#Fermentation Tank

[pureyindustry]

Wine Fermentation Tank and Beer Fermentation Tank: Necessary Tools in Making Excellent Beverages

Are you curious about how the right fermentation tank can elevate your brewing or winemaking process? Our beer fermentation tanks, crafted from stainless steel, ensure durability and precise temperature control essential for quality brews. Conical designs facilitate easy yeast and sediment removal, enhancing clarity. For optimal results, choose PureyMech’s fermentation tanks, engineered for excellence. To know more or to visit our website, explore our offerings today!

[sinoprettech]

Open Top Fermentation Tanks

| Product specification

The Open Top Fermentation Tanks is designed for the fermentation of red wine, offering unrestricted access to the grape cap while facilitating convenient cap submersion. Its spacious, inclined bottom ensures a seamless and effortless removal of skins and seeds post-fermentation.

| Certificate

Over 100 patents including utility,invrention and industrial design.

Pass through ISO certificates of ISO9001/22000/ 45001, and other export certificates of CE, PED, API650, AS1210, AS1692, CSA.

| Processing Machinery

Pretank use advanced processing machines to fabricate our stainless steel tanks,including auto Robbot welding machine,laser cutting/welding machine,CNC lathe,plasma cutting and automatic welding machines.

The machines replace labor working and minimize the human fault& tanks defects,improve tank quality, shorten construction period.

| About Company

Pretank is established in 1971, it’s the largest-scale and longest-history stainless steel vessels manufacturer in China，with 4000 staff, 666,000 m㎡ floor space and US$240 million annual sales. We have the most advanced technology, R&D capability in the industry,adopt solidworks and AutoCAD to design vessels, Engaged in formulation of National Standard in designing, producing, inspection and transportation.

[brewscoop]

Caught on camera: A craft brewery explosion in Minnesota sparked a viral sensation, reminding us all of the unexpected and often explosive nature of brewing. Discover the story of resilience, humor, and community that brewed from the incident. #CraftBreweryExplosion

[ndpaccom]

10 BBL Uni-tank Fermenter Jacketed & Insulatedx

Fully equipped pressure resistant, glycol jacketed, stainless steel cylindroconical vessel designed for fermentation, maturation and carbonisation of most types of beverages.

Unitank is a new model that has all the bells and whistles of our regular fermenters (Fermenter Tank CCV) but also comes with a more durable EPDM manhole gasket, solenoid valve for coolant, a larger 30% (instead of 25%) tank headspace and has the carbonation stone and sampling valve mounted on the cone.

For more Information: https://www.ndpac.com/product-category/food-processing-industry/beer-fermenters-tanks/

[ske-equipment]

If you're looking for a complete craft brewery solution, look no further than SKE Equipment. Founded in 2000, SKE Equipment has been at the forefront of the brewing industry for over 20 years, providing turn-key solutions for craft breweries of all sizes. From design and engineering to installation and commissioning, SKE Equipment offers a complete range of services to ensure your brewery runs smoothly and efficiently. With a focus on quality, reliability, and innovation, SKE Equipment is the ideal partner for brewers who want to take their craft to the next level.

[homestucky]

so what im picturing is like. say theyre invited to a house party. dave is deposited by the snacks where he will delicately graze like a cautious gazelle for the duration of their visit. karkat is deployed to stomp around until he locates the host and can yell "YOU HAVE A LOVELY HOME". he returns to the snack table and pulls the still chewing dave out of the door. surgical precision. theyre back at home in bed eating a dinner of stolen party provisions and watching The Wedding Singer (1998) starring Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore by 9:30pm. they suck so bad. do you see my vision? is this valid? I dearly hope so. im in my late 20s

davekat to me is like. two loser dudes who superficially seem like theyd be constantly blazing it but they both have too much anxiety to actually obtain weed. theyre stone cold sober 99.999% of the time and make their stupid decisions with every faculty they have functioning exactly as intended.

[headspace-hotel]

I went down the internet rabbit hole trying to figure out wtf vegan cheese is made of and I found articles like this one speaking praises of new food tech startups creating vegan alternatives to cheese that Actually work like cheese in cooking so I was like huh that's neat and I looked up more stuff about 'precision fermentation' and. This is not good.

Basically these new biotech companies are pressuring governments to let them build a ton of new factories and pushing for governments to pay for them or to provide tax breaks and subsidies, and the factories are gonna cost hundreds of millions of dollars and require energy sources. Like, these things will have to be expensive and HUGE

I feel like I've just uncovered the tip of the "lab grown meat" iceberg. There are a bajillion of these companies (the one mentioned in the first article a $750 MILLION tech startup) that are trying to create "animal-free" animal products using biotech and want to build large factories to do it on a large scale

I'm trying to use google to find out about the energy requirements of such facilities and everything is really vague and hand-wavey about it like this article that's like "weeeeeell electricity can be produced using renewables" but it does take a lot of electricity, sugars, and human labor. Most of the claims about its sustainability appear to assume that we switch over to renewable electricity sources and/or use processes that don't fully exist yet.

I finally tracked down the source of some of the more radical claims about precision fermentation, and it comes from a think tank RethinkX that released a report claiming that the livestock industry will collapse by 2030, and be replaced by a system they're calling...

Food-as-Software, in which individual molecules engineered by scientists are uploaded to databases – molecular cookbooks that food engineers anywhere in the world can use to design products in the same way that software developers design apps.

I'm finding it hard to be excited about this for some odd reason

Where's the evidence for lower environmental impacts. That's literally what we're here for.

There will be an increase in the amount of electricity used in the new food system as the production facilities that underpin it rely on electricity to operate.

well that doesn't sound good.

This will, however, be offset by reductions in energy use elsewhere along the value chain. For example, since modern meat and dairy products will be produced in a sterile environment where the risk of contamination by pathogens is low, the need for refrigeration in storage and retail will decrease significantly.

Oh, so it will be better for the Earth because...we won't need to refrigerate. ????????

Oh Lord Jesus give me some numerical values.

Modern foods will be about 10 times more efficient than a cow at converting feed into end products because a cow needs energy via feed to maintain and build its body over time. Less feed consumed means less land required to grow it, which means less water is used and less waste is produced. The savings are dramatic – more than 10-25 times less feedstock, 10 times less water, five times less energy and 100 times less land.

There is nothing else in this report that I can find that provides evidence for a lower carbon footprint. Supposedly, an egg white protein produced through a similar process has been found to reduce environmental impacts, but mostly everything seems very speculative.

And crucially none of these estimations are taking into account the enormous cost and resource investment of constructing large factories that use this technology in the first place (existing use is mostly for pharmaceutical purposes)

It seems like there are more tech startups attempting to use this technology to create food than individual scientific papers investigating whether it's a good idea. Seriously, Google Scholar and JSTOR have almost nothing. The tech of the sort that RethinkX is describing barely exists.

Apparently Liberation Labs is planning to build the first large-scale precision fermentation facility in Richmond, Indiana come 2024 because of the presence of "a workforce experienced in manufacturing"

And I just looked up Richmond, Indiana and apparently, as of RIGHT NOW, the town is in the aftermath of a huge fire at a plastics recycling plant and is full of toxic debris containing asbestos and the air is full of toxic VOCs and hydrogen cyanide. ???????????? So that's how having a robust industrial sector is working out for them so far.

[fermentationtank]

The fermentation area consists of a specific (at the customer’s choice) number of CCT (cylindrical-conical tanks or fermenters) of a corresponding capacity and a control panel containing the automation for maintaining the desired beer temperature inside each fermenter. CCT has a cooling jacket over the entire height of the cylindrical part.

[onceuponatown]

The Great Molasses Flood was a disaster in Boston that occurred after a storage tank collapsed on January 15, 1919, sending more than two million gallons (eight million litres) of molasses flowing through the city’s North End. The deluge caused extensive damage and killed 21 people.

The tank was built in 1915 along Boston’s waterfront on Commercial Street, opposite Copp’s Hill. It was operated by the Purity Distilling Company, a subsidiary of United States Industrial Alcohol (USIA). At the time, industrial alcohol—then made from fermented molasses—was highly profitable; it was used to make munitions and other weaponry for World War I (1914–18). The tank’s immense size reflected the demand: it measured more than 50 feet (15 metres) high and 90 feet (27 metres) in diameter and could hold up to 2.5 million gallons (9.5 million litres) of molasses. Built quickly, the tank was problematic from the start, leaking and often emitting rumbling noises. Nevertheless, it continued to be used, and after the war’s conclusion USIA focused on producing grain alcohol, which was in high demand as prohibition neared passage.

At approximately 12:30 PM on January 15, 1919, the tank burst, releasing a deluge of “sweet, sticky death.” According to reports, the resulting wave of molasses was 15 to 40 feet (5 to 12 metres) high and some 160 feet (49 metres) wide. Traveling at approximately 35 miles (56 km) per hour, it destroyed several city blocks, leveling buildings and damaging automobiles. Although help arrived quickly, the hardening molasses made rescue efforts difficult. In the end, 21 people were killed, many of whom were suffocated by the syrup, and approximately 150 were injured. In addition, the Boston Post noted that a number of horses had “died like so many flies on sticky fly paper.” Clean-up efforts lasted for weeks, and Boston reportedly continued to smell like molasses for years afterward.

Numerous lawsuits were filed in the wake of the disaster. While victims alleged that the tank was not safe, USIA claimed that it had been sabotaged by “evilly disposed persons.” In 1925, however, it was ruled that the tank was unsound, and USIA was ordered to pay damages. In addition, the disaster resulted in stricter construction codes being adopted by states across the country.

For years, questions were raised over how such a seemingly benign substance could have caused so many deaths. In 2016, researchers released a study that placed the blame on cold temperatures. While warm weather would have caused the molasses to be less viscous, the winter temperatures made the syrup markedly thicker, severely impeding rescuers.

[sevault-canyon]

no, miss appleton did not single-handedly ruin japanese soy sauce forever

there's a popular post going around this week about a ghq (general headquarters, the administration of the american occupation of japan after wwii) employee, a certain ms. blanche appleton, single-handedly changing the taste of soy sauce. while her story is fascinating for sure and i await further developments on the part of the op, and had a hand in the history of soy sauce, the premise is quite a bit exaggerated, and the general narrative so far in the framing by the op somewhat problematic.

tl;dr: as with most things, this is a confluence of factors, with producers, scientists, politicians, (possibly underworld,) and administrators all having their own agency in this story. i find it unusual to sideline so many parties in favour of presenting a single foreign administrator calling the shots in the op's posts.

i've made an initial response here. i will continue my findings in a separate post here.

1. jack daniel's is swill, but it's still whiskey

i think i can distill my issues with this plot so far down to one statement in the original post:

There should be records of her policies, there should be legal documents in America which record how she apportioned out American exportation of soy beans to Japan, there should be sources talking about this woman's ability to transform Japan's soy sauce production so heavily that today only 1% of all soy sauce is made with pre-WW2 traditional techniques.

this transformative impact of one administrator is entirely overstated. this comment led me to a promo blog post where some of the original claims can be seen, and the op mentions that traditional soy sauce was made in kioke barrels, and the this method of production has dropped to about 1% now. this is true, but it appears that at least one source put the decline as starting around the end of the edo period (xvii-xix centuries). [1] sources traceable to yamaroku puts the decline more recently, at about a century ago [2, 3]

this japanese paper on fermented food production is quite clear in stating that wodden barrel production declined from the meiji period (1868-1912) onward.

江戸時代までに一般化した木桶・木樽の使用形態は、明治期以降、一般の生活や各種製造現場で近代化が進む中、コンクリートや金属、プラスチック、合成樹脂等の材質によって代替されていく。 The use of wooden vats and barrels, which had become common by the Edo period, was replaced by materials such as concrete, metal, plastic, and synthetic resin from the Meiji period onward, as modernization progressed in ordinary life and various manufacturing sites. (deepL translation)

another source from a professor on food production in japan suggests that shodoshima (where yamaroku is made) is the area that has most completely preserved the wooden vat method of production.

this survey (oguri) written by a member of the national museum of nature of science in tokyo dates the supplanting of traditional method in more industrialized regions by 1913

1913（大正2）年：���野は「最新���油醸造論」の中で、九州、中国地方では桶の代わりに煉瓦又は石でタンクを作り使用していると記述。 1913 (Taishō 2): Tsugano, in his "The Latest Soy Sauce Brewing Theory," wrote that in Kyushu and Chugoku regions, instead of vats, tanks were made of bricks or stone and used. (deepL translation, p.148)

1918年：西二の蔵（ヤマサ印）の建設に当たり研究中の内面塗料が完成したので、これを採用し仕込桶を角型のコンクリートタンクに改めた。 1918: The internal [coating] that was being researched for the construction of the Nishi Ni no Kura (Yamasa brand) was completed, and this was adopted and the brewing vats were replaced with square concrete tanks. (deepL translation with edits from @literaryreference, see translator's note 3, p.148)

i think it bears repetition that soy sauce production was industrializing as japan was industrializing from the meiji to early shōwa periods. as alluded to in the title, a lot of modern soy sauce is like jack daniels: industrial products that evolved from traditional methods alongside a nation's overall development.

2. babe wake up, a new semichemical soy sauce just dropped, and appleton's role in history (a corroboration of @/inneskeeper)

it seems like the plot on the original poster's part has gone to the american side, so let's try to follow the us-japan interaction but from japanese sources.

the survey cited earlier (oguri) has a lot of information that supports the original post. blanche appleton did exist, and does appear in more anecdotes from that era of the soy sauce industry.

(also, this bibliography has more sources on her time in japan, will require institutional access to japanese universities)

to start, there are two methods of semichemical soy sauce production. the first, 新式1号法 shinshiki 1-gō method (i will call it sc1) was invented in the taishō era (1912-26).

大正の末期頃になると、酸やアルカリの化学薬品を併用することによって、速醸の目的を達成しようとする研究が盛んに行われ、その代表的な「新式1号」が出現する。 Toward the end of the Taisho era, there was a flurry of research into the use of acid and alkali chemicals in combination to achieve the goal of fast brewing, and the "Shinshiki No. 1" [sc1] appeared as a representative example of such research. (deepL translation, p.158)

in the time immediately after the war, there was a shortage of supplies, and its allocation was controlled by the americans

駐留軍の総司令部 GHQ（General Head Quarter）は、1948年の春調味料の原料として「エロア資金」（占領地域経済復興資金）により、大豆ミール2万tを放出する方針を打ち出した。このことにより、その配分をめぐって醤油業界とアミノ酸業界は熾烈な競争をすることとなる。 The General Head Quarter (GHQ) of the stationed army announced a policy of releasing 20,000 tons of soybean meal as a raw material for seasonings in the spring of 1948 through the EROA (Economic Rehabilitation in Occupied Area) Fund. This led to fierce competition between the soy sauce and amino acid industries for its allocation. (deepL translation with edits by myself, p.159)

the "amino acid industry" mentioned refers to the monosodium glutamate (msg) industry (glutamate is the ion of an amino acid). essentially, in the early 20th century, both msg and soy sauce (and chemical "soy sauce") production methods have converged to all requiring many soybeans due to their protein content and fermentation properties.

this is where appleton makes her entrance:

GHQは両業界の調整窓口として、「経済安定本部」の経済科学局で調味料と乳製品の需給を担当していたミセス・ブランシェ・アップルトンをその任にあてた。アップルトンは、醤油醸造協会の茂木啓三郎とアミノ酸業界の大内鋼太郎を招いて意見を聴取し、原料の配分を「醸造醤油2、アミノ酸業界8」とすることを内定し、上司のマーカット局長に報告した。この報告内容は醸造醤油にとっては死活問題であったが、内定の根拠は次のようなものであった。 GHQ assigned Ms. Blanche Appleton, who was in charge of the supply and demand of seasonings and dairy products in the Economic and Science Section of the "Economic Stability Headquarters," (?) to serve as the coordinating contact between the two industries. Appleton invited Keizaburo Mogi of the Soy Sauce Brewers Association and Kotaro Ouchi of the amino acid industry to hear their opinions, and informally decided that the distribution of raw materials would be two for brewing soy sauce and eight for the amino acid industry, and reported this to her boss, Maj. Gen. W. F. Marquat. The content of this report was a matter of life and death for brewers' soy sauce, but the rationale for the informal decision was as follows. [...] (deepL translation with edits by myself p.159)

essentially, appleton originally intended for only 20% of the soybean meal to be handed out for soy sauce due to its relatively inefficient usage of materials compared to msg production. this would've crippled the existing soy sauce producers, and they set out to find solutions to save their industry.

醸造醤油側は、醸造醤油の「日本人の食生活における重要性や醸造醤油そのものの品質の良さ」等を強調したが、GHQはただ「脱脂大豆が有効に活用されるのはどちらか」という尺度だけで判断したのである。このような醸造醤油の存亡の危機を救ったのは、もくもくと研究に携わっていた技術陣が開発した「新式2号法」であった。本法を発明したのはキッコーマンの館野正淳、梅田勇雄等である。新式2号の製法は新式1号と同様に、蛋白質を弱酸でペプトンやペプチド程度まで分解し、その後は麹の酵素により分解してアミノ酸の形態まで持っていく半化学、半醸造による醤油の製造法である。 The brewing soy sauce side emphasized the importance of brewing soy sauce in the Japanese diet and the quality of the soy sauce itself, but GHQ made its decision based solely on the basis of "which [industry] would use the defatted soybeans more effectively". What saved brewed soy sauce from the brink of extinction was the "New Formula No. 2 method" developed by the technical staff who had been working diligently on the research. The inventors of this method were Masajun Tateno and Isao Umeda of Kikkoman Corporation. As with Shin-Shiki No. 1 [sc1], the Shin-Shiki No. 2 [sc2] method is a semi-chemical, semi-brewing method for producing soy sauce in which proteins are broken down to peptones and peptides with weak acids, and then decomposed by enzymes from koji mold to the form of amino acids. (deepL translation with edits by myself and @literaryreference, see translator's note 4, p.159)

this development, the invention of the 新式2号法 shinshiki 2-gō method (sc2), led to another round of discussions:

ミセス・アップルトンは「キッコーマンが画期的な技術を開発した」ことを聞き、新法による醤油とアミノ酸液による化学醤油���消費者に提示し、その調査結果に基づいて決定を再考しようと上申書を提出した。醤油の 味、使用テストは神奈川県の鎌倉市と逗子で行われたが、消費者の8割が新法による醤油を支持した。この結果に基づき、アップルトンは両業界で話し合って結論を出すように「正田・大内会談」を開かせた。 Mrs. Appleton heard that "Kikkoman had developed a breakthrough technology" and submitted a petition to reconsider her decision based on the results of a survey that presented consumers with both the new method of soy sauce and a chemical soy sauce made with amino acid solution. Taste and use tests of soy sauce were conducted in Kamakura and Zushi, Kanagawa Prefecture, and 80% of consumers supported the new soy sauce. Based on these results, Appleton had the "Shoda-Ouchi Conference" held so that the two industries could discuss and reach a conclusion. (deepL translation, p.160)

this source seems to suggest that the original decision was under higher-ups' pressure:

当初の提案2対8のアミノ酸業界絶対優位の配分比率は、「新式2号法」の出現により、最終的にGHQは「正田・大内会談」の「7対3協定」を認め、ここに醸造醤油の歴史的危機は回避されることとなった。醤油業界のミセス・アップルトンの評価は従来大変厳しいものであったが、後の調査で彼女は醸造醤油の良き理解者であり、当初の配分比率も上司の強い指示に抗しきれず提案したものであったようである。再度の上申は、彼女の日本の伝統的な醸造醤油への深い理解と思い入れによるものであったと考えられる。 As for the proposed allocation of 2 to 8, due to the [sc2] method, GHQ ended up deciding on the “7 to 3 Agreement” from the “Shoda-Ouchi Conference” instead, thus averting the historical crisis of brewed soy sauce.Although the soy sauce industry had been very critical of Mrs. Appleton in the past, later investigations revealed that she was a firm supporter* of brewed soy sauce and that the original allocation ratio was a proposal she made because she could not resist the strong instructions of her superiors. It is believed that her renewed offer was due to her deep understanding of and commitment to the Japanese tradition of brewed soy sauce. (deepL translation with edits from myself and @blackamite, see translators' note 1, p. 160)

the term 良き理解者 "good friend" (see bolded) i think could mean connoisseur or enjoyer here, will need help in clarifying.

その後醤油醸造協会の正田会長は、1948（昭和23）年7月23日に「新式2号法」の特許公開を懇請し、当時の中野社長の決断により、「新式1号」に続いて「新式2号」についても無償で業界に公開されることとなった。同年8月から講習会が全国12ブロックで開催され、約2,500社の業者が技術を習得した。 Later, on July 23, 1948, Mr. Shoda, president of the Soy Sauce Brewers Association, requested that the patent for the [sc2 method] be made public, and following the decision of then [Kikkoman Inc.] President Nakano, the [sc1 and sc2 methods] were made public free of charge to the industry. In August of the same year, training sessions were held in 12 blocks throughout Japan, and approximately 2,500 companies learned the technology. (deepL translation with edits by myself, p.160)

the main sources the survey used are a manuscript, 醤油醸造技術の近代化 by 永瀬一郎 Ichirō Nagase, kikkoman inc.'s own historical record (キッコーマン株式会社八十年史; a shorter version can be found here), and a history of choshi shoyu inc. (銚子醤油株式会社　社史). i think this confirms a lot of information the original post put out there about ms. appleton and her involvement with soy sauce. plus, it shed more light into how exactly she interacted with the condiment industries.

perhaps @/inneskeeper will find some shady dealings in their research; when you mix a foreign military force, the collapse of existing institutions, and social upheaval, you're likely to find corruption. ill keep my eyes peeled for that development.

3. no, kikkoman is not "fake" soy sauce, but you might be able to find some echoes of the past

so what happened to semichemical soy sauce now? the survey document does not track its usage after its invention and at the surface level, it seems that the original claim was right, the semichemical method has persisted since the american occupation and we're all just drinking sussy sauce.

in fact, this seemed so obvious that this rumour circulated in japan and was debunked by aficionados two years ago.

the link to kikkoman's own record earlier states that sc2 sauce was discontinued in 1970, and the japanese blog post above repeats that, adding that it has reverted back to honjōzō (本醸造) sauce. this paper in the journal of the brewing society of japan (日本醸造協会誌) has this to say about what became of sc2 sauce:

また，キッコーマンの新式 2号しょうゆ製造法の特許が公開されたのも 1948年で， しょうゆ業界は混合醸造しょうゆおよび混合しょうゆを製造することにより効率よく旨味の強いしょうゆを安価に製造し， しょうゆ原料不足の時代を乗り切ったと考えている 。現��，大手メーカーでは食の安全性や本物志向から混合醸造しょうゆおよび混合しょうゆの製造をやめ本醸造しょうゆだけを製造している 。一方，全国の中小しょうゆメーカーでは，製造設備を全て本醸造しょうゆに切 り換える資金力に乏しく．一旦，消費者に定着した混合しょうゆのニーズにより本醗造しょうゆに切り換えることが出来ず，現在も混合しょうゆが主力商品となっているのではないかと考えている 。 The patent for Kikkoman's new [sc2] soy sauce manufacturing method was also published in 1948, which allowed the soy sauce industry to overcome the shortage of raw materials for soy sauce by producing mixed brewed soy sauce and mixed soy sauces efficiently and inexpensively. Currently, major soy sauce manufacturers have stopped producing mixed brewed soy sauce and mixed soy sauce, and are producing only honjozo soy sauce, due to food safety and the desire for authenticity. On the other hand, small and medium-sized soy sauce manufacturers nationwide do not have the financial resources to convert all of their production facilities to honjozo soy sauce. Once a demand for mixed soy sauce has taken root among consumers, they are unable to switch over to honjōzō soy sauce, and even now, it's possible mixed [kongō or kongō-jōzō] soy sauce might be the top [soy sauce] product. (deepL translation with edits from myself and @literaryreference, see translator's note 2, p.78)

the three types of japanese soy sauce production methods available today are honjōzō (本醸造, fully fermented), kongō-jōzō (混合醸造, mixed fermented with amino acid added prior to fermentation, closest to sc2 method), and kongō (混合, one of the previous two types with additives). [wiki, academic source] these production methods are in parallel to the traditional varieties of sauce, which rather describe the mash and added taste; these elements of the production, rather than the fermentation process, are usually what define the lineage of the sauce in both japan and other soy sauce-producing cultures.

instead of supplanting "genuine" fermented soy sauce, the industrial descendants of sc2 sauce have become their own type of sauce and have carved their own niches in the consumer market. as someone who is not from japan, i would be careful about making any judgment on whether it is "authentic".

4. clarifications

there were a few statements by the original poster that i think need further context for a more accurate understanding. any bolding and italics are mine.

During World War 2 there was a push to industrialize the Japanese soy sauce industry to be better for mass-production. This innovated the chemical fermentation technique and the semichemical fermentation technique utilized by Kikkoman; rather than ferment for four years in gigantic cedar barrels, kioke, instead fermentation takes place for six months or a year in stainless steel barrels which utilize electrolysis to artificially speed up fermentation processes.

the first part is correct, but the word "rather" introduces a false dichotomy; soy sauce production is very diverse and progresses at different paces in different regions (see part 1 of this post). the sauce op has is simply one from a region that has kept their manufacturing method unchanged.

"four years" is arbitrary: different producers have different fermentation periods.

the last part of the statement is not universally true of industrial production; ac current may be used in brewing.

A single American woman named "Ms Appleton" was given total control of apportioning all American soy bean rations to companies, how much, and to who. She had no knowledge of soy sauce, allegedly.

we can lay that last part to rest. it appears that she does. i will also have to mention that "soy sauce" has been imported from china to the usa since the 30s.

She apparently had so much power over Japanese soy sauce production that she could singlehandedly shape its future by threatening to not give soy beans to any company, family, or factory which did not utilize her specific requirements of semichemical fermentation (reduced from chemical fermentation, since it was that abhorrent). These days, the term soy sauce is distinct from traditional shoyu, and requires distinguishment because of such a radical difference the two products are.

is girlboss applesauce really that powerful on her own? this statement was not wrong, but she did have the military that just nuked japan behind her.

did appleton specify one method over others? probably, but i think the dependency went the other way: the invention of sc2 sauce was the only way the industry could be efficient enough for ghq standards.

that last part is just straight up wrong dawg what the hell i was nicer in my first reply but im not feeling it today

[...] Because there should be way more information on her if this was the case; she was apparently powerful and influential enough during the occupation that she could singlehandedly enforce whatever arbitrary rules she wanted on the soy sauce industry and they had to comply or else have no product at all. That level of power is fucking insane. Imagine having so much raw influence over Japan that you could order them to completely renovate and change how they produce and make SOY SAUCE, literally one of if not THE most important thing in Japanese culinary history--[...]

holy exaggeration batman, this is almost insulting. as with most things, this is a confluence of factors, with producers, scientists, politicians, (possibly underworld,) and administrators all having their own agency in this story. it is incredibly unusual to sideline so many parties in favour of a single foreign administrator calling the shots.

5. what now?

i think there's much to be found out about appleton's dealings, and it would be an interesting story if there did end up being underworld dealings in those negotiations coming to light. i think it is a fascinating slice into that era and how society and institutions interacted in such a fraught situation. overall, i encourage @/inneskeeper's historian work.

that said, it is very important for people to not put a narrative ahead of the facts. i think it is human nature to be attracted to stories that have a clear causality and linearity, but it is something we need to be very careful about when communicating history to a large audience. to anyone who would like to present their findings, consider what your framing of events imply about the state of the time and place you research, and if you are doing all parties justice.

and for the love of god, cite your sources.

if there are any translation issues, please reach out to me and i will edit accordingly and post errata.

erratum 1: jack daniel's is tennesee whiskey, not bourbon, thanks @drdementogrl.

translators' note 1: 良き理解者 could also be translated more literally to “good understander,” thank you @blackamite, @monstrousgourmandizingcats, @leatherbookmark, and others who have given similar notes.

erratum 2 and translator's note 2: @literaryreference has indicated that 一旦，消費者に定着した混合しょうゆのニーズにより本醗造しょうゆに切り換えることが出来ず，現在も混合しょうゆが主力商品となっているのではないかと考えている 。 is more equivocal and did not state an outright larger popularity for kongō/kongō-jōzō type brewing, so it's possible it might be the top product. they also suggested removing redundancies and pointed out a copying mistake from the original source (left out a bit of the japanese text).

translator's note 3: @literaryreference let me know that 塗料 would more accurately be interpreted as "coating" and also gave me a link of the sauce brand mentioned.

translator's note 4: @literaryreference has provided a better translation for GHQはただ「脱脂大豆が有効に活用されるのはどちらか」という尺度だけで判断したのである, and i have made edits from their translation as well for better context.

[storiesofsvu]

Solace

Rita Calhoun x reader warnings: language, brief mention of svu style angst, smut, dirty talk, thigh riding. sub!rita

Rita was home late, later than usual and much later than she had intended when she originally left her office. It was only supposed to be a drink, maybe two while she vented to Elana about the bullshit direction her case was going but one thing always led to another and this time that meant nearly finishing a bottle of wine. Normally these evenings were spent complaining about how annoying her client was, how stupid they were when they thought they were a genius, how the only reason they were on her client list in the first place was daddy’s money. Tonight it was the complete opposite, she’d taken a pro-bono, suggested through Rafael for an incredibly tricky case where she knew that her client was innocent, that they didn’t deserve suffering through a trial much less the prison time they were likely now facing. It was rare that she felt this defeated, that things didn’t feel right and it was eating away at her from the inside out.

The only light left on in the kitchen was the one above the stove, the living room dark and she felt a pang of guilt wash through her at the thought of you waiting up for her. A sliver of light shone down the hallway from the ajar bedroom door, soft music wafting through the air and she took a breath of relief, at least you weren’t already asleep. Nudging the bedroom door open she caught you coming back from the en-suite in a pair of thin beige joggers and a tank you usually slept in.

“Hey.” You greeted with a warm smile, making your way over to her your hand braced on her elbow you leant in, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek and Rita felt the warmth soothe through her veins at the touch.

“I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“It’s alright.” You squeezed at her elbow, “you’ve had a rough week.” You took the blazer folded over her arm, adding it to the dry cleaning pile in the walk in, “did you eat?”

There was a slight pause, “does a salad count?”

You popped back into the room with a brow raised and Rita knew she was already caught, “not if the salad was made up of fermented grapes.”

She let out a soft sigh, stepping out of her shoes and moving through the room to take out her earrings, “fine.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Am I going to wake up to you nearly burning the house down at three in the morning?”

“They have delivery apps for that.” She nearly scowled, looking at you through the mirror and you laughed, wrapping your arms around her from behind.

“Well… if you don’t want food… and you’ve already had something to drink…” your lips brushed against her neck once, twice, “I can think of something else that might make you feel better?”

“Darling…” she sighed, her shoulders sinking at the thought of disappointing you after leaving you hanging all evening, “I just really don’t have the energy—”

“Who said anything about you having to do anything?” You asked, a gleam in your eye as your hands moved to her hips and turned her around to face you, “you’ve had a long week.” Leaning in, you kissed her softly, your lips brushing against hers as you spoke, “let me take care of you, hmm?” Your hands began tugging at the hem of her shirt, untucking it from her skirt so you had access to her skin underneath the fabric as you leant in again, kissing her gently. She let out a soft sigh into the kiss, her arms instinctively wrapping around your shoulders as she melted into your embrace, feeling a tingling starting under her skin, her head already beginning to get fuzzy.

“I do suppose that might help.” She murmured.

“I thought so.”

You playfully nipped at her lower lip before kissing her again, letting her relax into the embrace as your hands slid under her blouse, cold fingers running paths on her heated skin. She sighed into the kiss and you took the opportunity to slide your tongue into her mouth, gracefully rolling along with hers. When your hands crept upwards, gently pawing at her chest she let out a soft moan, her body melting even more into your arms.

“That’s it baby.” You cooed, your lips kissing across her jawline, finger curling under her chin to tilt her head away from you so you could trail kisses down her neck. “Just relax for me. You deserve it.”

When you nipped at her neck she let out a quiet hiss and you couldn’t help but chuckle against her skin, your hands tugging her shirt over her head before tossing it in the direction of the laundry. Her bra was quick to join it, her nipples hardening in the cool bedroom air as you kissed her again, tongue immediately slinking into her mouth. Your hands found her hips, backing her up until her back hit the wall and she let out a small ‘oof’ into the kiss, your lips curving up into a grin at the noise. You tugged on her skirt, yanking it upwards until you could feel the hem of it and you were able to bunch it up around her waist.

“Think we can get rid of these.” You murmured as your fingers slipped into the waistband of her panties, tugging them down her legs and she was quick to kick them off, her hands grasping at you to pull you back into another kiss.

Your hands slid up her body, cupping her chest, thumbs rubbing back and fourth over her nipples before pinching them. Rita broke the kiss with a gasp, her head dropping back against the wall and her hips rolling toward your body. Rather than walking her to the bed like she expected, you slotted a leg between hers, nudging your knee right against the wall so her bare cunt was right on your pant leg.

“Someone’s getting antsy…Go on, ride my thigh.”

“Fuck.” She muttered, her hands bracing on your shoulders as she ground down onto your leg, letting out a whimper as her pussy dragged across your thigh.

“That’s it,” you murmured, placing a kiss right under her ear, “grind that pretty pussy on me, I know you want to.”

Rita groaned softly, her arms tightening around your shoulders as one of your hands slunk up her body to pinch and toy with her chest again. Your lips made a home in the crook of her neck, alternating between biting, sucking and kissing at her supple skin. A shuddering breath escaped from the back of her throat when her clit pressed down onto your thigh, her body shivering as tingles started moving through her. She had already completely forgotten about work, the stressors beginning to melt away from her body the moment your lips touched her. She could feel the tension she’d been holding all week dissipating, dripping away all the way from her head to her toes to be replaced with tiny bursts of fireworks as pleasure took over her only thought process. The lazy roll of her hips was just enough to get her going, her pussy beginning to flutter around nothing as you nudged your leg harder against her.

“C’mon baby, let go. I wanna hear you, you can get louder, can’t you?” You pinched her nipples as you spoke, pulling a low swear from her before one of your hands ran down her side, wrapping around her hip and you began to guide her.

“Oh god..”

“That’s it.” You purred, nipping at her earlobe, your hand guiding her faster as you flexed your thigh, pushing her harder down onto it and she moaned again. “You like that? Hmm?” Your lips brushed against her skin, “that feel good?”

“Mmhmm.” She did her best to nod as her pulsing clit brushed against your leg, her thighs trembling around you.

“You’re so good for me.” Your thumb brushed over her nipple, flicking gently at it, “so good to me. Need to make sure you relax more often, you’re too stressed.” Your hand pressed her down onto your thigh with more pressure and she groaned right into your ear, her fingers clawing at the fabric of your shirt. “Need to play with that pretty pussy more often, don’t I? I bet you’d like that. Already struggle to keep my hands off of you, may as well play with these perfect tits before even getting out of bed.” You enunciated your words by squeezing at her chest, rolling her nipple between your finger and thumb. “Could probably start fingering you in the shower, make you nice and relaxed to start your day off? Hmm?” Your teeth scraped against the column of her neck and Rita ground down onto your thigh, her hips rocking faster now as your words egged her on.

“Fuck…”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that too, feeling your warm pussy wrapped around my fingers, always so fuckin’ wet for me, dripping down my wrist as you squeeze around me.”

Rita’s whimpering grew louder and more frequent, she could feel the wetness between her legs growing with each time you spoke, juices no doubt smearing all over your pants as she rode your thigh. Her cunt pulsed, clit swollen and needy and she had to angle her hips perfectly to get it to grind against your leg. She was starting to lose her breath, caught up in the dirty things you were saying and the pleasure coursing through her entire body. She felt a flame burning inside her, prickling under her skin as your hands toyed with her body in the utterly perfect way, you always knew the exact places to touch her to make her come completely undone.

“Course, I couldn’t let you leave the house without getting my mouth on you.” You husked and she could practically hear the smirk in your voice, her body shuddering at the thought.

“Oh god… fuck..”

“Catch you right before you’re out the door, pin you to the wall just like this.” Your thigh surged up, pressing hard against her cunt and she cried out, her body trembling in your arms, “skirts give me such good access. Just have to pull those pretty lace panties to the side and have my way with you. Be so nice to have the taste of you on my lips for the rest of the day.”

“Darling…” she panted and your hand wound around her body, cupping at her ass, squeezing hard as you urged her to move faster, “oh god…”

“I know you’re close.” You murmured, pressing kisses along her neck, nosing at her jaw to try and gain what little attention left you could, “let go for me baby. I wanna see you come.”

Rita’s nails began to dig into your back as breathless whimpers escaped her lips, her hips rolling faster and harder against your leg, guided by you, urging her on, sweet nothings whispered right into her ear as she buried herself into the crook of your neck. Heat pulsed through her, exploding in her core as she cried out, her pussy clenching down, pulsing harder than she’d expected as she hit her peak. Her head dropped back against the wall, her lips parting as she panted, her body slowly decompressed. Your hand continued to guide her hips, rocking her gently across your thigh, each drag slower and lighter than the one before.

“That’s it gorgeous.” You placed a kiss on her collarbone, your lips making a pathway up her neck until you captured her lips in a small, breathless kiss, “you’re so pretty when you’re coming for me.” Your hand cupped at her cheek while you kissed her again quickly, your thumb rubbing across her skin soothingly.

Finally your hand dropped from her ass, your knee falling from the wall to let your leg relax and your warms wound around her waist, making sure she was stable on her legs as you kissed her again.

“Christ.” She muttered, pulling a small laugh from you.

“I’ll say.” You pinched gently at her sides, guiding her gaze down towards your pant leg, “look at the mess you made.”

Rita felt a flush of heat surge into her cheeks when her eyes landed on the soaked patch of the fabric, a nearly embarrassed chuckle leaving her lips. “Sorry.”

“No need.” You laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek, winding an arm around her waist, “seems like you really needed to get off, and I was gonna wear shorts to bed anyways.”

“Thank you.” She replied with a very satisfied sigh, finally reaching behind herself to unzip her skirt, stepping out of it as she scooped up the other pieces of discarded clothing.

“Feeling better?” You asked, following her into the walk in to swap your stained pants to a pair of shorts.

“Much.” She smiled softly at you, pulling a robe from the closet to wrap around herself and you couldn’t help but laugh as her stomach let out a growl.

“Sounds like someone worked up an appetite.” You teased, prodding at her side and she scoffed at you, “why don’t you hop in the shower and I’ll put in for some takeout.”

“Sounds perfect.” She leant in, kissing you gently as she squeezed at your hand, a look in her eyes that you knew all too well, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

________

@hbkpop @mickey-gomez @red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl @svushots @wannabe-fic-reader @bumblebear30 @alexbllake @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @dead-of-niight @multifandomlesbianic @dxtery @momlifebehard @poisonedcrowns @when-wolves-howl @godard-muse @itisdoctortoyousir @httpjupiterbby @somethingimaginative17 @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @dextur @disneyfan624 @svushots @happenstnces @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @valentinesfrog @noahrex @wittygutsy @chimnlex @i-lovefandom @ralla-ralla @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts

[pureyindustry]

Unlocking the Secrets of Perfect Brews: A Comprehensive Guide to Beer Fermentation Tanks

Are you curious about how beer fermentation tanks create your favorite brews? These tanks provide a controlled environment where yeast converts sugars into alcohol and carbon dioxide, which is essential for brewing. Made from durable stainless steel, they ensure optimal temperature and pressure conditions for fermentation. Check out our advanced fermentation tanks. Check out our site for more.

[nevadancitizen]

-> HURTING, LONGING, LOVING – DANCING TO DISCO MUSIC

synopsis: you wake up and have no memory of simon. you can only hope to find him among your fractured memories and the scattered lights of a disco ball.

word count: 2.3k

characters: simon "ghost" riley, amnesiac! gn! reader

trigger warnings: transient global (aka temporary) amnesia, mentions of canon-typical violence/interrogation

notes: heavily inspired by disco elysium and part one of @roosterr 's amnesia series. go give it a read if you haven't already (＊๑˘◡˘)

Nothing surrounds you. Only warm, primordial blackness – the pond you learn about in Biology 101, the one where everything and everyone comes from. You don’t know this, of course, because you’re curled up in it, your mind fermenting in it. You’re no larger than a grain of yeast. You don’t have to do anything anymore. Ever. Never, ever.

But you’re growing. Gram upon gram of yeast, slowly morphing into meat. Muscles and bones and organs and a beating pig heart, decaying as soon as they grow. Soon you’ll need to do things. There’s a faint tickle of an idea. Soldiers. Battlefields. IEDs and tanks. You don’t know what to do with this information.

Somewhere within the idea – a sensation! Pain. Arcing, shooting pain, lightning through every new nerve in your new body. The limbed and headed machine of pain and barely-dignified suffering is firing up again. It wants to walk the streets of Manchester. Hurting. Longing. Loving. Dancing to disco music.

It wants someone. You want someone. A blurred-out face, someone you’re kneeling at the feet at. A ghost of a man. So lost he doesn’t even know what his face looks like. 

“I swore I wouldn’t let you go,” your barely-formed mouth mumbles. Your teeth are hot, melted-together plastic and your tongue is jet-fuel-fired rebar. 

Look up. No. You were just talking to yourself. That’s all you ever do. Even in this primordial pool. And the act is wearing thin, the spots of the disco ball fade around you…

The warm blackness is instantly replaced with a cold, artificial light. You bring your hand up to block it – since when have you had these? Gangly things with a red wire further down in… your elbow. That’s not a wire – that’s a tube. Of blood? Your blood. You have blood.

You remember now. You were born with hands and elbows, knees, feet, organs and fat and a copious amount of blood. A collarbone you’ve broken more than once. A body that was molded in the crucible of battle.

And holy shit does that body hurt. That hindbrain wasn’t exaggerating when it said that you are a being of suffering. 

A dull throbbing is behind your eyes as they rove around the room. They land on a button neatly labeled Call Nurse. You press it and wait.

Everything after that is a blur. Nurses, doctors, “Follow my finger with your eyes, but don’t move your head,” poking and prodding with various instruments, “Tilt your head back so I can feel your neck,” blue latex gloves, “How much do you remember?”, bright lights in your eyes.

One nurse checks the dressings on your forehead. It’s just above your temple. His hands are rubbery and unfeeling as he re-dresses it. A trickle of cold liquid dribbling down from an alcohol swab. Bandages press against your skin. “What’s your name and date of birth?”, “Can you name the members of the task force you’re a part of?”

A man cuts through the blur as he comes thundering through the door. A balaclava with a skull pattern. Three men are behind him, hanging in the doorframe, out of the way. But the man moves quickly towards you, standing on the edge of the crowd of medical professionals, pacing back and forth, eyes on you, like how a sheepdog circles its sheep. Longing, waiting. Held back by an invisible leash of respect.

After a while, most of the personnel disperse, leaving you with a transient global amnesia diagnosis, a nurse, and the men. But even then, they leave after casting a glance at the sheepdog.

He moves closer, then stares at you for a while. He’s expecting something. His brown eyes are like sodium lights. A small trickle of streets and the sky. In your mind, you know he’s the place to be. You’re still alive while he’s around. 

Yeah. He’s groovy. You want to disco with him. He is disco. But somewhere, a deep unaccessed area of your mind is saying, “You don’t want to disco like this. Not really. Not in the deepest part of your soul, where blond eyelashes only make you sad.”

Wait – come on, what are you talking about? Sad blond eyelashes? Blond eyelashes are fun!

“Why do I hurt all of a sudden?”

“Hey, it’s alright, darl.” He kneels by your bed and takes your hand in both of his. They’re warm, rough, calloused in places you thought couldn’t be calloused. “It’s me, it’s Simon.”

“What?” You pull your hand away from his. “I don’t know a Simon.”

Simon scoffs, but it’s more of an exhale of disbelief. “Don’t you remember me?”

“No.” You narrow your eyes. “Should I?”

Simon crumbles before you. His sodium streetlight eyes go out with an explosion of guilt – the bulbs pop with a fizzy sound. He looks like he should be groveling at the feet of a feudal lord, providing excessive evidence of his crimes, or throwing a cat-of-nine-tails over his shoulder and ripping the flesh from his own back. Whatever made him this way – you can be damn sure it was your fault. Those three simple words, instead of “I love you,” are “No. Should I?” 

“It’s me.” Simon’s voice cracks as he speaks. Tears flood his waterline. He takes off his mask, revealing his pale face and dyed-blond hair. “It’s your Simon.”

“Simon,” you say softly. You look at him and hurt. A hole in your still-beating pig heart. Blood spills out from where the bullet went in. 

“No. Nothing.” You look down at his hand. It’s palm-up, splayed out where you let go of it. It curls up into a fist, then Simon pulls it into his lap.

He says nothing. Just stares at you like you’re familiar yet somehow unknown. 

You don’t know what to say. You just can’t conjure up any thoughts as you stare back. The morphine can’t be the cause of your dumbness. And it certainly isn’t the new modafinil that was just introduced to your system. 

You search his eyes and feel, above all things, lost. Lonely in a hospital full of people. 

Simon pulls away. His breathing is heavy and labored. A single tear slips down his scarred cheek. He doesn’t look like he’s one to cry. The tear leaves a trail of wet that looks like a new scar.

He tugs his balaclava back on and shuffles out, casting one last longing glance over his shoulder before closing the door behind him with a soft click.

That’s where it is. He is disco. He’s stumbling through the streets of Manchester. Hurting. Longing. Loving. Dancing to disco music.

You’re stuck in the hospital for a week for physical therapy and observation. Simon visits intermittently. He brings things to jog your memory – men that are part of Task Force 141, small snow globes from where you and he have apparently been deployed. Some of them work. But none of them bring back any memory of your apparent relationship with Simon – your boyfriend.

Today he comes in with a small device. It’s not a phone, but resembles it. A small wire comes from the amp and ends in a small circle of plastic.

You point at it. “What’s that?”

“It’s a contact microphone.” Simon settles in the chair that’s set up by your bed. He points at the blocky part of it. “This part holds the recording. You can play it back if needed.”

“Are you going to play it back?” You ask.

“No,” Simon says. “This one is blank.”

You take it from Simon’s hand and turn it over, looking at it. Examining. “Then why are you showing me this?”

“You are…” Simon sighs, trying to find the words. “You were a profoundly talented interrogator. You used contact microphones to record the interrogation, the confessions, the works. There’s a specified interrogation chamber underground. Contact microphones pick up the noise better down there.”

You continue looking it over. Fiddling with the wire. Running your thumb over the mesh of the microphone.

“Anything?” Simon says.

You close your eyes and think. Contact microphone… violence, blood. There’s a welding torch in there somewhere. The smell of bubbling flesh and burning hair. Cauterization without anesthesia. It was that way on purpose.

You open your eyes and look at Simon. “Interrogation.”

“Obviously.” Simon huffs out a laugh. It sounds forced. “I told you that.”

“Yes.” You sigh, looking down at the contact microphone. You try to think more. Contact… physical contact. Your fist making contact. Something hard. Solid bone breaking under your hands. 

But also… something soft. Something that smells good. Smells homey. A black hoodie with some cheesy skull pattern on it. Actually, a closet full of black and grey clothes. A monotone voice to match a monotone closet.

The clothes smell faintly of cigarettes. A carton that’s mostly empty. They taste better than regular cigarettes – they’re some European brand. 

“Do…” You look up at Simon. “Do you smoke?”

“Why?” Simon asks. “Do I smell like cigs?”

“No. Just…” 

You close your eyes and try to remember more. The carton is a brown-orange color. The back is plastered with warnings about nicotine being an addictive chemical. No filters. A smooth, walnut-esque finish.

“Revaality,” you finally say and look up at Simon. 

“Yes! Yes.” Simon takes your hand instinctively, excitedly. He smiles. Like crying, it doesn’t really fit him, but you’re glad he’s smiling anyway. “That’s the brand I smoke. I smoke Revaality.”

He takes your face in his hand and guides you to look at him. His sodium light eyes are bright once again. “Anything else? Lovie, please…”

You cringe away from his touch. Again, Simon is punched in the fucking face when he remembers that you don’t know him. Not like that. 

Simon pulls his hands away. “Shit. I…”

“It’s okay,” you say quickly. “I know.”

I know you know a different version of me. The thought lingers, loud and unsaid. Simon, you’re a man with a lot of past, but little present, and almost no future. I’m sorry we only live in your memories, because I don’t even have those.

“I’m trying.” You look down at the contact microphone. “Believe me, I’m trying.”

“I believe you,” Simon says. “It’s just… it’s hard.”

Silence for a while. The artificial lights above you buzz and cast harsh shadows on Simon’s face. He looks… tired. 

“I still love you,” he says quietly. Almost a whisper. “I… you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

He rests a hand on the railing of your hospital bed. “I’m not the best. I drink. I smoke. I have a laundry list of mental issues and types of trauma. So much it’s not even funny.”

“But you…” he sighs. “You fell in love with me anyway.”

You look up at him. He’s crying again. A pang of empathy in your heart. You don’t know why, but you don’t want to see him cry. The tears that cut through the dirt on his face are unbefitting. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is a mirror of Simon’s. Soft and wavering. “I want to remember. I don’t even know what happened to me. The doctors always dance around it when I ask.”

Simon bunches the end of his sleeve up in his hand and wipes away his tears. “You were a fucking idiot. That’s what happened.”

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“Not in a bad way.” Simon lets go of his sleeve and rests his hand on the railing of your bed again. “You love too much and too hard. You saved me.”

“It… the building…” He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his waterline to clear of tears. “The building was coming down. We thought we were out of danger close. But there was a piece of rebar that…”

Simon looks down at his lap. He’s ashamed. “It was supposed to hit me. I was supposed to die. I’m used to it. I’m used to close calls and blood transfusions.”

“But I’m not used to…” He glances up at you through his eyelashes. His long, blond eyelashes. “People I care about being hurt. Or people caring about me in general.”

“Simon.” You reach out and lay your hand over his where it rests on the railing. He holds his breath like he’s afraid.

A pause. You want to be sure of your words before you speak. 

“I’m going to try my damndest to remember,” you say. “Even if I don’t remember everything, I – I want to try to learn to care about you again. Because, based on our limited interactions, I know you’re a good man. Even if you drink and even if you smoke and even if you have a laundry list of mental issues and an assortment of trauma.”

Simon slowly brings his other hand and rests it on top of yours. His callouses brush against your knuckles. Abrasive yet comforting in a way you barely remember. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Really, truly. Thank you.”

And, in this moment, Simon finally has some sense of control in an ever-turbulent world. The world that tried to take his one and only love. The world that has taken his one and only love and is only now feeding him droplets of what he knows – what he once knew. He must exercise this control carefully, lest he lose you again. 

In the sky, there are no dogfights and no silverplate bombers. Only stars and the rabbit curled up on the moon and a singular winking comet. God is in Heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

Somewhere, the spots from a disco ball freckle the dance floor once again.

[voluptuarian]

I'm not buying the "elf food is bland" propaganda-- the closest I'll allow to that is just the flavor profile doesn't work for anybody else. And I'm certainly not going to believe the "elf alcohol is weak" crap. Anybody who lives that long has gotta be fermenting shit like crazy. Imagine. My man Thornflin put a little hooch in the toilet tank 20000 years ago and now the US government is asking if they can use it to clear jungle in Vietnam. He thinks it still needs a couple hundred more years before its ripe.

Elf kombucha that is literally indescribable, like a beverage Cthulhu. Cheeses infused with ancient forest molds that are incompatible with most creature's digestive systems. People go to fancy auction houses and pay out the ass to buy elf mustards. Actual thousand year egg.

They like matcha but wish it tasted more like grass. Entire genres of cooking devoted just to forest fungus. Nobody has created more varieties of carrots. They eat those delicious ass berries that are poisonous to everything but birds and tell you they're delectable but of course you can't try them. Your elf friend pulls out a whole raw onion and eats it like an apple. Don't even ask about what they've done with tea.

[mychlapci]

Robutt vampires, you say Other than the sexy bloodsucker Prowl thing, the first thing that comes to mind for me is the worldbuilding lore from Vampire Hunter D, where the Nobles reared humans like cattle for sustenance. Aaaaaand my brain just made it weird again.

Imagine a bloodsucker senator breeding slavebots as bloodbanks, but he goes an extra mile. Before he culls them, he ferments them first. Inject yeast and bacteria into their lines and seal off every vent to create and anaerobic environment. Storing them in little casks until the bots' lines rupture from the gas bloat. He claims that the flavour of the harvested energon is unrivalled, but who knows. Not even Sentinel Prime himself has tasted it. Maybe he's full of shit and is just killing bots in such a manner for absolutely fucking nothing. Maybe it does actually work.

Senator Shockwave would set out to prove this in his own ways, I bet. With a still living Orion Pax. Big bots like him have plenty of space inside, he won't face much of a risk from gas buildup implosion. So imagine IDW1 OP having to run around Iacon with the heat of fermenting energon in his tanks and lines, building up into a nigh unbearable boil inside him, hoping that Shockwave wouldn't be waiting too long to drink from him this time lest he burns up from within. I bet it makes him extra horny too, so Shockwave would spend most of their feeding sessions perched on his fat spike. As a little apology for the discomfort, see? (I… wrote this before the Prowl one actually)-🔌

oooh that’s interesting, vampires keeping humans as cattle is always so bonkers, and we’re all into farms in here. just look at my blog. bots fermenting the energon inside of unsuspecting victims so they can have their fill is hooot. Especially when Shockwave is so nice about it, grinding onto Orion’s spike to keep him still and pleasured as he sips from his lines,,...

Optimus misses that. It’s his greatest shame.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

So, yesterday, we saw a huge modern, all-white estate vineyard in Napa, California. Today we have another Napa Valley vineyard in Helena, California, but this one is very different. Actually, the other one was kind of boring, and this one is unique. The carriage house dates back to the 1880s. The main house has 3bds, 2.5ba, and costs a lot less at $3.25M. (The other one is $22M.)

Isn't this nice? A sunroom and pergola with vines.

Clearly, this is a rustic style home with a high vaulted living room ceiling, and a stained glass window.

There's a lofted space above the living room, which is very nice as well.

The large kitchen is light and airy.

This looks like a workroom or office and it has a great fireplace that looks like it was well-used.

Looks like a family room.

The primary bedroom is a good size.

There are about 4.59 acres of property with the vineyard.

But, where the other property was just vineyards, this is where this property gets interesting, b/c it ain't just grapes.

Check it out- it has a cave, b/c this property was also a winery. The cave is protected by heavy wooden doors and iron gates.

This was a serious winery. Look at the bottles and supplies, plus the fermenting equipment.

This is cool.

The fermenting tanks look in pretty good shape.

Remember that this cave dates back to the 1880s. It's ancient.

Look at these delicious grapes. Every fall I wait for the stores to have Concord grapes b/c my grandparents had a huge grapevine and they were so good.

There's a barn on the property, but it looks like there's an apt. above it.

Workshop in the barn.

The main house has a large patio with growing beds.

I'm thinking that this rusted old tractor is art?

Looks like a pond. Maybe for crop irrigation.

The house, on the bottom right, is surrounded by many neighboring vineyards.