#rebuilt engines near me

[bsautosuppliess]

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[cannonauto]

What causes check engine light to come on? Contact the professionals at Cannon Auto Repair to determine if an engine repair is needed.

[soulofapatrick]

Rebuilding - Derek Hale x female reader

Summary: You show Derek the rebuilt Hale House you did for him

Words: 1.8k

warnings: none really; heavy making out

Notes: I can make a smutty part two

Y/N’s POV

The old Hale House had stood as a haunting reminder of the past, a testament to the tragedy and loss the family had endured. But now, it has been transformed into something new, something hopeful. With the combined effort of the pack and my Dad, it had become a symbol of rebirth and unity, a mansion that has welcomed every member with open arms and spare rooms for new pack members. 

As I stand in front of the restored mansion, I can’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Derek, who had once lived here in its glory days, deserves to see what I’ve done to the place. He’s been through so much, and I wanted this surprise to be a new beginning for him… for us hopefully. 

The anticipation in the air is palpable, and I can’t help but fidget with the key in my hand as I wait for Derek. The old Hale House, bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, seems to hold its breath in eager anticipation of his arrival. And then, I hear it - the familiar purr of Derek’s car engine. It’s a sound that I’ve come to associate with his arrival, and my heart quickens in response. The car pulls down the long, winding driveway, and I keep staring at the house, my hands shaking a little as I fiddle with the keys. 

Suddenly, there he is. Derek appears beside me, his tall, brooding frame casting a shadow on the gravel driveway. He looks rugged and handsome as ever, with that alluring air of mystery that has always drawn me to him. His dark brows are furrowed in curiosity and confusion, his eyes scanning the mansion before us as if he’s trying to work out where we are. It makes my heart drop as he doesn’t recognise it despite me trying to keep it as near as I can to the original Hale house. 

But then, something remarkable happens. As his eyes roam over the mansion’s exterior, his brows furrow even deeper, and then there’s a hint of disbelief in his expression. It’s as if the familiarity of the place has begun to dawn on him, piece by piece. The realisation hits him like a tidal wave. His kaleidoscope eyes widen, and a gasps escapes his pretty and plump lips, “Is… is this….?” His voice trembles with emotion, and for a moment, he can’t seem to find the words. 

I hold out the keys for him and he looks between the house and the keys and then back at the house, “I can’t… I… can you…” His voice falters, and it’s clear that he’s fighting back tears, the enormity of the moment almost too much to bear. Without a word, I’m nodding and reaching for his trembling hands. Our fingers interlace, and with a gentle squeeze, I lead him towards the grand entrance. 

Derek’s eyes remain locked onto the mansion, his disbelief and wonder still etched across his features. But he doesn’t need to say anything more for me to understand the whirlwind of emotions storming within him. 

I turn the key in the lock, my own fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. The door swings open, revealing the lovingly restored interior. The warm, golden light spills into the entryway, painting a new chapter on the old canvas of the Hale House. The grand entrance is now invitingly open, Derek taking a step forwards. His presence is so close to me that his chest is practically pressed against my back. The feel of him so near is electrifying, and it sends a shiver down my spine. 

“Welcome home Derek.” I say, my voice a soft, heartfelt whisper, as we cross the threshold together. 

The atmosphere inside is a mixture of nostalgia and fresh beginnings. The original features of the Hale House have been preserved, the hardwood floors polished, the walls adorned with artworks from the pack. The spaciousness of the rooms has been maintained, yet there’s a sense of cozy warmth that wasn’t there before. 

Derek’s gaze dances the space, a mixture of awe and sentimentality reflected in his expressive eyes. He appreciates the care and attention that went into preserving the essence of the house he called home. 

Then, he grabs my hands again with a gentle yet firm grip, leading me through the echoing halls as the pack gave us the house for Derek to see alone.  It’s a touch that sends a rush of warmth through me, the electricity of his touch palatable. We move through the house, our footsteps echoing, and Derek’s strides confident, as if he’s revisiting his own memories. 

As we ender the kitchen, Derek stops in his tracks. A soft, almost reverent sound escapes him, and his eyes widen again as he takes in the layout. It’s practically identical to the original Hale House kitchen, meticulously restored to match his recollections with the help of creepy uncle Peter. 

His grip on my hand tightens, and he turns to me, his expression filled with amazement, “This… it’s just like I remember it.” He says, his vice soft and filed with wonder, “You’ve brought it all back to life.” 

I can’t help but smile at his reaction. The kitchen holds countless memories for him, both happy and bittersweet, and seeing it so faithfully restored means the world to him. "We wanted it to feel like home," I reply, my voice equally hushed, knowing how much this place means to him. Derek’s thumb brushes over the back of my hand, his touch conveying the depth of his gratitude. It’s a silent exchange of emotions, the unspoken understanding between us.

And then, something changes in the air. Derek turns to me, his kaleidoscope eyes now shining with warmth and something else, something that sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. His gaze flits down my lips, and in response, I can’t help but wet them with my tongue, suddenly feeling acutely aware of their dryness. It draws a small sound from Derek’s throat, low and almost involuntary, a testament to the magnetic pull between us. He leans in, closing the distance between our lips with a purposeful intent. Our mouths meet in a soft, longing kiss, a silent declaration of the emotions that have simmered between us for so long. 

His lips are soft yet insistent, moving against mine with a deliberate tenderness. I can feel the gentle, rhythmic movement of his mouth, each touch setting my heart racing. There’s a hint of urgency in his kiss, a desire that has been simmering just beneath the surface. Derek’s hands finding their way to my waist, holding e close as if he never wants to let me go. The touch of his fingertips against my skin sends shivers down my spine, and I press my body closer to his, wanting to feel every inch of him. 

My own hands move to rest on his chest, feeling the solid warmth of his body beneath my touch. They gradually work their way up, entwining in his shirt, wanting to pull him closer still. The connection between us deepens with every passing second, a silent confirmation of the emotions we’ve held back fr so long. 

Derek’s hands, which had been gently holding my waist, suddenly tighten their grip and before I can react, he’s lifting me up with a powerful yet careful motion. My legs instinctively wrap around this waist as he sets me on the edge of the kitchen island, never once breaking the kiss. 

Our lips remain locked in a heated embrace, a heated embrace, a testament to the fiery passion that's been ignited between us. Derek's tongue brushes over my lips, seeking entrance, and without hesitation, I part them, with a small, embracing sound escaping my lips which he swallows, tongue slipping past my lips. It's a dance of desire, a clash of longing, and a melding of two souls that have been drawn together by an irresistible force. Our mouths move with a shared urgency, each kiss deeper and more consuming than the last.

As our tongues explore and intertwine, Derek’s grip on my hips tightens, pulling me closer until I’m arched on the edge of the kitchen island. The sensation of his body pressed against mine is electrifying, sending heat down south where I’m pressed against his growing problem. It has my thighs tightening around him, hips jerking a little and drawing sounds from both of us. 

Finally our lips part, but only slightly, our foreheads resting against each other as we catch our breath. Derek’s voice is a husky whisper, filled with raw desire, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He confesses, his words heavy with yearning, “ I couldn’t keep it in any longer.” 

My heart flutters at his admission, and I look into his kaleidoscope eyes, my own filled with the same longing, “Der…” I breathe, “I’ve felt the same way. I’ve wanted this as much as you have.” 

His lips find mine again, and the kiss that follows is fierce and fervent, a passionate culmination of our unspoken desires. It's a promise, a declaration, and a celebration of the love that has finally been acknowledged. 

But then, Derek's lips trail down from mine to my neck, and his kisses ignite a trail of fire across my skin. I gasp as his mouth leaves a mark, a fervent, possessive hickey, and another one right beside it. Each one is a silent proclamation of his desire, a mark of his longing for me. As Derek's kisses continue to trail down my neck, I gasp and my fingers clutch at his shoulders. The sensation is almost too much to bear, the heat of his mouth leaving a trail of fire across my skin, marked by possessive hickeys.

“Y/N,” He murmurs breathlessly voice heavy with desire, “If we don’t stop, I won’t be able to stop myself.” He pulls away slightly, his eyes dark and smouldering now and he lets out a low and sensual chuckle when an embarrassing moan escapes me. 

“Maybe…” I have to clear my throat, “Maybe we should check out your room.” My heart is racing as I say it, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and desire, eager to hear his response but also somewhat ready for the rejection. 

Instead, he groans, head falling to my shoulder before he growls out, “Don’t… don’t say things like that baby girl.” I stay silent, knowing there’s more and he kissing my collarbone sweetly before murmuring, “But, I think it’s a very, very good idea.”

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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@bellabadacadabra

[vinylplasterboard]

i’m a fiddstan shipper in the sense that i don’t actually ship them or enjoy the headcanon that stan contacted fidds to help him rebuild the portal BUT the fanart and fics and general content by the community is so good i can’t help but adore it

before i get flamed for my take let me explain-

I can’t see Fiddleford EVER agreeing to rebuild the portal, even if it meant never seeing Ford again. It would completely go against his cowardly nature. As Alex Hirsch stated, Fiddleford’s weakness is weakness itself. Fiddleford was so traumatized after almost getting sucked in the portal to the point where he needed to erase that memory from his head. He had to run away from it, there was no other option for him. I don’t think he would ever step near that machine again, let alone help someone REACTIVATE it.

But more importantly, I feel like throwing Fiddleford in the picture diminishes everything Stan had to learn for the sake of getting back his brother. Stan was a horrible student who was practically failing all his classes. He never paid attention and spent his time copying off Ford, so it’s safe to assume he didn’t learn much outside the basics. Ford, being an absolute genius, still needed the help of Fiddleford and Bill, no less, to get that portal functioning. And Stan REBUILT IT ALONE. He spent literal decades of his life teaching himself advanced math and science and engineering in order to get the portal up and running, and he did it all for Ford.

I’m sure you can probably interpret that feat being impossible without the help of Fiddleford, but I think it just makes Stan a stronger character, seeing the lengths he would go to for his family. I think it makes both of them more intriguing characters, to be honest.

that being said please keep uploading your fiddstan content i love seeing it! this is just my take on why i don’t think it works in the canon (don’t hate me please). i’m ESPECIALLY fond of that rockstar stan meeting fidds AU so WAITER WAITER MORE OF THAT PLEASE

[artemis-73]

Terror as Sharp as Pain

Artist: @alicetallula

Author: @artemis-73 / Artemis73 on AO3

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 10.8k

Tags/Warnings: IT Crossover, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Fix-it adjacent, Post-IT: Chapter Two (2019), Case Fic, Body Horror

Summary: After Jack brings Cas back from the Empty, everything almost returns to normal. Cas moves into The Bunker, they go back to hunting, and they do not talk about his confession. With the number of hunts dwindling, Team Free Will takes up a case in Derry, Maine, a town terrorized every 27 years by disappearances and violent deaths. Even though the cycle isn't due to repeat for another 19 years, they will have to face fear itself to free the town.

Preview:

Near the train yard across town, the Well House stands on Neibolt St. There are no street lamps or warm porch lights marking the way. The Impala's engine cuts through the quiet night, making the silence even deeper when Dean turns the car off.

"We're definitely closer," Cas says from the backseat, worry creasing his brow. It's a look Dean hasn't seen in a long time. He hates it. "My powers aren't... They don't like this place."

From the other side of the backseat, Mike shifts anxiously. "What powers?"

"Cas has some special abilities," Sam starts to explain, spinning out a vague explanation that doesn't come within 100 yards of the truth.

Hey, Cas, Dean tries praying. You gotta get better about mentioning your powers in front of civvies.

Cas just rolls his eyes.

One more thing, he continues, don't get dead.

"It's not my death I'm worried about," Cas snips.

Mike casts a horrified look between them, and Sam heaves a put-upon sigh.

"Dude, not helping," he groans.

"All you gotta know," Dean says, "is if everything else fails, Cas is our get out of jail free card. He's saved me more times than I can count."

They gather their sparse supplies and trek up the overgrown path to the derelict porch with Mike and Sam leading the way. Dean's seen a lot of haunted and abandoned houses in his day; they've hunted and squatted in their fair share. None of them have ever felt like this. If he was more superstitious or maybe less jaded, he'd say the house was evil. Evil leaks from its rotting roof and trails tendrils of decay down the walls. It pools on the floorboards and seeps into his boots. His skin tingles with gooseflesh, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up.

When he looks over, Cas is already watching him. They don't look away when Mike pushes the front door open or when Sam follows him inside.

"I don't want you going in there," Cas says.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing."

Time is ticking. He can't leave Sam alone, but he doesn't want to go in just yet. He reaches over and, since there's no tie to straighten, fusses with the collar of the trench coat. Cas is wearing a blue tee shirt that nearly matches his eyes. It's one of Dean's favorites, though he's never said it.

He pulls his hand away, but quicker than he can blink, Cas seizes his wrist. His fingers are surprisingly soft; angel healing powers mean there's not a hint of a callus. His thumb slides along the thin skin of Dean's wrist, and even in the dark, Dean knows he's tracing one of his veins. Cas rebuilt him, after all, and knows him down to his very marrow.

"Please, be careful," Cas says to their hands. "Promise me."

The damndest thing is that Dean says, "I promise" before he can even think.

"Guys?" Sam calls from inside.

Right. They have a job to do.

Coming to @deancashorrorfest this October!

[sudriantraveler]

Smoke in the Station

The sketch above was inspired by an incident my dad told me he saw in Güzelyalı, Turkey, which occurred sometime in either the late 1970s or early 1980s.

At the time, Güzelyalı was a town on the outskirts of Istanbul, yet to be swallowed up by the ever expanding city. The railway runs through here on its way out from the big city going eastward.

The station (since rebuilt) consisted of two platforms located at the bottom of a cutting. A road overpass cut across the station, sheltering a portion of the platforms.

By the time this incident occurred, the lines throughout Istanbul had been electrified for the use of suburban commuter trains. Trains going further afield, such as expresses to Ankara were either steam or diesel hauled.

Dieselization of the railway network as a whole was well underway, especially on the mainlines. But steam was still making a stand, even as diesels and electrics were by then clearly winning out, and indeed will have won almost entirely by the end of the 1980s.

On this day, amongst the passengers who waited on the platforms at Güzelyalı station, a man stood in the shade of the overpass.

He was smoking a cigarette and wearing an immaculate white suit.

A shrill, piercing whistle, and a thundering roar echoed out from the near distance. A steam engine was approaching the station, accelerating away from the city, with clouds of dirty, thick black smoke pouring out from its funnel.

Most other people saw the train approaching, and made their way out from under the bridge into clearer parts of the station.

All except the man in the suit.

Perhaps he was unfamiliar with steam engines, and the hazards which where he was standing presented to clean appearances.

Perhaps he thought the growing presence of diesels and electrics meant that steam engines were already a thing of the past, and his cigarette smoke would be the only thing wafting through the station air.

Or perhaps he was simply distracted.

Either way, he saw the fiery behemoth too late, dropped his cigarette, and ran.

The train roared through the station. Its smoke hit the underside of the bridge and exploded outward in a choked black cloud which engulfed everything in its reach, coating the bridge and the nearby platforms in soot.

When the smoke finally cleared, it revealed the train to already be running well out and away down the line.

Peace and calm returned to the station, save for a dismayed and indignant cry, as the man realized that his suit was no longer white.

[overland-defender]

01/11/2024: Clutching Straws

Put it off for long enough and for sure it’ll bite you in the ass harder. I’m referring more the weather than the mechanical issues. Yep! I’ve got this leaky clutch system to eradicate, luckily it’s actually been functioning fine since I bled it through and renewed the oil. But with that said, it’s not recommended to ignore issues as it could end up being the root cause of an accident which no one wants.

As always, I’m including the parts list with part numbers to give an idea what’s required (model dependent mind) I also have added a few extras in whilst I’m ordering, I’m inclined to get bits and bobs

Parts List

Master Cylinder Assy: STC500100LR

Adaptor: 139082

Gasket: 233220

Pipe Clutch: ANR2183

Clutch Slave Cylinder - Lockheed: FTC5202G

Dust Cap (single): 594091

Gasket-Clutch P: ANR6332

Pad-Pedal: SKE500060G

Gear Knob: BTR9270

8 x 3/8 Pansupa S T screw: AB608031L

L.O.F POWERspring Pedal Assist Kit: PM431

Furthermore, I’ve tried to be as generic as possible to note each step briefly to enable a good idea of what you’ll likely to anticipate when carrying out this job.

1. Understand where all the key components are located.

(a) master cylinder/pedal box - engine bay

(b) slave cylinder - underneath near side of gearbox

2. Remove cap and loosen off the bleed nipple enough to create a drip.

3. Connect a bleed kit to slave bleed nipple and crack open nipple.

4. Bleed the system by pressing down on the clutch pedal, the pedal will eventually go light.

5. Tighten bleed nipple and remove bleed kit.

6. Now the system is mostly free from DOT 4 fluid, the system can now start being stripped.

7. I’ve got OEM air conditioning, so this step may not be applicable to you, but if like me you have AC, remove the lower A/C ‘dash’

8. Pull back the insulation and undo the first bolt retaining the clutch pedal spring, followed by the remaining x5 bolts.

9. Moving to the engine bay, install the reservoir cap back on just to ensure no residual spills.

10. With a rag to hand, undo the hydraulic line from the master cylinder.

11. The pedal box is now able to be removed, take care when manoeuvring.

12. The slave cylinder at first glance seems to be pretty straight forward. But access is somewhat obscure.

13. Firstly undo the hydraulic line to allow better access and then with patience, undo the x2 retaining screws holding the slave cylinder to the housing.

14. When removing the slave cylinder, take extra care as the plunger/piston can fall out inside the housing and it’ll be a box off job!

15. Remove the hard hydraulic line which connects to the slave whilst you’re down there (if you are planning to replace.

16. Now with everything on the bench, you can strip down the assembly and rebuild the pedal box with new components. I’ll let you figure out how as you’ll learn more.

Note: From the images, both Master and slave had failed, so I’d suggest swapping both out.

17. Now you’ve rebuilt, lubricated and admired your work. It’s time to install it all back in.

Note: FYI The LOF spring is a bitch to fit.

18. Working backwards, carry out steps 15 > 7

19. At this point, everything should be back to how it was before you started (minus the leaks).

20. Bleed time! It’s pretty straight forward if you’ve made it this far.

21. Fill the reservoir with fresh DOT 4 and fit the bleed kit to the slave cylinder,

22. Crack off the bleed nipple and press the clutch pedal down a couple of times.

23. Top up reservoir and replicate step 22 & 23 until the pedal goes firm and consistent.

Note: This may not feel odd with the LOF spring as it creates like a double movement, you’ll know what I mean if you fit one.

24. Tighten bleed nipple on the slave cylinder and fit the bleep nipple cap, be sure to mop up any excess spillage as brake/clutch fluid is horrible stuff, especially for paint.

Note: Spray the area in a non-aggressive degreaser if required.

25. Now for the reservoir cap back on, shut the bonnet and take the truck for a spin. You’ll likely notice a huge difference if you have been driving like me with an inefficient system.

26. After the test drive, check the reservoir to ensure the oil level hasn’t dropped and you are done.

[bsautosuppliess]

Rebuilt Engine for Ford Mustang GT 1969 Near Me - BS Auto Supplies

[luminartistwriter]

AU off of OhMyStarryNight’s human ttte AU :) (I got permission)

In this AU, the previously mentioned au is the same, except in this one when one gets charge of an engine, they sometimes receive what I consider ‘enlightenment’ through visions or sometimes physical powers like elemental or something like that. The purpose of this is unknown but always beneficial to the receiver. The engines, visibly not alive, is unknown if they are sentient or just vessels for such enlightenment or something else in entirety. It is rare to receive such enlightenment and even more rare to achieve a physical element to manipulate. Only one (later two) is known to have regular enlightenment and physical manifestations of power, which is Stephen.

The beginnings of this branch AU for me, which involves Thomas, James, and Edward. Thomas, as the rascal he is, decides to endeavor in another random shenanigan which results in his engine being in need of repair for the breaks. However, Thomas, despite various warnings decides to ‘home repair’ his engine breaks. It fails. Miserably.

On a return trip down to somewhere, Thomas’ breaks fail. With a full load of trucks. Thomas, panicking, alerts the attention of Edward, who chases Thomas down with his engine and ends up ✨fancily✨maneuvering down the line of trucks into Thomas’ cab. However, it was too late to try and stop as they are nearing the bend that led to an overhead bridge pass.

Edward, in an act of love, shoves Thomas out and down into the shrubbery alongside the forestry next to the track. Edward crashes. And it was a nasty one. The overhead bridge breaks with James crossing it and ended up pinning Edward underneath James’ engine and the wreckage of the stone overpass bridge. Thomas, screaming, went to go and get Edward out of the wreckage but ends up being held back by James. Edward gets rescued by the rescue team but is quickly evident that he is paralyzed from the waist down and is put on hospice notice.

Thomas, inconsolable, takes care of Edward and barres everyone out; except James. Edward ends up passing away while James dragged Thomas to be outside for the first time in months and that, added with Edward’s death, sent Thomas over the edge mentally. Thomas withdraws and ends up refusing the rebuilt #1 engine and gets hired as a diesel worker.

Afterwards, Thomas finds himself having visions through his new engine and gains the ability of super strength, similar to Diesel 10 who possesses the same ability and mentors Thomas. Taking this as a sign, Thomas renames himself as Spark and becomes (and behaves) like a diesel worker, taking the break handle from his former engine as a souvenir and a weapon.

The rest of the team, estranged and grieved with the symbolic and literal loss of two of their teammates kinda wait for a miracle. A miracle they got….after Sodor was almost taken over. The railway was run over by runaway bandits and was saved by the diesels and steamies working together, but the real winner was on Christmas Eve. This was Spark’s lowest point and in his grief created a new ability; soul splitting. Spark, in his grief memory, created a childhood version of himself and ultimately rejuvenated Edward as well. Using these projections, Spark and the steamie team both got what they wanted. Spark got his peace and the team got their friends back.

Spark occasionally gets teased and is called ‘the original’ but he also wears a partial mask to hide his scars after fighting off a wave of bandits in the steam works and getting burned badly by the equipment.

feel free to ask me questions! :)

[number1spongebobfan]

Chapter 7: Scottish Factory

Notes:

Okay, I don't know if I need to tag this but just a heads up that there is some animal cruelty in this chapter (portrayed in the wrong). If you can't handle that please skip to the second header (I'm still new to this website forgive me).

Christmas 1928 

Proteus took Duncan to a factory in Kilmarnock, Scotland. This was where he used to work before operating on the Skarloey Railway. Proteus shifted himself back into a humanoid.

“Do you remember this place?” peeped Proteus. His voice was a soothing whisper.

Duncan slammed his forehead in awe. “Why, yes!” he replied. “This is the Caledonia Works! Me old home!”

William wagged his tail. Sango giggled. Patrick caught his tongue stuck to an icicle. 

Proteus led Duncan to the inside of the factory. The place was damp, dimly lit and bleak. Two 0-4-0WT/military working dog hybrids were inside - it was a prebuilt Duncan with his unnamed twin. The dogs had wheels fixed on their tall, muscular legs.

Duncan and his twin were industrial engines serving under the RAF; they were German shepherd/Irish wolfhound mixes. Thus, it explained why he was so tedious to work with: he was not a purebred nor a passenger train. 

An engineer caught the train-dogs attacking each other. They lunged, batted, bit, and pawed at each other's throats. The abusive engineer spanked them with a crowbar. “You mangy mutts!” he yelled. “You never do anythin’ richt!” The dogs were left with wounds and scars.

Proteus comfortingly put his hand on present Duncan’s shoulder. The grumpy engine wasn’t typically emotional, but he couldn’t help breaking down in tears.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” sulked Proteus.

“A-am not crying! I just got a speck in me own eye!” he lied.

“It’s okay,” shushed Proteus. “Let it all out.”

Sango, William, and Patrick were sobbing too. “Oh mister Proteus!” Sango meowed. “I know Duncan’s gwumpy, but nobody deserves to be treated like that! It’s so sad!”

Proteus shone his light on Sango. “How about we take him to a better Christmas, shall we?” The magic lamp engine wiped the magic cat’s tears away.

Skarloey Railway - 1958

Proteus took Duncan to the first time he was sent to the Island of Sodor. He never fit in, for the railway was too tame, and the narrow-gauge engines too polite. There was Skarloey the Shiba Inu, Sir Handel the Great Dane, Rheneas the Pomeranian, Rusty the pony, and Peter Sam the collie. All tourist friendly, people-pleasing purebreds.

Nancy, a little girl who volunteered on the Skarloey Railway, had minor cynophobia. She was the guard’s daughter. She had to be introduced to the enginamals first before beginning to volunteer. Nancy was bitten by a dog on her hand in the past.

“Nancy,” called the guard. “Sweetie, come meet your new friend." She saw Duncan approaching her with a muzzle on his mouth and was very scared.

Duncan barked and bared his teeth. He shook the muzzle off, almost trampled the girl, and licked her face. A conductor yanked the German shepherd train by his scruff. “Woah boy!”

Nancy almost cried.

“Aw, it’s okay Nancy,” said the conductor. “He won’t bite.”

The girl petted the scraggly dog’s chest. He was so fluffy! Nancy learnt to cope with her fear. Soon she and Duncan would become good friends.

Over the years, Nancy shared her family’s holiday traditions with the narrow-gauge engines. She made paper crowns and popcorn strings. She decorated Christmas trees and attended Mass. The narrow-gauge engines were most delighted. And as she grew up, so did they in a way - rebuilt with their recognizable faces that the people all came to know and love.

Christmastime is here Happiness and cheer Fun for all that children call Their favorite time of year

Christmastime is here Families drawing near Oh, that we could always see Such spirit through the year

[usedcarenginesautopartsmiles]

Unlocking the Secrets of Finding the Best Used Engine Deals

Introduction:

Are you in need of a reliable and affordable engine replacement? Look no further! In this article, we will explore the vast marketplace of Used Engines for Sale, guiding you towards the best deals while keeping your vehicle's performance and your wallet intact. So fasten your seatbelts and let's embark on this engine-hunting journey together!

1. The Online Playground: Scouring through Engines for Sale

In this digital era, your quest for the perfect used engine begins online. Discover the significance of targeted keywords, such as 'used engine for sale' or 'engines for sale near me,' and unveil a world of possibilities. Explore reputable websites, online classifieds, and even forums to gain insights into finding the most reliable sellers within your geographical reach.

2. Navigating Local Auto Parts Stores: An Untapped Resource

While online platforms offer convenience, let's not underestimate the hidden gem that lies in your city – local auto parts stores. Utilize the keywords 'auto parts stores near me' or 'auto parts store near me' to discover real-life treasure troves of engines waiting to be discovered. Visit these stores and tap into their network, expertise, and often discounted prices, ensuring a win-win situation for both you and your budget.

3. Autoparts Miles: Embracing the Power of Low Mileage Engines

Pamper your vehicle with an engine that has clocked fewer miles and unleash its true potential. By searching for phrases like 'used engine with low mileage' or 'rebuild engine near me,' you can stumble upon hidden gems that have recently been replaced due to circumstances unrelated to their actual performance. Opting for such engines not only guarantees longevity but could also save you money in the long run.

4. Exploring the Second-Hand Market: A World of Possibilities

'Second hand motors for sale' and 'used car engines for sale' – these keywords could be your ticket to uncovering amazing deals. Delve into the world of private sellers, auction sites, or even salvage yards and explore the wide array of engines waiting to power your vehicle. However, exercise caution and ensure thorough research to avoid any undesirable surprises.

5. Unleashing the Power of Package Deals: Going Beyond Engines

Sometimes, while on the hunt for used engines, we stumble upon unexpected opportunities. Many sellers offer package deals, allowing you to purchase not only a used engine but other related auto parts as well, such as a used transmission. Utilize keywords like 'used transmission for sale' or 'engine and transmission combo' to open doors to these cost-effective options, catering to your vehicle's multiple needs in one go.

Conclusion:

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[balshumetsbaragouin]

It is finished! I'm so happy to post the last chapter and finish off my first long fic! Thank you to everyone who has joined me along the way and who left comments, kudos, bookmarks and subs! This has been a wild ride, so I hope you all enjoy the ending to the first entry in the Pestilence!AU trilogy. Inside, Danny and Valerie catch up after the harrowing events the day before, and Danny asks an important question...

One last time: Have a sneak peek for the dashboard!:

She landed a few feet from the bushes, not wanting to get twigs and leaves caught in the newly rebuilt engines of her hoverboard. She still missed her wings, flying was much more convenient and exciting with them, but after the curse left, so too did the ability to transform. She discovered her ability to interface and control with other technology diminished as well. It had been nice to control the systems inside Plasmius’ house, but she could at least enjoy the knowledge she’d crippled its defenses. She also missed the ability to create new weapons with a thought.

Still, having her mind be curse free and no longer subject to the whims of homicidal ghost hunting sprees definitely made up for it. She slid the armor back into place, the suit quieting to a hum in the back of her mind. Another change involved the suit being more silent. They could still communicate, she just seemed less opinionated. But, if the opinions she had shared were any indication, she tended towards the primal and vulgar anyway. She did not need dietary guidance or suggestions! Squirrels are filled with protein, so are rabbits. They were adorable woodland creatures and she was not a wild animal. They were not going to eat them. The suit didn’t seem particularly happy about it, but the grumbles settled out into gentle hisses. She didn’t try to take control anymore either, just gave suggestions about her diet and butted in about her social life. It was still weird, all things considered, to share her mind with a piece of tech, but what could she do? 

She walked into the park a few minutes early, preparing to settle in for the long haul. For all of his many virtues, Danny had never met a deadline he couldn’t dodge…except today, apparently. She walked into the park, ready to find a bench to relax on for the next fifteen to twenty, only to find him already inside and standing around looking for her. Ok, that’s a new one, Fenton. Agreeing to talk about his feelings and showing up on time, all without being reminded? He’d just opened a new chapter, or maybe just flipped to a new page. When she walked closer, she could see him shove a breakfast pastry in his mouth with one hand and check his phone with the other. On the bench near him sat a water bottle. He picked it up and started chugging the liquid inside. He’d definitely rushed here. “Hey Danny.” He started choking, and she rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I crept over here.”

“I’m used to sensing... Uh, hi Val.” He set the bottle down and waved. “You’re still feeling better, right?” He walked over to her, hands in his pockets, typical bright smile on his face. Like she hadn’t almost died yesterday, like he wasn’t always half-dead himself. 

[kick-a-long]

So what is the solution then? Because I feel like a military escort going in and forcibly rebuilding things would arguably be an occupation

Although admittedly I’m not certain what the standard procedure is for helping a formerly hostile country rebuild is.

(this is going to be a long long long one because it's a problem people ignore and gloss over all the time. it drives me mad. post war humanitarian management saves lives in the short term and long term but it's been so demonized that people perfer doing nothing to attempting the right thing. long rant incoming. I apologize profusely for how long this fucker is.

skip to the red paragraphs if you want to know how many successful post war countries are rebuilt with a good source to learn more about it.

it's not just your feeling, "military escort going in and forcibly rebuilding things" is 100% an occupation. An occupation that ends (an ethical occupation of sorts) is one where the army wants to leave and wants the place to be better than when they entered it. if the IDF is in Gaza, even for the express and real purpose of rebuilding and maintaining order, they will still be there as occupation forces. ANY army that goes in to rebuild Gaza will be an occupying force. Israel can't do that and end the war at the same time. there are tons of groups and gangs in Gaza besides hamas, including civilians, who will attack them day and night to leave. There is no way anyone in the world would support the IDF occupying gaza even if they do a 100% perfect job of rebuilding it as a paradise. Not even most israeli's.

it gets even more thorny when you look at what happened to the "floating aid pier" that America tried to set up outside of Gaza that lasted all of like one day before it was shelled and destroyed. Same thing with the humanitarian crossings where Gaza militants have shelled and attacked non-stop to prevent civilians and deserters from escaping Gaza and the war. you can see how other muslim/Arab countries like Iraq, now a terrible place to live under the Taliban, faired when America tried to reestablish their gov during the 20 years of fighting. the minute they left: brain drain, huge loss of rights, and a dysfunctional government. One of the huge tragedies about both Iraq and Iran is that they have long and storied cultures and legacies of scholarship, engineering, science, literature and art. both countries have been hobbled by theocratic authoritarians and violent extremists.

there are basically no countries who know how to operate safely in that area, and even fewer who want to. Egypt is the closest to being able but they wouldn't want to touch gaza with a 10 mile long pole. Egypt has pragmatic reasons for this. it is in a balancing act between normalizing relations with the western govs (EU, USA, etc) while not pissing off the rest of the middle east, which will respond by funding terrorism in Egypt like the muslim brotherhood to destabilize their gov and turn the country into another Iraq.

worse still, any aid that goes in without an occupying force overseeing it's use (food, construction material, water pipes, anything you can think of to make Gaza livable to a 21st century standard) will get stolen by one of those gangs I mentioned and either smuggled out and sold in foreign countries or used to build weapons and war infrastructure.

1. it's the best way to get money in gaza/ fund your group's fight for control of the strip since there are very limited/tightly controled opportunities to make a living and

2. countries outside of Gaza (iran, russia, aka the countries that hate the western hegemony) will pay these groups hansomely to attack israel. they need to keep Gaza dependent and poor for this to work and to maintain it as a military position (not just against israel but also as a disruption to the EU and America.)

basically any aid group that doesn't allow post-Hamas militants near total control over their operations would be killed and attacked nonstop.

there's a lot of antisemitism and racism in continuing to fund UNRWA (you don't see nearly the same level of support given to african countries's refugees or non arab refugees from the middle east for example) but it's also a situation where if any aid is given at all it will be under the near total control and disposal of Iranian (or whoever) backed terrorist cells.

it seems increasingly clear that while Gaza civilians still HATE Israel and the population are near total antisemites they also don't want their kids becoming militants. they don't want to be in a war against a military that outmatches them 100 times over either. they don't want them and their families to live in misery for the rest of their lives to prove a point. unfortunately due to their location and history, Gazan civilians don't have much choice in the matter anymore. they have no export or import of goods with the middle east because no one wants the terrorism they bring, and israel (the only country willing to give men and woman work visas so they can earn money outside of hamas controlled avenues) isn't going to let them enter for the foreseeable decades.

Oct 7th wasn't your average terror attack. it was a slaughter. those work visa's were used to case the communist die hard peace activist kibitzes in the south so Hamas basically had a census as well as house layouts when they attacked.

another fuck up is that Gazan's aren't going to be getting refugee status anywhere that has a well set up system to deal with them any time soon. Spain recognized Gaza as a country and walked it back within a day or two because they would be required to take in gazan refugees under international laws and agreements.

So......

No one invested in ending the nearly 100 years of hostilities can go into gaza. No one invested in ending the forever war can get out. Israel (which has enough incentive to rebuild Gaza for pragmatic reasons alone let alone international reputation reasons, you know... so terrorists will stop trying to kill them every day and countries will stop boycotting them) can't be anywhere near them after the war even if they wanted to, which they certainly don't.

at this point i would assume not even Iran wants control or rebuilding in Gaza. their presumed new leader, after ol' Eli Kopter killed the last asshole, says he's more moderate. He has to deal with all the domestic unrest in Iran aka women getting kidnapped, raped, and murdered by the morality police and internal assassination threats. He has a tough job ahead. Either changing the morality police or ramping their activity up secretly, and keeping the people who already have power in Iran happy. Either way he isn't going to be making any friends by throwing cash at Gaza. lots of Iranian civilians support Israel (kinda sorta, it's complicated) and a lot of economic forces are pushing towards strenghening export and import (which is hard if you are under sanctions and if everyone thinks you are just transporting weapons. Aka storing weapons for hezbolla at the Lebanon airport. you know, Lebanon? the country where a Russian container ship filled with AMFO fertilizer was left docked for several years because of gov incompetence? the tanker that blew up most of Beirut in the most destructive explosion ever durring peace time.)

when I say I believe the situation is FUCKED, this is what I'm talking about. there is no exit strategy. there is no avoiding the famine and disease that will decimate Gaza a year from now with no soft end date. and the people it will fuck over the most? Gazans and Israelis. the whole world is at fault in my opinion for letting it get this bad through inaction and malicious intent. Israelis were the only ones trying to deescalate this and now they have absolutely no reason to think it helped in the first place. in fact all their work towards peace just made it worse.

anyway... it's just totally fucked. The news won't report on israel and gaza in three years, but it's only going to get worse.

famine and broken infrastructure kill far more civilians in the aftermath of war. occupying forces are stationed in defeated countries in part to prevent the worst of it. because if you don't you get rearming and piles of dead. positive examples are in japan and germany after WW2, south korea after the Korean war. negative examples are Germany after WW1, Cambodia killing fields, Ukraine's capture by Stalin.

if you want to know how countries in the past were successfully rebuilt start here:

the standard way to rebuild a country (read or watch interveiws with Sara Paine. She's a military historian with a focus on the humanitarian and pragmatic reasons for going to war, conducting wars, and rebuilding countries after a war has been fought. why both sides have a pragmatic reason to "play fair" and help the loser rebuild.) is very hit or miss. it basically starts when the war starts.

during the war you can't be so brutal to the population (combatants or civilians) that they really hate your guts. kind of a "fight fair" approach. you can't be too nice/condescending either or they won't respect that you won. basically they will think they have a shot to rearm and that's not good. you can't put them on "death ground" meaning you can't make losing the war equivalent to their total destruction/ slavery. you have to win totally but not rub their noses in it. no rape. no looting. no targeting women and children. no kidnapping children. no torture. no humiliation for fun or psychological warfare. no human experimentation (looking at you japan and germany.) you can try to create good relationships with the population but you have to back that up by defending the people who will work with you from reprisals.

After the war is over You first help the population establish a national identity and national pride outside of warfare. Pride and national cohesion are usually destroyed by losing a war and seeing your countrymen exploit and turn on each other as resources get thin. you never want to fight a war where you are unusually cruel during or after the war to the loser because that resentment will never go away. Germany was penalized so harshly for WW1 that it fucked their economy and national pride so bad they started WW2. Then you either rebuild institutions from the top down or the bottom up. top down is like post war japan which already had a national identity and institutions, so those just needed support. bottom up is like where you have a firmly established police force keeping the average person safe from gangs and organized crime and work from there to build the rest of the gov.

(this paragraph is mostly my own opinion. read sara paine for a more accurate take with better nuance. Bottom up is more china's thing because they like to enforce Chinese culture as well as exclusive ownership of trade/resources. China does what it does for the benefit of china, whatever and whoever is "china" is usually in flux. America likes top down (which hasn't worked since south korea) because they like keeping the original cultures and institutions intact (it's cheap and looks better to their allies) as well as semi complete trade/resource control. if they aren't in control they usually require veto power or systems in place to control who works with who. Russia does neither. they want land and any economic benefit from it is incidental. they are perfectly happy to kill a population and use the occupied area as a garbage dump. they take over places for national pride and to swing their dicks at the EU and the US. this wasn't the case for the entirety of the USSR but Putin got them right back on the historical norm of tzarist Russian dick swinging.)

The key term to rebuilding a nation is "institution building." you want to keep the institutions that work, working. you want to establish institutions that aren't there already. the order changes depending on the occupation force but the things the occupiers want (if they ever want to leave which is usually the cheaper and sustainable way) are

1. a written constitution/list of citizen's rights upheld by the new gov that is more generous to the population than the prev war time government.

2. a competent and uncorrupt police force that follows the lead of

3. an unbiased judiciary that treats citizens (even minorities) relatively equally and fairly, which follows the laws of

4. a functional law making apparatus that serves the interests of the people without fucking over any fringe group or the occupying force too bad.

5. a leader that the people support but also doesn't want to rearm and restart war efforts. this is a tricky one because they can't be a puppet of the occupiers or such an asshole that they piss off fringe groups and get assassinated when the occupiers leave.

6. favorable economic relationships to the occupying force and its' allies (favorable for the occupied country so they can generate jobs, and reliable income to pay for rebuilding the place themselves.)

A lot of rebuilding a country comes down to the population's mentality. To rebuild a country it's people need to trust that the new government has their best interests at heart. They have to believe in a future. They need to trust the currency. They need to believe that there is a road to improving their economic situation. They need to see themselves as a united people. They need to believe they can maintain their independence and culture. They need to have a desire to rebuild and actively participate if not primarily direct it. there needs to be incentives for the vital professional classes (lawyers, doctors, teachers, engineers, detectives, reporters, politicians) to stay and help shape and maintain the country.

young men need jobs that are definitely going to pay (whether that's in bonds or foreign currency so inflation/deflation of local currency doesn't screw them over.) There needs to be education and support systems for kids, orphans, widows, disabled vets, old folks. the actual market needs to be sufficient so a black market doesn't become the defacto source of goods. free food is good, creating a system where people can work to buy what they need is better. there need to be taxes collected from people who can and should pay so big money doesn't corrupt the system in it's infancy. there need to be workers, managers and bureaucrats. it's a lot of enforcement and it's a balancing act to prevent making too many enemies or the whole thing spirals into civil war and other bullshit. Some governments do this by cracking down HARD on a populace but with enough carrots to make the avoidable and predictable sticks worth putting up with. some governments foster self determination and are mainly enforcers at the direction of the new gov they support (america... which has mixed results producing some of the best and worst post war outcomes.)

but Gaza has no chance. No country wants to rebuild it. A majority of Gazan's don't want it changed and don't have the power to rebuild it into something else if they did. Palestinians have no allies that want them to change. Their national identity and economy IS war. Since the 1960s, thats for 60 years, the Palestinian identity is that of a homeless refugee population that believes the world is promised to the violent fighters who follow islamist rule. they have no non-millitary institutions to rebuild. their schools are for war, their civilian housing is for war, their hospitals are for war, their social security is for war, child birth, at least for hama's leaders, is to birth fighters or birth more wombs to produce fighters. a huge percent of, if not all, professional educated gazan workers in gaza are a part of/working with the gazan military aka hamas.

if Gaza ever did "win" and take over Israel, they would immediately go to war with themselves... or Lebanon or Egypt or Jorden because the stated goal of Hamas is effectively islamist world domination. They currently have nothing else to produce as a country. If left to it's own devices, which it will be unless some government has the moral clarity and brass balls to do it, the civilians in gaza are trapped in that national identity. The groups with the education, knowledge, guns, supplies, outside funding, and power are keeping it that way.

[1863-project]

Free pass to talk about the affectionately named "Old Fuck".

Yes yes thank you I love talking about the Old Fuck!

I'm the only person who refers to the locomotive by this name, but New Jersey Transit has a few old locomotives left that actually predate NJT itself - three EMD GP40PH locomotives that were built in 1968 and originally worked on the Central Railroad of New Jersey. In the early 1990s, they were rebuilt as GP40PH-2s. The three survivors are NJT 4100, NJT 4101, and NJT 4109.

NJT 4101 is a heritage unit now, painted in NJDOT livery. NJT 4109 is also a heritage unit, wearing the colors of the CNJ.

NJT 4100 is The Old Fuck.

The oldest locomotive in the entire NJT fleet, the Old Fuck still runs regularly, and I spend a fair deal of my time keeping an eye out for her because I want to get her earmarked for preservation if they ever decide to pull her. She works just fine, and as of now there don't seem to be any plans to retire her. I've spent most of my adult lifetime commuting into NYC and around New Jersey, and many times I've been pulled by the Old Fuck. Usually I spot her on the Bergen Line or Main Line these days or hanging around in the yard at the end of the line.

Sometimes I'll go a while without seeing her. Recently, I went without a sighting for over a year, and I was getting nervous. But then in April 2023 she popped up in the yard near the engine shed. I wonder if she's having work done or being prepped with new heritage colors.

My most recent Old Fuck sighting was in June 2023.

Here she is by the engine shed with some younger locomotives.

I've gotten pretty good at getting my camera lens to peer right through holes in the fence to get shots without trespassing. Note the discarded Wawa coffee cup in the bottom left of the photo to remind you this was taken in New Jersey.

I couldn't tell from this angle if she was coupled to the locomotive in front of her or not, so I had to move to the left...

One more wide shot from that angle first, though.

Further inspection shows they were coupled together! For what purpose, however, is unknown.

A shot more focused on her and her cab.

And lastly, a shot from the back.

Normally, I'm not too keen on diesel locomotives post-1960. Their designs feel uninspired to me, and they're more or less used because they're cheaper to operate and easier to maintain than steam or even electric even though both outperform them (steam locomotives can pull significantly heavier loads - it takes multiple diesels to match one steam locomotive's strength - and electric locomotives can outspeed them and the GG1, the best American electric of all time, was also stronger). But I have a huge soft spot for the Old Fuck. She's been here for so long now doing a wonderful job, and she's such a comforting, familiar sight. I know she won't run forever, but I think she needs to be earmarked for preservation when she's retired.

In the article I linked above, there's a short video on her. Here it is:

Many happy returns, Old Fuck.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Largest imaging spectro-polarimeter achieves first light at the NSF Daniel K. Inouye solar telescope

First solar image from the new Visible Tunable Filter marks its emergence as a centerpiece of Inouye's scientific instruments

The U.S. National Science Foundation Daniel K. Inouye Solar Telescope, the world’s most powerful solar telescope, operated by the NSF National Solar Observatory (NSO) near the summit of Maui’s Haleakalā, reached a major milestone: achieving first light with its most advanced instrument, the new Visible Tunable Filter (VTF). The solar image it produced shows early promise to the instrument’s scientific capabilities. Designed and built by the Institut für Sonnenphysik (KIS) in Freiburg, Germany, the VTF is the world’s largest imaging spectro-polarimeter, emerging as a centerpiece to the Inouye’s instrument suite. First Light Achieved  

After arriving last year, the KIS team, in collaboration with NSF NSO scientists and engineers, rebuilt and integrated the VTF into the Inouye’s Coudé Lab, marking the completion of the telescope’s originally designed suite of five first-generation instruments. Following extensive optic calibration and alignment, the team successfully carried out the instrument’s first on-Sun observations. The newly released image reveals a cluster of sunspots on the Sun’s surface with a spatial sampling of 10 km (or 6.2 miles) per pixel. Sunspots, areas of intense magnetic activity, often lead to solar flares and coronal mass ejections. This image, taken during technical testing as part of first light, shows early promise for the VTF’s full capabilities. While it is not yet fully operational, science verification and commissioning are expected to begin in 2026. The Inouye was built for instruments like the VTF - of such magnitude that it took over a decade to develop. These successful first light observations underscore the unique quality and functionality of the instrument, setting the stage for exciting findings in solar physics in the coming decades. 

“After all these years of work, VTF is a great success for me,” said Dr. Thomas Kentischer, KIS Co-Principal Investigator and key architect behind the instrument’s optical design. “I hope this instrument will become a powerful tool for scientists to answer outstanding questions on solar physics.”

“The significance of the technological achievement is such that one could easily argue the VTF is the Inouye Solar Telescope’s heart, and it is finally beating at its forever place,” added Dr. Matthias Schubert, KIS VTF Project Scientist. The Instrument The VTF is an imaging spectro-polarimeter that captures two-dimensional snapshots of the Sun at specific wavelengths. Different wavelengths of light appear to our eyes as different colors - and light increases in wavelength as it moves from violet to red in the optical range of the electromagnetic spectrum. Unlike traditional spectrographs that spread light into a full spectrum like a rainbow, the VTF uses an etalon - a pair of precisely spaced glass plates separated by tens of microns - that allows it to tune through colors. By adjusting this spacing at the nanometer scale (i.e., as tiny as a billionth of a meter), the VTF sequentially scans different wavelengths, similar to taking a series of photographs using different color filters. It takes several hundred images in just a few seconds with three high-accuracy synchronized cameras, at different colors, and combines these images to build a three-dimensional view of solar structures and analyzes their plasma properties. The VTF features the largest Fabry-Pérot etalons ever built for solar research, with a second etalon expected to arrive from KIS by year’s end. “Seeing those first spectral scans was a surreal moment. This is something no other instrument in the telescope can achieve in the same way,” said Dr. Stacey Sueoka, Senior Optical Engineer at NSO. “It marked the culmination of months of optical alignment, testing, and cross-continental teamwork. Even with just one etalon in place, we’re already seeing the instrument’s potential. This is only the beginning, and I’m excited to see what’s possible as we complete the system, integrate the second etalon, and move toward science verification and commissioning.”

Additionally, light moves in waves that can oscillate in different directions. Polarimetry is the technique of measuring the direction in which these lightwaves oscillate. When you combine spectroscopy and polarimetry, you are not just looking at the colors of the light - you are also figuring out how lightwaves’ oscillations are oriented at each color. Certain features, like solar magnetic fields, are not obvious just by looking at the light’s colors; but if the light is polarized in a particular way, and we are able to measure it, that can reveal hidden details about the solar magnetic field, which is crucial for understanding solar flares, and space weather. The VTF, with its unparalleled combination of imaging, spectral, and polarimetric capabilities, allows us to get an unprecedented full picture from the light we receive from the Sun. 

The central mission of the VTF is to spectroscopically isolate narrow-band images of the Sun at the highest possible spectral, spatial and temporal resolution provided by the Inouye - i.e., a spectral resolution able to resolve a range of wavelengths as small as 1/100,000th of the center wavelength; a spatial resolution that requires 10 km sampling to image the finest details on the sun accessible to the Inouye/VTF; and a temporal resolution of a few seconds within which the instrument acquires hundreds of images.

This means that it can take consecutive images of areas of the Sun by recording just a distinct small range of wavelengths tied to specific properties of solar phenomena. During one single observation, around 12 million spectra are recorded, which can then be used to determine the temperature, pressure, velocity, and magnetic field strength at different altitudes in the solar atmosphere. From this, high-precision velocity and magnetic field maps can be derived to track evolutionary changes of solar phenomena on spatial scales between 20-40,000 km (i.e., 12-25,000 miles).  Finally, it is VTF’s polarimetric capabilities that allow us to measure the polarization of the light coming from the imaged areas, and from it, infer its magnetic properties. By correlating all this information - i.e., spatial, temporal, spectral, and magnetic - we get an unprecedented understanding of the nature of our home star, and the mechanisms driving solar phenomena. Why It Matters

“When powerful solar storms hit Earth, they impact critical infrastructure across the globe and in space. High-resolution observations of the sun are necessary to improve predictions of such damaging storms,” said Carrie Black, NSF program director for the NSF National Solar Observatory. “The NSF Inouye Solar Telescope puts the U.S. at the forefront of worldwide efforts to produce high-resolution solar observations and the Visible Tunable Filter will complete its initial arsenal of scientific instruments.”

The Sun is a plasma laboratory right on our doorstep. Everyone is familiar with aurorae, for instance, which show the influence of solar activity on Earth - a consequence of energy and small particles released by the Sun interacting with our planet’s magnetic field. Similar to weather forecasts on Earth, it should be possible to predict the geomagnetic disturbances caused by energy eruptions on the Sun responsible for these beautiful aurorae - which can also have other unwelcoming implications. Space weather refers to the changing conditions in space, driven by the Sun’s behavior, that affect Earth and space-based technologies. On our increasingly technological Earth, sudden solar storms can cause devastating damage to critical infrastructure, and disable large portions of the electrical power grid, communications networks, or space systems. “The Inouye Solar Telescope was designed to study the underlying physics of the Sun as the driver of space weather. In pursuing this goal, the Inouye is an ideal platform for an unprecedented and pioneering instrument like the VTF,” said Christoph Keller, NSO Director. In order to access the necessary measurements to make crucial predictions a reality, we need cutting-edge instruments manufactured with atomic precision. The pioneering image spectro-polarimeter VTF is an example of the necessary technological leaps needed to increase our ability to produce reliable space weather predictions. 

TOP IMAGE: A narrow-band image of the Sun at a wavelength of λ=588.9nm - that of a well known solar sodium line also known as the “NaD line.” The image was acquired during recent first light efforts with the VTF at the Inouye, and shows how precisely the structures within a sunspot are resolved - and imply how thoroughly they can be examined by combining all data (image, spectroscopy, and polarimetry) available from the VTF. Each pixel in the original version of the image corresponds to 10 km (or 6.2 miles) on the Sun. Credit VTF/KIS/NSF/NSO/AURA

CENTRE IMAGE: The Visible Tunable Filter’s (VTF) etalon, pictured here, consists of two reflecting plates, employed for measuring small differences in the flux of light for different wavelengths using the interference it produces. The size of the etalon, and its extreme high surface quality, are unique and unprecedented. The VTF was designed and built by the Institut für Sonnenphysik (KIS) in Freiburg, Germany, and has now been integrated into the Inouye Solar Telescope in Maui, HI - where it recently successfully saw first light. Credit KIS

LOWER IMAGE: Near the summit of Maui’s Haleakalā, the NSF Daniel K. Inouye Solar Telescope - and its set of cutting-edge solar instruments, such as the Visible Tunable Filter - is set to pave the way for a deeper understanding of our home star.  Credit NSF/NSO/AURA

[rossfr00]

The One Who Cuts the Thread

Part 2

The next morning, the wind is still.

Too still.

Y/N wakes early, as always. She cleans her altar, lays new stones on her protection line, lights a candle, and offers silence instead of prayer. She doesn’t beg. She listens. That’s her way.

She brews coffee in a dented silver kettle, and eats alone at the edge of her motel bed. Same as every day. The motel owner never asks questions. That’s why she chose this place.

But something is off today. Not loud. Not wrong.

Just… off.

She feels it in the way the flame on her candle moves, as if breathing differently.

She feels it in the weight of the air.

Like being watched by something just outside the corner of her eye. She has been feeling observed even had strange dreams, hears someone calling his name. She feels kinda uncomfortable.

She double-checks her wards. They’re intact. The sigils under her window, the salt lines by the door, the sigil under her mattress.

Still, the feeling lingers.

A pressure on her skin.

Not hostile. Not quite.

But there.

By late afternoon, she gives up on pretending nothing’s wrong.

She drives.

The desert stretches out in all directions, sun glaring on broken roads and dry brush. Thirty minutes east of the town is something that wasn’t on any map: an old church, rebuilt in black wood, sitting at the edge of nothing.

No sign. No cars. No cross.

But she knows exactly what it is.

She’s heard whispers about it. People who disappear for “cleansing.” Travelers who never return. A cult without a name, only a man. Charismatic. Clean. Dangerous.

Jonah King.

She parks far enough that her engine can’t be heard. Pulls out her binoculars, and climbs the ridge for a better view.

There’s movement near the building. Figures in black, moving slowly. Men, women, some barely adults. All walking with heads bowed. One of them kneels by the front door and begins to wash the steps with water that looks red from up here.

Y/N’s stomach twists.

This isn’t theater. This isn’t performance.

This is submission. Ritualized. Absolute.

And then—he comes out.

Black suit. No tie. Sleeves rolled to the forearms. Hands loose at his sides. He walks with the kind of stillness you only learn from controlling a room without needing to speak.

She doesn’t have to guess. She knows it’s him.

Jonah King.

She feels it like a pulse in her ribs.

The dream voice. The burnt sage. The goat.

It was him.

It’s always been him.

She watches him place his hand on one of the acolytes’ heads. Not like a blessing—like ownership.

Then, suddenly, he turns his head.

Right toward the ridge.

Her breath catches.

He can’t see me. She’s too far. Hidden behind brush. Shielded.

But something in her gut says otherwise.

He stands still for a moment. Long. Still. His gaze pointed right where she is.

Then he smiles.

Not big. Not performative.

Just the corner of his mouth.

Like a man who knows a secret.

Y/N lowers the binoculars slowly.

And says out loud, to no one:

—Fuck.

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The pressure lifts from her chest. No more flickering candles, no more dreams she doesn’t remember. The motel is quiet. Her rituals are clean again—crisp in their intent, smooth in their execution. The spirits respond like usual: with signs, with stillness.

She thinks maybe whatever it was… passed.

But then she finds another one.

A dog this time. Half-starved, left inside a chalked circle in the middle of the desert, chained to a post with dried blood on its paws. The same ritual markings. The same sharp edge of desperation in the air.

Y/N doesn’t think. She moves.

She breaks the circle, lifts the animal into the back of her truck, and drives until the sigils don’t burn in her memory anymore. She leaves it at the door of an old mechanic who owes her favors. Leaves protection spells carved in the dust on the back window.

No thanks needed.

She doesn’t do this for points.

She does it because someone has to.

The third time, it’s a crow. Wings bound with twine. Feathers shaved off in sacred patterns.

Each time she finds one, she feels less fear and more anger.

Someone’s casting wide. Using life to beg for power.

And whoever they are, they’re near.

Still, no one comes. No one follows. No one watches.

Until the bar.

It’s a Tuesday night. Dusty. Quiet.

She goes for information, not drinks. The bartender is loose-lipped with the right look, and she’s learned to wear it: tired eyes, calm voice, don’t ask much. She asks about local disappearances, strange gatherings, people talking about “purpose.” The usual.

She’s about to leave when she feels it.

Not sees.

Feels.

A shift in the room. Like a shadow moving behind her skin.

Then—his voice.

“You drink whiskey?”

Her body tenses, but her voice stays cool.

—Not with you.

Jonah King doesn’t seem offended. He tilts his head slightly, lips curved in something between a smirk and a question.

“Didn’t think so.”

He sits beside her anyway, uninvited but not uncertain. She watches him from the corner of her eye, resisting the urge to move away.

She doesn’t.

She turns toward him instead. Slowly.

—So what do you want?

He shrugs, casual.

“To talk. You’ve been busy. I figured I owed you a drink.”

—You owe me a lot more than that.

His eyes flash, amused.

“Probably.”

There’s a beat of silence. He signals the bartender. Two glasses. No question.

Y/N should leave. She knows it. Every inch of her says walk away. But something in her stays seated. Something stubborn. Reckless. Or maybe just tired of always running from fire.

The whiskey hits the bar between them.

—You know I’m not one of them —she says, voice low.

“I know.”

—Then why bother?

He takes a sip, eyes never leaving her.

“Because I like knowing how things break.”

She scoffs, drinks.

—Try someone else. I don’t crack easy.

“I don’t want you to crack.”

His voice is quieter now.

“I want to see what you do when the world bends toward me… and you’re the only one still standing.”

She sets the glass down hard.

—You think that’s power? Having people kneel for you? Torturing the earth until it gives you blood?

“I think power is recognizing the inevitable—and choosing where to stand when it comes for you.”

They stare at each other. And for a moment, the noise of the bar fades out. The lights dim. The tension breathes on its own.

—You’re used to people folding —she says—. I’m not one of them.

“You’re not like anyone.”

There’s something dark in his voice, but not cruel. Not yet.

He looks at her differently now. Not like prey. Not even like a threat.

Like a riddle he’s dying to solve.

She leans in slightly, face close enough to feel the heat of his breath.

—And that terrifies you, doesn’t it?

Jonah smiles.

“No. That excites me.”

The words linger, like smoke.

She drains the rest of her drink in one breath. He watches her do it. And when she sets the empty glass down, she doesn’t say goodbye.

She just holds his gaze, like a match pressed to gasoline, and walks out.

But this time… she knows he’ll follow. And worse?

Part of her wants him to.

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Part 1