Nissan skyline body kit

Diagnosing a misfire on a 328i e46?

2023.06.02 00:23 Right-Ladd Diagnosing a misfire on a 328i e46?

I think this is the right place to ask this question.
A bit of backstory:
Me and my dad bought a 328i about 2-3 years ago now for £400, a guy at work bought it to turn it into a drift car and swapped it to manual and welded the diff by cutting a hole in the boot, he left it in his shed for 3 years as he had other projects too and ended up selling it to us.
We brought her home and welded a custom exhaust manifold for it out of a Ford transit and Peugeot 206 manifold and have been meaning to do work to it ever since but it kinda got left behind on account of me not having any money after I bought my first car and my dad not really having time.
Finally tho this year I’ve gained enough knowledge and impatience to start working on it myself but it’s got a couple issues.
The actual problems:
It hasn’t been firing on cylinder 2 and 5 since we got her, which I believe just requires either a new set of ignition coils and spark plugs, but I wanna know if there’s anything else I should be looking out for or anything else that may be the culprit.
Also the fuel gauge likes to change its mind as frequently as a 13 year old white girl which I believe would be the fuel sensor but I’m not sure how I’d go about changing that or even if it’s the problem.
The throttle is also very sticky which makes driving it a bit of a nightmare, added by the fact the brakes are both non-existent and rusted to shit. I’ve heard that its a common problem with the automatics and can be fixed by cleaning out the throttle body.
I’m also wondering if it would be worth doing some preventative maintenance on it such as a simple service if it’s been abused between long periods of laying still on the open for the last 6 years or so.
As for the underside I don’t know if I even want to look.
My hope is to clean her up on the outside and underside and get the engine running smooth(ish) to turn her into a solid drift car, and by solid drift car I mean without any of the actual drift parts apart from maybe a home made angle kit.
P.S. I’m almost certain it’s a 328i but it could be a 325i, it’s been a while since I checked.
submitted by Right-Ladd to BmwTech [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 00:06 ChrisTenarium Finding Unexpected Joy in the Least Likely Place

Hello, fellow community members!
You know, sometimes, the most unanticipated practices turn out to be your biggest source of relief and I stumbled upon such a thing myself - enemas! Yes, you read that right, enemas! Before you raise your eyebrows or burst into laughter, hear me out.
Since I've incorporated this practice into my life, I've noticed an incredible change. It's like hitting a 'refresh' button on my body, leaving me feeling lighter, happier, less burdened by my usual anxieties and depression. My energy levels? Through the roof! It's as if I've stumbled upon some secret elixir for mental health, housed in a rather humble enema kit!
But enough with the serious talk. You've got to hear about my most recent enema adventure.
So, there I was, ready for my usual "cleanse and refresh" session. Little did I know that my boyfriend's beloved cat, Bubby, had some plans of his own. The moment I turned around to fetch the kit, Bubby saw the perfect opportunity to show off his stealth mode.
As I was inserting the tube into my ane, Bubs pounced on the dangling bulb - his new found "ball of yarn". The scene that unfolded was like a slapstick comedy sketch. There I was, trying to wrestle back the tube, while Bubby, convinced he's in a life-or-death battle for his new toy, was clawing and hissing with unparalleled bravado.
In the end, I surrendered to Bubs, but not before slipping on poo water that had leaked out of me, smacking my head on the sink, causing a small pool of blood to mix with the other liquid on the floor. Afterward, our bathroom looked like the aftermath of an epic battle scene. Needless to say, the cleansing session was postponed, but my spirits were higher than ever, even after suffering a concussion and possibly perforated colon (it really popped when it was yanked out by the kitty and my bowels were sore, but that's not necessarily unusual for me).
In the middle of all the chaos, I realized that these seemingly mundane or even odd routines can bring about such genuine moments of laughter and levity. So here I am, sharing my love for enemas and hoping to bring a smile to your faces with my "battle of the enema" saga.
Stay positive and keep finding joy in the unexpected corners of life!
submitted by ChrisTenarium to LGBTQMentalHealth [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 23:58 Crazs17 2009 Nissan GTR. 67k. Good deal?

Considering purchasing this Godzilla for 67k before TTL. 29k miles. Unmodified. Is this a good deal? Does anyone have experience or knowledge about maintenance and reliability? TIA
submitted by Crazs17 to whatcarshouldIbuy [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 23:53 minor_9 [WTS] Clean Omni VII PVS14

PVS-14 with Carson body and glass and Gen 3 autogating L3 Harris tube w/o manual gain. Very clean with minimal peppering. $2100. Oh baby!
No spec sheets as this is an Omni VII contract tube. A fantastic starter kit and has been nitrogen purged. I’ve sold dozens of nv units here just look through my post history. Not too interested in trades but you miss 100% of the shot you don’t take. Comment dibs here then pm/chat for payment.
edit: can also add a rhino mount, j arm, milspec pouch, eyecup, lens cover for $75
submitted by minor_9 to GunAccessoriesForSale [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 23:45 L3AFSF4N_81 Looking to Purchase a Skyline (Need Help)

Hey guys,
Long story short, I'm located in Toronto, Canada and looking to purchase a Skyline from an importer. Y'all should know that I got next to zero car knowledge lol, I just like the way the Skyline looks.
I think I've narrowed it down to a R34 4door automatic (no GTRs since that's definitely out of the budget). I'll go 2door if really needed, but 4door is probably more convenient and cheaper anyways I'm assuming.
I just had a couple of questions that I need your help with:
  1. How is the sound system? I'm a big music guy so I'd like some good speakers...if they're garbage, how hard is it to upgrade them?
  2. How's the space in the car? I'm 6'2 and kind of average build, 190lb but I do go to the gym so tryna get bigger lol. For reference...I kinda need to move the seat all the way back in an old c-class Mercedes to drive comfortably. Would people be able to sit in the back or is it just pointless and better to go 2door?
  3. Do these things come with a sunroof? I swear I seen one with a sunroof when I was looking at auctions but most of the ones I've looked at don't have a sunroof. Not necessary but would be nice.
  4. Are parts expensive? Some places have said yea, and others have said nah so I'm confused. I'm very much interested in the cosmetic aspects of the car rather than performance, but obviously I'd want performance (like speed) in a car, but the first priority would be making it look nice in my opinion. Are they fast stock or do they only get fast when they're modded?
  5. Do these prone to breaking down often? I don't want to import a car only for it to break down on me in like a year.
  6. Somebody in a YouTube vid said they had to spend 10k (don't know if that's CAD or USD) on suspension, bushing, etc just to make it good while driving...I understand he's a car-guy so he probably feels the difference, but I don't think I would so I'd like your expertise on this.
  7. Going back to #4, I would like to get it to look similar to these: [One](, [Two](, [Three]( guess that's a GTR look but idk, bumpers, coils, all of that good stuff. How much would something like that cost and would it be simple to do on my own (with some help from mechanics)?
  8. Is rust really prevalent on these older Skylines imported from Japan and are the kilometers really important when looking for a Skyline? I'm looking for something with low kilometers but want to know if it makes a huge difference getting one with 100+ kilometers compared to one with less than 100km.
Anything else I should be looking out for when looking for a vehicle? Most reliable engine, how does a right-hand drive car affect insurance?
(budget is 10-15k CAD, on the lower end preferably...depends on how the vehicle looks)
Oh one more thing: What's your opinions on B-Pro vs. JDM Connection? B-Pro seems to be the winner based on most recommendations but any additional info is helpful.
Appreciate any help/tips! Thanks y'all
submitted by L3AFSF4N_81 to SkyLine [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 23:41 DLF6 Real Racing 3 - Update 11.4 - Radical

Take on the unbelievable Radical SR10 XXR, hit the track in the Lotus Emira, and charge into a new season of Formula E!
New Cars
Radical SR10 XXR
Formula E Gen3 Championship Car
Lotus Emira
Round 7 Begins
This update marks the beginning of ROUND 7, bringing new cars, events, and prizes to earn by collecting VP!
Old Rounds Are Expiring
Your time is running out to complete the third Round of Season 2! The following Round is going to be disappearing from the game soon:
ROUND 3 - Tuesday, 1 August 2023
Once a Round has expired you will not be able to start any new events within it, nor finish any in progress events if the window for earning the primary reward has expired. Any rewards in the Round that you have earned enough VP to collect, but have not yet claimed, will be automatically given to you when the Round expires.
If you missed out on the Grand Prize car for a Round that’s expired, don’t worry! These cars will appear again in future Rounds.
New Special Events
All Special Events will be available to start from their unlock date, until the Round ends on Monday, 17 July 2023.
Track Day: Radical SR10 XXR
Reign Supreme
Track Day: McLaren Senna
New Limited Time Events
Ferrari 296 GTB TTC
Formula E Season 9—Road To Berlin
Lamborghini Huracán Limited Series
Lotus Emira Limited Series
Formula E TTC
Ferrari F14 T Limited Series
New Bonus Series
Season 9 (2022-23)
Style from the Isles
The Radical SR10 Cup
Exclusive Series
Ferrari Monza SP1
Aston Martin V12 Speedster
Weekly Time Trial Schedule
Note that you’ll be able to earn 1,000 VP for each WTT you participate in.
Week 1 - Monday, June 5, 2023 to Monday, June 12, 2023
Week 2 - Tuesday, June 13, 2023 to Monday, June 19, 2023
Week 3 - Tuesday, June 20, 2023 to Monday, June 26, 2023
Week 4 - Tuesday, June 27, 2023 to Monday, July 3, 2023
Week 5 - Tuesday, July 4, 2023 to Monday, July 10, 2023
Week 6 - Tuesday, July 11, 2023 to Monday, July 17, 2023
Online Multiplayer Schedule
Week 1 - Tuesday, 6 June 2023 to Monday, 12 June 2023
Week 2 - Tuesday, 13 June 2023 to Monday, 19 June 2023
Week 3 - Tuesday, 20 June 2023 to Monday, 26 June 2023
Week 4 - Tuesday, 27 June 2023 to Monday, 3 July 2023
Week 5 - Tuesday, 4 July 2023 to Monday, 10 July 2023
Week 6 - Tuesday, 11 July 2023 to Monday, 17 July 2023
The Radical update will be available to download on 6 June, 2023.
submitted by DLF6 to realracing [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 22:58 PragmaticGeriatrics The New-To-Me FRS, and the quest for acceptable

I just picked up a black 2013 single owner FR-S with 75,000 miles for a reasonable price. I live in Madison, took a bus to Chicago to pick it up after having Lemon Squad check it out(fairly disappointed in them). It had been maintained by the owner, but has some smaller issues that I will be taking care of over the coming weeks. I am starting this post to document the issues I fixed, and get the opinion of the forum on some issues that come up.
First group of "repairs" - driving home I noted a significant, rhythmic vibration that was very notable above 70mph. There is also a burning oil smell that is most notable when going slower, or creeping forward in traffic. On arriving home I found that the front passenger side wheel, and rear drivers side wheel each had only 4 lugnuts on. My fault for not noticing when I picked up the car( I assumed something like this would have been noted on the inspection I paid for), but this gives an idea of the corner cutting the car has been experiencing for the past several years. Breaking free the lugnuts, it was obvious that they were over-torqued, and the studs had never seen anti-seize. I had to repair the threads on one of the studs, but otherwise had no issues switching over to some RPF-1s I had from my WRX, and luckily kept the lugnuts that fit those wheels from before. This got rid of the vibration, but I now notice a creaking/clicking noise from the rear drivers side suspension that I haven't figured out yet. The tires are a few year old hankook V12s, and the car was hilariously tail happy until the glaze wore off.
I also did the H9 conversion for the main beams, and had to replace a turn signal bulb to get rid of the hyper-fast turn signal rate.
the source of the burning oil smell seems to be from a oil leak on the rear of the engine block on the passenger side. a little googling led me to find out this was a cylinder head cover plate that commonly leaks oil. Rather than rely on RTV again, I got an aftermarket billet cover from nameless performance, which I will put on next week. I will also replace the PCV valve and hose, as that has never been replaced, and I suspect that this is part of the issue with the leaking.

Issues that I have found but haven't decided what to do yet.
  1. loud wind noise from passenger side window, the vertical front window gasket(between the triangle and main window) is very loose and I suspect this is the issue. Im not sure how I plan to fix it, but it will likely involve a heat gun and clamps.
  2. the black plastic part of the drivers visor that clicks into the hook on the roof cracked off and it bounces everywhere when Im driving. I might just warp that in electric tape, but It might be worth the 50 dollars to just replace the whole piece.
  3. the buttons next to the dash dont work at all(odo, Kph/Mph/Display). I havent found anyone talking about this issue, the part isnt super expensive, but Im not sure it is the buttons, and not sure how to test where the fault is.
  4. look into the creaking/clicking sound from the drivers rear suspension
  5. need a place to put my cell, where do people mount their phones in these cars?
issues my inability to call good enough alone will drive me to do
  1. Im planning on looking at the throttle body to see if it needs to be cleaned
  2. I doubt the spark plugs have been replaced, so that will be done this summer as well
  3. replace the oil and filter
  4. the owner reported changing the rear diff and tranny fluid in the past 20k miles, will likely replace it in the next several months anyway just to be sure
  5. brake fluid was done in the last 2 years, and pads look like they are fine. Rotors are surprisingly good(light car I guess). will probably do all of that next year.
  6. the air intake box is cracked where the tube from the front enters it. I should replace it, but it really only means a bit more hot air is entering the filter. I read that Cold air kits really dont benefit these cars, and I would rather not drop a few hundred on that right now
  7. the car came with K-Sport coilovers, I will likely put them on or have them put on this summer as well. they likely have less than 20k miles on them. the prior owner took them off for being too stiff for chicago roads. the current springs are pretty harsh, so Im a little hesitant to try the coilovers out.
  8. the doors do not stay open, I will eventually replace the door stays, but dont want to take the door panels off more than necessary to avoid breaking any tabs. would likely put in some sound deadening material at the same time when I do.
im sure more will come up, and I will document this. Also if anyone is in the madison area and is interested in some 18x7.5 drag wheels with worn out tires on them I would be willing to sell them at a very reasonable price.
submitted by PragmaticGeriatrics to ft86 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 22:42 LBCLOWNS Hotwheels Steering Rig -Newage semi -KYOSHO Lamborghini Countach - Nissan Skyline Godzilla

Hotwheels Steering Rig -Newage semi -KYOSHO Lamborghini Countach - Nissan Skyline Godzilla submitted by LBCLOWNS to HotWheels [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 22:42 Current_Title_4408 Pricing help

Hey all, I am in need to sell my truck because the engine decided to throw a rod on i29. The body has 148k rust free, its a 91 f250 ext cab long bed 4x4 xlt lariat with the zf5. Theres an ATS 093 turbo kit on the engine, but it needs a new block. Put 1k of Toyo all terrains on it 800 miles ago and it has a 38 gallon rear tank upgrade from CDD. Any ballparks for what it would be worth? Thanks.
submitted by Current_Title_4408 to FordDiesels [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 22:41 IceQueenWeiss Selling epic games account + coupon 25% expire june 15

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9/19/2019 Lego Batman Trilogy
9/19/2019 Batman Arkham - Trilogy
9/18/2019 Conarium
8/29/2019 Inside
8/29/2019 Celeste
8/23/2019 Fez
8/21/2019 The Cycle Early Access
8/15/2019 Mutant Year Zero
8/15/2019 Hyper Light Drifter
8/8/2019 GNOG
8/3/2019 Alan Wake
8/3/2019 For Honor Standard Edition
7/25/2019 This War of Mine
7/25/2019 Moonlighter
7/18/2019 Limbo
7/11/2019 Torchlight
7/4/2019 Overcooked
7/3/2019 Dauntless
7/3/2019 Last Day of June
submitted by IceQueenWeiss to GamingMarket [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 22:32 AKtuallyRetarded built SR20det swap PA

built SR20det swap PA
Hey guys. I have a full built SR20det red top. I'm kinda wanting to RB20det swap my 240 as I love the sound (it's a daily so not a power chaser)
Anyone in PA interested in a complete SR20det swap kit? Interested in finding out what the whole lot as a complete swap kits worth. Built engine (194 miles old) Spec stage 3 clutch kit SR 5 speed All new Wiring Specialties harness APEXi Power FC ECU Greddy TD05H on a ram horn high mount ISR downpipe DW740cc injectors PBM intercooleplumbing Z32 MAF Tail 44mm external gate (7psi currently for the first 500 miles)
All that good stuff... As for the engine it's self. The only stock remaining parts are the crank, upper oil pan, and the block. Everything else is brand new.
BC264 cams BC valve train Tomei head gasket Mahle forged 86.5mm pistons Eagle H beam rods ACL bearings OEM oil pump All upgraded timing gear ARP main studs ARP head studs Dual rocker guide modded New OE Nissan pullies New OE CAS New OE AFM
submitted by AKtuallyRetarded to 240sx [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 22:25 bluesprig Oops

When I said she had a surprise I meant the kittens. I jinxed it. And now she's dead.
submitted by bluesprig to ClanGen [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 22:02 Corporal_Cavernosa Real Racing 3 - Radical (v11.4) Update

Real Racing 3 - Radical

Take on the unbelievable Radical SR10 XXR, hit the track in the Lotus Emira, and charge into a new season of Formula E!

New Cars

Car Performance Rating Cost
Radical SR10 XXR 91.0 -> 101.0 M$2,800,000
Formula E Gen3 Championship Car 57.3 -> 74.9 M$2,250,000
Lotus Emira 51.3 -> 73.2 600 Gold

Round 7 Begins

This update marks the beginning of ROUND 7, bringing new cars, events, and prizes to earn by collecting VP!
Start date: 6 Jun 2023
Last day to start events in this round (without owning the car in the event): 17 Jul 2023
Grand Prize: Porsche 909 Bergspyder
Alt Reward: 100 Gold

Old Rounds Are Expiring

Your time is running out to complete the third Round of Season 2! The following Round is going to be disappearing from the game soon:
ROUND 3 - 1 August 2023
Once a Round has expired you will not be able to start any new events within it, nor finish any in progress events if the window for earning the primary reward has expired. Any rewards in the Round that you have earned enough VP to collect, but have not yet claimed, will be automatically given to you when the Round expires.
If you missed out on the Grand Prize car for a Round that’s expired, don’t worry! These cars will appear again in future Rounds.

New Special Events

All Special Events will be available to start from their unlock date, until the Round ends on 17 July 2023.
Track Day: Radical SR10 XXR
Start Date: 5 June 2023
Duration: 5 days
Rewards: Radical SR10 XXR, M$300,000, 100 Gold, 6,500VP
Maximum Required PR: 98.6

Flashback Special Events

The following Special Events will also be a part of Round 7:
Reign Supreme
Start Date: 10 June 2023
Duration: 9 days
Rewards: Koenigsegg REGERA, 105 Gold, R$100,000, 5,000VP
Alternate Rewards : 25 Gold, 5,000VP

Track Day: McLaren Senna
Start Date: 8 July 2023
Duration: 5 days
Rewards: McLaren Senna, 100 Gold, R$150,000, 3,250VP
Alternate Rewards : 40 Gold, R$50,000, 3,250VP
Maximum Required PR: 79.7

New Limited Time Events

Ferrari 296 GTB TTC
Cars: Ferrari 296 GTB
Rewards: Gold and 1,000 VP for participating
Start Date: 13 June 2023
End Date: 26 June 2023

Formula E Season 9—Road To Berlin
Rewards: Formula E Gen3 Championship Car, 80 Gold, M$250,000, 5,250VP
Start Date: 18 June 2023
Duration: 7 days
Maximum Required PR: 70.8

Lamborghini Huracán Limited Series
Rewards: Lamborghini HURACÁN LP 610-4, 40 Gold, R$100,000, 5,200VP
Start Date: 25 June 2023
Duration: 7 days
Maximum Required PR: 63.9

Lotus Emira Limited Series
Rewards: Lotus Emira, 50 Gold, R$120,000, 5,250VP
Start Date: 1 July 2023
Duration: 7 days
Maximum Required PR: 68.0

Formula E TTC
Cars: Formula E Gen3 Championship Car
Rewards: Gold and 1,000 VP for participating
Start Date: 4 July 2023
End Date: 17 July 2023

Ferrari F14 T Limited Series
Rewards: Ferrari F14 T, 140 Gold, R$200,000, 5,250VP
Start Date: 12 July 2023
Duration: 7 days
Maximum Required PR: 122.3

New Bonus Series

Season 9 (2022-23)
Cars: Formula E Gen3 Championship Car
Rewards: 67 Gold, M$67,000
Location: FORMULA E
Unlocks from: Unlock the Formula E Gen3 Championship Car
Maximum Required PR: 73.3

Style from the Isles
Cars: Jaguar F-Type SVR,McLaren 12C Spider,Lotus Emira
Rewards: 67 Gold, R$67,000
Location: SEASON 2
Unlocks from: Unlock the Lotus Emira
Maximum Required PR: 71.1

The Radical SR10 Cup
Cars: Radical SR10 XXR
Rewards: 77 Gold, M$77,000
Unlocks from: Unlock the Radical SR10
Maximum Required PR: 99.9

Exclusive Series

Car Rewards
Ferrari Monza SP1 130 Gold, R$280,000
Aston Martin V12 Speedster 130 Gold, R$200,000

Weekly Time Trial Schedule

Note that you’ll be able to earn 1,000 VP for each WTT you participate in.
Week Start Date End Date Cars
1 June 5, 2023 June 12, 2023 McLaren Senna GTR (loaned) Hennessey Venom F5, Aston Martin Valkyrie
2 June 13, 2023 June 19, 2023 Mazda Furai (loaned), Koenigsegg Agera R, Pagani Huayra R
3 June 20, 2023 June 26, 2023 Aston Martin Vanquish (loaned), Aston Martin Vantage 59, Aston Martin V12 Speedster
4 June 27, 2023 July 3, 2023 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28 (Racing) (loaned), Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport (loaned), Ferrari 250 GTO (loaned)
5 July 4, 2023 July 10, 2023 Ferrari Daytona SP3 (loaned), Ferrari SF90 Stradale, Bugatti La Voiture Noire
6 July 11, 2023 July 17, 2023 Lexus IS F (2013) (loaned), NISSAN Skyline GT-R (R34) R3 Spec, Acura NSX (2017)

Online Multiplayer Schedule

Week Start Date End Date Cars
1 June 5, 2023 June 12, 2023 Bugatti EB 110 Super Sport (loaned), Porsche 911 GT1 Straßenversion, McLaren F1
2 June 13, 2023 June 19, 2023 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 (2013) (loaned), Bentley Continental GT Speed (2013), Ferrari 458 Italia
3 June 20, 2023 June 26, 2023 Porsche 911 Carrera RS 2.7 (1972) (loaned), Lamborghini Miura, BMW M1
4 June 27, 2023 July 3, 2023 Ford Mustang GT Premium (loaned), Ferrari 360 Modena, Porsche Boxster GTS
5 July 4, 2023 July 10, 2023 Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG (loaned), Chevrolet CORVETTE STINGRAY Z51, Aston Martin V12 Vantage (2022)
6 July 11, 2023 July 17, 2023 Porsche Cayman GT4 (loaned), Porsche 911 GT2 (2003), Porsche 718 Cayman GT4 RS
The Radical update will be available to download on 6 June, 2023.
submitted by Corporal_Cavernosa to RealRacing3 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 21:49 tallgeese_iii [S] [USA-CA] Nikon Z5 body & Nikon Z 14-30 f/4 BNIB

Hey Photomarket!
Link to timestamp and pictures
For sale today is a Nikon Z5 and Nikon Z 14-30 f/4 lens, both NIB. I bought them directly from Nikon USA last October during their Q4 sale intending to get into real estate photography, but other stuff kept me too busy to get started and here we are! (a tale as old as time)
Both are new in box, no clicks or shutter actuations, etc etc, and need to get into someones hands who will take full advantage of these awesome pieces of kit.
I am asking $900 for the Nikon z5 body, and $1,000 for the Nikon 14-30 lens. Prices include shipping to anywhere in the CONUS.
I am in Los Angeles, California and would be more than happy to sell in person to anyone local as well. I don’t have any feedback in this subreddit, but have sold tons of watches and other stuff here on reddit, which you can see in my post history.
PLEASE do not chat me to talk, instead please DM me instead. I can’t receive chats on mobile, and won’t be able to reply to chats.
submitted by tallgeese_iii to photomarket [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 21:29 Standard-Peach8717 If AI don’t take our jobs. GORILLAS WILL

If AI don’t take our jobs. GORILLAS WILL
I’m primarily a filmmaker, I’m somewhat computer saavy, but by no means an expert. These are the steps I used to create this video. You can see my previous video in my profile history and I have more work on my IG and TikTok page. Both as @curiouscatproduction.
-I found an image of a gorilla, used procreate to mask it (My gf bought it on her ipad to make her company logo. Usually I use davinci, but I wanted to try a different program mask. I actually really love it. I think I will probably use it again, in future videos and import it to Davinci Resolve, until I test out the paid version of Davinci Resolve) - initially I created the whole image using masks and sent it to Stable Diffusion to clean it all up, but I was not getting the results I wanted. The best workflow I found was to work on the head first, send to Stable Diffusion then the arm, shirt and then the watch. -I then sent it through EBSynth. (I’m still working on experimenting with TemporalKit, but I haven’t had time, maybe next week)
I really like the end result. The reason is, I like using mask because i can feed Stable Diffusion exactly what I’m looking for and it will clean it up for me or give me variations I didn’t expect but loved, like the yellow eyes, and the color palette. I think of it as controlled chaos. My next test is to create body movements. I tried last week, but failed. I think I have an idea to make it work, and I’ll post it next week hopefully.
submitted by Standard-Peach8717 to StableDiffusion [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 21:24 RandomAppalachian468 Don't fly over Barron County Ohio. [Repost]

The whirring blades of my MD-902 throbbed against the warm evening air, and I smiled.
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a towering ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, with a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.
submitted by RandomAppalachian468 to u/RandomAppalachian468 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 21:22 egothrasher Sunshade Model 3

Going to be buying a model 3 in the future, so looking at accessories, body kits etc. I am going to wait for the Highland reveal to see if anything drastic changes. Looking to pick up the M3P.
I have a question regarding the glass roof and shade essentially. I see there are 3 possible routes. Tinting the windows and glass top, OEM/buy shades that are held in place with clips. And finally, there is the Sliding shade that blends in pretty well with the interior. So you don't have to worry about continuously putting back the sunshades.
There was a 4th option, I can't seem to find the youtube video anymore though. It was this film/plastic/glass that you stuck on the roof. It was electro-chromatic so when you pushed the button it went from semi-transparent to opaque. It wasn't a perfect fit and had bubbles, assuming it was still a prototype or first gen version. Would love to know if anyone else knows about it.
All tips and suggestions are greatly appreciated. Do planning on getting the windows tinted, I've just never had a huge glass roof to deal with in the past.
submitted by egothrasher to TeslaModel3 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 21:09 silent_fartface Are lens adaptors worth buying?

I recently aquired a bargain a7ii but only have the spectaculat kit lens. My plan was to collect some good lenses before upgrading bodies.
My mom has a large collection of canon lenses for her dslr so im wondering if i should bother building a FE lens collection or just get an adaptor and save myself a bunch of money by using canon lenses.
submitted by silent_fartface to SonyAlpha [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 20:59 stonk_street [S] [USA-NY] Fujifilm X-T5 (Body only)

Fujifilm X-T5 Body - $1550 shipped

Excellent condition. Comes with original kit box (lens not included)
Shutter: ~2600-2700
submitted by stonk_street to photomarket [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 20:31 coffeejj First and Latest

First and Latest
Yep, 2002 1st edition Skyline and the latest Godzilla Skyline!!!
submitted by coffeejj to HotWheels [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 20:15 madaboutdeltics Capesthorne show

Capesthorne show
Show last weekend Capesthorne Hall near Manchester England .. some beauties here...cleanest Mk1 MR2 I've ever seen .. That FD RX7 too ..what a body kit 😍 👌
submitted by madaboutdeltics to JDM [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 20:12 Seeyouon_otherside The Isolationists - Chapter 32: Racist to Racist Communication

Memory Transcription Subject: Doctor Tadegs of the Zeyzell Science Organization, Medical Division - Genetics Subdivision. Class 4/5 Personnel
The xenos who’d captured me were far from friendly. They didn’t quite do what High Captain Ferlinn’s tormentors had done to her. No, what they did was worse. I languished against a wall as waves of hunger swept through my body. All around me were the Zeyzell that had been captured alongside me, most of them suffering similar fates. We’d gotten desperate at some point and tried to eat the leaves and fruit the xenos had left us. As expected, it’d done nothing except make us nauseous. The idiotic things didn’t even understand the basics of biology.
Well, perhaps that wasn’t exactly true. I shakily raised a paw and stared at it, as if I could see my altered DNA in my pads. The things had… changed us. Most of us at least. I stared at a spot on the floor of this musty cell where Kidah had died. The xenos fed her some meat rations and sat back and laughed as she thrashed around and eventually died. It was a shame. She had a great mind. My eyes drifted to the transparent door to study the cell adjacent to us. The Deathwatch Guards had been separated from us after the third escape attempt and had obviously attracted their attention.
We’d been “cured” and they seemed to be content to let us starve to death while they studied the much more interesting Guards. I let out a small chuckle. The xenos had been driving themselves insane trying to apply their cure to the Guards only to run into roadblock after roadblock. Their cure, as expected, was ineffective against the Guards. All they knew was that the Guards’ genetic code had somehow been “hardened” against unauthorized tampering. Which it was, but I’d eat a kit if the xenos figured out how. Ah, the wonders of nanotechnology.
I glanced back to the other Zeyzell and shook my head. Many of them had been lobotomized after they’d refused to stop resisting after they’d been altered. Terrible wastes indeed. I tongued the explosive trigger in my mouth. I not only could end the torment right here, but it was technically my duty to do so. The only reason I didn’t was a mixture of cowardice and… fascination.
As much of a disgrace to science as these xenos and their experiments were, I was supremely interested in their work. The minor alterations we made to the Deathwatch Guards’ genetic codes usually took months and yet these things had rendered us not only unable to process meat, but consuming meat actually caused such a severe allergic reaction that the victim died. I theorized that they’d found a way to force the immune system to go haywire if it detected enzymes usually found in flesh, although I was uncertain.
I wondered what would happen if I engaged in auto-cannibalism. Would the cure reject its own host? Would I choke to death on my own constricting throat if one of my teeth were knocked out? Could blood even trigger the reaction, or was it just flesh? There were so many questions and so little answers. I glanced once more at my weakening frame. Our ancestors lived in a world of constant scarcity and starvation, forcing them to evolve to last longer without food. Nevertheless, I was running out of time.
I startled when the door slid open to reveal a small squad of xeno soldiers and one of the lead “scientists.” The xenos marched over to me and yanked me to my feet, shoving me out of the room. I was marched into an interrogation room behind a plexiglass wall and the “scientist” took a seat opposite me.
Memory Transcription Subject: Dr. Bopjin, Kolshian Commonwealth Geneticist
A month.
A fucking month.
A month of absolutely no progress on curing these things. Oh, sure, the other Zeyzell had been successfully cleansed of their filthy meat-eating habits, but these so-called “Deathwatch Guards” hadn’t been changed at all. I looked at the security feed of the group of predators. We’d captured over fifty of the things from that ship and within just a few weeks developed a cure for them. The stubborn things still refused to eat plants but I suspected that starvation would overcome their pride soon enough.
But no matter what we did, the Guards refused to change. And that wasn’t the only thing, We’d practiced a few lobotomies on the other Zeyzell who were still too aggressive and successfully tempered them down. I remembered what had happened when we tried to do the same thing to a Guard. As soon as the procedure began, its skull exploded, taking the surgeon’s tentacles along with it. Interrogation of the normal predators revealed that every Guard had an explosive device in their heads that were set to go off when any unauthorized surgeries or brainscans were committed. All in the name of secrecy.
When we tried to force one of the things to tell us how to deactivate the failsafe, they crunched down on something and just… died. The same happened when we tried again with another “4/5” ranking predator. Autopsies revealed that a tiny hole had been blown in their own brains, less violent that the Guards, but just as effective. Only one of the high rankers were still alive, “Doctor” Tadegs its name was. There was something peculiar about that one. We’d cured it the same as everything else but… rather than acting horrified like its brethren, it seemed almost fascinated.
And so here I was, sitting in front of a plexiglass wall and staring the “scientist” down. The predator’s fur hung off of its frame, a clear sign of starvation. Rather than pretending to be scared like the rest, it simply studied me with those horrifying eyes. As its body decayed, its mind only seemed to grow sharper.
“You know you can end your fellow predators’ suffering if you just tell us how to cure those ‘Deathwatch Guards.’ That’s all you need to do. A short conversation and it’s over.”
Tadegs stared at me.
“And by suffering, I assume you mean the horrors of eating meat?” it rasped. “I would rather not condemn my projects to that. They’re much too valuable to tamper with like that.”
“Projects?” I asked.
Perhaps I could trick it into slipping up.
A gloating tone entered its voice.
“Indeed. They’re among the Science Organization’s greatest achievements. Superior to other Zeyzell in practically every way. The perfect killers. By our standards at least.”
“How did you make these things?”
It laughed.
“I’m not an idiot, xeno. Nice try. Lesser fuck.”
“Listen to me, predator! You are the lesser being by design! I-”
“You claim to be so superior,” it interrupted. “and yet you have an atrocious understanding of biology and practically every other field of science. I’ve made more scientific progress in my career than you things have done in centuries. You may have better control over your instincts than those other animals that call themselves sapient, but your unwillingness to learn, to progress, is what makes you so inferior. You couldn’t understand the first things about the Guards. They are infinitely more complex than this… cure you’ve given me.”
I couldn’t believe the gall of this thing! It literally survived by killing other creatures and it had the audacity to call us inferior?
“Perhaps we should drag the information out of you instead,” I threatened.
“Go ahead and try. See how fast it takes for me to blow a hole in my brain. I don’t want to die, but I will if that’s what needs to happen. You try to remove it and you’ll get the same result.”
I clenched my tentacles in rage. The only thing that stopped me from lashing out at the horrible creature was the glass in front of me. The predator noticed this and chuckled.
“What’s the matter, xeno? Ice-hopper bite your shins?”
I had no idea what an “ice-hopper” was, nor did I care. I forced myself to calm down. I needed to sweet talk this thing. Torture would just end up with a literally brainless predator, and that’s not what we need at the moment. I decided to redirect the conversation for the time being.
“Why do you call me ‘xeno,’” I asked it.
“The same reason you call me ‘predator,’” it replied. “You’re not us, so you’re the enemy. Simple as that.”
I was genuinely surprised by the answer.
“That didn’t stop you from allying with the Humans.”
“I certainly didn’t agree with that. Shit, it was almost a blessing when you fucks killed the Council. Edo has the right idea. You lot are much too dangerous to just leave alone. There’s only one path to peace: your extinctions.”
I wasn’t going to try and correct it about the bombing’s perpetrator. They’d accused us of the attack this entire time and they wouldn’t listen to anything to the contrary. It was frustrating, really.
“You expect me to believe that you’re coming after us because you want some twisted form of peace? We’re your prey. That should be reason enough.”
“That’s the thing, xeno. For us, there are no predators or prey in this galaxy. There is only us and you. The Humans and Arxur can go ahead and fuck off as well. We don’t need anyone other than ourselves.”
I sat back, processing its words.
“I must say,” it continued. “I am fascinated by this cure of yours.”
I eyed it.
“Are you now?”
“Indeed. The Deathwatch Guards are only subjected to minor changes to their genetic code, a process which can take months, and yet here you are, changing a new species’ diet in only a week. For a bunch of bumbling, idiotic xenos, I have to give credit where credit is due.”
I scoffed. I had an idea where it was going with this.
“I’ll shut you down right there, predator. You’re never getting your claws on the cure. Your species will either learn to be herbivores, or die.”
It thrashed its tail in amusement.
"What's so funny, predator? We've already begun producing the cure for your species and soon this war will be over. You are far from home in the worst place possible for you."
It tilted its head ominously.
"On the contrary, I think that I am exactly where I want to be."
Then the alarms started blaring.
"That was actually amazing timing," it snarked.
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