross that land and both consider it unusable. Well, mostly unusable. The SEZ's main export is space junk, since this area also happens to be where most of the stuff fell in The Crash. The technology, resources, and information that can be gathered from The Wreck is valuable enough for the DRSS to keep it around and let it do its own thing as ling as all the best junk goes to them and not the Empire. Speaking of, the inhabitants of the SEZ are a mix of everyone, mostly just riffraff that ended up there for one reason or another. Though many also got trapped in there by new border drawing and now can't leave thanks to the closure. Womp womp, have fun living downwind of the radioactive scrap heap, loser.

That dark gray circle is a nuclear exclusion zone (Area 1) . Considerably less fun than the SEZ because this radiation is normal and just rips your cells apart instead of giving you powers. Don't go in there.

Green on the mainland is the Gaek Federation. Offshore green is the Orbouh Island Nations, collectively known as the Drowning Islands region. This area is an economic exclusive zone, since the big countries no longer trade across their own borders. This area is entirely neutral and independent, gov wise, though it upholds the treaty's stipulations because they want to keep the tentative peace and their biggest customers. This area has a diverse population. It's outer borders are a bit malleable, since as the 'Drowning' part of the name suggests the islands tend to appear and dissappear with the tides caused by the planet's 3 moons. The planet also has rings btw you can see a tiny version of it in my pfp.

Red is the Kixeli Interplanetary Community, pretty much a really dense and mostly autonomous Enlclave of a certain amphibious species. It shares territory with the Confederation of Free Sapients, a small country built on rejecting the current entrenched ways of the two super powers and building a more inclusive system.

All these idiots are just stuck on an ideal little part of a much wider world, unexplored and vast. Who knows what's on the rest of this continent, or the rest of the globe...

Anyways, it's the aliens next. Once I figure out the best way to Compile and Present them all.........

[usafphantom2]

With temperatures on the SR-71’s leading edges exceeding 1,000 degrees Fahrenheit, dealing with the heat raised a host of seemingly insurmountable design and material challenges. Titanium alloy was the only option for the airframe —providing the strength of stainless steel, a relatively light weight, and durability at the excessive temperatures.

Kirchoff’s law of thermal radiation this basically states that a good absorber is a good emitter , and a good absorber of heat is a black body.

Black paint generated, and Emissivity value of 0.93 compared with 0.38 for bare titanium resulting in a reduction in surface temperature of 15 to 30 degrees celsius. This was well worth this 60 pounds in additional weight of paint.

In Ben Riches Book “Skunk Works,” it was himself who suggested this idea to Kelly Johnson. Ben was the second man in control of the Skunk Works after Kelly’s retirement..

Titanium, however, proved to be a particularly sensitive material from which to build an airplane. The brittle alloy shattered if mishandled, which meant great frustration on the Skunk Works assembly line, and new training classes for Lockheed’s machinists. Conventional cadmium-plated steel tools, it was soon learned, embrittled the titanium on contact; so new tools were designed and fabricated—out of titanium.

But most important the US did not have the necessary ore. The world’s largest supplier of it was the Soviet Union, America’s enemy during the Cold War.

Titanium procurement during the Cold War was so vital to the US’ goal of defeating the Soviet Union that it had to secretly buy the metal from the very country it sought to vanquish. It was 1960 and Washington needed spy planes that could avoid detection in Soviet airspace by flying to the heavens. To make what would become the vaunted SR-71 Blackbird, Lockheed knew it had to build a light plane, but one that was strong enough to hold extra fuel to give it expansive range. The only metal that would do the job was titanium. The only place to get titanium in the needed quantities was the Soviet Union.

The US worked through Third World countries and fake companies and finally was able to ship the ore to the US to build the SR-71.

“The airplane is 92% titanium inside and out. Back when they were building the airplane the United States didn’t have the ore supplies – an ore called rutile ore. It’s a very sandy soil and it’s only found in very few parts of the world. The major supplier of the ore was the USSR. Working through Third World countries and bogus operations, they were able to get the rutile ore shipped to the United States to build the SR-71,” famous former SR-71 pilot Colonel Rich Graham said in an interesting article appeared on BBC. According to the following video, one of the bogus operations mentioned by Graham saw the US asking Soviets for titanium because they needed it for pizza ovens youtu.be/9mVXdo0QmPo

And Russians easily believed that the US needed titanium for thousands of pizza ovens. After all, they fraudulently possibly told their comrades that the United States was a lazy country that probably couldn’t even cook for itself. They need it to go out to buy pizza…

Ultimately, through third parties and fake companies, the US, “managed to unobtrusively purchase the base metal from one of the world’s leading exporters – the Soviet Union,” according to the book Skunk Works by Ben Rich, a Lockheed Martin engineer who worked on the SR-71. “The Russians never had an inkling of how they were actually contributing to the creation of the airplane being rushed into construction to spy on their homeland.”

Andriy Brodskyy contributed to this article. Written by~Linda Sheffield for Aviation Geek Club

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Facebook Pages Habubrats SR-71 and Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

@Habubrats71 via X

[fthindustries]

Necessity Of Proper Radiator Maintenance: Tricks & Suggestions

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[things-about-cars-in-posts]

So, there's many of you now. I know we're in the How Sweet It Is Not To Know Follower Counts website and I do cherish that, but still, more people than ever in my life clicked a button that in some capacity says "I care what this dork has to tell me" and I want to acknowledge and celebrate that - especially now that this growth seems to have settled into its rhythm.

Spot when @identifying-cars-in-posts reblogged my pinned, lol.

So, for my 100th post, I felt like celebrating our love for reaching round numbers. And little in the automotive world represents it more iconically than what reigned supreme above all cars in the 1980s.

Porsche started out as an engineering firm, whose most notable contract was what would become known as the Volkswagen Beetle (and boy what a story that is). The first car of its own was the 356 seen below - a sporty body laid over Beetle underpinnings and thus still mostly made by Volkswagen. But by God, they were going to run with that recipe and perfect it 'til the sun burst.

Meanwhile, in England, a chap called Colin Chapman decides the next of his company's track cars will actually be drivable on the street, to need no trailer to go race. Thus the Lotus Seven is born and sold in kit, which avoids high taxes on the exporting of cars to the US (but those taxes would have remained had they been sold with assembly manuals… so they were sold with disassembly manuals for you to read backwards. No, seriously.).

The Porsche 356 kept getting less and less Volkswagen and more and more Porsche until in 1964, the year of the Beatles, the year of the Stones, the stone-age Beetle was left behind for good with the Porsche 911 (seen below), a blank-canvas take on the same recipe of an air-cooled rear boxer engine powering the rear wheels of a squished-Beetle-shaped sportscar. 'Twas good.

In 1973, Lotus was doing pretty well for itself. The Seven's whole 2500 sales had carried it through producing a number of other models, and a few were even in production concurrently - a lineup! Exciting stuff! Well, that and an F1 team so successful its Wikipedia page features the section "Domination in the 60s and '70s". The exciting opportunity to move upmarket, with bigger models with AC and automatics and all that bougie shit, pushed them to move away from the image of scruffy old kit car makers, ceding the Seven's production to the last two dealers that sold it, main one being Caterham Cars.

The 911 headed into the 80s old enough to drive, and Porsche's plans considered it at the end of the line, with staff already mourning it. But then the yankee at his third week as CEO saw those plans (which to Germans are basically scripture), said "to hell with that" and extended that line off the chart. Literally. He went to the lead engineer's office and physically took a marker at a development chart. They all secretly liked that.

Still, it was clear the game was changing - intercoolers, all wheel drive, active suspension... how hard could the 911 layout go if it didn't stick to its simple air-cooled roots? Well, Porsche resolved to find out by filling it with the cusp of automotive advancements and then some. And I do mean filling - a chassis that didn't even need space for a radiator was suddenly tasked with storing it, two turbos, two intercoolers, and a good half dozen oil pumps.

Yeah good luck with that, buddy. Oh, and materials? The body was kevlar, the frame was aluminium, the floor was Nomex (ever even heard of Nomex???), the wheels were magnesium and the spokes were hollow!!!! You could blow into the spokes!!! And don't get me started on the technology! Variable height, an all-wheel-drive system that distributed torque at will, electronics galore... As you may be able to guess, development was… complex.

At one point a test driver was doing 180km/h (112mph) to go get the car un-on-fire-d, and that's just one of the plenty horror stories. Hell, work started in 1983 to create a car for Group B and took so long that when said rally series died in 1986, production was just starting. Not that development would stop at the start of production, either - the first cars just got updated when the owners took them in for their service. (Can't blame them, I fix wording in weeks-old posts...) But however long it took, the resulting Porsche 959 answered the originating question "How hard can this chassis go?" with a resounding "Hard and then some".

It was comfortable and refined enough to be driven every day, but so capable it extended the limits of the concept of production car. Put it this way: it reached car people's favorite round number, 100km/h (to yankee doodles, 60mph) in 3.6 seconds. The second fastest production car did so in 4.6. That's one second of margin in a race that ends in five. Oh, and if you want to put it another way: the 959 was the first production car to ever surpass 300km/h, let alone come 1 shy of the mythical 200mph (322km/h).

Meanwhile, the handful of chaps at Caterham was still producing the Caterham Seven. It's the Lotus Seven (specifically the third revision, from 1968), but I guess in '83 the engine changed. We were saying?

They couldn't sell the 959 stateside for lack of crash test data, and America's ban on importing foreign cars under 25 years of age had no exception. That is, until Bill Gates wanted a 959 so bad he spent 13 years getting an exception passed. That's how hot this car is.

And yet, this record-breaking, boundary-pushing, master-of-all-trades hypercar sits atop the 80s automotive landscape engulfed in shadow. But how? Why? Because it failed to contend with the greatest automotive headache: humans. It was planted, practical, reliable, predictable - docile, domesticated, amicable. Perfect. But these are not meant to be cars, they're meant to be posters. And you don't get posters of what is perfect, but of what excites you. And what excites us is the visceral, the raw, the uncompromising - the wild, the feral, the dangerous. And, of course, reaching round numbers. What excites us is a lot more like the first production car to break 200mph, the Ferrari F40.

Remember how the 959 was being developed for Group B racing and then the series died? Well, Ferrari got screwed over too, with the 288 GTO Evoluzione they were developing (seen here to the right of the base 288 GTO) suddenly having no reason to be.

The lead engineer then asked Enzo Ferrari to let him turn that weekend project (literally, they couldn't spend work week time on it) into a road car to celebrate their 40 years. Enzo, nearing the end of his days, thought "Ah, what the hell, let's leave with a bang", so they set off to build what would become the anti-959. Not anti as in response, but as in antithesis. Where the 959 was an attempt to modernize the noisy, unrefined, old-school 911 -to make a supercar "tested for everyday usability to the most strenuous standards", by Porsche's words- the F40 was a reaction to, per Ferrari's words, "customers saying Ferraris were becoming too plush and comfortable": "nothing but sheer performance. Not a laboratory for the future, as the 959 is. Not Star Wars."

To exemplify: left is the 959 - note the leather and electric seats, right is the F40, note the string you open the door with.

The F40 was noisy, crashy, torrid, and the turbo lag painstakingly smoothed out in the 959 here kicked you in the back like a locked door. It would rip your head off the moment it sensed you didn't know what you were doing. But it was more exciting - to look at, to hear, to drive. And that's what won people over - including the buyers, which were near four times as many as Porsche's despite the price tag being double.

Had the 959 lost then? Well, not quite. Enter the 959 S. Doing away with much of the 959's luxuries, like adjustable suspension, electric windows, AC, central locking, and even backsea- wait, the 959 had BACKSEATS???? Holy FUCK why does no one talk about that??? Take the family on a trip to 300kphville! I was saying. They schlapped some bigger turbos on too and power went from 444hp right past the F40's 470hp to a healthy 508, that propelled it over what any roadgoing F40 ever managed at 211mph, or 339km/h. Presumably for bragging rights.

And I want to stress, these were titans clashing here. This was leagues beyond what other production cars could even comprehend. Again, the 959 hit 100km/h in 3.6 seconds. The F40 held a record by taking less than 16 seconds to go from 0 to 160km/h(100mph) and back to 0. This was witnessing superhumans fighting through the clouds.

And then in 1992, the two chaps that 'developed' Caterhams (i.e. banged new ones together in the shed) told the chap they worked for "Hey, let's make one that's really barebones and fast", rang up their ol' mate (and ex-F1 racer) Jonathan Palmer to ask to lend a hand, and bought some of the 250hp engine that powered the Vauxhall (British for Opel) Cavalier GSi in the British Touring Car Championship.

Thus, the Caterham Seven Jonathan Palmer Evolution - a raw, uncomfortable, uncompromising beast that went fast as all fuck. Now, if you don't know Sevens you may think "Ah, so just like the F40, what with its handcrank windows and the string to open the doorlatch and all". And to illustrate how far off that is: in the Seven the windows were sown on and you latched the door yourself with a press button.

And that's the standard version which had windows and doors. The JPE didn't.

The JPE had a carbon tub you were meant to call a seat, the controls, a rev counter and a tach that didn't even bother reading until 30mph, and fuck you. And this one is not even as barebones as the JPE got: this one is painted.

So while the F40 went from 1,250kg (2760lb) to 1370kg (3020lb) when adjusted to comply with US regulations and the 959 went from 1450kg (3200lb) to the lightweight S version's 1350kg (2975lb), the Seven JPE weighed 1170. As in 1170lb. 530kg. Read that again if you need to, but it had about half the power of those two and considerably less than half the car to move. And so, in January 1993, this thing -this '50s coffin with a Vauxhall engine banged together by one guy in a shed- took the Guinness World Record for fastest car to 100km/h with a time of 3.46 seconds - and the 0-160km/h-0 record with 13.1 seconds. Close your eyes and picture that.

Yet the Seven JPE is hardly known to anyone but the most hardcore of enthusiasts, and owned by barely four dozens of 'em. So did it, perhaps, ultimately lose? Not at all. In fact, none of these cars did.

Every 959 cost Porsche twice what they sold it for, but the project proved the 911's layout could stand the test of time, and its development gave Porsche technologies it gradually infused into the 911 keeping it relevant, competitive, and most importantly alive to this day.

And I think we can safely say that when Enzo Ferrari died in 1988, a year after the F40's launch, his wish to leave with a bang was perfectly fulfilled - so much so that the F40 is commonly regarded as the peak of his legacy.

And the JPE was simply the greatest Seven ever - the most raw, thrilling, pure automotive experience the streets had ever witnessed. If driving a fast car was like biking down a hill, the Seven JPE was skydiving. Hell, it was the cover car of éX-Driver, an anime about a team using old-school sportscars to rescue haywire autonomous vehicles!

Not that culturally relevant but MAN was it cool as a kid. I need to hang those damn posters one of these days. I was saying.

These are three success stories in three radically different ways. Because, as much as I've made this post all about the numbers, sometimes it's not about that. Sometimes it's about making a show, leaving a mark, being spectacular. Sometimes it's about pushing yourself to achievements you can take pride and inspiration from. Sometimes it's simply about having fun seeing just how far you can really go. Sometimes it's about deciding what you want to be and make a new favorite version of yourself, that is the best it can be at what you care the most about. And for some that may result in less popularity or success or impact or legacy than others, but those are just some of the things you can work towards. It can be okay to just work towards having a blast. Hell, those madmen at Caterham used to stay after work to build themselves track cars, race them the next day and put ‘em back in the workshop after racing them, and the company survived to this day. Because, yes, they're still around - and their new lineup topper gets to 100 in 2.8. Windshield still optional. Well, at least there's headrests now. And a wider version, for the concrete possibility that you physically don't fit.

Never change, Caterham, because you certainly never have.

Links in blue are posts of mine explaining the words in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

[dailyanarchistposts]

Biotechnology and the future of humanity

Biocide or Genocide?

The high cost of chemical and mechanical inputs and expensive new seed varieties favours large farmers over small; they are bankrupted, lose their land and end up either in the huge and squalid shanty towns and slums that surround so many majority world cities or as agricultural labourers on big farms or plantations. Here they may be one of the over 40,000 ‘Third World’ farm workers killed each year as a result of contact with agro-chemicals. A 1994 UN report estimated 1,000,000 people a year are made ill as a result of over- exposure to agro-chemicals. The increasing use of animal products as well as leading to the misery, waste and pollution of factory farming is also responsible for the erosion of biodiversity and peoples livelihoods in the majority world. For example almost all of Central America’s lowland and lower montane rainforest has been cleared or severely degraded mainly in order to raise cattle for export. The crops most grown under ‘Green Revolution’ and GM regimes of industrial food production are maize and soya, not for human consumption but for animal feed. Small scale organic farming systems based around plants and supporting the producers directly are being destroyed in favour of chemical soaked monocultures to feed the farm animals necessary to feed the animal product heavy global food economy.

Because ‘pests’ and ‘weeds’ can rapidly become immune to herbicides and biocides chemicals don’t even do what they say they do; pesticide use in the US increased by 500% between 1950–1986 yet estimated crop loss due to pests was 20%, exactly the same as in 1950. The damage done by the production and use of biocides and artificial fertilisers is almost unimaginable. Pesticide pollution of the natural world (air, water & soil) is one of the major reasons for the staggering loss of biodiversity (estimated at a loss of 30,000 species a year) we are witnessing as the world is slowly turned into a huge agro-chemical-industrial facility. Pesticide and artificial fertiliser pollution, along with other petro-chemical forms of pollution and increased exposure to radiation, are responsible for massive rates of cancer and birth abnormalities. Then there are the ‘accidents’ which show the system’s inhumanity even more clearly: such as the 1984 explosion at Union Carbide’s insecticide factory in Bhopal, India which left 3,000 dead and 20,000 permanently disabled. Or the less well-publicised events in Iraq in 1971–1972 when large quantities of wheat seed that had been treated with anti-fungus compounds containing mercury were ‘accidentally’ baked into bread. 6,000 neurologically deranged people were admitted to hospital and at least 452 died. Corporate propagandists would have us believe that these are unfortunate side effects of a beneficial technology we desperately need to ‘feed the world. Yet, as anyone who takes the trouble to find out the facts must be aware, the world produces more food than is necessary to feed the human population and the reasons people go hungry are landlessness, poverty, and social dislocation caused by capitalist oppression and war.

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topaz

With the leaves changing into fire colors in the Northern Hemisphere during November it only seems fitting that this month's birthstones also come, most commonly, in colors of brown, gold, red and orange. Let's talk about topaz first.

From the Middle Ages backward, 'topaz' was usually used to refer to any yellow stone (its believed, for instance, that the 'topaz' referred to on the high priest's breastplate in the Old Testament was probably a citrine). However, modern scientific distinctions believe that most references to topaz in older historic texts were actually either peridot, citrine (November's other birthstone) or chrysoberyl. True topaz is a much heavier stone than any of these, surprisingly heavy for a stone of its chemical makeup in fact. In its natural form, most topaz is actually a clear stone. Its variety of colors come from either heat or additional minerals while it was forming. 'In the wild' topaz can be found in colors that range from red to pink to grey to various shades of brown as well as yellow or even violet. Blue topaz is rare as well and often very pale with heat (or radiation) being used to darken its color. 'Mystic topaz' is topaz that has been heat treated and then painted with a coat of metallic oxide to give it an iridescent look. Pink topaz is called imperial topaz. November uses the orange topaz, known as the precious topaz, as its birth stone of choice.

Topaz deposits can found on every single continent, with Brazil being the largest exporter of the stone. The largest topaz every found comes from the Minas Gerais mine in Brazil in fact, a boulder sized topaz that weighted 596 pounds (271 kilos). Topaz is also one of the hardest stones, coming in at 8 on the Mohs hardness scale (a diamond is a 10 on the scale), yet, because of its atomic bonding structure if hit at just the right angle it can splinter.

Being around as long as it has, there are a lot of superstitions that surround topaz. In ancient Rome, the topaz protected travels on the road. In ancient Greece, wearing a topaz was supposed to grant you strength while in India, a topaz worn over the heart granted long life, beauty and intelligence. Wearing topaz on your left arm in Medieval Europe was a good way to turn away the evil eye and other curses. It was also medicinal, believed to increase body heat against fevers and colds. During the Renaissance, topaz was useful for controlling anger and dispelling evil magic spells. In England, the topaz was said to help cure madness. It is associated with love, wealth (its golden color can attract gold, especially if the stone is set in gold) and health. It is supposed to aid in digestion and weight loss as well as arthritis. It is supposed to help attract love. Saint Hildegard recommended soaking topaz in wine for three days and nights and then rubbing it on the eyes to improve sight. It can also supposedly make its wearer invisible. Keeping a topaz stone under your pillow is said to help keep nightmares away. Its said to help cure sleepwalking. It can, thanks to its golden color, also be associated with the sun and fire. A blue topaz is the wedding anniversary gift for the fourth anniversary and the imperial topaz for the twenty-third.

The 1740, Braganza Diamond of Portugal was so clear and bright it was believed to be a diamond. It is, in fact, a topaz.

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

Mycal 💕 and my generated title was "The Moon's Still Sleeping" thank you! Hope you're having a lovely evening!

Thank you for the prompt! I'm trying to make this less "complete ficlet" and more "incomplete thoughts pulled from a fic that could exist but doesn't." Here's the song I was listening to while writing this one. I hope you're having a good night tonight!

And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night. There is nothing quite like the new-old smile on William's face, bright and sincere and glowing, to make Albert feel like the moon. It's not a bad thing. He basks in the warmth William radiates now, lets it seep into his own cold craters, stores it to reflect back again. But...William and Holmes orbit each other, binary stars. And the others have all become some new thing, bonded differently in Albert's absence. Louis is their guiding light now. In the end, as welcomed as he has been and as silly as he feels for it, Albert is just the smallest bit lonely. A flutter of wings draws him from his needless moping, and he turns towards the open window of his new bedroom in the Exports building with a smile already drawing itself over his lips. Charlie coos and hops in the windowsill, fluffing and flapping excitedly. How silly it is, to be sent notes this way, when these days he rarely goes a week without seeing Mycroft. How silly...and how charming.