#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!

[steam-beasts]

E2 Escapades - A short TAB rewrite

It was February 9th, 1924 on the Northwestern Railway, on the Island of Sodor; a little island just off of Barrow where railways thrived.

Down at Knapford, the railway's director, Richard Topham Hatt stood at the shunting yards. He had been standing there for about 35 minutes, occasionally checking his pocket watch. He let out a sigh, tapping his foot as his patience began to wear thin, but he tried not to show it. He looked at his pocket watch again – it was nearly 8 o'clock. They said on the phone that it would be here by now.

He then heard a whistle and looked around, only to be slightly disappointed when he saw Edward puffing along the track, shunting a particularly cheeky truck. "Teapot! Teapot!" It chanted before Edward gave it a biff "That's enough" he replied firmly, eliciting a yelp from the truck, which ceased the cheeky backtalk.

As Edward was about to see to the next truck, he noticed the Fat Director standing near the track. Curious, he took a moment to reverse and switch on to the track closest to the man.

"Good morning, Sir!" Edward whistled cheerfully. The Fat Director gazed up at him with a small smile "Ah, good morning to you too, Edward. Keeping the trucks in line as usual, I see" he replied observantly. The Larger Seagull chuckled "Yes, Sir. All the usual..."

A moment of silence passed before Edward spoke up again "Erm... pardon me for seeming intrusive here, Sir. But why are you standing here in the yard?" He asked. The director let out a sigh "No, no... it's quite alright, Edward. I'm simply just waiting for the new engine to arrive" he said. Edward's eyes widened at the words "new engine".

"The new engine, Sir?" Edward repeated, raising his eyebrow "Are you referring to the one that...well...was supposed to be here last year in November?"

"Indeed...Edward, you're a hardworking engine, and I appreciate you taking time out your schedule to shunt the coaches and trucks. But i have to acquire a new shunter at some point, you know" the stout gentleman said. Edward hummed in acknowledgement "I know, Sir. It hasn't been easy around here... especially since...Glynn went missing" he said, his tone more solemn.

The Fat Director grimaced at the mention of his first engine. Glynn was an engine the Fat Director made with his own bare hands back when he was a boy. Glynn was the original No.1 of the NWR, but just after No.5 was bought, he went missing one morning. They searched and searched, but eventually had to move on. The Fat Director soon had to begin a search for a new shunter, much to Edward's disappointment.

The stout man sighed sadly "I...I know, Edward. But it's been months and we must move on. I can't always have you or James being the temporary station pilot"

"Of course, Sir, I–"

"Did you call me, Sir?" A new voice suddenly called. Just then, up along the track beside Edward came a rebuilt L&YR Class 28 tender engine

He had an extended running board, a pony truck and was painted in a sleek black with red stripes. As the tender engine came to a screeching halt beside Edward, sparks flew from his wheels causing him and the Fat Director to wince.

"Honestly, James! Stop braking so harshly!" Edward hissed, still wincing a little. James rolled his eyes "Nonsense, Edward. My brakes are as fit as a fiddle!" He proclaimed smugly.

"Edward is right, James. Your brakes may be fine, but your brake blocks are not"

James stammered "But Sir! It's not MY fault that me and my brothers were made with wooden brake blocks!" The Fat Director groaned at James's excuse. Was James wrong? No. But the director did want to make a point on replacing those wooden brake blocks with metal ones. The screeching they made was awful.

"Anyway, when will the new engine be here? I'm getting tired of shunting those coaches!" James asked, quickly changing the topic.

The Fat Director lightened up "Well, from what I've been told, the engine is on its way. That is why I am standing here, after all"

Another thought flew into Edward's funnel "What type of engine is it, Sir? You never said what is was"

The Fat Director proudly smiled "Well, I decided that this railway needs a tank engine for a change! So that's why I've ordered an E2" he explained. He once again checked his pocket watch and coughed "Ahem! I'll be back, my boys. I'm just going off to check if the E2 in question is on his way" and with that, he turned heel and walked off. It was just Edward and James now.

"Huh...an E2. Never heard of it, what about you?" Grunted James. Edward hummed thoughtfully "Hmm, I have heard of them, but I've never seen one myself. They're very big tank engines from what I've been told. A bit bigger than a Gresley locomotive"

James guffawed "Wha- bigger than Gordon?!"

"Again, from what I've been told, yes"

Edward's fireman chimed in "Don't know if getting an E2 is a good idea though. I've been at the L.B.S.C.R and E2s are pretty bad at braking and struggle at getting around corners and bends..." He said with uncertainty.

James groaned at this "Great! As if we need another engine as useless as Henry!"

Edward scowled "James, Henry's not..."

Edward quickly fell silent as a sudden shrill whistle echoed in the air. It was a whistle neither engines recognised. If Edward had a physical heart, it would've skipped a beat. Just then, around the corner came an engine that neither engines had seen before. It HAD to be the new engine.

"Hello! Is this Knapford?" The engine called. The engine was about a mile away, but the K2 couldn't help but notice how fairly young the engine sounded. The young engine was puffing towards them at a fast pace, a little too fast for his liking.

"Is that supposed to be the Fat Director's new tank engine? He's quite small if you ask me" James remarked. The tank engine was getting close, and didn't seem to be stopping. Edward's driver was observant of this "He's getting pretty close, shouldn't his driver be putting on the brakes?" He murmured. It was only when the tank engine was just metres away when panic began to arise.

"Woah, wait– why isn't he stopping?! Stop! STOP!!" James cried. Is it a good time to mention that the engine was on James's track?

"STOP!!" James yelled out, frantically trying to reverse. The tank engine finally noticed what was happening and yelped "Ah! Wait! Driver, help!" He cried to the driver, looking frantic. At this point, even Edward was backing up. The engine looked frantic, seeming to forget how his own body worked.

The Larger Seagull knew enough was enough "Oh for Lady's sake, PUT ON YOUR BRAKES, BOY!!" He shouted sharply. The young tank engine quickly did as told and the sounds of his brakes screeching pierced the air. His brakes only slowed him down by a bit, he was still going at a fast pace "I can't stop!" The engine groaned.

That was it. In that moment, Edward decided to take matters into his own wheels. Coming up behind him were switch points. He looked over at the signalman and whistled "POINTS!"

The points were swiftly changed, which resulted in Edward reversing on to the same track as James and the engine.

Edward stopped, then began going forward, towards the engine. Within moments, he and the tank engine's buffers collided. At the same time, Edward put on his brakes, and that definitely seemed like a good move. In minutes, he managed to slow the new engine to a stop.

The tank engine and Edward took a moment to gather their breath, just gazing at each other. Their respective crews climbed out their cabs to catch their own breathes, giving Edward a moment to exams the new engine's appearance.

the tank engine was unexpectedly smaller than Edward thought he'd be, even smaller than him. The tank engine had six small wheels, a short, stumpy funnel, a short, stumpy boiler and a short, stumpy dome. He was painted in a dark teal livery, with white lining and his railway's initials on his side tank, along with his number on his bunker. The tank engine gave Edward a nervous smile "Um...hello!" he said sheepishly. Edward gave him a kind smile in return "Well...hullo' to you too"

The tank engine kept his nervous smile as he backed up a little to give him space "Sorry about that, i–"

"What was THAT about? You could've crashed into me!" James suddenly yelled, switching on to the next track. The engine was taken back, guilt in his eyes "I-I'm sorry! It's just that my brakes don't work well when I go fast, and–"

"Ahem!" Someone coughed. Everyone snapped their gazes and froze when they saw the Fat Director approaching them with his two assistants "What was all the noise about? I couldn't hear the stationmaster over all the screeching!" He boomed. The three gulped anxiously. But when the Fat Director's turned his attention to the new tank engine, he immediately forgot what he was mad about "Ah, my new tank engine! I see you've finally arrived!" He said, walking over to the tank engine.

The teal tank engine put on a smile "Hello...um...Sir" he greeted the director as he looked him up and down. However, the Fat Director's happy look soon turned into a confused one "Hmm..."

James raised an eyebrow "What's happening?"

"I don't know...something must be wrong" Edward whispered, glancing at the director's puzzled look. The tank engine became worried "Is something wrong, Sir?"

"To put it bluntly, yes... i ordered an L.B.S.C.R E2 tank engine. I didn't order any modified Jintys" he said, scratching his chin. The tank engine's eyes widened "What..? But I am an E2" The engine proclaimed, becoming confused.

"Well, I can't exactly agree with you until I know that there wasn't a mix up" The Fat Director then approached the crew "Now, you two. Is he lying?"

The driver shook his head "No, Sir. He's being truthful" the Fat Director's eyes narrowed as he glanced back at the supposed E2. He still wasn't fully convinced "Does he have his blueprints with him?"

"Yes, Sir. They're in the cab"

"Go get them"

The fireman nodded and dashed towards the engine's cab. A few minutes later, he climbed back down from the cab and handed the blueprints to the director. As soon as the Fat Director got to look at the blueprints, an awkward silence fell over them all. The director's eyes narrowed, then slowly widened.

"Well, I'll be damned. You ARE the E2 I ordered..." He said incredulously "You were designed by Lawson Billinton, correct?"

"Yes, Sir! Though, I've never seen him myself" the E2 replied earnestly

Edward and James gasped softly "Oh dear...i think Sir might've been tricked again.." the K2 thought dreadfully. Edward's fireman soon jogged over to get a look himself.

"Do you mind if I take a look, Sir?" The stout gentleman grunted and gave him the paper. After a moment of looking, the fireman looked as confused as the Fat Director "That can't be right... I've seen an E2 before, this blueprint design isn't even accurate... it all looks rushed"

The Fat Director hummed thoughtfully and glanced at the E2's driver "Pardon me, but who gave you these blueprints?"

"One of the workers. They were one of the guys who built him" he replied "He was completed not too long ago. Only a few months" the driver explained. Edward and James were shocked "Goodness, he's incredibly young" Edward muttered.

"I see..." the director hummed. After a moment of thought, the Fat Director looked back up at the tank engine and smiled "I apologise for the misunderstanding, um....?" He gestured for the engine's name.

"No problem, Sir. I'm Thomas" Thomas smiled, trying to ignore what just happened. The Fat Director chuckled "Alright then, Thomas. My name is Richard Topham Hatt, but you, as you know already, are to address me as 'Sir'. Understood?" He said.

"Yes, Sir. I will"

"Very good, now...how well do you fare at shunting, Thomas?" The stout gentleman asked. Thomas beamed "I'm getting good at it, Sir"

"Alright then, sounds splendid! Now, i must get back to my office. I am a busy man, you know. I'll let Edward show you around" said the Fat Director as he wandered up to Edward "Edward, can you also teach him while you're showing him around? I think Thomas needs a bit more experience... especially around Gordon" he whispered. Edward quietly agreed "I will do my best, Sir"

Thomas watched quietly as the railway director finally disappeared from view before looking back at Edward and James, who were staring at him. He raised an eyebrow "What? Do I have soot on my face or something? Why are you two staring?"

Edward's face flushed with embarrassment as he averted his gaze "Oh, um– pardon me, Thomas. It's just that you're...well...not as big as we thought you'd be. You're small, smaller than any of us"

Thomas took offense to this and wheeshed "Puh! Sorry for not reaching your expectations. But believe it or not, I was big enough to do my job at Brighton!" He replied snarkily. He wasn't expecting to meet more arrogant big engines so soon. He switched to another track and puffed away, huffing.

Edward's eyes widened "No, wait! That's not what I meant!" Edward said as he reversed to catch up with Thomas "I just meant you're not as big as we were told you'd be. It's alright if you're small! Look at me, I'm the smallest tender engine on this railway!"

Thomas's expression softened "Well, I may be small, but I'm very hardworking!"

Edward smiled softly "I'm sure you are. My name's Edward, by the way. But the director already mentioned that, didn't he?" he chuckled. Thomas chuckled "Nice to meet you, Edward. You're a lot kinder than all the other tender engines I've met. They just boss me around as soon as they see me!"

"...and I'm James!" Greeted the other tender engine.

“It’s nice to meet you both…I was told that I was going to be a station pilot here?”

Those words made Edward recall the director’s words “Ah, yes. Thomas, come with me. I’ll show you around the yards and the station. I’ll even show you our roundhouse shed up at Tidmouth, I’m sure that’s where you’ll be sleeping” he promised. Thomas whistled eagerly to that and followed Edward as he went to get himself turned around. James watched as they did so.

From that day on, Thomas showed everyone that even the littlest engines can be Really Useful.

[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.

[bsautosuppliess]

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

[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.

[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:

Finding a top-notch used engine doesn't have to be a tedious and costly affair. By utilizing keywords like 'engine for sale used' and exploring options like 'engines for sale near me,' you can unleash a wealth of possibilities on both online platforms and local auto parts stores. Don't shy away from venturing into the second-hand market and experimenting with package deals – your dream engine may be closer than you think. Happy hunting!

[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

[turboautoparts1]

How to Save Money by Buying a Used Engine Online

If you're looking to replace your car's engine without breaking the bank, buying used engines online could be one of the smartest decisions you make. Purchasing a new engine can be incredibly expensive, but going the used route gives you the performance you need without the high price tag. With a little bit of research and know-how, you can save a significant amount of money. Let me walk you through some of the best tips for saving money when buying a used engine online.

1. Research, Research, Research!

Before making any purchase, it's important to do your homework. Not all used engines are created equal, and you want to make sure you're getting the best deal. Look for reputable sellers with good reviews, and make sure the engine you’re buying fits your specific vehicle's make and model. The last thing you want is to get an engine that doesn’t work with your car. Compare prices on multiple websites to ensure you’re not overpaying. Many online retailers offer competitive prices, and you might find that shopping around could save you hundreds, if not thousands, on your used engine purchase.

2. Check the Engine’s History

This is a big one. You wouldn’t buy a used car without checking its history, so why would you buy a used engine without knowing where it came from? Look for engines that come with a detailed history report. This report should tell you the mileage on the engine, any prior issues it may have had, and whether it’s been rebuilt. Engines with fewer miles and a clean history are likely to last longer and give you fewer problems in the future. This step alone can save you a ton of money in repairs down the line.

3. Ask About Warranties

Even when buying a used engine, some sellers offer warranties, which can provide peace of mind. You should always ask about any available warranties or guarantees on the engine. A short-term warranty, even if it’s just 30 to 90 days, can be a lifesaver if something goes wrong after installation. A warranty could save you from unexpected repair costs if the engine turns out to have hidden problems. Always prioritize sellers who offer some form of warranty on their used engines.

4. Consider the Shipping Costs

One thing that people often forget about when buying a used engine online is shipping costs. Engines are heavy, and shipping can add up. Some retailers offer free shipping, so keep an eye out for that option. In other cases, it may be more affordable to buy locally if you find a seller near you who allows for local pickup. Always factor in shipping when comparing prices so you don’t get blindsided by additional costs.

5. Know What You Need

Before you even start shopping for a used engine, make sure you know exactly what you need. There are different types of engines, and some may not be compatible with your vehicle. Take down your car’s VIN number, engine type, and any other specific details to ensure you’re getting the right part. Making a mistake here could cost you more in the long run. The clearer you are on what you need, the less likely you’ll have to deal with costly returns or wrong orders.

6. Look for Discounts and Deals

Who doesn’t love a good deal? Many online platforms offer seasonal discounts, bulk purchase deals, or promotional codes that can bring down the cost of your used engine. Keep an eye out for flash sales or subscribe to seller newsletters so you can be the first to know about any discounts. A simple promo code could save you a chunk of money!

7. Don’t Forget Installation Costs

While the main focus is on saving money by purchasing a used engine online, don't forget about installation costs. Once you receive your engine, you’ll likely need a mechanic to install it unless you're doing it yourself. Ask for quotes from local mechanics before you buy so that you can budget for installation. Sometimes, a mechanic may even be able to help you source the engine, saving you even more money.

8. Avoid Scams

This might seem obvious, but it's critical when shopping online. There are plenty of reputable sellers, but unfortunately, there are also scams out there. If a deal seems too good to be true, it probably is. Make sure you are buying from trusted sellers with good reviews. Also, double-check the seller's return policies and read the fine print to avoid getting stuck with a bad engine. Stick to well-known platforms or websites that have customer protection policies in place.

9. Use Forums and Groups for Recommendations

Car enthusiast forums and groups can be a goldmine of information when you’re shopping for a used engine. People who have been in the same situation can point you to reliable sellers, recommend where to find good deals, or even warn you of sellers to avoid. Getting personal recommendations can sometimes be more reliable than reading through seller reviews, especially if you're new to buying car parts online.

10. Buy from Certified Sellers

When possible, try to buy from certified sellers or suppliers. Some sellers specialize in reconditioned or tested engines and offer more thorough quality control than private sellers. Certified engines often come with a bit more assurance that you’re buying something that has been inspected and is in good working condition. Yes, they may cost a little more upfront, but they can save you from the risk of buying a faulty engine, which could end up costing more in the long run.

Conclusion

Buying a used engine online is a fantastic way to save money, but only if you do it right. By following the steps above—researching your engine’s history, looking for warranties, considering shipping costs, and being mindful of scams—you can ensure you’re getting a great deal without sacrificing quality. When done correctly, purchasing a used engine online can be one of the best investments you make in your vehicle, saving you money and keeping your car running smoothly for years to come

[bsautosuppliess]

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

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[night-dark-woods]

ID. Intercut excerpts of Baru Cormorant books and images and excerpts from the Wikipedia page for Cormorant fishing.

Baru:

In Falcrest, in the Metademe, they condition prisoners just so: permit escape. Offer a rescuer, a collaborator. Slip a key in with the food. Let them come close to freedom, let them feel real triumph-they would not let me this far! This is the crux: give them the taste of victory, the certainty that this cannot be part of the game. And then snatch it away. The collaborator betrays them. The key will not open the outermost door. With enough repetition, most prisoners learn to ignore a key, an open door, a whisper to run. Led out onto the street, they will wait to be returned to their cells. After a time, they begin to teach new prisoners the same.

Wiki: Cormorant fishing is a traditional fishing technique in which fishermen use trained cormorants to catch fish in rivers.

Baru:

"That's real," she tells the Oriati girl. "Only that. Duty? Law? The men who control you don't have any duties. The men who control you don't obey any laws. The act. THen they tell you that it's your duty to obey."

Image: Photo of a man in a boat wearing a broad-brimmed conical hat, with cormorants perched all over the boat and a long pole he is holding in both hands.

Baru:

"But you're not part of the true Throne." "The true Throne?" Baru snapped, dangerously. "Am I false, somehow?" "You are a foreigner. Xate Yawa is a foreigner. Apparitor is a foreigner. Do you really believe the real Throne would have so many foreign- born members? Do you really think it would have so many women?" Her eyes lingered on Baru as if marking the differences between them, at once dismissive and intensely domineering. "You didn't think it was coincidence they sent three foreign-born agents on this expedition, did you? And no one born Falcresti at all?"

Wiki: To control the birds, the fishermen tie a loose snare near the base of the bird's throat. The snare does not stop the bird from swallowing small fish, but prevents the bird from swallowing larger fish, which are held temporarily in their gullet.

Baru:

Tain Shir spoke in Maia Urun, the ancestral tongue of Baru's home; spoke as if she could taste Baru's thoughts. “Farrier is your secret master, for his mastery is secret from you. He has concealed it within your pride. He has dominated you through your conviction that you secretly resist him. There is no difference between pretending to obey Farrier and committing yourself utterly to his control."

Wiki: When a cormorant has caught a fish in its throat, the fisherman brings the bird back to the boat and has it regurgitate the fish.

Baru:

"So I am his model. A wild-type islander girl taught to govern herself perfectly. Taught to obey Falcrest no matter how terribly she wants to resist. Taught to deny herself the companionship and compassion she requires. I am his proof to Renascent that his method triumphs over Hesychast's eugenics. I am the one who will always obey, because I can always rationalize my obedience as my own will." In Urunoki, Baru gasped: "I am his weapon."

Image: A traditional Japanese woodblock print, captioned, "Viewing of cormorant fishing as an amusement (a woodblock print of Utagawa Kunisada, 1852)"

Baru:

"I know them all, there aren't any others—" Shir laughed like a jackal. "You think you know every cryptarch? There are more of them in Falcrest. There are many cells." "No," Barhu insisted, "there were many cells once, before the Throne was purged and rebuilt, and now there is only one—” "Wrong. They needed you to do provincial work, out here on the Empire's frontier. So they gave you a provincial's knowledge of the truth."

Wiki: Photo of a man grasping a cormorant by the back of its neck, a large fish falling from its mouth.

Baru:

"When the mask came to Taranoke, they said all the same things. New markets. Better trade. All you're offering is more of the same, Baru. More gears and levers to add to the same engine that ground us up. Maybe we get a lever to pull for our own benefit. Fine. But what about the people in this new market you're opening, in western Oria? What will they get? Pox and flu and civil war? A chance to be worked to death in yards and plantations?" She shook her head. "Water flows downhill, child. Pouring more water won't change that." "With enough time, water changes the shape of the river, ma." "Well," Pinion grumbled, "it still flows downhill."

Wiki: Traditionally practised for sustenance, cormorant fishing is now primarily performed for tourists.

Baru:

"You're walking a very dangerous road. You've built an engine to give you immense power. But you've also given Falcrest the chance to capture that engine. They will remake the whole Mbo in their mutilated image if they can."

End ID.

There is a difference between acting out their story, and truly obeying their story. Do you know what it is?

BARU CORMORANT ✴ cormorant fishing