#rear differential

[automotiveamerican]

A Brief Look at Quick Change Rear Ends

[pritchardautobody]

Transmission Adjustments & In-Car Repairs

Seven Oaks Transmissions is a full-service automotive transmission repair business that has been serving Winnipeg since 1980. Our Certified technicians are professionals and use the best automotive diagnostic equipment to troubleshoot and fix customers' car problems quickly and efficiently. This ensures our customers are repaired correctly the first time, saving them unnecessary auto repair costs down the road. Seven Oaks Transmissions values our reputation as being the best transmission and auto repair shop in Winnipeg, we offer only the highest quality automotive service & repair for each and every customers' vehicle. Please feel free to call us to book an appointment and get your vehicle back on the road.

Transmission Adjustments & In-Car Repairs

The technicians at Seven Oaks Transmissions understand that problems with your vehicle's transmission can often be resolved with adjustments or a minor repair. In fact, a simple adjustment can be done without even removing the transmission from the vehicle. When a late model transmission is failing to shift correctly, it can often be due to a faulty sensor receiving incorrect signals from the computer. Additionally shifting problems can arise when a transmission is not responding to the computer correctly due to a bad connection or a defective solenoid pack. These types of repairs can be fixed without having to remove the transmission from the vehicle saving you a considerable amount of money when compared to a complete overhaul.

In situations where a non-computer-controlled transmission is either shifting too early or too late, the throttle cable may need to be adjusted. Seldom will a throttle cable go out of adjustment on its own or because of wear and tear, but rather most wrong adjustments are a result in other repair work or due to damage from an accident. When a vacuum modulator is used in lieu of a throttle cable, an adjustment screw can be used to correct a transmission problem. When a vehicle uses a modulator instead of a throttle cable it is crucial that there be no vacuum leaks and the engine is performing at peak efficiency. The vacuum conditions of an engine are very sensitive and significantly impact the performance of an engine. Our technicians will quite often use a vacuum gauge when diagnosing a vehicle's performance problem and state of tune. Many of the problems a vehicle's transmission may present will disappear after a thorough tune-up or other engine performance related repairs are completed.

Transmissions in older model vehicles can experience what is called "slipping". Slipping is a condition that results in an engine racing briefly when shifting from one gear to another. Often times a transmission band adjustment is all that is required to correct slipping conditions.Call us to schedule an appointment for a road test

Reseal Job

Spotting of red oil on the ground underneath your vehicle is usually indicative of your transmission needing a reseal job. Reseal jobs are done in order to repair external transmission fluid leaks. Checking for leaks involves one of our technicians placing your vehicle on a rack to examine the transmission for signs of oil leaks. If while examining your vehicle our technician notices leaks near any of the external gaskets or seals and your transmission is otherwise performing well, our recommendation will usually the transmission be resealed. While most external seals can be replaced without needing to remove the transmission, a front seal replacement requires the removal of the transmission in order to gain access to it, resulting in a more expensive transmission repair.

Accessible Part Replacement

The transmission in your vehicle has numerous parts that are accessible without requiring the removal of your transmission, including the majority of the electrical parts that are serviced simply by removing the oil pan. Repairing a transmission's external parts may result in limited warranty coverage as it is not possible to see if there is any additional problems with the parts inside the transmission that are only accessible with the complete removal of the transmission.

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[sickeninglyshoujo]

a/n: i saw the renders (you know the ones) and became feral with need for dad!ghost, other cod dads coming soon, sorry to my friends for being forced to read me word vomit this in chat over four hours. ao3 link coming soon warnings: pregnancy talk word count: 1.8k

Simon doesn’t like when the baby wears the skulls but you do because it reminds you of him

When he grew up he equated the skull mask to terror, the baby only has positive thoughts about it and gets excited seeing it yelling out “daddy!” if she sees the motif in public, mortifying Simon and delighting you. Onlookers growing even more concerned when you coo back, “Yes, that is daddy!” pointing to the Halloween display of a grim reaper statue.

I can tell you that Simon is a master at baby rearing

Simon would absolutely carry the baby under his arm like a football once her neck is strong enough even if you don’t like it because it’s more comfortable like that

It’s second nature to him somehow

Even when you’re stressed about the baby and can’t get her to stop crying somehow Simon just comes over and says the one thing you haven’t tried because he can differentiate between her cries

You were afraid about introducing the baby to Riley, but Simon wasn’t. “They live in the same flipping house, he has t’ get used to her!”

“But not when she’s newborn! Let her get a little bigger first!”

“No better time than now! She’ll never be afraid of him then and he’ll protect her!”

“They call them malingators for a reason!”

“Riley is a well-trained retired soldier. He’s not going to hurt the baby.”

The first meeting had Simon holding the baby in his arms and stooping down to Riley’s level, Riley nosing at the baby’s sock-covered feet hanging from Simon’s arms, sniffing excitedly. You stood above Simon, wringing your hands together, ready to jump in between the two at a moment's notice.

“This is your baby sister, Riley,” Simon instructed the dog whose ears moved, listening to his master’s voice, “She’s your new assignment, boy.”

“Bloodthirsty, isn’ he?” Simon asked you with a grin as the dog yawned and stayed calmly seated, beginning to lick at the baby's booties.

“Shut it, Si.”

Riley is the baby’s shadow. If she so much as sniffles he’s darting across the house trying to find out what’s wrong. It’s like Simon’s watching over her even when on missions 

Simon hates that the dog is named Riley because he thinks it’s stupid and is constantly begging to rename the dog. You refuse because you like the constant reminder of your husband. It doesn't matter that he shares the family name.

When you first bring the baby home from the hospital Simon is in constant awe at how tiny she is. Like a little doll he keeps telling you to the point he sounds like a broken record

Simon constantly worried about baby being cold 2k24 and always has a blankie in the diaper bag or draped over the baby carrier.

After missions he would look for you first when he came home before stripping off the dirt and grime of missions and now it’s the baby. He used to think you were his reason to keep trying to save the world and now it’s her. It only stings a little but that is soothed when you see the awe in his face when she coos at him from her crib

It isn’t long before Simon is trying to get you to agree to try for another “Jus’ one more love,” he'll mutter into your neck after the baby is put down for the night and you two have retired to your bedroom only to be batted away weakly

“Oh no, Si! No more babies and no more sex! Not if you’re going to talk like that!”

“But yer such a good mum. We should have a houseful.”

Simon would petition you to quit your job because it’s bad enough the baby has to deal with him being gone on missions they shouldn’t have their mum gone too

“I make more ‘an enough for you to stay home with her!”

“The money isn’t the point, Si,” You coo at the baby on your lap, “I don’t need to be a housewife and I like working!”

You giggle whenever the other 141 men are over because they will carry the diaper bag slung over their shoulder and completely at odds with their uniforms.

It heats your cheeks to watch your burley husband in full military uniform when you greet him on base, bouncing your baby on his hips, playfully pulling her hands away when she gets too close to a switch or something she shouldn't touch, particularly when other women notice him too

It would swell your chest with pride when you and Si were out with the baby and he’d get longing looks from women when he was doing dadly things like pushing the stroller or rifling through the diaper bag for her bottle or burp cloth. 

“You have to have seen the way women look at you when you’re carrying the baby.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You’re practically tormenting them, Si! And me too! You’re all big and tough! You’re in uniform or in a compression shirt and then you’re holding onto her in just your arm while she can’t even wrap a hand around one of your fingers!”

Simon doesn’t understand your point, “I’m tormenting you?”

Heat flushes your cheeks, “I like watching you be a dad to our daughter.”

The baby has essentially four dads as all of 141 takes care of the baby when they come to visit on leave

You worry about them spoiling her, “She’ll get too used to being held Si!”

“Then damn well let ‘er!”

“What about when they leave!”

“You think they’re leaving?! Soaps brought a bloody duffel!”

Because when you have the baby Captain Price, Soap, and Gaz are all going to visit. Moving into your cramped guest room for easily the first month after the baby’s born, Gaz and Soap fighting over who gets the futon and who has to share the bed with the Captain.

They need to see the baby!

They never thought Si would settle down but that was before you and your endless patience with the grumpy military man set in his ways.

You didn’t miss when Price clapped him on the shoulder after Simon showed off the baby for the first time, “You did well, Son.”

“Thank god she got the missus’ looks!” Soap crowed, “I was worried she’d get L.t.’s ugly mug!”

“I was hoping she would Johnny,” you peer down at the baby in Simon’s arms and trace a finger down her cheek, “She did get his eyes though. You know those were the first thing I noticed when we started talking, Si? How sad your eyes were.”

“Don’ have “sad eyes”.”

“I thought you did. And you were wearing that silly skull balaclava too, so I couldn’t very well fall in love with your chiseled jaw or the cute scar on your lip,” Soap and Gaz howled in laughter, missing the dirty looks from Ghost (You did too, eyes entirely on your daughter swaddled in a soft terry blanket in her father’s arms)

“Hey L.t. let me give you a few more scars for the missus to kiss!” Gaz ribbed

You never minded patching Simon up after missions. It gave you an excuse to ogle your husband in detail. Even before you were married, he’d tried to wave you off when you’d dab at the blood encrusted cuts and then flush when after taking care of the ones on his arms, much less when he stretched and took off his shirt for you to do the ones on his chest too. Thankfully he didn’t notice your brain shorting as you forgot how to breathe when you saw how heavily muscled and tattooed he was, culminating in an audible gasp as your eyes took in his happy trail and Adonis belt. 

“You ok?”

“Y-yeah just banged my foot on the tub.”

He’d later recount this to Soap who nearly banged his head on the wall at how dense Ghost was being

“An’ you wen’ home after that!”

“Yes Johnny, I had PT the next morning and had to ship out that night.”

He let out a string of curses, “The lass likes you and probably was hoping you’d stay the night wi’ her!”

“MacTavish,” Simon warned.

“She let you take off your clothes in her bathroom and then cleaned you up! Lasses don’t do that for cheeky cunts they don’ like!”

You miss him when he’s on missions of course, but it’s easier once you have Riley and then the baby. It’s like you have piece’s of him with you

Si is a beige mom but instead of beige it’s gray. You try and explain the importance of the bright colors in developing the baby’s eyesight but Si just mutters something about no baby of his is going to look like a muppet

Riley used to sleep at the foot of your bed but now he sleeps by the crib. You don’t know when he learned how to work door knobs but it happened somewhere between the third trimester and birth. Now you have to coax him into your room if you miss Si and want to cuddle Riley

You’ve given up on trying to keep Riley out of the nursery and instead just tut when you find dog hairs on the baby. 

Riley is the ever-patient soldier with the baby, letting her pull on his tail and ears, tugging on (and sometimes removing) his fur, all while happily wagging his tail at being used as a jungle gym

When the baby starts toddling and skins her knees, Si can’t help but scoop her up before the first tear leaves her eye “Si you’re spoiling her!” “She hurt herself, I can’ just let her cry” “She hadn't even cried yet!” “She was abou’ to”

Simon is an over attentive dad because he doesn’t want his baby to suffer the same way he did 

Si rolls his eyes whenever you  tell him not to throw the baby in the air because he’ll drop her but he knows his reflexes are superhuman and he’d catch her

SI doesn’t baby talk and will discuss the finer parts of gun mechanics and maintenance with your infant as she gums on a teether.

When she’s older, Si buys her a pellet gun for Christmas and hides it from you until unwrapped on Christmas morning

By the time it’s in her hands you know you’ve lost

He ignores your dirty glance that says “We’ll talk about this later”

As she grows up she starts talking about joining the SAS like her daddy and you’re filled with fear while Si encourages it. Starts taking her training with him much to your horror, first on short jogs around the neighborhood, then to the gym proper to teach her how to throw a punch. She quickly becomes the star of the base, with all the men calling her “Recruit”

“Nothing dangerous yet Si I mean it!”

“She asks for it!”

“She is a child and you are her father! You’re supposed to be the voice of reason!”

“The voice of reason says she might as well be trained right if she wants it!”

a/n: likes/reblogs/comments appreciated please talk to me about dad!ghost i cant contain myself

[rmacni]

Get Can Am Rear Differential for Outlander generation 2 rear differential without brake caliper mount This will work in G2 Can Am s including the new L series Place order now!Find more on -

[ft86motorsports0]

Rear Diff Bushings are a very important part of your vehicle as they absorb road vibrations and are positioned so that it works well with other vital driveline components, including driveshafts, transmissions, and axles. Visit the article to know more details.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1987 Buick GNX

1987 Buick GNX: A Rare Muscle car That Showed How Awesome GM Could Still Be

Let's talk about one of the most iconic cars from the 1980s – the Buick GNX. This car wasn't just a vehicle; it was a statement, a powerhouse, and a collector's dream even when it was new.

Here's What Made It Special

Ultimate Performance: In 1987, the GNX stood at the pinnacle of Buick’s turbocharged lineup. Its 3.8L V6 engine, enhanced with a Garrett T3 turbocharger and a larger intercooler, produced a formidable 276 horsepower and 360 lb-ft of torque. Those were BIG numbers for the time.

Limited Edition: Buick produced only 547 GNX units, each transformed by ASC McLaren Performance Technologies.

It Wasn't Just a Hopped-Up Engine: The GNX included numerous performance upgrades like a reprogrammed engine management system, a performance suspension with a torque bar, and a unique GNX rear differential cover.

It Was Lightning Fast: This car could rocket from 0 to 60 MPH in under five seconds and complete a quarter-mile in just over 13 seconds, making it one of the fastest cars of its time, and capable of running with the Big Block Muscle cars of the late 60's.

It Looked Cool: The GNX had a menacing exterior with vented fenders, a lack of hood and fender emblems, and 16-inch aluminum mesh wheels with blacked-out faces and GNX center caps.

The Car Pictured Here is an Unrestored Gem: GNX number 155 of the 547 built remains unrestored with an incredibly low 12 miles on its odometer, showcasing its pristine condition. Still, too bad nobody has ever really got to enjoy driving it.

Luxurious Interior: This GNX featured a six-way power adjustable driver's seat, GNX-badged front carpet savers, and a special instrumentation package, making the interior as impressive as its performance.

Rare Documentation: It includes the ASC McLaren GNX window sticker, listing all the unique features that made it a Grand National Experimental.

It's a Sought-After Collector Car: With its unmatched performance, limited production, and unique features, the GNX has become a highly sought-after collectible in the classic car world.

The Buick GNX wasn't just another car; it was a high-performance marvel that left a lasting legacy in automotive history.

When it comes to the grand national the GNX is the holy grail

[drugsorgasmsandcheese]

to kiss and to die | l. howlett

old man!logan howlett x fem!grim reaper!reader

description: in which death has never been so peaceful

warnings: logan’s death, angst, fluff, not beta read, pics used are not mine and were found on pinterest, the use of one latin word so if it’s badly translated i do apologise.

word count: 2084

he was used to people on the richer side of town booking his limousine service. it was a limousine service, after all. so logan didn't think much of anything when he pulls up outside of a penthouse building and a young woman steps into the car, giving her name to confirm she ordered the service.

when logan confirms, she smiles and closes the door behind her. she screams money, but old money. there's class about her and the way she holds herself. back straight as she sits, one leg crossed over the other and her head held up high. he can't help but take her in. he's never been one to care about the likeness of a lady a woman could be, but there is beauty that radiates off her, that is her, that logan can't seem to shake.

her head is turned to look out to the window, gazing upon the lights of the city that never sleeps. she seems observant in the way she looks, like not a single detail could be missed by her and she wouldn't allow it if it slipped by. logan's eyes slip down to the outfit she wears: a short black dress with a slit in its side, a pair of sheer black tights, black leather heeled boots that hugged her calves, and a black leather trench coat. she's slick, she's elegant, she holds herself high and with might.

as he drives, he approaches a red light. the woman takes the time to pull out a compact mirror, reapplying her lip liner followed by a clear gloss. when she's done, she smacks her lips and places the items away. "you're a hard man to find, logan howlett."

logan's eyes snap up into the rear-view mirror as he starts the limousine up again. his name on her lips is like honeyed venom, he can't quite decipher the emotion that lingers in him when she speaks of him like she knows him. his hands clench on the wheel as he drove, keeping the ride smooth as he turns a corner.

"who are you?" he asks, his voice gravelly and gruff just like his appearance, eyes flicking between hers and the road.

the woman smiles softly, an odd reassurance about it as she does so. "a mutant, just like you." she speaks, honeyed tone never dropping.

teeth snarl at her response. "that's not an answer." he's lived what feels like a thousand lifetimes, and he knows that even people like him aren't to be trusted.

"'the reaper.'" there's a knowing look on her face as she, the reaper, confirms her identity.

mutants knew her, the stories and legends that were a tale as old as time itself. a mutant that dealt the card of death, one who escorted mutants into the afterlife, who resurrected those she believed were not quite done with living. she was all four horsemen of the apocalypse, a woman that wielded so much power the world was her sandbox. nothing more to play with. to see her was like to see a ghost - blink and she's gone.

his jaw clenches tightly. "and what do you want from me?" logan all but growls out.

"you seek me out. why?" she questions with such poise in her character that it's hard for logan to differentiate between talking to death and indulging in his own delusions.

her questions hangs in the air for a moment or two, it's not like either one are keeping count. he can't find the words, he's never been good with them. he's harsh, he's a brute, a killing machine. when is there time to talk when you're killing yourself by killing another?

but there's a security in her presence. she's reassuring, it's peculiar. he's face to face with death and logan's never felt so settled. "i'm old, and i'm tired. there's nothing left for me here."

the way she smiles at him was a comfort in his own as he pulls up to her destination, the limousine coming to a stop. "there's plenty left for you, logan." she sits forward, and logan only notices how she never wore her seatbelt. he supposed she didn't have to. "just because you are at war, doesn't mean you can't find peace."

there's always the discussion of god being all-knowing, but what of death? what of the reaper who knows your story, who escorts you to the place you shall forever remain. death knows, she knows.

the woman pulls out a slick, black business card that's tucked between her pointer and middle finger, handing it to logan. he takes it so gently that he scares himself. he's a brute and yet he's gentle when the time comes. it appears to just be a simple black card, but even with his weakened vision, he can feel the indents in it. 'THE REAPER.'

"no one understands pain better than death." she says and logan's eyes are still fixated on the card.

death, such a simple term given the complexity and intensity of the situation. of him, of her. the words ring out in his head, no one understands pain better than death.

his gaze snaps up, his expression stoic but calm, like he's accepting whatever fate she'll grant him. he watches as she leans forward and places her hand on his cheek. he never expected death to be so warm.

"don't be what they made you." she whispers, and he lets out a sigh in content, in relief. the weight of his regrets and his lost humanity have hung on him heavily, his shoulders finally being lifted.

it's been a long time since logan's been touched. he doesn't even know if he's ever been held like this, cradled almost. to be looked at in such understanding. solitude and loneliness have kept him a shell. he chased it out, leaning into her touch, and it's like she can see him. the guilt, the regret, the pain.

"that's all i am. that's all i know." logan replies. his voice is strained, like the battle he's fought against himself, in his mind, has finally come to light.

her thumb runs across his cheek slowly, brushing against his grey beard. "if death is what you wish, logan, don't let it be a slow one. you've been tortured long enough." her eyes lock onto his. "good men don't deserve to be tortured, and you are a good man. you are a man, not the soldier, or the monster, or the weapon they forced you into being."

logan's expressions softens at her words. and, for the first time in his life, he's being given a choice. the choice to die. not as a weapon, a monster, a soldier, but as a man.

his hand reaches up, brushing over her own cheek. death is warm. there's an intimacy behind it that he's craved for so long that logan feels like he's falling apart from the inside out, and it's different from how he's felt before.

"you have my card, use it. death is everywhere, logan, and so am i."

the feeling of human connection. he craves it. being secluded and a shell of himself has made him overwhelmed as their skin touches. "death," he murmurs, his voice hoarse and gruff like it always is "and you."

she nods, her lips twitching. "take care of yourself, superstes, it's not your time just yet." she finishes and pulls away, stepping out of the limousine and leaving logan entrapped within his mind. not at war, but at peace.

—

the next time logan sees the reaper is at the funeral. it’s expected, mutant reaper or not she’s bound to turn up when one dies. but he also knows it’s because his fingers had subconsciously stroked the sleek business card in his pocket.

she lingers by his side and he feels himself reaching out, grasping onto her hand and she returns to the touch. death is warm. their fingers interlock, and it’s a reassurance that she gives him like she did last time. like she can read his thoughts.

it’s not your time just yet.

the thought makes him reach into his pocket, fingers itching to grace the adamantium bullet he’s carried like his guilt for years but he can’t find it. it’s then that he realises the weight that settles in between their hands and he looks at her.

she still wears that leather trench coat, and a part of logan wonders if that’s her very own black cloak. it suits her, if it is. the air of sophistication, of elegance still surrounds the reaper, and another part of logan wonders if she’s always been like this, or if there was a time when she succumbed to her powers and became a beast like he had.

the reaper’s gaze meets logan’s, that same soft smile gracing her lips. “not just yet.” she speaks and logan nods, hand squeezing hers. human connection.

she stays with logan when gabriela lopez approaches him, and a part of her seems to physically soften at the sight of the woman. when he questions her about it later, she only responds with a question of her own. “what did i tell you?”

it takes a few seconds to recall. he can’t tell if it’s from the old age so his brain has wore down, or if he was so focused on being touched and looked at like he was understood that he forgot her words, until it clicks. “death is everywhere, and so are you.”

and all the reaper does is nod, not another word spoken. but she was the one who pushed for logan to accept the job of escorting laura, and he didn’t know why. but there is something so alluring about death that he couldn’t say no.

the reaper stays by logan’s side awhile longer, her scythe hanging over him like a thread. there’s a time when her fingers trace the scars over his skin that his weakened healing has failed to take care of of, and the word is uttered from her lips again: “superstes.”

he’s not quite sure what it means, what language it is, but she looks into his eyes as she says it. not at the scars, but at him. and it touches his soul.

there’s another time in the kitchen. the couple who had graced them into their homes after the accident, where it’s just them. there’s the slow music in the kitchen, and if his old self remembers correctly, it’s ‘dream a little dream of me.’

logan’s leant against the counter as the reaper approaches, taking his hand in hers; an offer. he’s reluctant at first, he’s not really one for dancing, but death is so tempting. the weight of the adamantium bullet in his pocket, the way she follows him everywhere.

his calloused hand slips into hers, and it’s not really dancing. they sway on their feet, her clutched close to his chest and his chin rests on top of her head. death is warm, and this is the human connection he has longed for for so long. he wants it to linger, to last longer, he needs it like a beggar, and logan is willing to get on his knees if he has to.

but when x-24 arrives, she’s as good as gone.

—

he meets the reaper again, and it’s like a setback in time the way her hand is outstretched in front of her, and the words escape from her lips in a promised whisper: “it’s your time, superstes.”

logan looks down at her hand and he smiles. it’s genuine, just like the one in his final moments, and he takes the reaper’s hand without a single moment of hesitation.

even in death, she is a warm embrace.

he holds her close to his chest, and logan can’t help but sway like the lyrics are behind them, and the reaper chuckles, following his movements. his head dips down, nose brushing against hers and logan lets out a sob. peace, all he’s ever wanted, has finally settled down upon him. in his death as he held laura’s hand, he knew what it felt like. to be at peace, to be loved, to die.

now, as he places a gentle kiss on the reaper’s lips, he knew what it was like to be loved by death, to find peace with death, to be kissed by death.

death is warm. death is beautiful. death is peace. death is…all a man like logan has ever wanted.

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Subaru Impreza WRX STi WR1, 2004, by Prodrive. Prodrive Advanced Technology are best know for their work with Subaru's WRC team. The WR1 was a special edition of 500 cars to celebrate Petter Solberg winning the Driver’s Title in the 2003 World Rally Championship. It was modified by Prodrive to produce 320hp and was equipped with a driver’s control centre-differential (DCCD) that allowed torque distribution between front and rear wheels to be manually selected. 

[sadgi]

compiling information about the kineema, because I'm normal

hi. you may remember me from this post talking about how the kineema doesn't have a hood. I've decided to compile all the *other* info I can get on the kineema and comment on it. hopefully this is okay to read

---

let's start with what I could find on fayde

INTERFACING - With its air-cooled, rear-mounted twelve cylinder compression ignition engine driving the rear wheels through a four-speed manual gearbox, the Kineema is able to reach 100 kilometres per hour in 13.5 seconds. And go on to a top speed of 180 kilometres an hour. YOU - Won't it roll over in the first sharp corner? INTERFACING - The high centre of balance is offset by a large battery bank mounted at the bottom of the cabin, feeding all the auxiliary systems and making the Kineema effectively a mobile power plant.

air-cooled: no radiator. I assume this is what those big heat-sink looking things on sides of the engine are for

compression ignition engine: diesel, no spark plugs (diesel engines are named after a guy, rudolph diesel, so I guess in elysium they didn't do that)

rear wheel drive: this is pretty obvious just looking at the thing

100 kilometres per hour in 13.5 seconds: not very fast acceleration compared to modern cars, but the history of cars in elysium is obviously very different to irl

battery bank: this is the only thing keeping the kineema from tipping backwards onto its ass as soon as you accelerate

YOU - "What's it packing there?" (Point to the engine.) KIM KITSURAGI - "Hundred-and-thirty." INTERFACING - I reckon that's a seven-litre V12 there. ENCYCLOPEDIA - Man, that's got to be a major advancement over the KR18GU engine on the old Coupris 40. YOU - "Wait, hundred-and-thirty what?" KIM KITSURAGI - "Kilowatts," the lieutenant replies laconically.

130 kilowatts: ~174 horsepower

YOU - "That's what..." (Rub your chin.) "... a seven-litre V12?" KIM KITSURAGI - "Seven-point-two. Supercharged." The lieutenant is trying to suppress a smug smile. Unsuccessfully. EMPATHY - Saying these words brings him immense joy.

7.2 litre engine: space inside the cylinders. 7.2L/12 = 600cc per cylinder

supercharged: has a supercharger. forces more air into the engine, powered by the crankshaft (as opposed to turbochargers which are powered by the exhaust)

YOU - Run your fingers over one of the steering levers. COUPRIS KINEEMA - The white suede feels luxurious under the touch and the metal clutch handle so very familiar in your palm... INTERFACING - Your fingers waste no time closing around the handle. Clutch disengaged. Release the handle -- clutch drops -- right foot yearns for the familiar touch of the accelerator pedal. You have synced with the machine's mechanical circulation.

YOU - "A *driver* would wear down their right shoe before the left -- the accelerator is on the right. And remember that abandoned lorry cabin we found?"

steering levers: instead of a steering wheel. not exactly sure how they'd work. I *really* don't want it to have differential steering like a zero-turn mower looking at this video of kim driving it looks like the front wheels are the ones steering

clutch handle: instead of a pedal, the clutch is a handle on one of the levers. seems that accelerator and (probably) brake are still pedals

accelerator is on the right: does everyone left-foot brake??? I guess if the clutch handle is standard then that would make sense

ABANDONED LORRY - The glass on the side windows is tinted and covered with dust. You can barely make out the shape of a seat and two steering levers. [...] YOU - Check the pedals. ABANDONED LORRY - You wedge yourself under the steering-wheel to get a better look. Seems like the few tools lying around here -- a hammer, a pair of pliers, a rusty wrench -- have been casually thrown there by the disorganized driver. ABANDONED LORRY - But one odd detail does catch your eye: A piece of sandpaper has been glued to the throttle.

STEERING WHEEL TYPO

---

alright, let's actually take a look at this thing

two door: the kineema has a single driver's seat and two seats in the back. looks like you'd need to move the front seat forward to let anyone else in

suspension: the back wheels look like they have some sort of spring (the axle is connected to it, so how are the wheels being driven??? same with the coupris 40). I assume the front arms also act as a spring

rear view mirror: looks like there's no rear view mirror, since you wouldn't see shit

aerodynamics: bad

seat belts:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: American lobster

This series takes us all over the world, but today we're going back to the good-ol' burger-drinking, beer-eating, eagle-worshiping U-S-of-A! The American lobster may be the world's most famous crustacean as they have become a major source of overpriced seafood. There's a lot to learn about this critter, so let's go check out the crustacean sensation that's sweeping the nation.

(Image: an American lobster seen from the side. It is a crustacean with 8 legs, a pair of large pincers, and a pointed head that has two long antennae and small eyes. The abdomen in elongated and segmented and ends with a fan-shaped tail. It is a greenish-brown color. End ID)

Homarus americanus is the largest lobster and largest crustacean, reaching a maximum recorded length of 64 cm (25 in) and weight of 20.1 kg (44.4 lbs). The average size is between 20 and 61 cm (8-24 in) and 680 to 910 grams (1.5-2 lbs). Lobsters are members of the family Nephropidae and despite the common names, they are not closely related to squat lobsters, slipper lobsters, or spiny lobsters. They are, however, closely related to crayfish. Lobsters are decapods, crustaceans with 10 limbs. Of the 5 pairs of limbs, the rear 8 are used for walking and the front two have become enlarged into a pair of powerful pincers used for defense and offense. The claws are asymmetrical and each serves different purposes. One claw is large and stout, with rounded, molar-like growths on the cutting edge. This claw is called the crusher claw and it is used to crush through hard-shelled food. The other claw is more slender and has a sharper cutting edge. This is the scissor claw and it is used to cut soft food into small enough pieces to eat. The crusher and scissor claws can be on either side of an individual lobster and very rarely a lobster will grow two crushers or two scissors instead of one of each. While the pincers can close with incredible force, they can't open with much force. This allows them to be held shut with rubber bands. The front two pairs of walking legs also have pincers, but they are much smaller. Lobsters can regrow missing legs. It can take up to 5 years for a missing pincer to regrow to the size of the original.

(Image: a lobster seen from the front, with the pincers in prominent view. One claw is bulkier than the other. The bulky claw has rough nodules on the cutting edge. The skinnier claw has serrated spines on the cutting edge. end ID)

Lobster anatomy is divided between two major segments: the cephalothorax and the abdomen. The cephalothorax contains the mouthparts, brain, legs, and many sensory organs. While they have eyes, they are weak due to lobsters spending most of their time on murky seafloors. Taste, smell,and touch are their primary senses. Antennae are used to examine the world and both the antennae and legs have sensory hairs called antennules on them that can detect the presence of chemicals in the water. Lobsters can both detect the smell of food and determine which direction it is coming from. The antennules also detect the motion of the water. Lobsters also urinate from a pair of bladders on the sides of the head. They can adjust the scent of the urine to communicate with each other. That's right, lobsters communicate by peeing on each other from their faces. The mouthparts consist of leg-like structures called maxillipeds that grab food and mandibles that help rip food up. Lobsters can't chew their food, but they have a structure in the esophagus called a gastric mill that grinds food down as it is swallowed. The abdomen is long and consists of multiple segments, allowing for flexibility. On the underside of the abdomen are feathery appendages called pleopods or swimmerettes. The first pair of swimmerettes is modified into sex organs called gonopods which can be used to differentiate males from females. The remaining pairs are used to circulate water around the lobster, helping keep fresh water over the internal gills. At the tip of the abdomen is a large, fan-shaped tail. By quickly curling the abdomen under their bodies, lobsters can generate thrust and send themselves shooting backwards. This is done to escape perceived threats.

(Image: a lobster standing on sand with its abdomen curled under its body. End ID)

Like other crustaceans, lobsters periodically outgrow their exoskeletons and must molt. After molting, the lobster will have a new, soft exoskeleton that takes time to harden. This period of softness leaves lobsters much more vulnerable to predators, so they will usually hide until their new shell hardens. They also eat the old shell to regain the nutrients and minerals it holds. The period after molting is also when females become fertile. A molted female will release pheromones that attract males. The male performs a courtship dance and if the female approves, he will use his gonopods to transfer a packet of sperm into her shell. The female can store this packet for over a year before using it. She lays thousands of eggs at once eggs and fertilizes them with the sperm as they come out. The eggs stick to her swimmerettes and she will work to keep them clean and keep air circulated over them. The clusters of eggs allegedly look similar to raspberries and a female with eggs is said to be "in berry". I personally don't see it. The eggs develop for 10 to 11 months before hatching, wherupon the female shakes her tail to dislodge the larvae. The larvae start out as a tiny, planktonic form called a metanapulus that drifts near the surface of the water and eats plankton. After their 4th molt, the larvae takes on a sub-adult form more similar to an adult, though they are still small enough to swim with their swimmerettes. Approximately 1 in 1,000 larvae will live long enough to reach this stage. After another molt, the sub-adult takes on its final form and sinks to the bottom, where they will gradually grow into an adult. Lobsters molt up to 10 times in their first year, then may one molt once every few years. By the time a lobster is large enough for anglers to legally keep, they will have undergone around 25-27 molts. There isn't really a maximum age for lobsters. They don't go through the same aging process as most animals. Lobsters have the ability to repair the damage to DNA that causes aging. While they will not age to death, you are unlikely to find thousand year old lobsters roaming about. Each molt takes more energy than the previous one and a lobster that doesn't die of predation, disease, or injury will eventually become unable to complete a molt and will die as a result. Most estimates place the maximum age for lobsters at about 100 years, but there are unconfirmed reports of lobsters reaching 140 years.

(Image: somebody holding a lobster so the underside of the abdomen is visible. This lobster is a female with masses of small, black eggs on her abdomen. End ID)

(Image: A lobster larva shown in the first four molts. The first three stages look more like transparent shrimp than lobsters. The final stage looks that a miniature lobster and is orange. End ID)

You would be hard-pressed to find a fictional depiction of a lobster that isn't bright red, but wild lobsters aren't that color. Most range from greenish-blue to greenish-brown, good colors for hiding amongst rocks and seaweed. That being said, American lobsters are famous for their wide range of color variants. Lots of people have herd of blue lobsters, but there are actually quite a few color options caused by genetic traits that overproduce certain pigments. Because of the rareness of these traits and the colorful lobsters being more at rick of predation, they are quite rare. Still, many color variants have been seen including blue ( 1 in 10 million lobsters), red (though not as bright as cooked lobsters. 1 in 30 million), bright yellow (1 in 30 million), calico (yellow and blue spots, 1 in 25 million), split down the middle (1 in 50 million), and white (albino or leucistic, 1 in 100 million). Many lobster anglers seem to agree that if they catch colored lobsters they should either be released or donated to aquariums or scientific organizations as opposed to being eaten. Reports of color variants have increased in the last 20ish years. This may be due to overfishing of their predators, but it may also be that social media allows sightings to be reported more easily.

(Images: 6 pictures of lobster color varaints. Let to right, top to bottom: blue, red, yellow, calico, split, white. End ID)

American lobsters are found in cold, coastal waters of the Atlantic Ocean from the USA to northern Canada. They are famously highly abundant around the state of Maine, which has the world's largest lobster fishery. They prefer rocky bottoms with plenty of places to hide. Despite those big claws, lobsters are rather timid. They spend a lot of their time hiding and are quick to use their tails to flee. If pressed, they will use their powerful claws to fight. While occasionally active in the day, lobsters are mostly nocturnal, coming out at night to find food. Speaking from personal experience, I did a night SCUBA dive in Maine and there were so many lobsters I could barely see the seafloor. American lobsters are territorial and will fight over food, shelter, and mates. When they live in close quarters, lobster will establish a dominance hierarchy based largely on size. They use chemical signatures to identify themselves and communicate. The diet of an American lobster mostly consists of small invertebrates such as worms, slugs, clams, and crabs, but they also eat carrion and algae and seagrass. Lobsters in captivity have been known to engage in cannibalism, but this has never been seen in the wild.

(Image: a lobster molting. The carapace on the back of the cephalothorax has come off and the soft-bodied lobster is emerging through the gap created. End ID)

The American lobster is a popular food source and so is fished heavily in the northern USA and Canada, with the state of Maine and Atlantic province having the largest industries. The vast majority of lobster fishing is done with special lobster traps, sometimes called pots. These are cages baited with dead fish that have funnel-shaped entrances. The idea is that the shape of the entrance lets lobsters in, but makes it hard for them to get out. Humorously, lobster traps have been found to be incredibly inefficient, all but the largest lobsters can enter and leave freely. The lobsters that get caught tend to be the ones unlucky enough to be in the trap when it's pulled up. Bait has been found to comprise a large portion of the diet of lobsters in Maine and individual lobsters have been known to claim traps as their territory and fight off others trying to enter them. Modern traps are also required to have holes allowing lobsters below the size limit to leave easily. The inefficiency of lobster traps has allowed the population to remain stable despite the incredibly heavy fishing. in addition, there are many regulations to protect the species, including requirements to release small lobsters and egg-bearing females. There is no lobster aquaculture doe to how long it takes them to reach a usable size. Commercial lobster fishing started with poor laborers who could get them cheap due to how abundant the lobsters were in the area. As with so many other things, the rich came, took an idea created by the poor, and drove up prices so much the original people could no longer afford their own invention. Lobsters are traditionally cooked by boiling, usually with the lobster still alive at the time. The ethics of live cooking lobsters is debated. Some insist their brains do not have the regions responsible for feeling pain while others point out they still respond negatively to stimuli and therefore can still feel some kind of distress even if it isn't the same as human pain. Some jurisdictions have made live boiling illegal and require the lobster to be dead first. Freezing the lobster or a stab through the cephalothorax are offered as more humane than boiling. The American lobster is classified as least concern by the IUCN, meaning they are not at risk of extinction.

(Image: a modern lobster trap. It is a rectangular wire cage painted yellow. There are two chambers inside. The first chamber has two openings to the outside and is where bait is placed. The second chamber has another funnel-shaped opening to the first chamber and is intended to trap the lobsters within. An opening on the side of the second chamber allows small lobsters to escape. A brick is used to weigh the cage down. End ID)

[alphynix]

Soft-bodied annelid worms only very rarely fossilize, so the group's origins during the Cambrian Period are still rather poorly understood. So far about thirteen different species have been found in sites of exceptional preservation, showing that even very early on in their evolution these worms had already diversified into a wide range of ecologies including bottom-feeders, carnivores, swimmers, tube-builders, and even symbiotes sharing living space with early acorn worms.

Ursactis comosa here adds a fourteenth species to the list. Found in a newly-discovered outcrop of the 508-million-year-old Burgess Shale fossil deposits in western Canada, it's known from nearly 600 specimens clustered together in several large groups, making it the current best-known and most numerous of all Cambrian annelids.

Up to about 1.5cm long (~0.6"), it was a polychaete-like worm bearing bundles of long bristles. There was a pair of large sensory palps on its head, and its body was made up of an unusually small number of segments – just 10, with larger individuals just increasing the size of their segments instead of adding on additional ones like most modern annelids.

Unlike other Cambrian annelids it also shows some evidence of basic tagmatization, differentiating some of the rear segments of its body with much longer bristles.

The large numbers of Ursactis found preserved in one place suggests these worms were exhibiting some sort of swarming behavior. Since ages from juveniles to fully-grown adults are represented together, and their anatomy indicates they were crawling detritivores, they were probably all taking advantage of a particularly nutrient-rich patch of seafloor at the time they were abruptly buried in a mudslide.

———

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[linghxr]

10 traditional characters that I didn't know existed

In 2023 I started learning to write traditional characters by hand, so I've been paying extra attention to differences between traditional and simplified forms. In some cases, I didn't even realize the traditional and simplified forms were different!

Here are 10 sets of simplified and traditional characters with subtle differences, 8 of which I only discovered recently. Definitions are adapted from MDBG.

（1）抛 | 拋 pāo

The difference is SO subtle with this one. I have to hold the screen 3 inches from my face to see it. The simplified version has 7 strokes, but the traditional version has 8.

抛 | 拋 pāo - to throw / to toss / to fling / to cast / to abandon

抛弃 | 拋棄 pāoqì - to abandon / to discard / to renounce / to dump (sb) 抛开 | 拋開 pāokāi - to throw out / to get rid of 抛物线 | 拋物線 pāowùxiàn - parabola

（2）滚 | 滾 gǔn

I actually prefer the traditional version, particularly when I'm writing by hand. When I write the simplified version, the 衣 strokes on the bottom always looks awkward under 公 to me.

滚 | 滾 gǔn - to boil / to roll / to take a hike / get lost!

摇滚 | 搖滾 yáogǔn - rock 'n' roll (music) / to rock / to fall off 滚开 | 滾開 gǔnkāi - to boil (of liquid) / boiling hot / Get out! / Go away! 滚烫 | 滾燙 gǔntàng - boiling / scalding 打滚 | 打滾 dǎgǔn - to roll about

（3）匀 | 勻 yún

I think these look pretty much the same when handwritten, but on the computer they are distinct. I definitely prefer how the simplified one looks.

匀 | 勻 yún - even / well-distributed / uniform / to distribute evenly / to share

均匀 | 均勻 jūnyún - even / well-distributed / homogeneous / well-proportioned (figure, body etc)

（4）叙 | 敘 xù

叙 | 敘 xù - to narrate / to chat

叙述 | 敘述 xùshù - to relate (a story or information) / to tell or talk about / to recount / narration / telling / narrative / account 叙事 | 敘事 xùshì - narrative

（5）奥 | 奧 ào

奥 | 奧 ào - obscure / mysterious

It really bugs me that 奥 has a different traditional form, but 澳 (as in 澳门 Macao) does not!

深奥 | 深奧 shēn'ào - profound / abstruse / recondite / profoundly 奥运会 | 奧運會 Àoyùnhuì - Olympic Games; the Olympics (abbr. for 奥林匹克运动会 | 奧林匹克運動會) 奥利给 | 奧利給 àolìgěi - come on, you can do it!

（6）厨 | 廚 chú

厨 | 廚 chú - kitchen

厨房 | 廚房 chúfáng - kitchen 厨师 | 廚師 chúshī - cook / chef 厨艺 | 廚藝 chúyì - cooking skills / culinary talent

Other similar cases: 厮 | 廝 sī - (bound form) together; each other / (bound form) male servant / (bound form) dude; so-and-so 厢 | 廂 xiāng - box (in theater) / side room / side 厦 | 廈 shà - tall building / mansion / rear annex / lean-to / also pr. xià

（7）刹 | 剎 chà/shā

Whether the bottom looks like 朩 or 木 seems to be somewhat stylistic and can vary by font. But the little 点 is a consistent difference.

刹 | 剎 chà - used to transcribe several words originally from Sanskrit

刹那 | 剎那 chànà - an instant (Sanskrit: ksana); split second; the twinkling of an eye

刹 | 剎 shā - to brake

刹车 | 剎車 shāchē - to brake (when driving) / to stop / to switch off / to check (bad habits) / a brake

（8）侣 | 侶 lǚ

侣 | 侶 lǚ - companion

伴侣 | 伴侶 bànlǚ - companion / mate / partner 情侣 | 情侶 qínglǚ - sweethearts / lovers

Other similar cases: 宫 | 宮 gōng - palace / temple / castration (as corporal punishment) / first note in pentatonic scale 吕 | 呂 lǚ - pitchpipe, pitch standard, one of the twelve semitones in the traditional tone system / surname Lǚ

（9）别 | 別 bié

I've known about the traditional form of this character for a while now, but to be honest, it still looks like 别 written incorrectly to me...sorry.

别 | 別 bié - to leave; to part (from) / (literary) to differentiate; to distinguish / (bound form) other; another; different / don't …! / to fasten with a pin or clip / to stick in; to insert (in order to hinder movement) / (noun suffix) category

差别 | 差別 chābié - difference; distinction; disparity 分别 | 分別 fēnbié - to part; to leave each other / to distinguish; to tell apart / difference; distinction / in different ways; differently / separately; individually 区别 | 區別 qūbié - difference / to distinguish / to discriminate / to make a distinction 性别 | 性別 xìngbié - gender / sex 个别 | 個別 gèbié - individually; one by one / just one or two; exceptional; rare

（10）丢 | 丟 diū

OK, I literally just realized there are separate simplified and traditional forms for this character while working on this post 😭 I feel utterly betrayed.

丢 | 丟 diū - to lose / to put aside / to throw

丢脸 | 丟臉 diūliǎn - to lose face / humiliation 丢人 | 丟人 diūrén - to lose face 丢掉 | 丟掉 diūdiào - to lose / to throw away / to discard / to cast away 丢失 | 丟失 diūshī - to lose; to misplace 跟丢 | 跟丟 gēndiū - to lose track of

See similar posts: Characters I used to write incorrectly Characters that look TOO similar Traditional characters that haunt me

[entei]

mutual aid requests from ryn on behalf of their friends! please support if you can

Image 1: "We are on a caravan to bring my brother's ashes from Louisiana up to Standing Rock, to bring that part of him to this home of his. (https://www.gofundme.com/f/ceremony-for-nashoba)

On the caravan (3 vehicles), our dear friend's truck rear differential started acting up (at 4:30pm of course right before the only mechanic in town closed), and we had to leave them (3 friends) in a random town in MO until it can get fixed on Monday. We need to keep going because of time constraints, but wanted to try to get them some funds for the motel, food, and the repairs. We would love to get towards $800ish at least.

Please donate and share!

Paypal: Fraugg(@)hotmail.com

#IndigenousGulf #Indigenous #IndigenousMutualAid #MutualAidRequest"

Image 2: "When we were out on the road releasing my friend's ashes, one of our comrade's partners got attacked for being a transfemme on her own and had to defend herself.

https://idavox.com/index.php/2023/08/14/free-epona-rose/

https://www.instagram.com/p/Cv55dRtuIzS/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA%3D%3D

Please share and donate as you are able. Epona is a comrade who is needed out on the frontlines, not in a jail cell due to straight up transphobia.

#IndigenousGulf #MutualAidRequest #MutualAid #TransRights #TransRightsAreHumanRights"

[progenycursed]

Here’s a short story of a thought I kept rotating in my head while trying to fall asleep the last two days. This took place early in Hallownests’ history. But not to long after PK cast off his shell.

It was the early hours of the morning as the baker walked to work. The streets were unusually barren this morning. They were never crowded at this time, but there was always at least a few people. And the lumfly lanterns were dimer than he remembered. The little creatures all crowding to one side of their container.

He ran through the list of everything he was going to make that morning. The stonework of the street was uneven. With the few people in the street he should make less rolls for the day. Some of the buildings leaned to one side. Bad foundations.

He shook his head with a groan, his antenna twitching. Where we all these thoughts coming from? They never came this fast or jumped around this much. He didn’t even care about architecture. Maybe he wasn’t getting enough sleep, or maybe there was something in the water. Whatever it was, it needed to stop making his mind go so fast in all directions at once. It was giving him a headache.

The building next to him ended, leading to a small courtyard that was unusually bright. He quickly shielded his eyes. The sting of his night-vision being obliterated hurt. The lumflys must have been agitated about something. What would cause such behavior? He picked up his pace to leave the place the light faster. Then ran right into another person.

He stumbled around them. “My apologizes!” He glanced back, to see them just standing there. Rigid. Eyes wide, starring at something in the courtyard. For the first time in his life, curiosity won out over caution. His hand dropped a fraction.

And he immediately regretted it.

He had heard stories about The Pale Wyrm his whole life. Describing everything from its powers and deeds to temperament and previous size. Descriptions of its appearance and what it was like to stand before it varied wildly. Now he knew why. And God(the irony) how he wished he didn’t.

The Pale Wyrm stood(lay?) in the courtyard, facing another bug. His mind spun helplessly as it tried to make sense of the Higher Beings’ form. A long tail stretched out behind its body. No. That wasn’t right. There was no differentiation between the tail and body. The ‘body’ was just the part that was upright while the rest coiled behind it on the ground. The spinning wheels of his mind finally hit ground. It looked like a centipede reared back to attack.

But even that was inaccurate. Instead of the smooth segmented body covered in shell like every bug had, each segment overlapped the next. Sliding past and over the next like a broken shell sliding over a bloodied body. But there was no blood, no guts leaking out, no jagged pieces falling off or stuck in the wound. The body was broken but there was no damage.

And the segments. Where a centipedes had a countable number, it had hundreds. Hundreds of broken shell pieces sliding over each other. An unbreaking series of rings nested inside within themselves. Held together by an unseen force.

His whole body shuddered. What horror could survive such a broken shell? How was there not blood everywhere? How could it be perfect, but so very broken.

He didn’t want to see anymore, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Some insatiable curiosity demanded he continue. Pressing out from some deep part of his mind and squirming its way into every thought. Bringing all of them to his attention at once, but still focused on the Higher Being.

Spotting the malformed legs, he nearly lost his breakfast. Each broken shell piece was tipped with tens of tiny, razor sharp legs that dug into the ground, clawed into the air. It was like a nightmare creature. A monster with two many twisted, deformed legs. A broken body that could still move. He didn’t want to see it move.

The warped legs grew in size and malformations as they approached the head. Hanging off the ends of the broken shell pieces. Twisting around the body in nonsensical ways. Growing long, gangly, and segmented. Ending in-

“Great Wyr-“ he bit down on his mandibles. He dare not call out to his God. He did not want it turning its attention towards him.

As the legs approached the head, they slowly mutated into arms. Many, many arms. They lay limp or twisted against the body. Joints bent backwards, fingers twisting around each other. He clenched his hands, just to remind himself that his weren’t broken.

Then the broken shell abruptly ended, exposing a thinner, soft(?) flesh underneath. Ending just as quickly as it came to what he could only assume was the head of his God. But it didn’t have mandibles, antenna, or even a face. Eyes wrapped around the head, starring out in all directions with a piercing white glow. The shell was jagged and rough, small pieces of it sticking out at regular intervals. At the top, there was no smooth shell or antenna, but a ring of giant spikes made from the shell itself.

His eyes darted all over. Taking in the body horror that lay in his humble little town. Only for him to realize another terrifying aspect of the Higher Being.

It wasn’t move. At all. The eyes starred out unblinking, the malformed forest of twisted arms were unnaturally still, the broken mutated shell as unmoving as stone. It- it wasn’t even breathing. It was dead still, yet radiated life.

Every cell in his body was telling him to run, but his brain would not let him. A sickening combination of combating motives. In some distant part of his brain, he knew he was in pain. But he couldn’t focus on his body. It felt numb and distant and unimportant.

And somehow, the bug standing in front of that eldritch horror, looking right at it, only looked irritated. They were the parent explaining something to the child that just happened to be a god. He couldn’t hear what she was saying. She simply gestured around. Pointing to the ground, the walls, then motioned towards the surprising amount of people staring at them from the edges of the courtyard.

Before he could deduce the meaning, a piercing whisper cut into his mind.

“Would this be more ideal?”

He flinched, his hands shooting to his ears instinctually. His eyes never dropping from the Higher Being, to afraid to loose site of it for even a second. The other bug, her face only twisted into a grimace before shaking her head.

“Better. But still needs work. In a place with less people around,” she yelled. Her own head must have still been ringing as well, having to yell to even hear herself.

The Higher Being didn’t move, but he could tell something changed. It was looking at him, at everyone around it. The pressure in his mind surged against his skull. But he couldn’t move. He could only stand there. Frozen in place as a being so many times his greater just looked in his general direction. Every thought he ever had racing through his mind at once.

“Very well,”

the earth shook. Dust falling from the wall he hid behind. Something, somewhere crashed to the ground.

But the Higher Being was still motionless. An anchor in reality, unbothered by something so trivial as movement.

Then suddenly it all changed in an instant. The arms twisting, the broken shell contorting. The Higher Being bent over backwards, its head splitting open like a flower. Revealing a pit filled with teeth, that sliced through rock and earth as it dove into the ground. Arms, claws and fingers, bending in all the wrong ways as they flowed into the ground. The broken segments writhed around as it slowly followed. Thousands of tiny legs clawing at the ground and air, tearing up the earth. A giant mass of blades within blades adorning the end of the slithering mass sunk into the hole. Churning the earth as it shook and disappeared. The hole closing behind it.

His mind was so convinced the site should have had a deafening cacophony of snapping shell and breaking bones that he could still hear the phantom sounds.

The pressure in his brain slowly faded away with the rumbling. Thoughts quieting down to their normal level again. Bodily awareness slowly coming back to him.

His eyes stung, spots dancing at the edges of his vision. He was starring at the glowing God’s visage the entire time. He couldn’t even remember if he blinked. The taste of blood tainted his mouth from where he had been biting into his mandibles.

Everyone around the cleaning were coming to their sense too. Each with a different look painted across their faces. Awe, horror, confusion, or just staring off into the far distance. Unmoving aside from their heavy breathing.

His mind felt numb, his body shook. That was his god. The Higher Being that kept them safe, granted them thought and independence. Allowed them to live in this land without even asking for worship.

He went to church. He red the stories. He was as grateful as any other bug in Hallownest that their god was a benevolent one. But he NEVER wanted to lay eyes on The Pale Wyrm again. Never wanted the feeling of his mind expanding past what it was every other day.

Sounds of movement snapped him out of his stupor. It was the bug who had spoken to the God face to horrifying-face without batting an eye. Somehow now walking away, still only looking mildly irritated.

“H-how?” He stammered out as she got close.

Without so much as stopping she casually answered, “Stubbornness and spite.”

“W-why?”

“So he stops knocking things off shelves every time he speaks!” She yelled as she walked out of the courtyard.

[rmacni]

Rear differential of the NEW generation 2 lacks a brake caliper mount. The new L series of G2 Can-Ams are compatible with this.

[ft86motorsports0]

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