#advanced traction control

[marketresearchnews24]

Smart Traction: Intelligent All-Wheel Drive Market Accelerates to $49.3 Billion by 2030

The intelligent all-wheel drive market is experiencing remarkable momentum as automotive manufacturers integrate advanced electronics and artificial intelligence into drivetrain systems to deliver superior performance, safety, and efficiency. With an estimated revenue of $29.9 billion in 2024, the market is projected to grow at an impressive compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 8.7% from 2024 to 2030, reaching $49.3 billion by the end of the forecast period. This robust growth reflects the automotive industry's evolution toward smarter, more responsive drivetrain technologies that adapt dynamically to changing road conditions and driving scenarios.

Evolution Beyond Traditional All-Wheel Drive

Intelligent all-wheel drive systems represent a significant advancement over conventional mechanical AWD configurations, incorporating sophisticated electronic controls, multiple sensors, and predictive algorithms to optimize traction and handling in real-time. These systems continuously monitor wheel slip, steering input, throttle position, and road conditions to make instantaneous adjustments to torque distribution between front and rear axles, and increasingly between individual wheels.

Unlike traditional AWD systems that react to wheel slip after it occurs, intelligent systems use predictive algorithms and sensor data to anticipate traction needs before wheel slip begins. This proactive approach enhances vehicle stability, improves fuel efficiency, and provides superior performance across diverse driving conditions from highway cruising to off-road adventures.

Consumer Demand for Enhanced Safety and Performance

Growing consumer awareness of vehicle safety and performance capabilities is driving increased demand for intelligent AWD systems. Modern drivers expect vehicles that can confidently handle adverse weather conditions, challenging terrain, and emergency maneuvering situations. Intelligent AWD systems provide these capabilities while maintaining the fuel efficiency advantages of front-wheel drive during normal driving conditions.

The rise of active lifestyle trends and outdoor recreation activities has increased consumer interest in vehicles capable of handling diverse terrain and weather conditions. Intelligent AWD systems enable crossovers and SUVs to deliver genuine all-terrain capability without compromising on-road refinement and efficiency.

SUV and Crossover Market Expansion

The global shift toward SUVs and crossover vehicles is a primary driver of intelligent AWD market growth. These vehicle segments increasingly offer AWD as standard equipment or popular options, with intelligent systems becoming key differentiators in competitive markets. Manufacturers are positioning advanced AWD capabilities as premium features that justify higher trim levels and increased profitability.

Luxury vehicle segments are particularly driving innovation in intelligent AWD technology, with features such as individual wheel torque vectoring, terrain-specific driving modes, and integration with adaptive suspension systems. These advanced capabilities create compelling value propositions for consumers seeking both performance and versatility.

Electric Vehicle Integration Opportunities

The electrification of automotive powertrains presents unique opportunities for intelligent AWD systems. Electric vehicles can implement AWD through individual wheel motors or dual-motor configurations that provide precise torque control impossible with mechanical systems. Electric AWD systems offer instant torque delivery, regenerative braking coordination, and energy management optimization.

Hybrid vehicles benefit from intelligent AWD systems that coordinate internal combustion engines with electric motors to optimize performance and efficiency. These systems can operate in electric-only AWD mode for quiet, emissions-free driving or combine power sources for maximum performance when needed.

Advanced Sensor Technology and Data Processing

Modern intelligent AWD systems incorporate multiple sensor technologies including accelerometers, gyroscopes, wheel speed sensors, and increasingly, cameras and radar systems that monitor road conditions ahead of the vehicle. Machine learning algorithms process this sensor data to predict optimal torque distribution strategies for varying conditions.

GPS integration enables intelligent AWD systems to prepare for upcoming terrain changes, weather conditions, and road characteristics based on location data and real-time traffic information. This predictive capability allows systems to optimize performance before challenging conditions are encountered.

Manufacturer Competition and Innovation

Intense competition among automotive manufacturers is driving rapid innovation in intelligent AWD technology. Brands are developing proprietary systems with unique characteristics and branding to differentiate their vehicles in crowded markets. This competition accelerates technological advancement while providing consumers with increasingly sophisticated options.

Partnerships between automotive manufacturers and technology companies are creating new capabilities in intelligent AWD control systems. Artificial intelligence, cloud computing, and advanced materials are being integrated to create more responsive and efficient systems.

Regional Market Dynamics

Different global markets exhibit varying demand patterns for intelligent AWD systems based on climate conditions, terrain characteristics, and consumer preferences. Northern markets with harsh winter conditions show strong demand for advanced traction systems, while emerging markets focus on systems that provide value-oriented performance improvements.

Regulatory requirements for vehicle stability and safety systems in various regions influence the adoption of intelligent AWD technology. Standards for electronic stability control and traction management create baseline requirements that intelligent AWD systems can exceed.

Manufacturing and Cost Considerations

The increasing sophistication of intelligent AWD systems requires significant investment in research and development, manufacturing capabilities, and supplier relationships. However, economies of scale and advancing semiconductor technology are helping to reduce system costs while improving performance and reliability.

Modular system designs enable manufacturers to offer different levels of AWD sophistication across vehicle lineups, from basic intelligent systems in entry-level models to advanced torque-vectoring systems in performance vehicles.

[magical-reid]

could i pretty please request prompt #18 with spencer reid and a forensic scientist reader? would be super duper cool if she was part of the bones (tv show) crew, as i’ve always thought them and cm should have done a crossover. thanks!! ❤️

The Science of Luck

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1K

Prompt: 18: "I thought I had the worst luck, until I met you"

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid, a staunch skeptic of luck, finds himself questioning his beliefs after an encounter with a clumsy forensic scientist, who joins the BAU team on a challenging case. Despite their initial bickering and contrasting expertise, the two begin to form an unlikely partnership while investigating a serial killer, leading to a surprising and potentially life-changing connection.

Dr. Spencer Reid didn’t believe in luck. Probability? Sure. Coincidence? Of course. But luck? That was just a cognitive bias humans relied on to explain randomness.

Yet, as he stood ankle-deep in Virginia mud, his pristine pants ruined, watching as yet another forensic scientist nearly slipped and took out an entire evidence table, he found himself reconsidering.

“I thought I had the worst luck,” he muttered, barely dodging a flying clipboard, “until I met you.”

The forensic scientist in question—you—wobbled but managed to right yourself before disaster struck. You shot him a glare as you readjusted your Jeffersonian ID badge. “Not my fault this crime scene is a swamp. And it’s not luck, it’s physics. Slippery surfaces, unstable ground, and a lack of proper traction—”

“That sounds an awful lot like an excuse for bad luck,” Spencer countered.

You huffed but couldn’t argue. You were a forensic scientist, not a field agent, and being thrown into an active crime scene with the BAU was not in your usual job description. You were used to working in the pristine, controlled environment of the Jeffersonian Institute—not chasing serial killers through the backwoods of Virginia.

And yet, here you were.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It all started with a body—or rather, bodies. Multiple skeletal remains had been discovered in various locations across the D.C.-Virginia border, the work of a particularly meticulous serial killer. The BAU had been called in due to the pattern of abductions matching an existing profile, but given the advanced state of decomposition, the FBI had reached out to the Jeffersonian for forensic assistance.

That’s how you ended up here—cold, wet, and questioning all of your life choices.

Agent Hotchner, ever the professional, barely batted an eye at the tension between you and Reid. “Dr. (L/N), thank you for assisting us. Dr. Brennan recommended you personally.”

You straightened your back. Temperance Brennan doesn’t recommend people lightly. “I specialize in isotopic analysis and forensic taphonomy. If your unsub is moving bodies across state lines, I can determine where they were before they ended up here.”

Hotch nodded approvingly. “That would be extremely useful.”

Reid, however, still looked skeptical. “That’s assuming there’s a pattern in the body disposal locations. If the killer is deliberately choosing random drop sites—”

You crossed your arms. “Then I can still tell you about the soil composition, insect activity, and post-mortem damage, which could help narrow down a timeline. It’s basic forensic science, Doctor Reid.”

A small smirk twitched at the corner of Hotch’s lips as he turned away. “Work with Dr. Reid and see what you can find.”

You and Reid stared at each other for a beat too long before sighing simultaneously.

“Fine,” you said.

“Fine,” he echoed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Back at the Jeffersonian, you had the advantage. This was your turf, your lab, your meticulously organized work environment. And Spencer Reid—despite his genius—was a little out of place.

“Don’t touch that,” you warned as he hovered near a set of isotopic samples.

“I wasn’t going to,” he shot back, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You raised a brow. “I literally just watched you reaching for it.”

“It was a reflex!”

“Uh-huh.”

Despite the bickering, you had to admit—Reid was sharp. He picked up on patterns even before you finished running tests, and while his knowledge of forensic anthropology was limited, he had an uncanny ability to connect seemingly random details.

Together, you started to piece together the unsub’s movements. The isotopic analysis revealed that the victims had spent time in an area with a unique mineral composition—suggesting an underground water source near limestone deposits.

Reid’s encyclopedic brain immediately pulled up a connection. “There’s an abandoned mining town about twenty miles west of the last body dump site. It was shut down in the 1980s, but the underground aquifers match your analysis.”

Your eyes widened. “If the bodies were stored there first, that could explain some of the inconsistencies in decomposition rates.”

He nodded excitedly. “Exactly. We need to check it out.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The abandoned town was eerie. Old buildings, rusting equipment, and an unsettling silence. You were with Reid, Morgan, and Booth—because of course Booth had insisted on coming along.

“What are the chances the unsub is actually still here?” you asked, glancing around nervously.

“Statistically?” Reid started, but before he could finish, a gunshot rang out.

“DOWN!” Morgan shouted, pushing you behind cover as bullets ricocheted off the crumbling brick walls.

Your heart pounded as you scrambled for safety. “I am so not cut out for this!”

“Yeah, well, welcome to our world,” Booth muttered, drawing his weapon.

Reid, crouched beside you, looked equally shaken but determined. “Stay close to me.”

“Not like I have many options!”

A tense firefight ensued, but the BAU and Booth’s tactical skills won out. The suspect was apprehended, and the nightmare was over.

Mostly.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Back at the Jeffersonian, you were still rattled. Lab work was one thing. Nearly getting shot was another.

“You okay?” Reid’s voice was softer than usual.

You exhaled. “I will be. Just… not used to being a target.”

“Statistically speaking—”

“Reid,” you warned.

He smirked. “Right. Not helping.”

There was a beat of silence before he hesitated. “For what it’s worth… I think your bad luck might just be situational.”

You gave him a look. “Says the guy who gets kidnapped at least once a year?”

His lips quirked. “Fair point.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. “Guess we’re both unlucky then.”

He nodded. “Yeah. But… maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I mean, we did solve the case together.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying we make a good team?”

Reid shrugged, but there was a hint of a smile. “I’m saying… maybe luck isn’t the worst thing. As long as you have the right person to balance it out.”

You studied him for a moment before smirking. “Are you flirting with me, Dr. Reid?”

His ears turned red. “W-what? No! I mean—maybe? I just meant that—”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe you were unlucky. But if it meant crossing paths with Spencer Reid?

Maybe, just maybe… luck wasn’t so bad after all.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Home For Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You get sidetracked on your way home.

Character: Andy Barber

Day Four of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - the car broke down and the snow is getting deep 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"It's getting bad," Andy shifts in the passenger seat, as usual, stating the obvious.  

"Yeah, just gotta be careful," you grip the wheel, leaning into it as you try to see through the falling powder. "I've driven through worse." 

"Maybe, but it's not letting up," he sits up, concerned after his cat nap. "Might be a good idea to look for a hotel or something. Even just somewhere we can pull off until it dies down." 

"It's really not that much," you argue. You just want to get home. Just a few more hours and you get to enjoy your holidays. 

"Look, I know you wanna get back for Christmas but--" 

"Shit!" You exclaim as headlights flash through the white flakes and veer away from you with a honk as you twist the wheel to avoid the other car. 

You slam on the breaks as you steer into a heaping bank, sending up puffs of snow all around you. Andy grunts as he reaches over to flip on the hazards. You catch your breath as he sighs. You hate that sound. 

"What were you saying?" He mutters. 

"That guy was in the wrong lane," you argue. "I can't help that." 

"Yeah, but if you can't see them, they can't see you." 

You keep from countering. He always has to be right. Besides, he's your boss, he's supposed to be right. It just irks you how he talks to you like a child. You're almost the same damn age as him. 

"Let me drive," he insists. 

"Andy," you shift into reverse and check the back window, "can you check your phone? See if there's anything close by." 

Your defeat is in your voice. He is right. The snows getting worse by the second. You'll be lucky to get as far as a hotel. 

"Shit," he mutters as he sits back and looks at his phone, "no signal." 

He raises it, angling it around with a tut. You chew your cheeks in agitation. That means you can't even call James to let him know you'll be late. 

"I think I saw a sign back a ways..." you drone uncertainly, once more clamping down on the wheel. "Let me know if you see anything." 

You right the nose of the car, the tires rolling without traction before finally catching. That's not good either. Of course, the snow had to wait. It had to dump in that moment, when you're finally at the end of this stupid work trip. 

You head back down the highway, tense as you feel the tenuous grip of the tires. You’re not sure you’re going to get very far. You don’t. After a sluggish advance, the car swerves as snow builds up in the tire wells and clog the axle. Once more, you barely keep control as you steer back towards the snow-buried apron. 

You roll into the window high drifts and push both feet onto the brake. You hang your head forward and groan. Andy’s hand grips the corner of your seat, his other on the dashboard. You lean back and shake your heads. 

“Well, Happy Holidays,” you huff. “Should we get out and walk.” 

“You think we’ll get far?” He asks, though you can’t tell if it’s rhetorical or not. 

“What else can we do?” You wonder with exasperation. 

“Got an emerge kit in the trunk. Seats fold down.” 

You blink at him. He can’t mean that. 

“Just until it stops. It’s only building and even if we don’t want to, there’s not much choice.” 

“We can call for help,” you suggest. 

“Even if someone could get to us, I don’t have any bars. What about you?” 

You shift into park and take out your phone. A circle with a bar. Nothing. 

“Can’t keep this on forever either. The battery will die. There’s a thermal blanket, a couple of hand warmers, food...” 

“Jesus, how long are we going to be stuck here?” You look at him. 

For the first time in all the years you’ve worked with him, Andy looks uncertain. That adds to your anxiety. He frowns and slides his hand off the seat onto your shoulder. 

“Look, it’s fine. It should be more than tonight. Snow’s supposed to let up after dusk, then we just need to wait for the plows. They usually start up at 3. Before traffic gets heavy.” He assures. 

You nod. For once, you’re happy to have a know-it-all with you. 

“Alright, so, turn off the engine.” 

You do what he says and he reaches for his door. He pushes it open and the wind blows back his hair and dusts snow into the SUV. He goes to the back of the car, disappearing into the white void. You watch nervously, trying to see through the thick flakes. 

The hatch opens and you undo your seat belt so you can crane around. “What are you doing?” 

“Gotta make sure we’re visible. I’ll hang one of the emergency vests on the back.” 

“Oh, right, can I help?” You wonder. 

“If you can get the seats down, we’re going to have to keep as much warmth as we can. Lever’s underneath,” he hollers through the wind. His cheeks are already touched pink by the snowy blast. He pulls out a neon yellow vest and closes the back up. 

You get out of the seat and pull the switch on the side to fold it forward. You climb over it and feel around the front of the backseat. You get those down as the side door opens. And climbs up, crunching himself down to fit in the tight space. 

You operate silently in unison. He gets the blankets out. Two. He suggests one for underneath and the second over you. He has bottles of water, some cold rations, and little packets that heat up for about 15 minutes when you rub them. 

As you sit on the thermal blanket he feels the front of his jacket, “damn it,” you can see the moisture around his shoulders. 

He strips it off and shivers in his dress shirt. His hair is damp too, curling at the ends. He looks at you, his blue eyes bolder as the world is white outside the windows. 

“Uh, we gotta...” 

“Yeah, sure,” you grab the blanket and pull it close. He moves next to you. There isn’t quite enough space to stretch out. You’re scrunched up as your arms touch and you lean on the slight incline of the folded seat. 

“Gonna be a long night,” he mutters. 

“Not exactly the white Christmas I hoped for,” you agree. 

You don’t complain much more. You have someone to get home to eventually. Since the divorce, Andy is rarely eager to leave work. It’s exactly the reason you’re trapped on the side of the highway. The work trip was his reason not to be alone. You feel bad for him, even if he is an ass of a boss. 

❄️ 

Your teeth chatter as you hug yourself under the blanket. Andy’s heat burns at your back but can’t warm you as the wind whistles outside the car. He turns on the car for about ten minutes at a time but hasn’t in at least two hours as the coldness sets in. It’s better to conserve the heat under the blanket. 

His arm is around you, his chin in your shoulder, resting against yours. It’s an innately intimate position, intertwined, snug, but you’re not thinking about that. You’re just thinking about the miracle of modern heating. You just need to make it through tonight. 

He shifts and shivers against you. You put your hand on his to try to warm him. You don’t feel you’re offering much as he radiates with heat. 

He sighs. God, his damn sighs. The sound that make your office days longer. 

You close your eyes but can’t sleep. You’re too anxious to settle down. Your eyes burn with fatigue but your adrenaline keeps you unsettled. 

The silence is as frigid as the weather. Both of you stopped talking a while ago. There’s nothing left to say but the obvious. You can’t wait to be out of there. You try to relax, the tension aching in your neck. 

He shifts and his hand slips from under yours. You move too, searching for comfort. His fingers rustle down your shirt and touch the front of your pants. The awkward brush makes you squirm. He drags his hand back up and presses against the bottom of your shirt. 

You go rigid again. His fingertips trace the waistband of your wool trousers. Your eyes snap open. 

He dips beneath the fabric and you suck in a stunned breath. You flinch as he tickles along your panties. You cough. 

“Andy, what--” 

He hushes you, “it’s cold...” 

Does he know what he’s doing? Maybe he’s just trying to go up your shirt but that’s not better, is it? His cheek presses against your skull as he pulls you flush to him. He delves beneath your underwear and you gasp again. 

“Andy--” 

“No one will know,” he grits. 

“No, Andy,” you grab his forearm. “You can’t-- I know you’ve been going through a lot but no--” 

His other arm snakes up from under your waist and his hand stretches across your throat. You gulp and let out another surprised squeak. He squeezes as you reach to snatch at his grip. 

“And...” 

He chokes the protest from you as he grazes along your pelvis. You wince and as he rocks his hips against you. He purrs. “Mmm, nice and tidy... like you were expecting this.” 

Your skin blazes in humiliation. You spent a little extra time trimming. You missed James terribly and his texts betrayed that the feeling was mutual. 

You croak but can’t speak. He fingertips press behind your jaw until the pain waters in your eyes. He jams his hand between your thighs. He curls against your cunt and glides between your folds. Another spark of humiliation scalds you. It’s been weeks since you had the time of energy to spend with James. You and your husband are just too busy. You’re all too responsive to the rare touch. 

The fear constricts across your ribs as your heart pound, echoing in your temples. You squeeze his wrist which only inspires him to tighten his hold on your throat. Your eyes gloss over with helplessness. You can't stop him. Not in that moment and even if you could speak, there’s no one to hear you scream for help. 

He bends his fingers until they sink past your entrance. He has no patience. He buries himself to his lowest knuckle, gripping tight so the heel of his hand is against your clit. The pressure pulses into your core. 

He tilts his hand, forming a slow rhythm that feeds a different kind of heat. The kind that burns your soul. You flick your lashes as your walls clench him and you twitch. No, no. 

Your breath picks up. You think of your husband, waiting, worried, and you’re there... he can’t ever know. Even if it’s wrong. Even if you don’t want it. 

“I’ve been so lonely,” he rasps against the brim of your ear. “I just... need to touch someone.” His desperation trembles in his voice. “You’re so warm and soft.... and wet.” 

You hear your cunt clinging to him as he rocks his hand faster and faster. The swirl of nerves flurries to a spiral. The coil twists tighter and tighter. You arch your back, pushing your ass back unthinkingly against his crotch. 

He moves in response. Rubbing his hard bulge against you. His own breath hitches as he writhes in tandem with his hand. His palm claps against you as he fucks you harder and harder, pumping himself against your ass. 

You let go of him to bite your finger. You cum in a spasm, your tears overflowing in more than shame. It’s a sense of relief, the release of the tension built of neglect and stress. He puffs furiously as he ruts against you, shaking as his voice gurgles and his rhythm turns spasmodic. 

He growls and grunts until he falls out of motion. He stills and goes slack, his hand trapped beneath your thighs as he heaves. He purrs and nuzzles your ear. 

“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” he grits. 

[sillygoofyqueer]

found your mad scientist WWX au while I had a cold and it is FEEDING ME like your writing is so yummy!!! I vibed with it at the beginning but I am LOVING the Creatureification of WWX, like man is feral and it’s amazing.

also read Loosing hope and holy shit in the beginning I had to take break every few paragraphs cuz I could read through the in eyes!

AUUUUGGGGHH THANK YOU SO MUUUUCCCHHH. Losing Hope is my precious baby, the first thing I think I fully committed to writing like, ever. If you can't tell, I have a penchant for dropping Wei Wuxian into what I like to call the trauma pool and then holding him in there for a while while I play snake. I'm so glad you like it!!! And the mad scientist AU? THANK YEW. I didn't expect it to gain the traction that it did lmfao. To feed you a little more, take THIS MINI POST!!!!! Wen Chao is a cowering bitch by the time Wei Ying gets to him. He must have heard the screams and the cries of those meant to protect him, and it's hard to forget that Wei Ying was only recently covered in the blood and gore of his main bodyguard for years. It's almost amusing - he hasn't even used guidao yet, wiping down Suibian's blade with a scrap ripped from a dead body on his way up, and Wen Chao is already acting like he's gutted someone right in front of him. Personally, he can't wait to see how the other boy will react when he does let Chenqing have some fun as well. Despite his fear, Wen Chao still sneers and pretends that he has any sort of control in this situation. That Wei Ying hasn't come here for the sole purpose of giving him the same treatment his father gave his family.

"You don't scare me," the whimpering lump hisses out, leaving him rolling his eyes as he leans back against the wall opposite him, "I've seen you at your most pathetic." Which, of course, is strange. If being at his most 'pathetic' involved still gripping a chunk of Wen Zhuliu's heart with hands cut by the same man's bones, then that can only be classed as a good thing in his eyes. So, he just smiles and shrugs, uncaring of whatever taunts Wen Chao may have to him as he begins to slowly advance on him, relishing in the fear shining in those dark eyes. His unusual silence only scares Wen Chao more as he huddles further into the corner he has tried to sequester himself away in, leading him to snapping and saying "it doesn't matter what you do! The Wen are going to be victorious soon anyway!"

It could just be stalling, but Wei Ying is intrigued. He already speculated that the enemy had something big planned to even let Wen Chao away from Qishan, which is why he's got a couple of crows drifting nearby in case they need to send some sort of message or carry something quickly, but this is the confirmation he desired. He raises a brow, pointing out Suibian and letting her blade say everything that he does not care to. The Wen heir flinches back but doesn't back down, which is both useful and impossibly moronic, spluttering about how it will be too late by the time Wei Ying gets back, that the Wen and Jin have surrounded their war camp undetected by using Wei Ying's own talisman designs. This, this hits him hard, even if he shows no visible reaction. If something bad has happened because of his designs, he'll never be able to forgive himself.

He reminds himself that if there is an attack, he already sent a crow off with the Yin Tiger Tally (created on a whim in the Burial Mounds) to give it to the Burial Mounds so It could protect the camp in his absence, but still sends another crow off to go do a round of the camp with a flick of his hand. By the time the crow gets back, he's already halfway through holding Wen Chao down and surgically slicing off bits of his skin, taunting him with blood slicked fingers as he tries to get him to eat it. One of his arms has been sliced open and his bone is being picked at by another one of the crows, and Wei Ying is going to draw this out for as long as he can, no matter how 'sadistic' it makes him. With everything he's done to those 'volunteers', it's only right that Wen Ruohan has offered his son as a 'volunteer' for Wei Ying's experiments.

The crow comes swooping in, perching on his shoulder and speaking to him of the battle currently going on in the war camp. Wei Ying growls at the thought, frustration contorting his face as he looks down at the bawling, snot nosed brat he's dealing with, not wanting to let him go but also not wanting to leave his friends alone in this issue. Even though the Burial Mounds is with them, he still feels that pang of fear at the thought of his family being in danger. So, without hesitation, he grabs Wen Chao by the scruff of his collar and yanks him up, determined to not let him escape his grasp no matter how much he squeals and squirms. If the enemy wishes to make a show out of every attack against his family, then Wei Ying will return the favour.

[whirligig-girl]

(zoom in!)

Two double-headers on the Trans-Gooiw Railroad passing each other in the hills, dragging long freight trains behind them, during the early days of the Pan-Mellanus Oil Crisis.

More mellanoid trains: Guz's Model Garratt | Museum-piece carrying rocket parts | Advanced Steam Tank Engine | Guz's bigger model Garratt | Tram and Coal Mine loco sketches.

The diesel-hydraulic at the front of the foreground consist, already somewhat old and tired by this point, dates back to around the time period that steam engines were originally retired on Mellanus. It's not very fuel efficient as it is, and with the oil rations, diesels can not handle the trains on their own any longer.

For a few years now the railroads have been taking their steam engines out of mothballs and museums, as coal was comparatively dirt-cheap. Still though, the various maintenance and operational complexities of running steam locomotives resulted in a lot of losses for the railroads.

Pictured here behind the diesel is an early attempt at the Advanced Steam Engine concept, modifying a member of a very prolific and successful 2-8-0+0-8-2 Garratt class with a gas producer combustion system, more modern cylinders and valve gear, and entirely replacing the cab with an electronic control system (with the more diesel-like control stands moved to separate cabs on the tenders). The electronic control scheme allows for the steam engine to be connected to a diesel engine to be run as a multiple unit, cutting down operational costs. However, as a modified prototype, this locomotive lacks some of the other features which exemplified the Advanced Steam era, such as modular ashpans, computerized control, and precision engineering.

On the other track, moving the opposite direction, we see a double header of two steam locomotives, another 2-8-0+0-8-2 loaned from the Slaibsgloth Coal Mine Railroad, and a 2-10-2 'easy' type non-articulated loco leads the train. In this case, there is no electronic connection, so a crew of four mellanoid slimes is necessary to operate the train.

The eagle-eyed railway fans will notice that there are radiators for a dynamic brake on the diesel, yet the diesel is an electric. Diesel-electric dynamic brakes switch the traction motors into generators, and dump the electricity out as waste heat--but there's no traction motors on a hydraulic. So why the radiator fins? There's still a dynamic engine brake on the diesel-hydraulic, so it still needs to be able to dissipate heat, especially on the mountain routes.

WIP images follow:

[fearfulfertility]

CONFIDENTIAL DOSSIER

Date: [REDACTED]

To: Minister [REDACTED], Ministry of State Security

From: [REDACTED], Second Bureau

Subject: Director [REDACTED], Intelligence Profile 

Profile Overview:

Full Name: [REDACTED]

Age: [REDACTED]

Place of Birth: [REDACTED]

Role: Director of the Department of Reproductive Compliance

Clearance Level: Executive Level-01A

Director [REDACTED] is the commanding figurehead of the Department of Reproductive Compliance (DRC), a federal law enforcement agency responsible for the nation’s surrogate conscription program and various facilities nationwide. The DRC director is appointed for a [REDACTED] term as confirmed by the Congressional Committee on Population Sustainability and given extensive extra-judicial powers laid out by the Surrogacy Compliance Act.

He is a career bureaucrat who has traded his humanity for expediency. Under his leadership, the DRC has grown into an unchecked leviathan—efficient but grotesque, its operations mirroring the cold precision of its architect. His ability to push the boundaries of what is legal, ethical, or even tolerable has secured him a position of influence. 

Early Life & Career

[REDACTED] 

Personality Traits:

Cold Pragmatism: The Director is driven by results. Personal feelings, ethics, or public opinion do not factor into his decision-making unless they serve to advance DRC objectives. This often makes him appear unfeeling, but his peers understand this as the mark of a committed strategist. An unrelenting focus on control marks his leadership. He rarely loses his temper, tolerates no dissent, and wields his authority as a weapon to silence critics, both internal and external.

Charismatic Authority: While rarely warm to those outside his inner circle, the DRC Deputy-Directors, his authoritative presence commands loyalty and respect. He has a talent for motivating subordinates, even when the tasks he assigns are ethically questionable or unpleasant.

Tactful Manipulator: The Director’s greatest strength lies in exploiting any situation. He reframes scandals, spins failures as progress, and neutralizes opponents before they gain traction. This is particularly evident in his handling of scandals, where he frequently sacrifices lower-ranking officials while keeping the core of his operations intact. 

Strengths:

[REDACTED] 

Weaknesses:

[REDACTED] 

Psychographic Analysis

The Director exhibits a series of paraphilic tendencies that appear to inform his decision-making and management style, with evidence pointing to the following:

Maiesiophilia (Attraction to Pregnancy): The Director's fixation on high-yield pregnancies goes beyond professional necessity. His well-documented preference for attending compound inspections during peak gestational periods suggests a personal fascination with the physical and symbolic aspects of pregnancy.

Alvinolagnia (Attraction to the Stomach): The Director’s frequent remarks on surrogates’ abdominal growth and his endorsement of protocols that maximize visible distension highlight a troubling preoccupation. Internal memos indicate his "enthusiastic interest" in monitoring compound efficiency through "visual metrics" tied to surrogate belly sizes.

Adipophilia (Attraction to Body Fat): The Director’s approval of protocols designed to promote rapid weight gain among surrogates—such as calorie-dense diets and hormonal supplements—seems to align with a pattern of fascination with larger body sizes. His private correspondence lauds its aesthetic impact on surrogates.

These tendencies may explain the Director’s resistance to specific ethical reviews and his reported hostility toward staff members who voice concerns about the physical toll on surrogates. While these behaviors may be cloaked in operational justifications, the overlap between professional priorities and personal fixations raises questions about his motivations and judgment.

This psychographic profile further contextualizes his apparent detachment from ethical constraints and his willingness to exploit vulnerable populations for personal and institutional objectives.

Notable Actions:

The Fertility Auction

Details: The Director allegedly facilitated private bidding among state governors and wealthy elites for first access to high-fertility surrogates. These "auctions" were conducted under the guise of "partnerships" with state-level governments and sponsors, yet records reveal that payments funneled through off-shore accounts significantly exceeded standard donation amounts. Surrogates conscripted through these auctions were subjected to extreme pregnancy quotas to meet the demands of the buyers (12-16 embryos).

Mass Birth Incident

Details: At Paternity Compound 125, the Director authorized experimental insemination procedures designed to test the feasibility of carrying 25+ embryos in a single surrogate. The trials resulted in catastrophic outcomes, with 87% of surrogates delivered prematurely and one surrogate reaching a full-term weight of 775 lbs (0.4 tons). The incident was officially reported as a "containment breach" caused by a fictitious viral outbreak, and the compound was quietly decommissioned.

Fertility Island Getaway

Details: An unconfirmed report suggests the Director owns a private island (known internally as Site [REDACTED]) where he entertains national dignitaries and wealthy donors. Allegedly, the island features a private compound where visitors can "observe" surrogates in active labor and even sponsor implantations. Rumors of illicit parties have been circulating for [REDACTED] years, though no concrete evidence has surfaced.

Golden Sons Incident

Details: Rumors persist that the Director orchestrated a covert operation to conscript the sons of several high-ranking opposition figures after discovering their exceptional fertility metrics, then allegedly leaked select details about these surrogates to his political opponents. The fear it induced was used as leverage to secure favorable legislation for the DRC. One whistleblower claims Director [REDACTED] referred to these surrogates as his “golden sons” during an internal meeting.

Final Notes:

Director [REDACTED] remains the backbone of the DRC, embodying its ethos of ruthless pragmatism. While his methods and personality polarize opinions, his results are undeniable. However, his growing list of external enemies within the DRC—poses a significant risk. Should his strategies falter or a scandal gain traction, his fall could destabilize the organization he’s spent his career building.

----------------

Sending...

Sending...

Sending...

Read...

----------------

Date: [REDACTED]

To: Deputy-Director [REDACTED], Security Office

From: Director [REDACTED]

Subject: Interception of Sensitive Report 

Deputy-Director [REDACTED],

Thank you for confirming the successful interception and destruction of the report intended for [REDACTED]. Your operatives acted quickly and ensured that the report and any associated materials were eradicated before it could reach its intended recipient. Thanks to their decisive action, the potential diplomatic fallout has been averted.

Following the operation, the Fertility Screening Unit flagged that the captured spy exhibited exceptionally high fertility markers. Rather than regale him to imprisonment, I have approved the prisoner’s immediate conscription into the surrogacy program. He has been transported to Site [REDACTED] and is currently being evaluated. Initial assessments suggest that his profile meets all criteria for high-yield surrogacy.

He will make an excellent centerpiece for our upcoming soiree, and his service will resonate deeply with our benefactors.

Ensure that the operative's background is wiped clean, and any associates are dealt with.

Regards,

Director [REDACTED]

----------------

Click Here to return to DRC Report Archives

[eretzyisrael]

n’t get our hostages out of Gaza, we can’t even get the Red Cross to send them medicine and we can’t seem to stop Tehran and its terror militias from lobbing missiles and drones at our cities or invading our land.

Meanwhile, the majority-Democrat Jewish diaspora in the U.S.—comprised disproportionately of lawyers and doctors—couldn’t slow Joe Biden’s cognitive decline or stop Kamala Harris from stealing the election from him for President Trump. On the right side of the equation, Jews couldn’t so much as seem to prevent a Qatari-beholden Yid from being appointed to Middle East Special Envoy.

You’d think with all the secret banking control we wield, Israel wouldn’t be taking any aid from the U.S. and they’d outspend Qatar in DC and London.

At least we control the media—so completely secretly mind you—that we cannot seem to stop it from maligning Israel and echoing Qatari propaganda and Hamas’s media reporting. Good grief, you’d think we could get people to do basic math on CNN, like 29,000 divided by 17,500 means almost two bombs dropped to affect a single fatality, which is indiscriminate bombing if you’re dropping them in the middle of the Sahara Desert!

If Jews controlled the world we’d at least make sure everyone knew Russians plagiarized the Elders of Zion in 1903 from works like Maurice Joly’s 1864 satire Dialogue in Hell Between Machiavelli and Montesquieu criticizing Napoleon III, not Jews. Alas, we don’t even control the definition of Zionism on Wikipedia!

Isaac, I’m returning my board, I can’t answer your questions and this (((plan))) clearly ain’t working!

Perhaps after everything is said and done, the avalanche of lies under which we have lived for millennia is what makes us so tenacious, ambitious, unrelenting…we won’t stop studying, progressing, advancing ideas and fighting to gain a foothold in global society, so we can get just enough traction for simple truths to finally come to light.

Perhaps, only then will we find a moment of peace to live in.

[mariacallous]

In the space of four days, the Russia-Ukraine war has dramatically shifted. The incursion of Ukrainian forces into Russia’s Kursk region has quickly turned into the largest territorial gain by either side since the successful Ukrainian counteroffensives in Kharkiv and Kherson in the fall of 2022. As of this writing, it is still unclear whether thinned-out and poorly prepared Russian forces have been able to halt the Ukrainian advance, with reports of burning columns of Russian reinforcements reminiscent of the early days of the war.

The operation demonstrates Ukraine’s ability to achieve surprise and exploit sudden breakthroughs, something at which Russia has consistently failed since the start of its invasion. It is also the first time Russia has been invaded by foreign troops since World War II, showing Russians in no uncertain terms that the bloody war they unleashed against their neighbor has come home. Ukraine’s Western supporters seem to be on board, with the White House and European Union headquarters issuing statements that it was up to Ukraine to decide on the operation.

Previously, there had been much debate in Washington, Berlin, and among a wildly speculating media about the Kremlin’s supposed red lines that would set off World War III and nuclear Armageddon, with one of the lines being taking the war to Russia with Western weapons. The latter has now occurred. The belief in uncontrolled escalation led the Biden administration and some of its partners to severely restrict both the types of weapons delivered to Ukraine and their permitted range; Ukraine has not been allowed to use Western missiles to hit military installations on the Russian side of the border, for example. Part of the effect and purpose of the Kursk operation could be to demonstrate, once again, the fallacy of the red-line argument.

As the offensive unfolds and Kyiv stays mostly mum on events, it’s still too early to say what strategic goals Ukraine is hoping to achieve. One speculation that has gained a lot of traction is that it could lead to a quicker end to the war. The operation makes it clear to Russian President Vladimir Putin that Ukraine retains significant potential to inflict pain on Russia. And if Ukrainian forces can hold on and maintain control of Russian territory—for which they appear to be digging in as they bring in more equipment and build new defensive lines—it could strengthen Ukraine’s leverage in any potential negotiations to end the war. Already, Ukraine’s lightning foray into Russia undermines the widespread idea that Putin holds all the cards to dictate the terms of a cease-fire.

Kyiv seems to be signaling that leverage in negotiations is one of the goals of the offensive. An unnamed advisor to Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky told the Washington Post: “This will give them the leverage they need for negotiations with Russia—this is what it’s all about.” This dovetails with recent hints by Zelensky that Kyiv was ready to negotiate. In an interview with BBC News in July, he said, “We don’t have to recapture all the territories” by military means. “I think that can also be achieved with the help of diplomacy.” Occupied Russia could be traded for occupied Ukraine: As former Swedish Prime Minister Carl Bildt suggested on X, “Would an idea be for both states to retreat to within their respective recognized border?”

If Kyiv seems to be preparing the ground for potential negotiations—by seeking to strengthen its hand and publicly declaring its willingness—it is also a response to several factors.

One is growing war weariness among the Ukrainian population. Although the majority of Ukrainians favor fighting on until all the territories Russia has occupied since 2014 are liberated, the number saying that Ukraine could trade some of that territory for peace has been rising.

Second, there has been growing criticism, particularly in Western Europe and the global south, of the way Ukraine has repeatedly ruled out talks with Moscow. Major substantive issues aside, with the Kremlin apparently back-channeling openness to talks, Kyiv risked being seen as intransigent in preventing an early end to the war.

Finally, Ukraine’s strategic position is risky, even if it holds back Russia and maintains the flow of Western weapons. A victory by Donald Trump in the November U.S. presidential election and a sudden stop of U.S. aid cannot be ruled out, and even a Harris administration may have trouble cobbling together future support packages if the Republicans keep their majority in the U.S. House of Representatives. Zelensky may have decided to gamble to change and accelerate the dynamics of the war, including greater leverage if negotiations end up taking place sooner than anticipated.

Without much leverage, Kyiv has had to appeal to moral, normative, and legal arguments when communicating with its foreign partners about any peace short of full liberation. In the past, this has led to highly skewed negotiations. In the talks that produced the Minsk I and II accords in 2014 and 2015, Ukraine had such a weak hand that it had to agree to impossible terms: It could only get the Russian-controlled Donbas back if it allowed Moscow’s proxies to become part of the Ukrainian polity through local elections manipulated by the Kremlin, which would have given Moscow a permanent veto over Kyiv’s politics. Previously occupied and annexed Crimea was not even included in the discussion.

In March 2022, direct talks between Ukraine and Russia on the Belarusian border were not a negotiation but Russia’s delivery of surrender terms to Ukraine. In April 2022, negotiations brokered by Turkey in Istanbul also went nowhere: Russia’s price for ending its invasion was a considerable limitation of Ukrainian sovereignty and ability to defend itself. Since then, Russia’s proposal has been for Ukraine to permanently cede, in addition to Crimea, Luhansk, Donetsk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson oblasts—including substantial parts that Russia has never occupied.

Not only has Ukraine lacked negotiation leverage, but Russia has also been successful in promoting, to audiences around the world, its land-for-peace approach to ending this round of the war. As Ukrainian counteroffensives after 2022 largely failed and the Russian war machine slowly but steadily took more territory in Ukraine’s east, another Minsk-type deal limiting Ukrainian territorial integrity and political sovereignty seemed to loom on the horizon.

Kyiv has not only changed the military narrative on the ground but may also be trying to change the narrative on negotiations—from a “land for peace” deal to a “land for land” deal. This puts Putin in a bind: Loss of control over parts of Russia proper is an enormous embarrassment for the Kremlin. But since their illegal annexation by Russia, the Ukrainian territories Putin seeks to keep are also part of the state territory he is obliged to defend. That said, in terms of Russian elite and popular perception, the restoration of Russia’s legitimate state territory will take precedence over continued occupation of recently conquered domains—especially if a land swap opens an avenue to the end of Western sanctions.

In a way, the new Ukrainian strategy may provide an opening for doves in the Russian leadership—assuming they exist and have any influence over Putin—to argue that the annexations should be reversed in order to restore Russia’s territorial integrity. As long as Ukraine can hold on to its captured territories in Russia, there will a strong pressure on Putin to return them under Moscow’s control.

None of this, however, changes the most fundamental problem with a negotiated outcome: the fact that Russia has ignored just about every agreement it has signed with Ukraine. But for Ukrainians and their Western supporters hoping for an end to the war, some intriguing possibilities may soon be on the table.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1972 Buick Silver Arrow III

Conceived by GM styling boss Bill Mitchell, the Silver Arrow III was a dramatic reinterpretation of the production boattail Riviera introduced in 1971.

Just as the fabulous Silver Arrow I show car (read about it here) was based on the production 1963 Buick Riviera, the SIlver Arrow III was based on the production version of the third-generation boattail RIviera introduced in 1971. (There was also a Silver Arrow II based on the second-generation 1970 RIviera, but it barely saw the light of day.)  All the Silver Arrows, of course, were the creation of Bill Mitchell, the colorful boss of GM’s design studio from 1958 to 1977.

Much as he did with the Silver Arrow I, Mitchell had the Silver Arrow III extensively modified to more closely resemble its original design studio counterpart (above).  The greenhouse and rear quarter panels were reworked and the roofline was lowered to produce a sleeker, more dramatic profile. (For comparison, see our feature on the production 1971 Buick Riviera here.) Other classic Mitchell touches included wire wheels, an ensemble of six rectangular halogen headlamps across the front end, and an exquisitely detailed cockpit in silver leather with bucket seats and console.

Introduced at the 1972 Detroit Auto Show at Cobo Hall, the Silver Arrow III boasted a number of advanced features, including four-wheel disc brakes and Max Trac, an early form of electronic traction control that was offered on the production Riviera as well. Above the backlight at the trailing edge of the roof was a set of high-level warning lamps that also served as secondary directional indicators. Additional show-car touches included a fully chromed and detailed 455 CID Buick V8 under the hood.

When the Silver Arrow III appeared on show floor at Detroit, Chicago, and elsewhere in 1972, we’re not quite sure what the ultimate effect was, except perhaps to throw some shade on the more conservatively styled production Riviera. It is known that Mitchell was quite proud of the two Silver Arrows—here, below, he’s shown posing with the pair. Both Silver Arrow I and Silver Arrow III are still in existence today.   -Photos courtesy of General Motors. 

[theengineerspost]

Top Super Bikes

These motorcycles represent some of the most advanced and high-performance superbikes in the world, designed for speed, precision, and cutting-edge technology. Here's an overview:

1. Yamaha YZF-R1M:

An elite version of the Yamaha R1, the YZF-R1M is a track-focused superbike featuring advanced electronics, Öhlins semi-active suspension, and lightweight carbon fiber bodywork. Its cross-plane crankshaft engine delivers exceptional torque and a unique sound.

2. Ducati Panigale V4 R:

A masterpiece of Italian engineering, the V4 R is Ducati's homologation special for racing. It features a 998cc Desmosedici Stradale R engine, winglets for aerodynamic stability, and top-tier electronics like traction control and wheelie control.

3. Honda CBR1000RR-R Fireblade:

Honda's flagship superbike, this model emphasizes precision and control. Equipped with a high-revving inline-four engine and advanced aerodynamics, it's a favorite among racers and enthusiasts.

4. Suzuki GSX-R1000R:

The GSX-R1000R is Suzuki’s pinnacle sportbike, combining the brand's legendary "Gixxer" heritage with modern tech like a bi-directional quick shifter, ride modes, and adjustable suspension.

5. BMW S1000RR:

Known for its shark-like design and power, the S1000RR boasts a ShiftCam engine for variable valve timing, integrated electronics, and razor-sharp handling.

6. Kawasaki Ninja ZX-10RR:

A race-homologated version of the ZX-10R, the ZX-10RR has a lightweight design, forged pistons, and a screaming inline-four engine tuned for racetrack domination.

7. Aprilia RSV4 1100 Factory:

This Italian superbike blends a 1078cc V4 engine with MotoGP-derived aerodynamics and semi-active suspension, delivering exceptional agility and power.

8. Kawasaki Ninja H2 Carbon:

A street-legal supercharged beast, the H2 Carbon combines jaw-dropping power with carbon-fiber bodywork and advanced electronics, setting it apart as an engineering marvel.

[boxboxblog]

How Do F1 Cars Work?: Power, Transmit, Suspend

Alright part 2 everyone. Let's go.

1.Power Units

You have probably heard lots of yammering about power unit components before. Things like 'they took on too many and now have a grid penalty' are common to hear. But what is the power unit, and what does that mean?

So the power unit refers to the engine system that helps power the car. The modern F1 car is a hybrid, a mix between a typical Internal Combustion Engine (ICE) and Energy Recover Systems (ERS). The modern F1 ICE is a 1.6 liter V6 turbocharged engine and can rev up to 15,000 RPM. It uses gasoline and generates a majority of the power. I've explained how it works in an older post, but briefly it compresses air and fuel and ignites it to create combustion which generates energy. The turbocharger is a part of the ICE that helps condense air more, in turn forcing the engine to create more energy.

The ERS has two components. The first is Motor Generator Unit-Kinetic (MGU-K), which recovers energy from braking, stores it in the battery (which stores energy from the two units), and can be used as a boost to power. The second is Motor Generator Unit- Heat (MGU-H). This unit recovers heat energy from the turbocharger and converts it to electrical energy. It can either charge the battery directly or assist the ICE.

When teams get in trouble taking too many power units it essentially means they have replaced something like the MGU-H too many times. There is a cap for how many times you can replace a power unit component, but with the addition of more races every year the FIA is under pressure to increase this limit. Almost every single car takes the penalty at some point.

2. Transmission

The transmission is the semi-automatic gear box inside of F1 cars, which for them is 8-speed. It is located at the rear of the car and connects to the power unit. This is a part of the car that is famous for having issues, and often when a drivers car retires it is due to a gear box failure. With paddle shifters located under the steering wheel, drivers can change the gear in which they are driving. Different gears effect the traction, grip, fuel economy, and speed of the car and are used strategically throughout the race. Part of the transmission is the differential. The differential distributes power between the rear wheels when cornering, allowing the inside tire to rotate slower than the outside tire. The final majorly important part of the transmission is the clutch. In F1 the clutch, which is a device that connects the engine and transmission to the car is automated and controlled by electronics. It is usually used when starting the race or leaving the pit lane.

Grip levels, cornering speeds, and straight-line speeds all play a crucial role in gear ratio calculations. The teams have to find the perfect balance between acceleration, top speed, and adaptability. The team’s engineers use advanced simulations and data analysis to calculate the optimal ratios for each gear. They also take into account factors like tire wear and fuel consumption to fine-tune their calculations. All of this information can be gathered from electronic data gatherers inside of the car, running simulations, and also the drivers reporting themselves. Its why radio communication is so important in F1. This decision can make or break a race, and we have seen drivers lose due to an incorrect gear decision.

3. Suspension

The suspension system works to keep the tires in contact with the road and helps absorb the shocks F1 cars experience. This is created through a variety of springs, shock absorbers, sway bars, etc. Without the suspension, the chassis would be experiencing the full extent of the shaking and pressure, which would do damage to the car and be very painful for the driver. Anytime you see a driver shaking like crazy in the car, it usually means there is something off with the suspension. Suspension also allows the force of the bumps and the kinetic energy to be stored by a spring, which is then compressed, absorbing the energy transferred by that bump in the road and allowing all four tires to grip the road. The biggest difference between street car suspension and F1 suspension is that in an F1 car each tire is independently sprung, which means that they move on their own, useful around corners.

In F1 cars they have a pushrod or pullrod suspension. These systems transfer pressure from the wheels to the suspension dampers and springs. In a push-rod system, the rocker arms are placed at the highest point in the car. As such, the rod is under pressure as it transfers compression forces upwards into the rocker arms. In a pull-rod system however, the rocker arms are located between the upper and lower control arms, at the center of the car This means every time it hits a bump or curb, the wheel pulls on the spring which causes the pull-rod to go up and outwards from the chassis. Both are regularly used suspension types.

Teams regularly change how their suspension is functioning, and it is by far one of the most tweaked systems on the car. Truly, a weak suspension can make any car one of the slowest cars on the grid. So next time you hear a. driver complain about how slow they are on the straights, or how much their back hurts, it usually means their suspension is not where it should be.

That's all for this post, next one should be about braking, the various electronics/sensors, cooling systems, and wrap up of how everything works together.

Cheers,

-B

[sid-the-sandwich]

Masked Runner (V1); Secret (LFLS Fanfic AU)

Hi everyone! i conjured up yet another fanfic idea, but this time it takes place in an AU, and it's extremely lighthearted compared to others - here it is!

However, as i wrote, the story split into two, both with the exact same beginning, but pivorts into their own stories with different concepts -

This is version one of Masked Runner, nicknamed "Secret", the other version is called "Blackmail"

SUMMARY:

when a misunderstanding spirals out of control, rumours leak to the local paper that Tae Myungha, an ordinary school teacher, is dating Korea's most famous Track-and-Field Olympic Athlete.

Instead of denying the rumours, Myungha goes along with them, adding his own spins and twists to the story to advance in his career, and be respected by staff and students alike - knowing that the real Cha Yeowoon would ever hear about the news,

on the other side of Korea, Cha Yeowoon is flooded with calls of the the situation - it fills him with rage. And against his better judgement, Yeowoon decides to confront Myungha, aiming to sue him penniless.

Unluckily for Cha Yeowoon he starts to fall for Tae Myungha, and his motivations change...

START:

BACKGROUND: Myungha is in his mid-twenties and started working at Shinyeop High School just a few months ago. because he is young, rebel-looking and freshly graduated, he is usually isolated and overlooked by most of the older teachers.

START: Myungha is in class on his lunch break, he is marking papers and gets a call from Kyunghoon - he answers

Kyunghoon talks about his Photoshop skills and emails Myungha some of the photographs he took and then he tried to Photoshop (by adding himself and Myungha into the pictures to see how believable they are).

Myungha opens the attachment and most of them with random celebrities; movie stars, models, athletes - Myungha complements his photoshop skills.

Myungha is cut out his thoughts when a student enters the class, and asks Teacher Myungha for a workbook.

While myungha is at the back of the classroom to retrieve the workbook, the student peaks at the screen and sees a photoshopped picture of Myungha with Cha Yeowoon.

the student gets his book and starts a rumour that Myungha knows Cha Yeowoon.

Myungha sits back at his desk and waits for lunch to be over.

Once the bell rings and students come back in the class, the students are weirdly nice to him,

over the next few days, the other teachers and the principal hear the rumour and they begin treating Myungha nicely, giving free food, and the best work duties (the principal compliments Myungha a ton) - they all ask him about Cha Yeowoon, how they met, ect.

Myungha is confused, but doesn't disappoint; he sees this as an opportunity and decides to go along with the rumour as it is helping him advance his career even though he's never met Cha Yeowoon.

a local paper catch wind of the story and interview Myungha who can't seem to tell the truth now and lies over his first meeting with Cha Yeowoon - even saying he knows how the masked-runner looks and how attractive he is.

MEANWHILE : on the other side of Korea, Cha Yeowoon has just read the article as its gaining more and more traction.

Yeowoon is rightfully angry and is getting hundreds of calls from fans, haters and advertising companies.

Yeowoon decides he wants to meet Tae Myungha and sue him penniless - He even tells his lawyer, Choi Jinjo - Yeowoon asks to find everything they can about Myungha

Despite being advised against it, Yeowoon takes time out of his day to drive to Myungha's location

After at the school and asking another teacher for directions, he gets to Myungha's class and sees Myungha for the first time,

Myungha asks who Yeowoon is, and Yeowoon is about to argue, but realised he didn't have his mask on, (and therefor would risk leaking his real identity, and he especially didn't want to do that in front of this liar.)

Yeowoon gives a fake name, and Myungha mistakes him for a volunteer.

Yeowoon says he read about the rumours in the news and asks about it, trying to see how far Myungha would go

Myungha casually complains about the attention he's getting from everyone; calls, photographs, newspapers, texts, flowers from students and staff.

Yeowoon listens with little disbelief and hidden anger as Myungha recounts the fake story of his and Yeowoon's 'first meeting' - yeowoon is also annoyed because the story makes him seem like a simp

Yeowoon decides that instead of immediately sueing Myungha right this moment, he could stay for a little while (with this disguise of being a volenteer), build a case, and then sue him for even more down the line.

Yeowoon half-smirks, he wants Myungha to pay

MIDDLE:

the entire story, Myungha still pretends like he is dating the athlete Cha Yeowoon

Yeowoon goes by a fake name (Please suggest some - preferably a name similar to Yeowoon)

Yeowoon spends time with Myungha, and keeps seeing Myungha's good deeds with others

Yeowoon tries to act like he lives in the area. he even buys a small rooftop flat that seemed like it needed fixing to play the part.

Yeowoon's story is the same as the series (abusive father, abandoned by his mother, loss grandmother), but he did not injure his leg.

even after the rumour dies down, Yeowoon is still there volunteering under the guise of 'collecting info'

Myungha and Yeowoon grow close, and Yeowoon even meets with Myungha's Grandmother.

Yeowoon even looks forward to Myungha's texts or just to help him with things -

Yeowoon balances volunteering and his usual life

Yeowoon takes notes in a little notebook

Yeowoon grows close to some of Myungha's friends - Kyunghoon, Siah and surprisingly Sangwon

Yeowoon is a bit jealous of Sangwon but he doesnt know why.

Sangwon is very casual person and flirts with everyone

Myungha and Yeowoon even spend some alone time together, and each time Yeowoon seems to be growing fonder of Myungha - the boys even have some romantic tension.

Myungha helps to heal Yeowoon's inner child.

Myungha makes Yeowoon's life better - helping him merely becuz he is a person and not becuz he is famous (Myungha worried, cooked occasionally, spoke casually, had icecream, ect)

Yeowoon realises his crush on Myungha but doesnt know how to act on it - conflicted between getting revenge and acting on his emotions (since Yeowoon had never liked anyone before)

Halfway through Yeowoon even forgets about taking revenge, and even settles into his little life of training early morning, volunteering during the day and then resting in his rundown rooftop flat (the one he brought solely to fit in) - sometimes Yeowoon forgets to go back to his real home.

Myungha gets increasingly stressed as time goes on and he continues to 'date a famous person' - the lies sometimes contradict

this entire time, Myungha does NOT know Yeowoon is THE Masked Runner he is pretending to date.

CLIMAX:

EVENT 1: Myungha's school hold an open night for new students, and to incentivise attendance, Myungha's Principal asks Myungha to bring his boyfriend - Myungha tries to argue, but the principal had already printed on the posters that 'Masked Athlete Cha Yeowoon' would make an appearance - the principal tells Myungha to make it happen (with a little threatening edge)

Myungha panics and doesn't know what to do - since Athlete Yeowoon wears a mask, he first asks Kyunghoon to pretend to be Yeowoon but its nowhere even close - Myungha's panic escalates. eventually, Yeowoon (still under the disguise of volunteering) sees Myungha's panic and agrees to 'pretend' to wear a mask and be Myungha's Bf for the night.

the night comes and Yeowoon appears masked, everyone believes it (Yeowoon is throwing out tons of cash to show his wealth and impress everyone as a doting bf... but Myungha worries this is coming out of his wallet)

the night ends as Myungha and Yeowoon sit near a riverbank, Myungha gets a little drunk and admits the truth of lying about dating a famous person - Myungha is so happy to finally let that weight off his chest.

EVENT 2: time passes without incident,

Myungha and Yeowoon get closer to each other as Yeowoon's feelings grow each and every day.

Yeowoon is planning on confessing everything (both his feelings and about him being the masked runner) to Myungha.

Yeowoon meets up with Myungha,

Yeowoon confesses his feelings to Myungha, but stops before revealing his true identity

Myungha is in shock... he actually doesn't know how to respond, and so avoids the confession - he still hangs out with Yeowoon, but tiptoes around the question for a number of days. in that time the answer is eating Yeowoon up.

Kyunghoon notices a change in his bestfriend and they have a little heart-to-heart - after talking, Myungha accepts Yeowoon's confession

the boys go on a few dates happily as ever, and both Myungha and Yeowoon forget about the whole 'dating a celebrity' rumour.

during one date, Myungha and Yeowoon kiss in public... a photograph is taken from afar.

EVENT 3: A random fan had taken the picture of the two boys kissing - Myungha is dragged through the dirt, people accusing him of cheating, calling him hateful words, bullying, ect.

as soon as Yeowoon hears about it after a day, he immediately rushes to Myungha's Grandma's house.

he is told Myungha had not come back home since yesterday - but says she doesnt worry because he used to do this all the time as a teen - but still, Yeowoon assumes the worst. (Grandma doesnt use social media and so doesnt know about the scandal)

Yeowoon walks around town and sees Myungha just sitting quietly by the riverbank with a box in his hands.

Yeowoon sits by Myungha's side without a word.

Myungha admits he got fired because some of Athlete Yeowoon's fans sent angry letters and calls to the school - but Myungha says it doesnt matter because he does deserve it for lying for so long.

Yeowoon feels heartbroken and doesnt know exactly what to say at a time like this, he wants to reveal the truth (of his identity) but at the same time doesnt know if that's the best course of action

THE END:

Yeowoon is forced to have a press conference to address the rumours.

Yeowoon (masked) is cold and uses little words as possible; he dodges all the reporters' questions, and talks directly to the camera.

Yeowoon admits to being in a relationship with Myungha on national television - Yeowoon then does something he never thought he would ever do, Yeowoon removes his mask.

everyone is in shock and awe

Yeowoon talks directly to Myungha in the camera, hoping he is watching from hime - he tells Myungha that he has something important to tell him, so please don't ignore him.

Yeowoon quickly ends the press conference, ignoring the reporters hounding question

Myungha was watching from home in awe, he readies to leave but

Yeowoon is already at Myungha's house in the matter of minutes

Myungha is very confused and Yeowoon worries Myungha would be mad - (Myungha was more shocked than anything)

the boys kiss and Grandma sees them, she tells Myungha to be nice to Yeowoon (she doesnt really cast a glance at the two boys kissing).

EPILOGUE:

Myungha and Yeowoon have a beach date, it was supposed to be just the two of them, but Myungha accidentally invited the rest of his friends.

(btw - Myungha does get his job back - infact, he gets a better job)

apologise if the story seems a little cliche - I admit it is, but I enjoyed writing down these notes on this hypothetical idea.

im going to write, and post the second version of this story 'Blackmail' in the next few days, hopefully you'll stick around to read it - it has the same beginning, but pivorts the story in a new direction.

anyways, thank you for reading,

Stay Safe <3

| Masterlist |

[generic-enthusiast]

Cherry and Marcia as second-wave feminists though

Reading the Feminine Mystique as soon as it starts gaining traction

Cherry going so far as to read The Second Sex in the original French version

She didn't understand much but Marcia had read the English translation so she got the basics from her

I saw a headcanon once that Cherry listens to heavy metal, and yes, only it's grrrl riot

They joined the distribution of pamphlets about birth control and such on college campuses once they went

I feel like Cherry would have a stereotypically feminine calling to something like teaching little kids and feel really guilty about it, like she should like something that defies the status quo

Marcia would study biochemistry and work in research

Although, looking at things realistically, I think their feminism would be very heavily centered on white, upper-class women like themselves and they wouldn't really consider WOC or lower class women

UNTIL

One day

At a meeting in a feminist bookstore or whatever (my research was light Wikipedia reading before bed, don't take me too seriously)

They're in a semi neutral location

It's mostly white but across classes

They start talking about birth control and there's this black greaser girl who starts telling them all about Native American and African American and Latina women being sterilised without their knowledge by the same advances they were advocating for

She says they need to do something about that too

But when she said that, she interrupted Cherry and Cherry's proud and hot-headed and started fighting back against her and things escalated and they both stalked off

Marcia got kinda mad on Cherry's behalf because loyalty but also she could see the other girl's point, especially because things like that were so seldom talked about in white (=most well-known) feminist spaces

So they talk it over a while, Marcia and Cherry, and they realise that the other girl had a point and they really had no idea because their version of feminism has been so white-centred

And they're kinda wishing they could apologise and maybe work on something together

And there she is, closing her locker

So they go over to her and apologise and all that good person shit and the girl seems a bit skeptical at first but warms up to them eventually and then suddenly they realise they haven't introduced themselves and the other girl says,

"Nice to meet you, I'm Evie."

[mintmatcha]

the pursuit of silence (and all the noise along the way)

nanami kento x reader

part two: fissures (and where they shouldn't be)

CW: cisfem reader, Space AU (vaguely Star Wars. Vaguely), reader has a cybernetic limb. slow burn. Reader has an established nickname and is referred to using Miss and Mrs.

JJK AU MINORS DNI

masterlist

The ship you’re ushered to is much nicer than anything you’re used to flying. It’s sleek and polished like a dream-- there’s even that stiff, earthy, chemical smell of newly processed leather. Haibara and Itadori must be absolutely buzzing with jealousy; you've never touched anything this advanced, let alone either of them. 

 It takes a second for you to marvel over the system before you take your seat. Luckily, manual controls for all flying vehicles are pretty much standardized, so you easily flip yourself into gear, then the star ship. The engine hums, a tape of music crackles to life and you almost feel normal.

But this isn't like any of your normal loads. You’re used to cargo that doesn't move or talk, piles of who knows what that sit in the back. Special passengers are usually reserved for pilots that have that shine in their eyes, that desirable something you just don't have.

When you were new, they had you fly a Jedi to some forest planet. He was a man with hair darker than the sky and earlobes stretch wide enough your finger could have slipped through. He had ducked himself into the back of the ship without a word, not even sparing you a parting glance when he departed hours later. It was like you weren't even human-

or, based in the whispers around him, too human. 

Back then, the disdain that surrounded him cut deep, but those wounds have long since healed and the scars are thick enough to guard your feelings. 

Nanami boards, walks directly to you and says. "Thank you, I'm ready whenever you are."

Like it’s nothing.

He stands there, a bound booklet in hand, waiting for you to respond. A delicate pen is tucked into the binding, nib red with ink. That pen has touched papers more important than anything you’ll ever do with your life.

Nothing proper comes to mind, so you just nod to the Senator, kurt and quick.

The only other seat in the cockpit is to your right. You think that he can’t possibly want to sit there, so close to you, but then he does, buckling himself in like he could ever possibly belong here, with you. The trim of his coat brushes against your leg. It’s a simple, innocent touch, but  your brain immediately betrays you. It goes blank mid pretest, sputtering over the fact Nanami Fucking Kento is less than four feet away from you. A bundle of papers is tucked under his arm, a delicate pen trapped into the binding, and your heart soars at the sight of it. 

There’s a crackle over the transmission giving you clearance for take off. That’s just enough to snap you back into place. Work, you remind yourself, this is just work. You mumble a confirmation into the receiver and force a couple of even breaths.

A couple of switches and calmly flashing lights are all it takes to embark. Thrusters off, traction down, engines on and clear-- before you know it, you’ve slipped  out of the hanger and into the gravity free drift of space. Then, with a couple more steps, the slipstream of hyperspace pulls you in. 

Despite Haibara and Itadori’s protests, flying truly isn’t difficult. It’s a groove you slide into, a space that your brain clicks into, a version of yourself that just activates when you need it. Flying makes sense, more than anything on the ground ever did. 

Most importantly, space is quiet. It’s eerie, how it almost crackles with nothing, a fog of sounds that pass by too quickly for anyone to ever make out. It’s peace, it’s joy, it’s everything you wish you could hold in your fingers-

Senator Nanami sighs to himself and you are immediately, violently uncomfortable with the lack of words coming from your mouth.

“I’m sorry for the lack of official transport, sir,” you say, before you can stop yourself.

“Don’t be.” Nanami doesn’t look up from the paper he’s reading. His glasses sit above the ridge of his nose, angled low. It reminds you of an old man, but in a charming way. The angles of his face are classic and sharp, familiar in ways you’ve seen before and long to see again, but his nose is off kilter, bumped slightly at the top from a break that happened years ago.

“Haibara speaks highly of your abilities, Mrs. Nine,” he continues, tapping his pen against the paper. He pauses slightly, then circles something in bright red. The delicate curve of his wrist, the way his thick fingers so carefully hold together: how the mighty have fallen-- you’re finding this erotic somehow. You need to get laid the second you get back on base.

You’re staring. You snap your attention back to the front.

“Mei Mei also had good things to say about you,” he continues, “So far, I am not disappointed.”

Your ability to get off the base impressed him. The Senator must have low standards.

“Thank you, Mr. Senator.” You manage to keep your voice even and professional. Despite how strange your chest feels. 

“Nanami is fine, Mrs. Nine.”

“Miss.” You shift in your seat and the leather creaks under you with an embarrassing sound,  “It’s, uh- Miss. There's no Mr. Nine or anything.  Nine’s not even my name- it's just a call sign.”

Your hand slips off of the control. Your whites have gone pale from the pressure of squeezing. 

“‘Cause like, I’m Pilot 333, and three plus three plus three is nine. So, they call me Nine. Sometimes Niney.” You’re talking, but your brain has left the building.  “It’s stupid. Haibara came up with it when we were newbies and it stuck. I don’t even think people know my real name, to be honest.”

He hums a sound and it immediately silences you, jaw audible snapping shut. "It suits you, Miss Nine."

Your cheeks might be on fire. This is everything you ever wanted, and yet your brain is betraying you. The Senator -- no, Nanami, he’s letting you refer to him casually-- is so far about your station, so much better than you by employment alone, and yet he’s looking your way, expression neutral and yet, almost, perhaps, soft-

"I really like jizz,” you blurt out. 

Nanami slowly looks up over his glasses, eyebrows raised so high that his forehead creases a million times over. He parts his lips and then closes them with a befuddled sound, then opens them again.

"Excuse me?"

"Jizz?" you gesture around the cockpit, "The music-- it's called jizz."

"Oh," he clears his throat twice, then a third time, "On my planet, that is a colloquial term for- never mind. The music is fine. Please, don’t say jizz."

The next seven parsecs are almost completely silent, covered only by the upbeat swagger of jizz.

Lighting yourself on fire might be a less painful experience. 

The next four hours are marked by only a few distractions. Hyperspace is filled with the silence you used to crave, but you can’t focus on that. Instead, you’re lost in how the pit smells like some sort of sultry, woody tone, almost like Spice but with an herbier finish. It’s just a drop in the air, something that you almost have to search for, and that gives it that luxurious edge that most men miss. Restraint, you think, it’s applied with restraint.

You want to ask what scent he’s wearing, but you can’t find the nerve to speak again. 

You’re going to have to ask Haibara what jizz means.

Judging by the Senator’s pink cheeks, it’s nothing good.

Does jizz smell good?

Nanami hasn’t written anything for the better part of two hours when you blink into the outer orbits of his planet. The fall out of the pocket is a bit abrupt, bad enough you both get caught by your seatbelts. Mei Mei will scold you about that when you return. Usually you’re so smooth with it-- you blame the fact this is a new ship.

From a distance, the planet is just a dark, blanketed ball, hanging around a singular red sun. It’s massive, easily three times the size of your own planet-- twice the size of Coursant! A moonless planet, forever alone in the sky, it orbits all on its own.  

Somehow, you’re disappointed. This isn’t the jewel you were promised. There’s no strings of lights or flashing megas cities like the other vacation planets you’ve seen. It’s just quiet, simple, and storming.

“We are arriving.” You stress the ‘are’ a bit to be playful, but it doesn’t sound natural. He hums an agreement and you dive down.

The atmosphere is thicker than you imagined, but it’s no issue. Clouds have their tells- bumps where pockets of pressure are waiting to tilt your ship, smooth bits where the air is much colder than the rest. You’ve known how to speak their language since you first sat in this seat, so you listen and descend. The Nav systems buzz and crackle with an irritating amount of static, so you manually flip them off.  They weren’t going to get used anyway.

The clouds give way and you emerge into the planet proper. 

“Oh, Maker.”

“What's wrong?" Nanami’s head shoots up, grabbing his seatbelt in preparation,"I told you the Navs wouldn’t work-"

“No,” you cut him off, “It's just beautiful.”

Rolling hills go on as far as the eye can see, crescendoing into mountain ranges and wooded peaks, powdered by drifting white flakes. Snow. You've never seen snow in person before. Even through the quilted sky, fragments of sunlight illuminate golden soil, painting the world with a spectacular depth. A long time ago, on Naboo, you had seen someone bathe their entire canvas with ochre, brushstrokes so thick  the cotton canvas’ texture was lost. Then, with a mastery you didn’t think possible from droids, let alone organics, he built the scenery on top, forming art with only a backlight of sunshine. That art, purchased with too many credits and carried home wet, was nothing compared to this.

The craft hovers as you drink it in. Night is approaching, touching the edges of what you can see.

“I thought it was going to be like Canto Bight.” You swivel to get a better look. There’s dots of lights, simple towns scattered across the landscape like glow worms on their strings, “But it’s not at all.”

“The bigger cities are starting to look that way, but we’ve been passing legislation to protect the natural aspects.” Nanami’s voice is warm. He’s moved to the edge of his seat, straining and watching as if he’d never seen any of this before. “Our main revenue is tourism and it’s done our world so much good, but it means nothing if we lose the core of what this planet is.”

Snow vibrates in the air, carried upwards by the draft your vessel has created. It’s like hyperspace with its swirls and streaks, a simple beauty you forgot could exist. In the distance, beyond the curve of  the world, a blue glow tinges the horizon. A city, cloaked in the night that rolls in. It’s nothing compared to what’s in front of you, you’re sure.

"It's nothing special."

“Are you kidding?" you breathe,  “It's a gem.”

“Thank you.” You can see him turn to you in your peripheral, lingering for a long while before speaking. “Can you believe this is considered our worst season?”

“How could it possibly get better?”

Nanami doesn’t turn away, silently studying your profile. You can make out how his eyes, just as pale and sapphiric as the frozen landscape, bounce back and forth, searching for something in your features.

He doesn’t turn away.

Why doesn’t he turn away?

Panic that you’re being weird sets in again. Was that childish? Did you embarrass yourself without even knowing? Suddenly, your clothes feel coarse and cheap against your skin and the air feels unbearably hot. As much as you try to escape it, the scent of it must cling to you- that Outer Rim nobody stench.  

Of course it's strange that you're marveling. Thousands of tourists visit every year and you can bet that none of them care about the landscape. 

Oh, Maker. Nanami Kento is the one behind the spike in tourism. Insulting the city like that must have come off as an insult about him.

You long for the rainy surface of home, where the only thing you could smell was the iron rich mud. 

“Where should I land?” You try to regain your composure. The rims of your eyes burn a bit as an unknown cacophony of emotions begins to rise up. 

The man lingers a second more before sliding back into his chair, neck rolled back to watch the ceiling.

“Sixty clicks behind us.” 

His voice isn’t sweet anymore. 

The burn grows stronger. You never let your hopes rise, and yet they fall further still, dug into the ground under the boot heel of disappointment. 

. . . . . . . . .

The landing pad is carved out of a stretch of mountains. The dusted blanket of snow is pushed aside into uneven piles as your craft settles down, only slipping slightly against the iced over stone. The engine hums with an uneven thrum, pulsing then sputtering in a way you expect from a motorbike, not an advanced transport vessel. An unsettled feeling sits in your stomach as you flick through the power down procedures, sliding off the traction and turning off the friction reducers, cutting off fuel and limiting battery. 

Errors aren't common. There might not even be one, but something sticks in your gut like glue, refusing to be digested. 

Nanami seems unaffected. It's easy to chalk the uneasy nature of the landing to pilot error. He ghosts a finger over the papers once again, pretending to proofread once again. You doubt there's anything left for him to even discover in that text.

 Everything on the dash is green, happily blinking in placid paces. If something were wrong, you'd be seeing orange lights, stroking, or--

“Oh, shit."

Or that. You shoot up to examine the gauges more closely. One strip of lights right above you is completely dark, the lights burnt out. One of the fuel meters is powered all of the way down, arrow pointing past empty.

 Spaceships don't consume fuel the way a gasoline based engine does, they run partially on hypermatter: fragments of planetary core, augmented and altered in ways engineers couldn’t even begin to explain to you. The resulting thick slurry produces energy with such a high frequency that a ship can then enter lightspeed in hyperspace. Most ships can run on a sliver of it for lightyears, but the power supply isn’t endless. Cores do still need to be replaced quite frequently, especially nicer vehicles like this one. 

According to this little meter, yours should have been replaced a long time ago. “Oh, shit.”

The Senator sits up, gripping the arms of his chair. When he realizes you’re on the ground, he relaxes, but only barely. 

“Nothing major, just-” God, he’s going to think you’re incompetent. How did you not notice this before? The Out Station is one of the few places in the Inner Rim to easily refuel-- there’s no way you left with a battery so low.   “Uh-”

You’re trying to think and talk at the same time, but failing at both. You had to have checked this before you left. You had to. You had to.

“It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.”

Apparently, you aren’t convincing. 

“I will be worrying about it, so please just tell me.”  Nanami closes his book with a clap.

“I think the hypermatter is almost depleted,” you admit, flicking the meter as if it’ll make the arrow move.  “Or there’s something wrong with the generator. I’m-- I’m not sure.”

“You aren’t sure?” Nanami parrots, voice pressed and deep.

“I’m a pilot, not a mechanic.” You try to walk away, stumbling over your seatbelt on the way. Above the doorway is a tiny toolbox, simple but effective for minor emergencies. Minor being the keyword. You can tighten a bolt, not fix a warp drive. “I’m just guessing."

The door slides open and the bite of cold air immediately eats into your cheeks and peels your lips, but you press forward, ignoring how your body immediately protests. Both your planet and the Out Station are tepid all year round; you knew snow was cold, but you didn’t realize cold could be painful. Those romantic snowflakes are crystalline weapons in the wind, cutting into your face. No wonder this isn’t considered ‘peak season.’ The cold snatches the breath from your lungs and the flimsy material of your fly suit does nothing to stop it as you jump to the ground. Snow is also slick and you just barely save yourself from falling on your ass. It takes everything in you to walk normally to the hull and begin unscrewing the flap.

Boot steps on the bridge surprise you. Wind tousled and perfectly bracing the weather, the Senator stands at the door, peeking down at you. He’s pulling on a thicker coat and gloves, things you didn’t even know he packed, as he tucks his chin into the fur trim. 

“It’s okay! I’ve got it covered!” you call. The weather might crumple him if he's not careful.

Nanami narrows his eyes as if he knows what you’re thinking and then jumps as well. He handles the ice with much more grace than you with no sign of shivering. Right- this is his home. You’re the one from a hot planet. 

“I just gotta look and make sure it’s not leaking, but I really can’t do anything beyond basic repairs,” you explain, teeth chattering between words, “Do you know any engineers that could possibly…?”

“The only place would be in the city," he says, coat pulled tight. He leans over to inspect, then shakes his head; the law is his wheelhouse, not this. “And I’m afraid that would cost you an arm and a leg.”

“Well, I can’t afford another leg," you blanch, "This one was 200 credits."

He stares at you blankly.

"Because my--"  Bad joke. Instead of explaining, you go back to work.

A couple more twists and the hull pops off suspiciously easy in your hands. Not a good sign. The wiring isn’t neatly draped as it should be, but tangled, the plastic casings cracked and faded. When you push them aside, bits of red and blue crumble into your palm and even more descend into the depths of the engine.  Your legs are bouncing with shivers, the muscles twitching desperately as you scramble for answers. When the way is clear, you shimmy your torso into the hole, moving more bits and pieces until the hyperdrive is fully exposed. 

“Be careful,” The Senator warns. 

The parts of a spaceship are complicated, filled with superconductors and alluvial dampers and inertia controls. You aren’t entirely sure which part is which, but you know the hypermatter core.

And you know it’s not supposed to look like that.

Fragmented glass still holds its shape, but the broken bits are opalescent with pearled beads of liquid. You dip a finger into it and your skin vibrates, physically shaking so hard that the edges of where you begin and the world ends are untraceable.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Your breath curls up as you speak, “Yeah, she’s leaking. Damn.” Cursing makes you feel better, “Damn, damn, damn, shit, it’s eaten into the stellar fuel container too."

There's no way this thing can run. It can't even hold fuel.  Hopefully it holds heat well enough that you don't freeze over before help can come. On second thought- maybe it would be nice to freeze to death. Sounds better than dealing with Mei Mei when you get back.

"It must have been on the fritz and the last slip out of hyper must have pushed it over the edge," you reason. 

“I’ll contact your Out Station and have them send over a new ship to get you home,” Nanami says, shuffling closer. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

A chill has already set into your knuckles, stiff and harsh. You peel back another panel, the metal almost crumbling in your weakened grip. Maker, you almost killed a fucking Senator. If this trip was any longer, you could have been absolutely space dust. 

“It’s okay, sir, I can handle this,” you lie as you blindly twist at spark plugs and knock against the chipped core. Yup-- that sound means this is way above your paygrade.

“You don’t have a jacket and it’s freezing.” Nanami steps towards you, bending over to see for himself,  “Besides the point, hypermatter is toxic. If there’s a leak, you shouldn’t be- well, don’t touch it.”

You pull back your hands from the glass. The Station’s probably been leeching this shit into your water for years; a little more can’t hurt you too much, but the blonde doesn’t seem to agree. He’s on you in three wide strides, taking you by the jumper’s pocket and firmly pulling you from the hull. When you’ve been freed, he clutches your elbow and half bends, just enough to grab a handful of snow and dump it into your bare hand. At first, you feel nothing but fine grit, but as he quickly brushes away the snow and melted bits to replace it with another, the buzzing in your skin pauses. The following chill drives into your senses like a knife. You curl on to your toes reflexively with a whine, but his grip holds you in place. Your other hand clamps down on something as your whole body clenches, curling in towards him reflexively. Maker, you might actually freeze to death; the panic that was keeping you warm was faded, draining through your now sopping wet hand.

Nanami isn’t fazed by your antics. He stays focused on cleaning your hand with handful after handful until he’s satisfied. With every huff and grumble, a smoke of his breath whisps away, brushing by your nose. It’s how you realize you’re so close to him, practically breast to breast. 

“You’re worse than Haibara, I swear,” he chides and his warm breath tickles your cheek again. His teeth close on the leather of his free hand and tug, popping it off of his hand. Rather awkwardly, he jams it on to your hand, none of the fingers finding their holes, “Touching literal poison-- do you have a death wish?”

You're frozen in place and you're not sure you can completely blame the weather.

 “A little,” you manage.

He shoots you a glare. Frost litters his eyelashes. 

“Come on,”  he tugs, “We're going."

"The ship-” The hull is open and collecting snow, the metal already cold enough for ice to stick. 

"-isn’t going to get fixed today." he finishes, “Standing out here isn’t going to fix that.”

“I--” Objections don’t come to mind. The weather must be eating your brain cells too.

“Fine,” you relent, “We’ll call inside.”

“Good.” Nanami nods, “Now Iet go.”

It takes you a second to process. What?”

Nanami gestures down. “Let go of my coat.” 

You realize your hand didn’t clutch the air, but him. Your joints protest as you force your fingers open, releasing the front of his coat, but Nanami doesn't immediately pull away. His gloved hand finds yours, smoothing the knuckles in an overly tender act.

"Your skin is already chapped," he notes under his breath. He frees his other glove and slips in onto you, then goes for the zipper of his coat. Before you can protest, he's gathering the hide and fur in his hands. 

“I couldn’t possibly-” 

“I am the Galactic Senator of this planet,” Nanami says firmly, but with no bite. He throws the jacket over your shoulders. It's oversized and long on him; on you, it trails the ground.  “And I insist that you acquiesce."

Without protection, the weather is getting to him, stripping his cheeks pink. The fog of his breath sticks to his glasses, crystalline patterns forming across their plane. The cold has reclaimed its beauty once again.

“I don't know what acquiesce means," you say, "But okay, Senator."

Fine lines crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “I told you to call me Nanami.”

“Yes, Nanami.”

 He slides the zipper of the coat up. "Let's go, Miss Nine."

part one | part three

[secretofpandora]

❄️ FILE #GRD-022: "SHIVER"

📋 BASIC INFORMATION

Callsign: Shiver Status: ACTIVE Affiliation: Pandora Division: Greed Faceclaim: Lucien Laviscount Date of Birth: [REDACTED] Age: 29 Place of Origin: [REDACTED]Sex / Gender: Male (He/Him) Mutation Type: Cryokinesis Recruitment Date: 4 years ago Sexual Orientation: [REDACTED] Alignment Profile: [Chaotic Good - REDACTED]

💪 PHYSICAL INFORMATION

Height: 6'1" (185 cm) Build: Athletic and agile. Compact musculature optimized for flexibility and close-range engagement. Moves with precision and self-possession. Complexion: Warm brown with golden undertones; skin tone remains even and smooth despite extensive field exposure. Often appears subtly luminous under low light. Hair: Black, cropped short and clean. Facial Hair: Typically well-groomed stubble or a short boxed beard, maintained to highlight his jawline without compromising his polished aesthetic. Body Hair: Naturally fine and evenly distributed across chest and arms. Subject maintains meticulous grooming habits to preserve a polished appearance without full removal. Distinguishing Features: Carries himself with quiet precision and upright posture, exuding composed authority. His gaze is sharp and unwavering, often described as coolly analytical or predatory in intensity. Presence is arresting in silence—disarming in approach, unnerving upon extended engagement. Tattoos: None. Subject has no tattoos, citing control, anonymity, and personal discipline.

🧠 PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE

Psych Eval Tags: Charming, Adaptable Reprimands: [REDACTED] — see file: Behavioral Note G-047 ("Secretive & Machiavellian")

Subject is calculated, magnetic, and socially agile. Displays advanced emotional intelligence with high persuasion capability. Excels in psychological pressure environments. Cold demeanor is strategic, not withdrawn. Affinity for connection present but filtered through selective access and situational control.

Recruitment followed subject’s classified extraction from a European intelligence agency following a betrayal that remains sealed under joint jurisdiction. Prior to joining Pandora, subject operated primarily in diplomatic manipulation, boardroom espionage, and high-level intelligence asset grooming.

Now embedded fully in the field.

Subject’s rapid ascension through both intelligence and mutation programs marks him as a prodigious asset, often described as dangerously accomplished for his age.

🔬 ABILITY OVERVIEW

Primary Mutation: Cryokinesis Subject possesses the ability to manipulate moisture and temperature in his immediate vicinity, allowing for the generation of ice constructs, freezing surfaces, or rapidly destabilizing targets through temperature drop. Noted for precision execution and localized effect.

Secondary Traits: — Persuasive under interrogation — Highly adaptive in shifting social dynamics — Tactical thinker with effective improvisation instincts

Limitations: — Mutation efficacy reduced in arid or high-heat zones — Extended use may impact internal body temperature — Cryo-generated constructs lack permanence in open environments

🧠 TACTICAL PROFILE

Division Expertise:

- Vehicular Operations

- Perception

Selected Expertise:

Persuasion

Proficiencies:

Stealth & Infiltration

Deception

Insight

Sleight of Hand

Seduction

Deficiencies:

Brute Force

Pain Tolerance

⚙️ EQUIPMENT & SUIT DESIGN

Subject’s suit is a reinforced cryo-tactical hybrid built for high mobility and impact resilience. The base layer is composed of sleek black material designed to flex and move with the body, while the armor plating features a cracked ice texture, shimmering in cool-toned metallic blue.

Key Features: - Cryo-conductive armor plating with blue-glass sheen - Reinforced utility belt for tool and serum access - Cryo-channeling gauntlets with layered insulation -Anti-slip combat boots with adaptive traction system for stability on ice surfaces - Shatter-resistant combat boots for rapid movement and blunt force trauma - Masked cowl capable of temperature regulation and discreet identity shielding

Design aesthetic is sleek and severe, mirroring the subject’s combat style: clean, composed, and unapologetically efficient.

📂 FIELD NOTES — BACKGROUND PROFILE

Subject raised between European and American diplomatic posts. Fluent in French and English. Early years marked by high emotional control, elite grooming, and exposure to international intelligence protocols.

Recruited by a European agency at a young age. Assigned to non-combat operations involving asset management, strategic negotiation, and silent coercion. Noted for high success rate and extremely low operational footprint.

Compromised during an international asset exchange. Circumstances redacted. Agency severed operational ties. Pandora intercepted.

Subject adapted to combat protocols faster than projected. Initial integration into Pandora’s training program occurred four years ago, following three years of intelligence work under [REDACTED]. Mutation revealed latent affinity for temperature regulation and frost-based energy control.

Now operates with full field clearance. Cold precision is signature. Subject leaves nothing behind but frost.

🔒 [CLASSIFIED: LEVEL 7 CLEARANCE REQUIRED]

Unofficial Agent Notes — Subject: Shiver. The following details are not part of the official Pandora record and are restricted to internal psychological and biometric files.

Subject’s sexual profile is closely aligned with his operational demeanor: composed, intentional, and control-oriented. Physical description in medical logs lists him as 8 inches, cut, proportionate to his lean build. Presentation is confident and meticulously kept.

Behavioral patterns in intimacy emphasize delayed gratification and psychological tension, favoring teasing provocation and controlled escalation. Subject assumes a dominant role in the majority of encounters and typically prefers the top position, though behavioral analysis confirms switch tendencies, with openness to yielding control under specific, challenging dynamics. Subject thrives on maintaining eye contact, tempo control, and verbal engagement throughout, frequently employing dirty talk and playfully assertive commands to sustain partner focus.

Temperature play is a notable feature, with subject favoring chilled stimuli to heighten sensitivity and anticipation. Observed tendencies toward overstimulation of partners are deliberate, designed to elicit sustained physiological and psychological responses. Subject’s pacing is calculated, balancing provocation with precision.

Emotionally compartmentalized by default, subject utilizes physical intimacy as both a form of exertion and a control mechanism. Post-encounter behavior is attentive yet fleeting, prioritizing efficiency and emotional distance, though observations confirm reliable aftercare protocols when necessary.

Subject avoids romantic entanglement. Known to engage in discreet, repeated liaisons with select personnel, typically from within Greed or Envy Divisions.

FILE STATUS: OPEN LAST UPDATED: [REDACTED]

[transport-methodology-101]

Evolution of the Mercedes-Benz S-Class (and its predecessors) from 1965 to 2024, showcasing key models from different generations:-

1965: Mercedes-Benz W108/W109 S-Class (e.g., 250 S, 250 SE, 300 SEL).

1972: Mercedes-Benz W116 S-Class, which officially launched the S-Class nomenclature.

1979: Mercedes-Benz W126 S-Class, known for its timeless design, quality, and safety features like ABS and traction control.

1993: Mercedes-Benz W140 S-Class, also known as 'Cathedral' due to its size, introduced electronic stability program and brake assist system.

1998: Mercedes-Benz W220 S-Class, which succeeded the W140 series.

2006: Mercedes-Benz W221 S-Class, the sixth generation of the S-Class.

2014: Mercedes-Benz W222 S-Class, known for its luxury and advanced features.

2024: Mercedes-Benz W223 S-Class, representing the latest generation of the flagship luxury sedan.

More about the exclusive MB “S” series:- https://www.catawiki.com/en/stories/4665-the-evolution-of-the-mercedes-benz-s-class#:~:text=Mercedes%2DBenz%20W140%20(1991%2D,very%20popular%2C%20trustworthy%20and%20reliable.