#Meat And Bone Cutting Machine For Home

[prokitchendeals]

The Meat And Bone Cutting Machine: A Must-Have For The Home Cook

Meat and bone cutting machines are essential in the kitchen for making delicious, tender meat and poultry. In this article, we will discuss some tips on how to get the most out of your machine, so that you can create beautiful dishes in no time

What is a Meat and Bone Cutting Machine?

If you're in the market for a Meat Bone Cutter Machine For Home there are a few things you should keep in mind. First, make sure the machine has the necessary horsepower. Second, consider what kind of blades or teeth it has. And finally, be sure to read the operator's manual carefully so you know how to use it properly. Here are some tips on getting the most out of your meat and bone cutting machine:

To start with, make sure your machine has enough horsepower. A machine that has less horsepower will not be able to handle tough cuts of meat as well. Secondly, consider what type of blades or teeth your machine comes equipped with. Some machines come with serrated blades that help cut through tougher meats more easily. Others may have straight razor-like blades that are perfect for finer cuts of meat. And lastly, always read the operator's manual carefully before using your machine. This will help familiarize yourself with all of its features and allow you to get the most out of your purchase.

[rcmclachlan]

what is whole foods? 👀

Fix-it in aisle 9! Tommy doesn't know what possesses him to go to this particular Whole Foods, but he hopes the folks watching the security feed are enjoying the show as his and Evan's painful attempts at small talk devolve into the world's slowest tour of the store while they whisper-fight every step of the way.

There's no cogent reason for him to go to the Whole Foods on S Grand, especially on a Thursday. The fact that it's only a 3-minute drive from Evan's loft is bad enough, but the avenue is and has always been a wide-awake nightmare. It's all metered street parking and people drive through the intersection like they're trapped in pinball machine designed by Jigsaw. He once almost got into a fist fight with some asshole in a BMW who came so close to colliding with him head-on that Tommy could read the fucking VIN number on the guy's dashboard. Also, the Vons down the street from his house has much better produce.

There's no cogent reason, and yet, after his shift ends, he climbs into his truck and brings up the address in Maps. The entire route there is green. On the way to S Grand, he doesn't hit a single red light, his Spotify shuffle plays only songs he wants to listen to, and somehow he manages to score the first parking spot closest to the building, which feels like winning the lottery. Normally he'd have better odds of hitting all six Powerball numbers.

His good luck continues as he walks into the store, which is blissfully devoid of human life, and he gets a cart with wheels that don't stick or squeak. He heads into the meat section and a song is playing over the speakers that takes him right back to the uncomplicated days of being 12 years old and hanging out in Jamal Tunstall's basement, kicking ass at Tekken 2 and gorging himself on pizza rolls, which his dad refused to let him have at home.

Sometimes it feels a little like the universe has never been particularly interested in giving him a W, but as Tommy picks up a package containing a reasonably-priced cut of pork belly that looks so perfect it might have been Photoshopped, he thinks that maybe the universe has finally decided to throw him a bone.

The clatter of a nearby cart makes him glance up, then his entire autonomic nervous system goes dark like his brain's blown a fuse.

Of all the ways he imagined seeing Evan again, standing in the meat section of the Whole Foods on S Grand on a Thursday night while DJ Kool shouts "when I say freeze, y'all stop on a dime" in the background never made the list.

wip titles game

[bussyyeukie]

Fresh Meat p.2

(butcher!simon x student!reader)

part one. part two.

Your shoes crunched under the loose branches and earth as you walked. It was a very familiar path you'd take nearly every day on your morning walks. The ground was hugged with fog and your hands were firmly in your pockets, the old lady you rented from had called you the other day. It wasn’t the first time you’d spoken to her but it was not something that happened often. She’d go quiet every now and then and you’d hear the shuffling of walkers and beeping of machines in the background. She’d repeat a question and then interrupt you mid answer.

Not that you minded, it was obvious she wasn’t all there and honestly you don’t think she could really hear that you were answering. After about 10 minutes of an old lady rambling and odd updates on her health, she’d asked you a favor. Suddenly much more coherent, she’d asked if you could keep her collection going. Bones, stones, dead things, bugs–that sort of collection. Said she’d hate to see the house lose its touch. Although you’d argue that most wouldn’t step foot inside that house if they knew what was in there.

It piqued your interest, you’d picked up a few things here and there on your morning walks but nothing big, and nothing remotely as interesting as what she’d already had in her home. But you agreed, it would give you something to do while you were job hunting and working on your classes work-load. Minorly (very) jealous when you’d been emailed a picture of your old dissection team working on a new body the lab got–everyone smiling and you had to close your computer for the rest of the day when you realized what a shut-in you'd become.

You’d hadn’t even been to your favorite butcher in two weeks, granted you’d not been cooking meals, mostly living off muffins and coffee and whatever you happened to leave on your bedside table. 

Warm breath huffing into the cold air, your heart hammering a little harder.

You've gone to the butcher once a week for about two months now. Not sure if you’d consider Simon a friend but he was close enough to one that you missed him. Of course the fact that he was a near perfect specimen to you didn’t help much, or that he listened to your ramblings, or that he gave you good cuts nearly free, or that he was hot. Really hot. 

Shaking your head of the thought you groaned, shouldn’t get those types of fantasies in your head, it never worked out well. Once you convinced yourself this boy in your class had a crush on you–turned out he was just spooked and thought you were freaky. He had obviously said no when you’d asked him out. Easy to tell you didn’t date much, and that experience didn’t help your confidence on the subject.

Glancing to your feet you paused your steps, holding a steady pace till now, following the trail that led through the woods behind your home. You spotted a nice femur of something. Almost polished clean, minus the dirt.

You pulled out a ziplock you had in your pocket and picked it up, the weight of it heavy in your palm. Glancing over it with a smile.

“I’m sure that old bat will figure out something with this,” you giggled to yourself. Then licked your lips as you looked around, only a few feet off the trail, very unworried about getting lost or anything like that. Plus you’d walked this path for months, surely you’d know where you were going at least a little bit. Stepping further off the trail you brushed your hand along the thick, mossy trees surrounding you. It was scary quiet except for you. 

For your light puffs of air, nose cold, for your shoes (socks now damp) crunching along the mud and the sticks forming the ground under your feet. The shifting of your clothing, fabric rustling against fabric.

Your eyes raked the ground, a few small bones lay before you but you were looking for something bigger, no use holding pocket space for a bunch of random mouse tibias and ribs.

Breath hitching slightly as you heard a loud snap around you. 

You perked up, head on a swivel, spinning slightly to look at your surroundings. Empty. Nothing but trees, not even a bird.

Licking your lips nervously you looked back to the ground–the trail was still within your vision–and you ventured further into the woods. Grinning when you come across a pelvis, not large enough to concern, and obviously not human the closer you got to it, long and narrow. It was dirty with the ground and the elements, but mostly clean from any gore that would’ve been leftover from a meal.

If you had to guess you’d say it's a deer pelvis, but you didn’t hunt, and you didn’t study animals. So it was really up in the air, but deer seemed like the best guess. 

You looked around to see if any other remnants of a meal laid around, possibly a spine or a few ribs. Tucking some hair out of your face with your free hand, turning your head to peek over your shoulder. The lingering feeling of eyes boring into you was something you couldn’t shake.

It felt, familiar almost, like something you’d experienced before, a weird sense of familiar dread leaking into your gut, dripping down the back of your throat as you expected hands to appear and the heavy feeling of them grabbing onto you.

A shudder ran through you at the thought, smacking your forehead with the butt of your palm to get it out of your head. 

“What the fuck brain,” you grumbled, voice incredibly clear in the air even when whispering, “Why would you think of that?”

Placing the pelvis gingerly in the bag you continued looking, thoughts drifting to Simon…

He would know what animal this came from, he’d probably be able to tell you anything about an animal you'd want to know, you thought about his butchering. The motion of his arm, the wide swing and the harsh collision. The way his muscles tensed and worked perfectly, generating so much power and the way his whole unit seemed to move with a sense of power. Everything he did commanded a sense of respect at the sheer size of him, like hunters not even bothering with a bear too big cause they know they won’t be able to kill it.

Simon was your bear, and you were the foolish deer who kept trying to drink from the stream it was hunting in.

Everytime you entered the shop it was like a heavy blanket fell on you, Simon’s eyes glued, you swore he didn’t blink until you left. Even if conversation was short and typically one sided he was enraptured by everything you said. You’d never seen anyone so engrossed in you.

In the back of your mind it concerned you. You’d never seen him angry but you were sure it was terrifying. The times you’d seen him actually irritated and not just annoyed were scary enough, loud voice snapping orders and meaty fists clenched and threatening. There was a shift in him, like a dog with it’s hackles up, or when a hound would let out a bark that was deeper than normal and put you on edge.

He’d pitched a fit last time you skipped a week, you couldn’t imagine the whining you’d hear this time.

Like a big baby, complaining and asking if someone kept you from coming in, or if something was wrong. Once he offered the meat free as if pricing was the issue, and said you could “Just bloody take the thing, free, if you’re gonna be petty about it…”

You’d rolled your eyes, pinky promising you wouldn't miss the next week, Simon’s cheeks turning peachy when your skin touched. You didn’t know he held his pinky for the rest of the day acting like it was your hand. 

You giggled at the memory, everyone in town thought he was this big stoic butcher but he was just like those big dogs you had as a kid who would whine about everything and just had to fall asleep cuddled up in a blanket with you. No real threat to anyone…well you thought so…

You paused, looking at the animal tracks in front of you, were they animal at all?

Brows pinching as you leaned down to look closer, they didn’t really look like animal tracks, but they definitely weren’t human. Now you didn’t know animals, but you knew enough to distinguish certain tracks–you’d gotten a guide to help you out in the woods. These tracks looked like nothing that was in that book. The fingers were almost too long, with weird claw marks, and the butt of the paw–you think it was a paw anyway–was animalish enough.

A weird stone sat in your stomach, your skin prickling with chills. You didn’t like this at all. Looking around cautiously, you stepped back, finding your way back to the beaten path. 

Jogging a little when you heard some movement in the still woods around you.

A shaky breath leaving you when your feet finally crunched against the path again. It was a safety line in your eyes. Shaking your head slightly and running a cold hand through your hair, beginning on the trek back home.

When you’d made it home, the house was warm and smelled of coffee, a very peaceful scene. Dropping your bag on the kitchen table as you shed some layers, a thin bit of sweat on your skin from the walk. Even with the chilled air surrounding you. The bones rattled against each other as you draped your jackets on the back of the kitchen chair. You started the water in the sink, turning it hot as it went. Letting it run as you rolled the sleeves of your sweater up and headed over to the table, passing by the window of the kitchen that opened to the backyard. Glancing at the thing looking over the fence as you passed the window. Just barely reaching over the fencing.

Hand outstretched to the bag on the table, you froze. Eyes staring at nothing as they widened. Backtracking, movements almost rusty, to the window, peeking out of it hesitantly. You swore you could hear your joints creaking as you moved.

Obviously you were just seeing things, a shadow that spooked you. 

But there was a pit in your stomach that made you second guess, for the life of you, you couldn’t identify what you’d peeked at as you passed. Looking through the window again, you saw nothing. A breath leaving you as you looked at the bare fence lining the yard, and the creatureless backyard. Rubbing your face, pushing hair back away from your forehead you walked back to the table.

“Jesus, I’m getting cabin fever or something,” you muttered to yourself looking at the screaming taxidermy coyote that was on a mount in the living room, which was only about ten feet from you, “What do you think? Is the Creature of the Woods gonna get me?”

You chuckled then let your face fall, snatching up the bag and grumbling.

“Great, now I'm talking to stuffed dead things…”

With a big huff, and your hands on your hips you turned on your heels and opened the cupboard by your feet, pushing around bottles and other cleaning supplies.

“Hm…” frowning a bit you tucked some hair behind your ears, and squinted, shifting on your knees, looking deeper into the cabinet, “Oh you gotta be kidding…”

Plopping back onto your heels and closing the cabinet. 

All out of hydrogen peroxide. You furrowed your brows as you stood, your knees were killing you honestly, creaking more each day. In this weird, freaky house you were being out of hydrogen peroxide. When you’d first moved in it was nearly stock piled.

Snatching up your coat and sloppily throwing it on as you shoved your phone and other such items into the pockets. Bumping the door open and closing it–it was a little tricky, cause you had to lift the handle a bit to get it to latch fully, jiggling the key into the lock.

A weird feeling took you over. The kind that made the hair on the back on your neck stand up and your stomach churn. You almost didn’t want to look behind you.

Turning the key forcefully, you turned around.

Nothing, there was nothing there, obviously there was nothing. What a silly thought to think something was behind you. The walkway up to the house is barren all for some leaves and the slightly overgrown grass.

Rubbing your face and sniffing and putting your keys back in your pocket.

You’d spent the last night watching ghost movies, and had spent the night looking up how spirits pass from one life to the next, and those who get stuck. Which was probably the reason you felt so watched. Not to mention you tended to look for things in places they weren’t.

Conjure up wild theories to things that have a simple explanation.

Many nights kept awake by stray noises, and unsettling dreams.

Even as a child, you were like this, so fascinated by things your mother had said were creepy and scary. Ghouls and creatures. Immersing yourself in the more grotesque side of things, the gory and the broken. Easily pushing yourself into the rabid, sick and the salivating jaws of the unknown.

Even surrounded by people who were interested in anatomy. You seemed to like it in a different way, often being the butt-end of a Frankenstien joke. Although if your masterpiece had been successful, if you’d reanimated a being, you wouldn’t abandon it. “Oh it’s too scary! I don’t like it anymore!” You rolled your eyes at the thought. That was your only critique of those jokes. Not that anyone really cared to listen.

You were sure if you’d been a boy, you’d be institutionalized at some point by your fascinations–you’d never hurt anything, killed animals and all that–but you were often written off as being a “different little girl” who had a vivid imagination.

Your hands snug in your pockets as you walked down the street, heading into town.

As you thought of the ghost stories you’d read up on last night, you wondered about the Creature the locals warned you about, you’d never really taken it seriously, since it was all a bunch of BigFoot type talk. Only a bit more frightening, talks of attacks in the 40’s and stuff like that. Not to mention BigFoot had been debunked in your eyes. Weird accounts of hunting incidents and missing animals.

You believed in that type of stuff, but not blindly. You were an academic afterall, you enjoyed the study and the proving of theories and such–and thinking of school made you think of your school, and your little dissection lab. You did miss it. It was where you’d spent most of your time, going in at early mornings and late nights when other teams requested your help.

Maybe you’d get into taxidermy or something.

“Maggie would like the new additions to her house i’d bet…” you muttered to yourself, giggling a bit. 

It wasn’t a long walk into town, but enough that you’d worked a bit of a sweat around your hairline and on your palms. Watching the townsfolk wander around the streets. Mothers coralling their children, couples hand in hand–swinging their arms, old folk with canes poking at things in their way. 

You turned a corner, heart skipping a beat as you recognized the road, the street the butcher shop was on. The thought of the shop always made your heart beat faster, the thought of seeing Simon excited you to an almost concerning level. Working yourself into a near frenzy typically with how giddy and anxious you’d become.

You didn’t see him on the street, your muscles tight with nerves. You hadn’t been this nervous around someone in a while–you just really wanted that lumbering butcher to like you.

He was the only thing close to a friend you had in this town.

As you get closer to the shop, you subconsciously slow your pace, still no sign on him. As you got closer your foot hit a raise in the ground. Jolting you forward, a gasp leaving you as you steady yourself, snapping your gaze down to your feet. Hair in your face as you finally balance. 

“Christ, fallin' for me already, luv?”

Your breath was sucked into your lungs with a choking sound as you snapped your head up, cheeks burning red and eyes wide as you were met face to face (chest really) with the man in front of you.

Hastily pushing your hair out of your face and grinning with probably too many teeth and chuckled, “O-oh! Simon! Funny, uh, seeing you here!”

He stared at you with a blank stare, softly bringing the half smoldered cigarette up to his lips, his shirt splattered with blood near his shoulders and collar, almost outlining the apron he wore in the shop. His other hand is in the pocket of his jeans. Which had definitely seen better days.

You swallowed nervously, eyes glancing at the cording muscles in his forearm as he dropped it back to his side. His eyes lifeless as ever and his lips pressed against the cig, smoke fluming out his nose.

“I mean,” you chuckled, “You work here, so, it’s not that weird. Or funny…”

He stared at you intensely for a few more seconds, before pulling the cigarette from his mouth with a sharp suck and crackle.

“That ah do,” he didn’t bother looking away to blow the smoke out, licking his teeth, “Where’ve ya bin.”

With your hands clasped behind you, you shrugged, “Eh ya know, got kinda busy recently, my Professor sent like 20 assignments he forgot to grade for the class I TA for, and so I needed to crank those out–oh and then he sent me the wrong key for it, so that was a hassle.”

Simon didn’t react. If you’d been paying more attention you’d realize the way his shoulders tensed and his feet shifted.

“He keepin’ ya busy huh?”

You nodded, “Yeah, it's really lame.”

Simon nodded, placing the cigarette between his lips, which you couldn’t help but feel your eyes linger on. 

“Come in this week,” he grunted out, his voice gravely as he spoke, “Missed ya’ around the shop.”

“Aw really?” you chuckled, perking up, “That’s sweet.”

He shrugged again, “As irritatin' as yer, yer make good convo. Can talk an' 'ear off, woman.”

You deflated a bit, huffing, crossing your arms over your chest, “Well jeez…not like anyone else is gonna.”

He huffed a breath of laughter out his nose, “Tha’s true. Not many are this friendly to their butcha.”

You grinned softly, rolling your eyes, “Forgive me?”

Simon stood silent. Watching you. Sniffing roughly as he tilted his head. 

“Gonna 'ave to put more work inter it than that for me forgiveness, girly,” he dropped the cigarette onto the ground, snuffing it with the toe of his boot.

He turned and walked into his shop, “Aw what? Come on Simon–”

You followed him inside, almost blindly–you would’ve followed him wherever he went, it was empty in the shop. Cold as ever inside, fittingly, as cold as a big freezer. The bell dinging was a sound you didn’t know you found as soothing as you did till you heard it again. The wet smell of raw meat filling your nose, that and the mix of the smoke that lingered around Simon.

He walked behind the counter, reaching down under it, the sound of a latch clicking made you pause. Leaning over the counter the best you could, seeing as it was rather tall, the floor behind it higher than the floor you stood on. You looked back up to Simon, who was staring at you, as he usually was. His gaze locked and unblinking as he grabbed whatever he was looking for. 

He was tall already but behind that counter he looked unreal. Like some mythical giant in a fairytale.

You broke eye contact first, flushed as you looked down to the package he dropped in front of you, neatly wrapped with a pretty bow on top, tied in twine.

Of course it didn’t slip past you the way Simon was more careful with the bow tying on your meat. Like he was trying to impress you with it. But you were more impressed with the meats, the cuts and how he handled it all so professionally. Like it was something he was born to do. To butcher things…

A smile spread across your lips.

“Yours,” he said, almost jerking the word out, “Special for yer, was gonna 'ave a nice cut for last week, but yer never showed.”

Guilt gnawed at the inside of your cheek.

“Sorry Si, really,” you pouted, blinking dramatically as you placed your hands together under your chin, “It looks beautiful.”

He rolled his eyes, looking off to the side, then back to you, “Don’t matter.”

You grabbed the package and placed it in the side pocket of your coat, zipping it back up. The feeling of Simon’s eyes on you as you unzipped made your skin crawl. With unease or excitement you weren’t sure–probably both. 

“I won’t miss next week,” you cleared your throat, watching as he leaned against the counter, biceps pulling at the sleeves of his shirt, “I’ll come in twice.”

Simon seemed pleased with that, humming.

“You been in the woods recently?”

You blinked up at him again, “Yeah! Actually I was there this morning on a walk!”

“I can tell.”

You snorted, “Yeah sure. What–do I have leaves in my hair?”

“I can smell it.”

Now this made you pause, confused. Nose scrunching a bit.

“What?”

You smelled your coat, it didn’t smell any different than it usually did to you. Possibly a little more damp.

“Yer smell like them woods…”

There was a beat of silence between you two, a weird feeling again scraping its nail at the back of your neck.

“Oh, is it bad?”

“No.”

You had no clue what Simon was talking about, maybe he had a really good nose and could smell the trees on you or something. Or he’d been here so long he could smell native plants, surely you’d walked through some on your trek. Or maybe you just really smelled like mud and dew…

“You shouldn’t go out there alone, dangerous for someone like you.”

Shrugging, you waved him off, “I’m plenty safe, I stay on the paved trail, and I carry a pocket knife.”

Simon didn’t say anything, tapping his finger like he was thinking. 

“Call me next time you want to go out there, I’ll take you.”

Your heart jumped. Call him? Like, so he could come out? To walk with you? Anytime you wanted?

“R-really?”

Your tongue felt stuck as you spoke. 

“I wouldn’t offer if I weren’t serious,” Simon scoffed, he held out his hand, “Give it ta me.”

Snapping into action, you dove into your pocket, pulling out your phone, handing it to him, shakier than he was as he held his steady hand out. You’d never really thought about him having a phone before, it seemed so out of place.

“Thank you, that’s…sweet,” you’d never felt more awkward. Watching him type on your phone, it looked so small in his hands. Your stomach flipping as you thought about it, watched his fingers and the twitching of his forearm as he moved.

He set it down on the counter.

“Buncha shit in them woods, animals an' idiots alike.”

You nodded, looking at the screen, it just read his name–no last name, or emojis or anything, just ‘Simon’.

“I'll definitely let you know next time I’m heading out there,” you smiled, “No one will mess with me if I have a damn bear lingering around.”

Simon’s lips twitched into a soft smile.

You glanced at the time, sucking in air between your teeth.

“Shit, I gotta go, those papers need to be turned in like an hour,” you put your phone back in your pocket and took a step back–hesitating, “I…thank you, really…”

“Don’t mention it,” Simon shifted, going from leaning on his elbows to his palms. Shoulders were broad and thick as he settled.

“I’ll text you soon, save my number!”

You forced your feet up as you exited the shop, each step felt like you were walking on glue. You didn’t want to leave, as strange as the conversation was there was something about Simon that was addicting to you. You wished every talk was hours longer, every brush of your hands was stronger. You could always feel the staring, it was hard not to notice since he was always staring.

Even as you closed the door behind you, you could feel his stare burn into your back, then your face as you threw him a wave.

He sent a stiff one back, and disappeared into the back of his shop.

[icycoldninja]

I'm not sure if requests are open so if not feel free to skip!

Can you do the dmc boys barely saving their s/o before death? Good ol angst/comfort for both parties

They're open for the time being. Enjoy.

Saving Reader from death headcannons (Sparda boys + V x Reader)

Warning: injury, blood, near death experiences

¤ Dante ¤

-He'd made a mistake, taking you out on a mission with him. He knew he shouldn't have, but you were so eager to go and gung ho about ripping up demons, he just couldn't bring himself to crush your spirits.

-Almost as soon as you two arrived on scene, the demons fell upon you like hungry wolves to a piece of meat, mauling you, clawing at you, chewing on you, and more.

-It was lucky Dante had the reflexes he did, otherwise you would have been nothing but a bloody corpse. He'd managed to shoot the demons, knock them back, and otherwise incapacitate them enough for him to reach you.

-You were hurt, badly, but still alive. Forgetting all about the mission, Dante scooped you into his arms and carried you off to the nearest hospital, where, thankfully, the doctors were able to treat you.

-Dante spent the remainder of your recovery sitting by your bed, holding your hand with all his strength, constantly apologizing for being so stupid.

-"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I was an idiot to put you in danger like that, I-I should've known better. From now on, you're staying home, where it's safe, OK? I...don't ever wanna have to see you like this again."

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil knew demons would stoop to low, low methods to get what they wanted, but he didn't think they'd go so far as to track down where you lived and attack you in your own home.

-He'd received a phone call from you while on his way back from a mission. Expecting a loving greeting, Vergil was met with panicked screaming from the other end; you, begging for him to come home quickly because the demons had found you.

-Vergil wasted no time in portaling over, and not a moment too soon, for he'd found you cornered in the kitchen, a demon's scythe just centimeters from your throat.

-Thankfully, Vergil worked quickly and cut the demon down where it stood, preventing you from meeting what would have surely been a horrific demise.

-He was so worried and afraid about your safety, he didn't even flinch when you collapsed into his arms, weeping and wailing about how terrified you were.

-"It's alright, my dove. You are safe. I'm home. There are no more demons, not anymore. Shhh."

□ Nero □

-Nero had invited you to come with him on a quick, innocent trip to the store for groceries, thinking it'd be a great opportunity to just hang out together.

-He had absolutely no clue that demons would choose to attack the supermarket of all places on that specific day.

-The demons came in from all sides, quickly flooding the store with their ranks. In under 5 minutes, the little menaces had toppled shelving, collapsed light fixtures, rammed people with shopping carts, flung frozen food at everyone, and barricaded the doors with fallen vending machines. While Nero worked to clear an exit, the demons snuck up from above and caused a large, industrial lamp to fall from the ceiling. You were half crushed by the metal monstrosity before you even knew it.

-Nero couldn't control himself and Triggered right then and there, devoting all his attention to pulling you out of under the large light fixture. Once he'd done so, he blew open the wall using something or other and raced you to the hospital, returning to deal with the demons shortly afterward.

-He then came back to the hospital to find you alive, but in pretty bad condition, most of the bones in your legs, but thankfully not your back, having been cracked, at the very least. Nero spent the next few months of your recovery stationed in a chair by the door, head in his hands, blaming himself for not being able to save you from injury.

-"God, I'm such an asshole. I'm sorry, baby, I screwed up big time. I'm such a freaking loser. I should have been faster, shoulda followed my instincts and yanked you outta there earlier. Why the fuck didn't I do that? I suck."

● V ●

-You and V were simply enjoying a pure and romantic moonlit walk together in the city.

-Then the demons showed up out of literally nowhere, taking the both of you by surprise as they surrounded you, claws brandished and fangs gnashing.

-V summoned his familiars to dispatch them, but it wasn't enough. Some slipped through his already thin defenses and struck you with their bloodstained weaponry, inflicting countless wounds upon your body.

-V managed to kill them all off before they could kill you, but still, you were badly hurt, and if he didn't get you medical help now, you could die from your wounds.

-He did his best to get you to the nearest hospital despite his crumbling body, nearly passing out on the doorstep in the process. The doctors said they could save you, and for that, V was glad, but at the same time, he felt angry at himself for not being able to do more for you.

-"Alas, Wanderer, if only this body wasn't as fragile as paper mache. I sorely wish I were stronger, for if I wasn't so weak, I might've been able to save you. Please, forgive me."

[aqua-the-smiter]

@kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets Alright kids, ask and ye shall receive. NSFW under the cut Breeding kink, semi-public sex, ruining Roboute's hardwood table Lion El'Johnson x female reader. Getting down and dirty with you on one of his brother's library tables. How rude. Divider by the lovely @squishyowl

"What is someone catches us?" You whine quietly, trying to keep your voice down.

"They won't if you're quiet." Lion reassured you from between your legs with a purr, before shoving his tongue back between them

He was eating you out like a tiger licking the meat off a bone while you were spread like a banquet over a table in one of Roboute Guilliman's numerous libraries. And judging by the little noises he was making, thoroughly enjoying himself. Thankfully, Guilliman, Horus, Lorgar, and Vulkan were all chattering away in another room.

Not that you weren't either, if your issues with volume were anything to go by.

His behavior still caught you off guard sometimes. He had been so proper when he was courting you. So...chivalrous. It sounded silly, but that was truly the best word you could use for it. Chivalrous.

Maybe it was because you were a knight pilot. Your family's history with the machines went back millennia, and you were damn proud of it too. That might of been it. He had wanted you to see him as a gentleman while he tried to win your heart (and you his, truth be told), so he treated you like a lady. It looked good in front of your family too. Your father was a wonderful man, but you had been his only daughter in a sea of sons.

Lion hadn't been anything other than perfectly respectful, to both your family and you. Whenever the two of you met up he would get on one knee and kiss the back of your hand in greeting. He did his best to kneel down whenever you spoke to him as well. He would always walk you back home after an outing, and never pushed you for anything more than kissing while you were still dating.

Although he had been more than pleased to finally have you on your wedding night. And on one of his brother's tables.

He was no knight now, that's for sure. You could feel his tongue slithering between your legs, licking and pressing at just the right spot underneath all the folds to have you cumming over and over again. Like he was holding down a button inside of you. Leaving you and overstimulated, quivering mess, and him lapping up your fluids like a cat with stolen cream.

Then his tongue was abruptly replaced with something rather bigger, and it took all your willpower not to squeal.

You wrapped your thighs around his hips as he sheathed himself fully in your, stretching you open with his huge cock. You were more than wet enough to make up for any lack of lubrication on his end. Before you'd gotten with him you had seen some of the other Primarchs with their wives and wondered how in the world they bedded their husbands. What you didn't expect was getting your answer first hand.

With great enthusiasm.

Lion leaned over you, nestling his face between your neck and shoulder. Sinking his teeth into the tender flesh there. Your legs tightened around his hips, yours bucking up to meet his thrusts as he hilted himself in your slick cunt again.

You almost enjoyed the thought of someone catching you. Seeing how good Lion fucked you. How a primarch took his bride. "It's about time-" He whispered in your ear again. Holding your hips in a vice to his while he filled you up with his seed. "-that we started making cubs anyway."

"No time like the present?" You managed to slur out.

"Exactly."

[fnaflucasverse]

It's You, It's Me

YEAAAAAH faithfic finally!! set in fnaf2 pre-jeremy. a little exploration of faith's psyche and her sense of self. and lucas is there too

CW: depersonalization, child death, blood (via nosebleed). if i missed anything that needs a warning let me know!

It was 6:15AM, and Mikey should’ve been home by now, but Faith still kept staring at the face in the bathroom mirror, waiting for it to become her own. It didn’t change anything. Blue eyes still stared back out at her from the shadow cast by the buzzing, stark-white lightbulb. She could hear the tap running, feel cool water soothe battered knuckles, see hot breath fog up the glass as it loomed closer and closer. It all belonged to Mike, she told herself, shutting off the tap. She'd only borrowed his body to make sure he got through this night.

This body is not mine. This face is not mine.

And yet, as iciness soaked into Mike’s bones, Faith felt all its pain. Knuckles stinging with dozens of old fractures knitting together. A side aching with the strain of a pulled muscle. A heart pounded thickly in her chest, as a trembling, calloused hand reached up to the face reflected in the mirror, the face that wasn’t hers, touching cheeks roughened with stubble, a forehead pockmarked with old scars, a straight, wide nose nearly broken far too many times, full lips gone dry with the stress of the night.

This body is not mine. This face is not mine.

Faith found two rows of teeth, ran a finger across the edges of the incisors to the points of the canines to the grooves in the premolars, all the way to the back of the mouth where the molars nestled against invading wisdom teeth. Dragging the finger back along the smooth flesh of the gums, the ridged roof of the mouth, the soft and spongy tongue—Faith felt it all, all of it, every single piece.

This body is not mine. It has never been mine.

Faith gently brushed the dark circles under her eye, signs of the toll these double-shifts had taken on her, then pulled down her lower eyelid. The slip of underbelly was a stark pink against pale white; she peeled back her upper lid, and red spiderweb veins revealed themselves.

This face is not mine.

Should it be mine?

Baring its teeth, the face smiled at her. No, it felt hollow—it was hollow, as though if Faith were to reach into the mirror and tug at its skin, it would slough away, like the false fur of the animatronics she had just escaped, and reveal the cold skeleton underneath, pulsing with rotting meat. The ghost inside the machine.

The man on the phone had said—to Mike, really, but Faith heard it all the same—that when you were stuffed inside The Suit, crushed against the endoskeleton within, all that escaped was your oozing blood and your eyes and teeth popping out of the faceplate. Juice and seeds and rind of a human lemonade. What was it like, in those last moments? The man on the phone still called sometimes, phantom whispers on a disconnected line, but Faith had never before asked him how it felt to die. Maybe he didn't remember how it felt. Maybe he didn't remember what happened to him.

Faith didn't remember much about her own death, either. She remembered the Before: the yellow rabbit had served them a birthday cake, chocolate, slathered in vanilla buttercream. It slouched listlessly to the side; a pincushion of candles dripping wax onto the frosting. The others had scarfed down their slices and gone for seconds, but Faith sat picking and nibbling and picking at her cut. The taste dug itself into her mouth, gag-inducing sweetness trying to strangle the bitter flavor lying underneath.

She remembered the After: she was floating in front of Pirate's Cove, staring down at Mikey's limp body, life flowing and flowing out of him like a pirate ship ripped through by a cannonball, sinking beneath the waves. Somehow she knew she was already dead, and she'd have to watch her best friend die. It wasn't right, she wanted to scream. It wasn't fair!

She had to stop this.

She had to help him.

She had to save him.

In the end, the solution was so simple.

Two souls. One body. One face that stared at Faith from the mirror, with lifeless blue eyes.

Her body. Her face. Her eyes.

Her nose, leaking blood.

Wait, that wasn't supposed to happen.

Faith touched her lip where the blood dripped down. Her finger came away red.

Her blood.

Mikey's blood.

Oh, no.

Oh no, oh no, oh no—

Reeling in shock, Faith slammed against the flimsy bathroom stall door behind her which crashed deafeningly into the dividing wall. Blood splattered onto Mike's uniform, onto the floor in a dark trail. Wheezing, she clapped a hand to Mike's gushing nose; the other grabbed clumsily for toilet paper.

Were you supposed to look up or down? Faith tilted Mike's head back, shoving wads of paper up both nostrils, but it did very little to stop the blood dribbling down his chin, turning his shirt crimson. Knees buckling, Faith slumped onto the toilet seat, panting quick, uneven breaths. She could taste iron crawling down the back of Mike's throat.

She fought not to gag—

Footsteps pounded in the hallway outside. There was a worried shout—"Mike! You're still here?"—and then a tall man in a dark blue uniform burst into the bathroom. Lucas's head snapped left and right, scanning the area—

When he met Faith's frantic eyes, his own went wide.

"Faith! Are you okay?" Lucas sprung into action, hoisting to her feet and frog-marching her over to the sink. "Take those out," he ordered, picking the blood-soaked paper out of her nose and flinging them in the corner trash can. "Head down, over the sink—that's it."

Gripping the cold porcelain like a petulant toddler, Faith kept her gaze down, away from the mirror and firmly locked on the drain. Lucas whipped out a handkerchief, dampened it under the tap, and gently sponged Mike's face clean. He folded the cloth over and pressed it to Mike's nose: "Blow—hey! Gently! Gently. Good. Now, breathe slowly. Through your mouth. Do you feel light-headed?” Lucas fussed, patting Faith on the back; she shook her head. "Alright.”

They stood there, side by side, waiting for it to end. Lucas left the tap open to a trickle; clear water mixed with the stream from Mike’s nose, blooming in the basin like watercolor. Faith remembered—or was it Mike?—getting a set for her birthday, pans of cheap paint and a fraying brush and sheets of paper that pilled up with any small drop of water. Faith never had the chance to get good at it, but she’d never stopped trying.

The first thing she’d attempted was a self-portrait. All artists painted themselves, or so she was told—who had told her that? Faith had spent the afternoon squinting back and forth between the hall mirror and her canvas.

Whose face had she seen?

Plip, plop. Scarlet lines spiraled out from scarlet droplets. Faith watched them fade to dull pink.

And then it was over.

“There we go, all done,” Lucas announced, gently shaking her. “Everything’s alright now.”

But it wasn't alright! She didn't want this to happen in the first place! She didn't want to hurt Mikey! Faith just wanted—she was just—the face in the mirror—

As if sensing her anxiousness, Lucas's hand shifted to massaging in soothing circles. "Let’s just get you cleaned up. You two break anything?" he asked gently.

Faith didn't mean to possess Mike this long. She didn't even know it was possible. But her old friends had been so aggressive that night—and then it was 4AM, and the flashlight had run out of battery, and the next moment Foxy was sprinting down the hallway, teeth bared and gleaming—and Mikey needed her help—

He'd always needed her help.

Lucas would understand, right? She was just doing what she had to. Trembling, Faith raised both hands to show Mike's bruised knuckles.

Except now his hands were also sticky with blood, and his shirt was stained, and Mike was going to be so upset with himself, and Faith had messed it all up by staying here instead of sending him home like she was supposed to and—

Faith couldn't help it. She burst into tears.

"Woah, woah—" Alarmed, Lucas's hands flew away from her. "Faith… What's…?"

She wanted to hide her face—Mike's face in Mike's hands, Mike's voice choked up in gasps, Mike's shoulders wracked by sharp sobs—but she couldn't, not with his blood on her hands. Faith heaved breath after breath, lungs knotted, heart roaring in her ears.

"What—what color—are my eyes?" she pleaded. He had to know. He had to tell her.

Lucas pursed his lips. "What color do you think they are?"

"I don't—I don't know—" Faith gulped down air, suffocating. "Blue? I can see them right now; they're blue. But that's not right, is it? That's not even my face." She laughed suddenly, though for the life of her, she didn't know what was so funny. "What color were my eyes, Luke? My eyes, my real eyes—I don't remember. I don't—I don't remember what they looked like—I don't remember what my face looked like, and—and—"

Lucas hesitated, just for a heartbeat, and then his arms were wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest, cradling her head against his shoulder. He held her, saying nothing as she broke down and drenched his shirt in tears. He held her as she cried and cried until she didn't even remember what she was even crying for, only that she felt like she was going to fall apart, and Lucas was there and warm and safe.

And finally, when her sobs had dissolved into sniffles, Lucas asked, "You know how I can always tell it's you and not Mike?"

Faith shook her head, bone-tired.

"Let's see…" Lucas drummed his fingers. "You sit up straight, no matter what. You stand with your feet together like a V. And you don't clench your jaw like Mike does. When you smile, you always… crinkle your nose first, like you're not supposed to find something funny. You actually move your eyebrows a lot, did you know that? Especially when you're thinking."

He pulled away, gripping her by the arms and staring her dead in the eye. "That's you, Faith. That's what will always shine through, no matter what you look like," he affirmed. "And nothing will take that away from you. Got that?"

Faith looked down. Feet together, in a V.

She turned to look at herself, at Mike, at the both of them in the mirror. Took in the exhaustion on their face, their wary frown, their ruined uniform. But their back was drawn up straight and proud, undefeated despite everything.

Huh.

Faith clenched and unclenched their jaw. Moved their eyebrows up and down. Smiled—a little cautious, a little awkward, but a smile all the same.

Slowly, Faith nodded.

"And, by the way…," Lucas leaned in to whisper with a smile of his own. "Your eyes are brown."

[bprinny]

A member of the Aeskulap tribe, circa the birth of the Matriarch. A tribe of healers, they lived in the ruins of the 37th District Medical Industrial Complex, a name from before the Great Collapse that held no meaning to the people who found their way there nine thousand years later. The Aeskulap moved into the complex roughly 200 years before the Matriarch was born, occupying the area around the main entrance and much of the ground floor and basement levels. The leader of the tribe sacrificed himself to create a Meat Cave and the Aeskulap settled in for good. They brought with them carefully guarded medicinal plants grown in pots and dirt stolen or bartered from geodomes, and combined them with the cryo-locked supplies left over, plus knowledge gained from communing with the few remaining ghosts that wandered the halls. The tribe has a culture of healing, mending cut flesh and setting broken bones. Putting things right, even though they inevitably fall apart. A great many of their rituals are based around cleanliness, or trying to purify themselves, and much of the water they collect from rainfall goes into these rituals.

The Aeskulap are part of an ethnic group that are descended from the xenos that helped bring about the Great Collapse ten thousand years ago, when man and machine rose up against each other and brought upon the end of the world. Through means unknown, their bodies and souls were rent and twisted into the shape of men, and they lived alongside the survivors ever since.

The Zemlyauk tribe lived in the upper levels of the 37th District Medical Industrial Complex, and had moved in there before the Aeskulap had, though not by much. They take care of a geological mutation called "Mother's Hair", where long strands of a silk-like substance, not unlike human hair, grows out of vents, pipes, ceiling panels, faucets, and other similar geological features. The tribe harvests and cultivates this material for trade and makes most of their clothing from it. In addition, their hair grows a much faster rate than other people, so they use it as a clothing material as well. They are expert weavers, and take great pride in their handling and cultivation of a holy material. They can be quite standoffish in their dealings with the other tribes, but are dependent on them for trade and protection. The Zemlyauk may be rude, but are willing to cooperate to ensure the safety of their home. In Vechernaya's time, they are ruled by a cruel and bitter crone, older than anyone else in the complex, who wields family and tribal politics like a cudgel to get her way.

The Zemlyauk are part of an uncommon ethnic group that are noteworthy for having four eyes and fast growing hair of a variety of colors. A common mutation is extra arms, usually one or two additional pairs.

The Opiliones Tribe is the third of the three tribes that lives in the medical complex where Vechernaya lives, and is the most numerous. They lived there before either of the other two tribes, but mostly kept to what was once the custodial areas. They didn't realize the Zemlyauk had moved in until it was too late to force them out, but welcomed the Aeskulap in willingly, once one of the Aeskulap volunteered to sacrifice themselves to become a Cave Heart. The Opiliones traditionally got sustenance and resources by making a dangerous trek to a nearby Bone Forest to carefully saw down the trees there, then bringing them back to the medical complex. When the other two tribes moved in this task became easier, and even though this meant less resources for the rest of the tribe, they were willing to share. Aside from the bone forest, they also scavenge the ruins for any dead bodies, whether human or monster, and bring them back to be broken down for food and materials. They make use of scavenged supplies left over from some previous empire, either pre or post Collapse, it is not known.

The Opiliones ethnic group is fairly close to baseline humanity, with the only know variance being a commonality of height; almost all members of the tribe are at least 6 feet/1.8 meters tall. They are noted for having fair complexions and generally agreeable manners.

The fourth tribe are the Dorozvoin, a semi-nomadic tribe of raiders that occasionally harassed the tribes living in the medical complex. They made their way through the urban wastes in a convoy of pre and post collapse machines, mostly cars, bikes, and small walkers. They typically fight from their mounts using crossbows and pipe rifles built out of scrap. They have a very communal lifestyle and share belongings amongst their own tribe quite willingly. Although they have a much more antagonistic relationship with the other three tribes, even they have had some mutual cooperation in the past against greater outside threats. The tribal chieftain when Vechernaya started consolidating the tribes was a petty warlord who exiled his daughter after her mother died, and was thought of as a terror even among his own people. Vechernaya offered to let the Dorozvoin settle down in the medical complex as long as they agreed to become part of the greater state Vechernaya was building, but the tribal chief refused, so Vechernaya slew him, went out into the wastes to find his exiled daughter, and brought her back, adopting her and assimilating the Dorozvoin into her nation.

The Dorozvoin ethnic group, like the Opiliones, are essentially unchanged from baseline humanity, aside from the slight mutations caused from being born on Korsun. There are other tribes of their ethnic group living nearby, but the Dorozvoin tribe were the largest.

The Povonochnik tribe are the 5th tribe brought into Vechernaya's family, though not the 5th tribe assimilated into her empire. They lived in a section of the city a dozen floors below the medical complex where Vechernaya lived, though damage to the city and structures made it difficult for her to reach them easily. Vechernaya enlisted the aid of tribesmen to help her reach them, since making her way to the Povonochnik would have taken too long otherwise. She was first alerted to their presence when the protector AI that watches over the tribe reached out to her in her dreams. The Povonochnik are divided into two groups, artificially created synthetic humans (synners), and naturally born organic humans (apostics) that have been captured by the tribe and forced to undergo a medical procedure that assimilates them into the group mind of the tribe. It's not a proper hive mind, everyone retains their individuality, but thoughts can be freely shared among members of the tribe and emotions and physical sensations are very easily transferred between individuals based on proximity. The tribe communicates amongst themselves with this pseudo telepathy and mostly ignores outsiders if at all possible. They have access to advanced medical technology and stockpiles, but time has taken its toll on where they live. The tribe used to only be made up of synthetics, but failing manufacturing pods forced them to capture outsiders to try and keep their numbers up. Occasionally they will try and reproduce amongst themselves, but the implants that let them communicate with each other over long distances also transmit the pain of childbirth, meaning any members of the tribe near a woman from that tribe who is giving birth feel the same pain she does, which makes it taking care her and the child very difficult. One of the reasons the guardian AI reached out to Vechernaya was so that her people, who did not have the tribal implants, would assist in this manner, as well as providing the protection her empire could give them. The Povonochnik have not made themselves particularly welcome to the various tribes that live near them, and attempting to join Vechernaya's empire is a last ditch effort to keep from being wiped out by the enemies they've made.

The Povonochnik can grow their own clothing and food in repurposed manufacturing tanks, making them one of the few tribes with no concerns of resource shortages.

All members of the Povonochnik tribe, whether organic or synthetic, share a common physical attribute: A spinal implant, attached along the base of the neck to about half way down the spine. This biomechanical implant fuses with the hosts nervous system and grows along with the host, so it's easier and cheaper to do this when an individual is very young, or still gestating in the case of the synthetics. Synthetics are distinguished from the organic members of their tribe by the complete lack of melanin in their skin; they are as white as polished bone. They are androgynous, and it is difficult to distinguish male from female.

The Nikiburi tribe are one of the many nomadic groups that live on the great iron snakes that wind their way through the long and dusty tunnels that are carved through the Korsun megastructure, following an inscrutable schedule that only the metal beasts know. The Nikiburi snake brings them close to the medical complex that the Aeskulap live in, and the tribes have often traded goods with one another over the years. The Nikiburi have a special connection with Vechernaya, as it was a new mother among the Nikiburi who nursed Vechernaya after she was born, since her own mother had died giving birth to her.

The Nikiburi wanted to live in peace with their snake, but it was being possessed by a spirit that demands total obedience from them, lest it "revokes their ticket" and tosses them out the of the snake, often leaving the helpless victim stranded miles from any nearby tribe. So long as they abide by the rules of the spirit, it brings them back the snake's den, where it brings allows the snake to eat and drink from the vast stores of Pre-Collapse materials stored there. These stores are then "digested" by the snake so that the people living in it can eat them safely. It also replaces any lost or damaged clothes with Pre-Collapse clothes, affording the snake riders a level of comfort and safety that is extremely uncommon among Korsun...as long as they never leave the iron snake.

Vechernaya snuck aboard the Nikiburi snake to confront the spirit that were keeping them trapped there, to try and free the snake from its control. Riding the snake back to its den, she confronted the spirit and defeated it, forcing it back to its original, benevolent state, and allowing the Nikiburi to come and go from their snake as they please, though most preferred to stay on what they considered their home.

The Nikiburi had many stories about the different parts of Korsun they had seen, and knew much about the ways of maintaining the simpler machinery along the snake paths, including the great behemoths themselves. They are a tightknit, familial community, and open to outsiders, as long as the follow the rules and don't cause problems. Being assimilated into Vechernaya's empire didn't change much of their day to day life, aside from being able to leave their snake without fear of being abandoned.

Ethnically, they descend from the same people as Vechernaya's tribe, the Raatka. Very little surviving information about the xenos that came to be the Raatka exists, and what remains is shrouded in myth and hearsay. All that is known for sure is that they "moved like shadows", and were said to be possessed by a terrible hunger, which is what drove them to the surface and into contact with humanity.

The 7th tribe, the Kukarasu, were not a tribe at all, but thirteen outcast harpies that had wandered into the territory of Vechernaya's empire. Discovered by a scouting party, they were not hunted down but instead adopted by the Matriarch, with the youngest of their number being blessed with the blood of Vechernaya herself, becoming her daughter. They quickly became the fiercest and most loyal warriors in the Ossian empire, eager to prove that Vechernaya's mercy was not misplaced. Their numbers would explode in the years after their assimilation, and they would quickly become one of the most powerful of the royal houses.

Ossian harpies were used as a aerial scouting and harassment elements, with older harpies taking to the frontlines as heavy shock troops. Integration with the rest of society was difficult, as centuries of conflict and prejudice required a great deal of effort to overcome. Their position as part of the Matriarch's own family helped in this regard, but divisions in how to treat the bird women existed all the way up to the first Baptism War.

Harpies are considered baseline humans in the Ossian empire, despite their many physiological differences from the rest of humanity, and one of the biggest is that they do not experience senescence. Harpies get bigger and stronger as they age, leading to a host of logistical and housing issues as they simply grow out of clothes and living spaces. Harpies in the armed forces often require a second logistics chain of equipment specifically built to their body shape. This cost is usually considered a worthy investment, both for the physically prowess they bring, in addition to their ferocious loyalty to the state.

The 8th tribe were the Exomortis, and they put up the fiercest resistance to Vechernaya's dominion. The Exomortis were the closest to being a proper state in the city district where Vechernaya lived,  and conflicts between the two groups were common. The Exomortis had a heritage dating back to the Wars of the Singing Flesh, when the Temple Builders (the male psychic counterparts to the female Dream Eaters) tried to seize control of the planet by turning people into mutated horrors. The tribe are descendants of some who actively fought in those wars, and are prepared to fight against any who attempt to disrupt the social order, particularly those who use magic or psychic powers. It didn't take long for news of what Vechernaya was doing to reach their ears. At first they did nothing, for they assumed that the gods living in the steel ring that stretched across the sky would punish her with fire from the stars for daring to unite the tribes, as had happened with many people before her. As her nation grew larger and larger and swallowed up more and more territory, they began to worry about being taken over themselves. The final straw was when Vechernaya began intentionally creating more Dream Eaters. They mobilized their people to try and stop her, but by that point it was too late and her nation was far larger and more organized than they were. Vechernaya had to personally slay their chief in battle, and completely surround the building the Exomortis lived in, before any attempts at diplomacy could be made. They were fiercely independent and proud, but they had to be brought into the empire.

The Exomortis took their name from the suits of armor they wore fashioned from the bodies of fallen Machine Life that dated back to the Great Collapse. The armor may have been 10,000 years old, but it was made in a different time, from the height of mankind's power, and still held up as being some of the strongest materials you could make something out of.

(Artwork by @manya_tai, go commission her!)

[fieldsofview]

Spider-Man: Homesickness Ch 16 OUT NOW!!

Rated M | 20 Chapters | CW: Graphic Depictions of Violence | Five years after No Way Home The week that Peter finally learns to let people in again, despite kicking and screaming the whole way

Chapter 16 Teaser! I'm so excited this chapter is out now, it's one of my favorites.

READ ON AO3 HERE

(MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 16 BELOW THE CUT)

He’s always known that the spell is only buying him time. Someday, he’ll slip up. He’ll make one too many mistakes. And then, the world will know. Again.

He just needs to make sure that no one gets caught in the crossfire.

So, if this is it, well-

She’s more important.

He catches Mary’s eyes again, still watching him with that expression he can’t place.

Breathing deep, he steadies himself, readying to make a break for it.

Dimly, behind him, rattling metal wheels and several pairs of heavy footsteps careen through the busted doors and across the crackling broken glass. There’s shouting, counting, beeping, and some kind of machinery wheezing air.

Officer Darren’s grip on his wrists slackens and Peter uses the distraction to slide sideways and duck out of his grasp. Turning, he deftly dodges Darren’s swipe at his arm and comes face to face with several EMTs carting out a dark-haired man on a rolling gurney, oxygen machine and who knows what else attached and wired on.

Peter sidesteps, half pirouetting to avoid colliding with any of the EMTs, and starts for the doors, ignoring the officers’ shouts behind him.

He barely takes his first step before someone walks through the door, several paces behind the EMTs.

MJ.

Relief floods through him at the sight of her, melting the tension from his bones.

She’s okay. She’s alive.

Numbly, she takes barely a step past the threshold and falls to her knees, face blank, collapsing in on herself.

He sprints the remaining distance and slides to his knees next to her, uncaring of the biting shards of glass. He folds himself around her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and tucking his face into her neck, clutching as tightly as he dares allow himself to. Her weight leans into him, limp, and she lets her forehead fall to his shoulder with a thud and tucks her chin to her chest.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay,” he repeats into her hairline like a prayer.

She lets out a long shaky breath, rattling and damp in the small pocket of air between their collar bones.

“Fuck, I- I thought- I thought- I thought I lost you again. I just got you back and- and I thought I lost you. But-” He sucks in his own shaky breath and huffs a small almost-laugh. “You’re here, you’re fine, you’re okay. I- I can’t-”

Stiffly, her fingers drag up his back and twist in the fabric of his shirt as she presses closer to him. The bridge of her nose is buried so deep into the meat of his shoulder that it must hurt, but he doesn’t care and she doesn’t relent. Her shoulders shake and he clutches tighter. Another long breath, choked at the end.

“MJ, you- you can’t do that again. I- I- fuck, I can’t. I can’t take it. You scared the shit out of me. I just got you back and I thought- I don’t know what I thought.”

She mumbles into the fabric of his shirt, barely audible even to Peter, “I just kept going. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know. I just kept going and going and going and going and-”

“MJ.”

She sucks in another rattling breath, whistling through her teeth, and her whole body trembles in his arms.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re out. You’re safe. You’re here.” He presses a kiss to the closest spot he can reach, barely tilting his face to meet her hairline just above her ear. “Talk to me, MJ. What happened?”

[tma-entity-song-poll]

Battle of the Fear Bands B3R3: The Flesh

Skeleton Appreciation Day in Vestal, NY:

"bones bones bones! let me see your bones!"

An Interlace of Bones:

Lyrics below the line!

Skeleton Appreciation Day in Vestal, NY:

To cut down on my silhouette My favorite foods are smoke and hearts My leftover frets forget stiletto-self vendettas While my cracking backbone lacks but backs up my false starts All nightmares start as dreams and I hear my subconscious screaming They say that beauty's just skin deep So naturally, please show me your Bones, bones, bones, let me see your bones Well, I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home Bones, bones, bones, hell, we're all alone If I come home, baby, will you show your bones? Lumps in throats and petticoats Your baby teeth would pray for you A selfish book is always open and some of the best liars only want the truth All love starts as a scheme So wake me up, I'm tired of sleeping They say that beauty's just skin deep So obviously please show me your Bones, bones, bones, let me see your bones Well, I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home Bones, bones, bones, hell, we're all alone If I come home, baby, will you show your bones? All nightmares start as dreams, all love starts as a scheme Give me all your LSD so I can feel my mind unweave again They say that beauty's just skin deep So Ana stands and rends the rancid meat from her Bones, bones, bones, I can see my bones Well I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home Bones, bones, bones, hell, we're all alone If I come home, baby, will you show your bones? My bones, your bones Tell me you can see my bones My bones, your bones Tell me you can see them

An Interlace of Bones:

Take my flesh and shake it out Put it in the washing machine My heart is drying on the line While my skin is spinning clean Skeletons are hard to sleep with Bones are all that we have left Shin bones, pelvis, heavy femurs The chuckle of your fingers leaves me bereft I feel the cutting of your cheekbones On the temple of my skull The empty space of unlocked ribcage Once our hearts had made so full And in the morning we'll wake early Leave the curtains closed again Slowly wrap our muscles round our bones We'll take our organs from the wash Freshly laundered, clean as new And carefully replace them in their hollows Because this night will be our last We felt the need to wash the marks Of all the secrets shared together From our bodies and our hearts The teeth-bite bruise on lips and necks The sharp caress on shivering limbs If left too long after we're gone Would fray the fabric of our skin And in the morning we'll wake early Dress our skeletons again Trying not to catch each other's eye We'll smooth out wrinkles, settle seams Rewire our newly polished veins Cause we've already said our last goodbyes Over and again, over and again, over and again I'm just a bag of bones now Over and again, over and again, over and again I don't want you to go now Over and again, over and again, over and again You say it's better this way Over and again, over and again, over and again I'm just a bag of bones now Our memories of love are washed out, we're strangers now (Our skeletons remember) Lace and tie and zip our flesh back into place (Even if our love is over) Put on our clothes (I don't want you to go now) Open the door (You say it's better this way) Sharing secrets no more (I don't want you to leave me) I'd rather keep these memories instead of being clean and empty When we're clean and finally spotless, I give you one last kiss There's nothing, no response From the clean, soft flesh that used to be your lips

[kcyars19992]

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10 CRIMINALLY UNDERRATED RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE SONGS

photograph by Lindsay Brice/Getty Images

Follow Rage Against the Machi… 

on Bandsintown 

text ELI ENIS

July 11, 2022 

Rage Against the Machine don't have a bad song to speak of. Throughout their four-album catalog — including 2000 covers record, Renegades — the band's winning formula of righteous, riff-slingin' rap-metal and bird-flippin' attitude aimed toward the powers that be hasn't yielded a single cut that truly feels underwhelming. Still, there're definitely several that don't get their deserved amount of time in the spotlight.

Beyond "Bulls on Parade" and "Killing in the Name," these are 10 incredible, catchy, hard-hitting, lyrically nourishing Rage anthemsthat feel criminally underrated within the general discourse about this iconic band.

"Fistful of Steel"

Rage Against the Machine's 1992 debut is their most universally beloved release, so there aren't too many songs on this front-to-back masterpiece that truly don't get their shine. "Fistful of Steel," however, is one that gets sometimes lost in the outstanding shuffle. It doesn't have a signature one-liner or an animalistic breakdown — just a great riff with plenty of meat on its bones and a groove that swings like a pickaxe hitting cold, hard dirt. 

"Township Rebellilon"

"Township Rebellion" is another overlooked deep cut from their self-titled album that's every bit as heavy and incisive as the celebrated bangers that precede it. Its instructive refrain — "Why stand on a silent platform?/Fight the war, fuck the norm" — is a salient retort to anyone who questions the band's productive feistiness. And that screamed climax is chilling. 

"Down Rodeo"

Rage's second album, 1996's Evil Empire, boasts one of their most iconic anthems, "Bulls on Parade," but overall, the record is less immediate and more cerebral than their debut, with instrumentation that's built to serve de la Rocha's increasingly dense rapping, and therefore features less of Morello's hard-rock riffing. It can get glossed over for that reason, which is unfair to a funky all-timer like "Down Rodeo," featuring what's perhaps de la Rocha's deepest-cutting lyric — "These people ain't seen a brown-skin man since their grandparents bought one." 

"Wind Below"

"Wind Below" is an even more criminally overlooked piece of gold from Evil Empire. Morello's ringing lick sounds like John Carpenter murder scene music, while Tim Commerford's bassline sounds aqueous, bubbly and melt-in-your-speakers sexy. Of course, de la Rocha is up there rapping presciently about trade deals that fucked over workers and calling out corporations like "ABC's new thrill rides of trials and lies." 

"No Shelter"

Beyond being a kickass song that sits nicely between the elastic funk of Evil Empire and the hair-whipping rock of the Ballad of Los Angeles, "No Shelter" might be the greatest protest maneuver the band have ever pulled off. It was written for the soundtrack of the 1998 Godzilla film, but rather than submitting a vapid banger to soundtrack reptilian carnage, the track is a vicious takedown of corporate cinema, decrying "the thin line between entertainment and war" and even going so far as to call out the film cutting the check — "Godzilla, pure mothafuckin' filler/To keep ya eyes off the real killer." Righteous.

"Born of a Broken Man" 

On 1999's the Battle of Los Angeles, Rage's third and final album of original material, they leaned into many of the more accessible hard-rock elements of their debut, penning stadium-ready rippers like "Guerilla Radio" and "Sleep Now in the Fire" that understandably became fan favorites. "Born of a Broken Man" should be, too. The way de la Rocha's whispery verses explode into full-throated yells when the main riff detonates is utterly thrilling, and the dynamics of this song overall are some of their most subtle and musically rewarding. 

"New Millenium Homes" 

With a front half as energetic and anthemic as the Battle of Los Angeles', it's no wonder that the album's more subdued side B gets overlooked in the grand scheme of their catalog. That's too bad, because a track like "New Millennium Homes" has the funky-ass riff, catchy-ass delivery, and incendiary lyrics — "Violence in all hands/Embrace it if need be" — to compete with the likes of "Testify" and "Know Your Enemy." 

"Ashes in the Fall"

The next song on Battle might be even better. The freaky delay on Morello's squeaky lick gives it a psychedelic, alien-like effect, and the drumming has a jazzy freeness to it that isn't common in Rage songs of this era. Morello goes full Hendrix as the song builds with a jittery unpredictability, and de la Rocha offers up hip-hop meta-ness with his repetition of, "This is the new sound/Just like the old sound." It's a bit experimental, and it pays off. 

"Street Fighting Man"

While Rage Against the Machine and the Rolling Stones certainly emanate similar levels of swagger and have a shared love of the blues, the former were always more interested in providing a soundtrack for property destruction than the sex-and-drug-filled parties of the latter. Therefore, it was the Stones' protest jam, "Street Fighting Man," that Rage gravitated to for Renegades. Of all the heavy transformations on the covers LP, the band are content to just boogie here, resulting in one of their most purely fun rippers.

"Darkness"

Before Rage Against the Machine reworked and re-recorded it for the soundtrack to Nineties goth touchstone The Crow, "Darkness" was known as "Darkness of Greed" and appeared on the L.A. political firebrands' 1991 demo tape. But even before that, it was played live in a rawer, more uptempo form by de la Rocha's O.C. hardcore-punk band Inside Out. While still characteristically scathing and seething, Rage's version features a uniquely mellow and jazzy verse instrumentation, making for a true standout.

Rage Against the Machine

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[totallynotsilversora]

I said a small bit of it on Twitter but trust me it gets even better:

The reason Cook and his men get wrecked during this third visit is because when they first visited it was during the Makahiki season aka harvest season which meant NO THROWING HANDS AT ALL and you better be nice to everyone or the gods smite you (also aside from it being considered a sacred time you also need all the men you can get when it comes to harvesting so best not to kill anyone).

Anyways Cook and his crew coming in during Makahiki made them appearing to be gods all the more viable, but ofc not everyone was fooled.

Especially this random seven some odd feet tall dude named Kamehameha.

Yes, that one. The Great is in there for a reason.

See Hawaiians may not have had much contact with foreign caucasians but they weren’t stupid by any means, especially war strategist extraordinaire and head general Kamehameha. Surprisingly, neither was Cook, who explored the seas and encountered numerous Pasifika on his journey. So when Kamehameha offers to trade his long feather cape (remember: roughly seven feet tall dude) for some metal knives the crew had on the ship (found by his men who were definitely not stealing shit no sir teehee), Cook knew damn well not to say no because that’s considered rude.

So Cook gives Kamehameha the knives and he gets a sweet looking souvenir for England.

And then when they try to make their way back, a storm hits.

Cook and his men are forced to turn back around to Hawaii and resupply from the storm before trying to make it back home. Naturally, they expected the same warm welcome that they had the first visit because there’s no reason why they shouldn’t.

Except there was.

Makahiki was over.

And it’s time to cook some meat.

Cook and his men land right where Kamehameha and his men were waiting for them, brandishing some sick knives, and a brawl ensues. Mind you Kamehameha may have been a little over seven feet tall, but his men weren’t lacking either. All of them were lean mean fighting machines and Kamehameha happened to be the best out of all of them. The crew wasn’t just dealing with random people, they’re fighting the Polynesian equivalent of a Berserker except these Berserkers were trained in the art of breaking bones and cutting off nerves with their bare hands.

And they all have knives.

The second one of the Hawaiians saw a crew member drop blood on the sand (something gods shouldn’t be able to do) it was wraps for all of them. Cook and his men didn’t just get cleared, they got annihilated on that beach.

Moral of the story: never stay at someone else’s house for too long.

Especially not a native one.

Happy Valentine’s Day! 💖

Edit: Completely forgot to mention that on his second visit he attempted to kidnap Kamehameha’s boss aka the aliʻi who are considered sacred so yeah do with that what you will.

[two-oaks-farmstead]

Why a Well-Organized Kitchen and Pantry is Essential for Homesteaders A well-organized kitchen and pantry makes life easier. A well-organized kitchen and pantry are not just nice-to-haves for homesteaders; they are essential for maximizing the benefits of your homestead lifestyle! Imagine stepping into your homestead kitchen, where everything is in its rightful place, and you can easily access your homegrown ingredients. This organization transforms cooking from a chore into a joyful experience! With efficient cooking at the forefront, an organized kitchen and pantry allows you to whip up delicious meals using fresh produce straight from your garden. No more rummaging through cluttered cabinets or searching for that elusive jar of homemade tomato sauce—everything is right where it should be! Moreover, pantry organization plays a crucial role in food preservation. When you have a system in place, it's easier to track what you've canned or stored away, ensuring nothing goes to waste. This not only saves you time but also helps maximize the fruits of your labor throughout the year. In short, embracing kitchen and pantry organization unlocks a world of homesteading benefits that enhance both your culinary adventures and overall self-sufficiency! So roll up those sleeves and get ready to transform your kitchen and pantry into an efficient haven that celebrates all things homegrown! Essential Tools and Equipment for Your Homestead Kitchen and Pantry Creating a homestead kitchen is an exciting journey filled with opportunities for culinary creativity and self-sufficiency! To truly thrive in this space, having the right kitchen essentials is key. Let’s dive into some must-have gadgets and equipment that will elevate your cooking experience and make your homesteading endeavors a breeze! First up, let’s talk about cooking equipment. A sturdy cast iron skillet is an absolute game-changer—it’s perfect for everything from frying up fresh vegetables to baking cornbread! Pair it with a reliable Dutch oven for those hearty stews or roasts that warm the soul. Now, if you’re venturing into butchering your own livestock on your homestead, having the right butchering equipment is essential. A set of sharp boning knives and a sturdy cutting board are must-haves for any aspiring homesteader looking to process their own meat. These tools not only enhance safety but also ensure precision in your work. And don't forget meat processing equipment. There are large machines you can purchase for that purpose or you could get the meat grinding attachment for your Kitchenaid mixer. (Which, in my book, is also a must have for every kitchen!) **Check out my posts and videos on home butchering. Magnificent Meat Tenderizer for KitchenAid Mixer – Review, Simplified Butchering and Processing at Home – *Pics & Video, Badass Bacon -How to Process and Cure Bacon at Home, Grinding Meat the Easy Way, Master How to Butcher and Process Farm Raised Chicken – Quick! And don’t forget about your kitchen supplies! Stocking up on glass jars for preserving and fermenting will keep your pantry brimming with delicious homemade goodies year-round. Plus, investing in high-quality food storage containers can help keep everything organized and fresh. With these essential tools at your disposal, you’ll be well on your way to mastering the art of homesteading in the kitchen. Get ready to whip up some incredible meals while enjoying the satisfaction that comes from using tools designed for self-sufficiency! Happy cooking! Cultivating a Seasonal Pantry: Stocking Up on Preserves and Staples Cultivating a seasonal pantry is not just a trend; it's a delightful adventure that brings the flavors of each season right to your kitchen! Imagine the joy of savoring summer’s ripe tomatoes or fall’s crisp apples long after their peak season has passed. By stocking up on preserves and staples, you can elevate your meals with vibrant, homemade ingredients all year round! Let’s dive into some fantastic food preservation techniques! Canning is a classic method that allows you to capture the essence of seasonal foods in jars. Whether you're pickling cucumbers or making luscious jams, mastering canning tips will ensure your preserves are safe and delicious. Don't forget about freezing – it’s an excellent way to keep fruits and veggies fresh for months! As you embark on this journey, think about stocking pantry staples like grains, legumes, and spices that complement your homemade preserves. With these essentials on hand, you'll be ready to whip up hearty meals with ease! So grab those mason jars and get ready to create a pantry filled with love, flavor, and the spirit of each season! Organizing Your Pantry: Tips to Maximize Space & Efficiency Are you ready to transform your pantry into a model of organization and efficiency? Let’s dive into some exciting pantry storage solutions that will revolutionize the way you store and access your food! First up, organization tips are essential for creating a functional space. Start by decluttering—get rid of expired items and anything you no longer use. This creates a clean slate for your new layout! Next, let’s talk about space-saving ideas! Utilize vertical space with stackable bins or shelves to maximize every inch. Consider investing in clear containers so you can easily see what you have at a glance. And don’t forget about the power of labeling systems! Labeling not only helps you find things quickly but also keeps everything in its designated spot. Lastly, think creatively about your pantry layout ideas. Arrange items by category—snacks on one shelf, baking supplies on another—to streamline your cooking process. With these tips, you'll be well on your way to an organized kitchen and pantry that not only looks great but also makes meal prep a breeze! Get ready to enjoy cooking like never before! Culinary Creativity: Recipes to Try with Your Homestead Ingredients! Get ready to unleash your culinary creativity with some fantastic homesteading recipes that will elevate your farm-to-table cooking game! There's nothing quite like the satisfaction of transforming fresh ingredients from your own garden or local farm into delicious meals. Whether you’re a seasoned chef or just starting out, seek out simple recipes that will inspire you to dive into the kitchen and whip up something extraordinary! Imagine plucking ripe tomatoes straight from the vine and turning them into a vibrant salsa that bursts with flavor. Or how about sautéing freshly harvested greens in olive oil, adding a sprinkle of garlic, and serving them as a delightful side dish? The possibilities are endless when you embrace the bounty of your homestead! One easy recipe to try is a hearty vegetable soup. Simply chop up whatever fresh veggies you have on hand—carrots, zucchini, and potatoes work beautifully—and simmer them in vegetable broth with herbs from your garden. It's nutritious, comforting, and perfect for using up those seasonal ingredients. So grab your apron and get cooking! With the right homesteading recipes at your fingertips, you'll not only savor every bite but also celebrate the joy of using fresh ingredients that you've nurtured yourself. Happy cooking! Sustaining Your Kitchen and Pantry Throughout the Year: Maintenance & Planning Tips Sustaining your kitchen and pantry throughout the year is all about embracing the rhythm of the seasons and keeping your pantry vibrant and fresh! Let’s dive into some exciting tips that will elevate your cooking game and ensure you’re ready for every culinary adventure! First up, year-round meal planning is your best friend! By mapping out meals based on seasonal ingredients, you can not only save time but also enjoy the freshest flavors. Think about incorporating hearty root vegetables in winter, vibrant greens in spring, juicy tomatoes in summer, and cozy squashes in fall. This approach not only keeps things interesting but also helps you make the most of what each season has to offer! Next, let’s talk about seasonal cooking adjustments. As the seasons change, so should your recipes! Embrace lighter dishes during warmer months and hearty casseroles when it’s chilly outside. This keeps your meals exciting and ensures you're always aligned with what's fresh at any given time. Finally, maintaining freshness in your pantry is crucial for sustaining a delightful cooking experience all year long. Regularly check expiration dates, rotate older items to the front, and stock up on versatile staples like grains and legumes that work well across various cuisines. Keeping a well-organized pantry means you'll always be ready to whip up something delicious! So gear up for a fantastic culinary journey this year! With these tips at hand, you'll sustain not just your kitchen and pantry but also your passion for cooking as you explore new flavors throughout every season! Conclusion: Get Inspired and Start Setting Up Your Perfect Homestead Kitchen and Pantry Today! MORE WAYS TO CONNECT We also, as a homesteading family, have a variety of blogs that might interest you. A Life on the Farm focuses on the more personal side of the homesteading life. We discuss subjects like family, parenting, relationships, homeschooling, cooking, canning and so much more. Two Oaks Farm Talk concerns the more technical side of homesteading. We discuss subjects like gardening, food prep, and farm building and construction with lots of tutorials! Farm Raised Family is basically a hub for everything under the Two Oaks Farmstead umbrella. You can learn a great deal about all parts of the farmstead there. The Farm Raised Family blog focuses on financial matters such as budgeting, saving, and more and on current events affecting families. You can also have a more in depth look at all that we do by visiting our Two Oaks Farmstead YouTube Channel and be sure to subscribe so that you don’t miss a thing! Farm Life and Freedom is the new podcast we are in the process of launching! It is going to be so much fun! You could also check in with our Farm Life and Freedom Youtube Channel. Two Oaks Farmstead is the farm store… the one that holds the umbrella! Check us all out and join us, not only on our blogs and Farm Life and Freedom podcast but come join the fun on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter… wherever you get social! Read the full article

[zenkor123]

Preface to "After the end"

Pt 1 The End of Peeta

Katniss Everdeen, Victor, prostitute, hunter electrified the nation. For the references to the games my memory is unreliable so I am basing it pn the video footage but it lacks in comparison to a memory. Even then I have so many questions that only memories of Peeta or the other participants could answer. A memory contains the sensations, perceptions, the behind the scenes, motivations, that videos just can't cover. Peeta had lived a terrible life prior under an abusive mother named Myrna Mellark. She made me beg for meals, beat me, she broke young peeta's will and dignity. When Peeta was reaped he wanted redemption from this, he was long infatuated with the not single local prostitute Katniss Everdeen and it was a peace of luck that his "salvation" would be bringing her home. Peeta had bought into the normalization of rape and felt entitled to Katniss's affections this led to hate and conflict only tempered by cold mutual interests. When Katniss fired the bow to destroy the arena I was looking for tributes to kill. As the arena collapsed I was hiding but was captured by Snow’s men. The white imp wanted revenge for the berries which had deprived him of a good show that he had looked forward to. He long had a torture chamber with bones that are clearly decades old. Snow also wanted information about the rebels plan that Peeta didn't have.

With the berries Alma Coin together with a Panem wide network of rebels brought about the reaping of the victors so that Snow's false power could be shattered but I knew nothing of this. Peeta was initially resentful that he had not been told of the plan, but I now feel that even my mutation devoured capital resources and in a way Peeta by holding out for so long died for the rebellion. Snow to intimidate the capital ordered the murder of thousands of avoxes, he had us watch what must have been thousands of deaths. Men from the presidential guard, no ordinary snowmen led our physical torture. The presidential guard are selected from birth from district 2 and castrated to serve their master, they speak in sign language becuase their voice is the voice of the president . They fed us small amounts of the meat of murdered avoxes for food and put us into torture machines. Snow spent hours watching and ate with his advisors in the Same room where we were being tortured. Snow was sexually aroused by the torture and I saw the old fart masterbate. Snow also took part in the torture himself with the giddiness of a demented child. He hit me with his cane and attached blades to his nails and cut open by back with his back scratches, the tormentors stiched Peeta’s back afterwards to prevent my premature death. Snow sometimes was at the control panel overseeing the smallest detail of my torture.

The only thing that prevented my execution was Peeta, ever the snake charmer telling lies about rhe rebel plan, our use in the propos(I looked tortured in those propos so it is unclear who exactly they persuaded), my status as a victor, and the joy of torturing me. 'Doctor' Jones came up with a new plan , he assessed that beneath my innocent exterior I was a killer and believed that my physical strength would make me a great assassin mutt. Annie Cresta was also selected for mutation, while Johanna had no personal ties to exploit and still had a great deal of information that she stubbornly held on to. Without anesthetia we recieved surgery to make sure that the massive amount of jacker venom would not kill us. Then they began showing us obvious fabrications that our brains no matter the pain could not accept as true, even if our guts betrayed us. We knew why this was shown to us and quite simply did not believe them. For 2 weeks this continued and Snow tried to sexually traffic us like he did to Finnick, all he got were several dead bodies of our would be clients.

The procedure was expensive and commanders complained about the drain on resources but snow wanted a good show. As we were being tortured when snow wasn't aroused he would put on the TV and watch past hunger games including the 10th hunger games. He watched the 10th hunger games at least 10 times. Well back to this preface, he has an obsession with proving that humanity is as evil as he is and even the fake star crossed lovers was too tender for him. He wanted to see me kill Katniss so the mutation intensified but I rationally could not believe the silly nonsense so it didn't work no matter how blue my skin became even if my gut believed it. Seeing that it was not working Snow summoned his advisors, Dr Jones said that it takes 6 months to complete, Snow complained that he said it would take a week and he didn't have 6 months. Some suggested shutting down the mutation attempt but snow shot it down. Another doctor suggested giving me and Annie a pill to scramble our neurons and neuronal pathways. There was concern raised by Dr Jones that the pill would render me brain dead but that was a risk Snow was willing to take. He would give me the pill first then Annie in the following month. The pill looked like a marble upon being forced fed it I first felt numb then my memories began leaving me this lasted for days. I felt like I was on fire and all I could focus on was the pain and I forgot even my name. But my brain recovered only a tiny bit enough to remember my name and all the capital fabrications which replaced my lost memories. Nothing remained but a pathological, obsessive mechanical drive to murder the Mockingjay. The rescue by 13 came too late and this was the end of Peeta Mellark.

[chefrollbag]

Can Ceramic Knives Be Sharpened?

Ceramic knives are relatively new to the knife industry, especially when compared to steel blades. However, the material used in their production, zirconium ceramics, has been well-known in other industries for a long time. One of its primary features is the ability to maintain its properties at high temperatures. Zirconium ceramics have been used in aerospace as thermal coatings. Its chemical inertness and color stability also make it suitable for dental implants.

To answer the question of whether ceramic knives can be sharpened, it’s essential to understand how zirconium ceramics are produced. The process begins with the purification of natural zircon ore to obtain zirconium dioxide. To increase the material's strength, yttrium oxide and other compounds are added. The mixture is molded and fired in kilns at extremely high temperatures, up to 1500°C. Afterward, the blanks are ground, shaped into blades, and fitted with handles made of ABS plastic. The final sharpening is done using diamond-coated wheels spinning at up to 3000 revolutions per minute.

Now, let's list the main features of ceramic knives compared to steel ones:

Extreme hardness: 8.2–8.7 on the Mohs scale (diamond is 10).

Lack of flexibility: The blade is hard but brittle, and it may crack or break under heavy pressure.

Razor-sharp edge: Retains sharpness for extended periods.

Chemical inertness: Doesn’t react with food acids or affect flavor.

Lightweight: Blades usually do not exceed 18 cm in length.

Large sharpening angle: Typically around 40 degrees.

Specific usage: Designed for cutting soft foods like fruits, vegetables, cheese, and cooked meats.

Hygienic properties: The blade doesn’t rust, oxidize, or absorb odors.

The high hardness of ceramic provides excellent cutting quality but also makes the blade prone to chips and cracks. This fragile tool requires careful handling, and the blade can even break if dropped. Ceramic knives should not be used to cut very hard foods like frozen items, bones, or products with pits.

HOW TO SHARPEN CERAMIC KNIVES — KEY CONSIDERATIONS

Given the characteristics of zirconium ceramic blades, the question arises: can ceramic knives be sharpened? These knives maintain their sharpness for months or even years, but eventually, they will dull. The best option is to take them to a professional who can sharpen them using specialized equipment. However, if that’s not possible, you can sharpen the blade at home, but it will require the right tools and careful technique. Below are some methods for sharpening ceramic knives at home.

DIAMOND-COATED SHARPENER

Not all sharpeners are suitable for ceramic knives. Regular whetstones won’t work, and you could wear them down without sharpening the blade. Only diamond abrasives are hard enough to sharpen ceramic knives. Some sharpeners can also be used for steel knives, but you must be cautious, as the diamond coating can easily scratch softer steel blades, making them duller. Ceramic blades require an abrasive harder than the ceramic itself for sharpening.

Diamond-coated sharpeners come in two types:

Manual: More affordable but require effort.

Electric: More efficient and can sharpen a ceramic knife in seconds.

HONING ROD (MUSSAT)

A honing rod with diamond coating can help maintain the edge of a ceramic knife, though it won't restore sharpness to a dull blade. By carefully moving the blade along the rod, from base to tip, you can preserve the integrity of the edge.

MANUAL SHARPENER

This tool usually has diamond-coated discs and a slot for the blade. You insert the knife and move it back and forth. The process can take several minutes and may require some force.

ELECTRIC SHARPENER

An electric sharpener operates similarly to a manual one but doesn’t require physical effort. The diamond-coated discs spin automatically, sharpening the blade in seconds. These sharpeners are more expensive but are quick and efficient.

SHARPENING MACHINE

Professional sharpening machines are more complex. They use two diamond-coated wheels: one with coarse grit (around 80 microns) for initial sharpening, and one with finer grit (around 40 microns) for finishing. The knife must be pressed lightly against the wheel at a consistent angle (typically 40 degrees, but no less than 25). Incorrect angles or too much pressure can damage the blade, which is why this method requires skill and access to industrial equipment.

DIAMOND PASTE

Some experts use diamond paste for final polishing. The paste contains fine abrasive particles (up to 5 microns) and is applied to a piece of cardboard or leather. The blade is then polished by hand, which is a time-consuming process.

Ceramic knives are fragile and require careful handling, but they also offer many advantages over steel counterparts. When used correctly, they stay sharp for long periods and rarely need sharpening. If they do dull, there are several ways to restore their edge, either at home or professionally.

Just finished reading about essential kitchen tools? Now make sure your gear is stored in style! Visit our shop for handcrafted leather bags designed for chefs and bartenders. Keep your tools safe and organized—shop now!

[brothes]

The Ultimate Guide to Meat Bone Cutter Machines: Efficiency and Precision for Every Butcher

In the world of butchery, the right tools can make all the difference. Among these essential tools, the meat bone cutter machine stands out for its ability to effortlessly slice through bones and tough meat, ensuring precise cuts and enhancing productivity. Whether you are a professional butcher, a meat processing plant owner, or an avid home cook, understanding the benefits and features of Meat Bone Cutter Machines can help you make an informed decision when choosing the right equipment for your needs.

What is a Meat Bone Cutter Machine? A meat bone cutter machine, also known as a bone saw or bone cutter, is a specialized device designed to cut through bones and hard meat with ease. Unlike traditional knives, these machines offer precision and power, making them indispensable in environments where large quantities of meat are processed. They come in various sizes and configurations, from smaller, manual models suitable for home use to large, industrial-grade machines for commercial purposes.

Key Features and Benefits

Efficiency and Speed One of the primary advantages of using a meat bone cutter machine is the significant boost in efficiency and speed. These machines are equipped with powerful motors and sharp blades that can cut through bones quickly and effortlessly, reducing the time and effort required in meat processing. This is particularly beneficial in commercial settings where time is of the essence.

Precision Cutting Precision is crucial in butchery, especially when it comes to cutting through bones. A meat bone cutter machine ensures uniform and accurate cuts, which is essential for maintaining the quality and presentation of the meat. This level of precision is hard to achieve with manual tools, making the machine an invaluable asset for any butcher or meat processor.

Safety Using a meat bone cutter machine can significantly enhance safety in the kitchen or processing plant. These machines are designed with safety features such as blade guards, non-slip bases, and emergency stop buttons to minimize the risk of accidents. Additionally, the consistent performance of the machine reduces the likelihood of slipping or uneven cuts, which can lead to injuries when using traditional knives.

Versatility Modern meat bone cutter machines are highly versatile and can handle a wide range of tasks. They are capable of cutting through various types of bones and meat, including beef, pork, lamb, and poultry. Some advanced models also offer adjustable blade speeds and cutting thickness, allowing for greater customization based on the specific requirements of different meats.

Durability and Longevity Investing in a high-quality meat bone cutter machine ensures durability and longevity. These machines are constructed from robust materials such as stainless steel, which is resistant to rust and corrosion. Regular maintenance and proper care can further extend the lifespan of the machine, making it a cost-effective investment in the long run.

Choosing the Right Meat Bone Cutter Machine When selecting a meat bone cutter machine, there are several factors to consider:

Size and Capacity The size and capacity of the machine should match your specific needs. For home use or small butcher shops, a compact, manual model may suffice. However, for large-scale meat processing plants, an industrial-grade machine with higher capacity and automation features would be more appropriate.

Blade Quality The quality of the blade is crucial for achieving clean and precise cuts. Look for machines with high-quality, durable blades that can withstand the rigors of cutting through tough bones and meat. Some machines offer replaceable blades, which can be a convenient feature for maintaining sharpness over time.

Ease of Cleaning Hygiene is paramount in meat processing, so choose a machine that is easy to clean and maintain. Models with removable parts and stainless steel components are ideal, as they can be thoroughly sanitized to prevent contamination.

Power and Performance The power of the motor and the overall performance of the machine are important considerations. A more powerful motor ensures efficient cutting, especially for larger bones. Additionally, machines with variable speed settings can offer greater control and versatility.

Conclusion A Meat Bone Cutter Machine is an essential tool for any butcher, meat processor, or serious home cook. Its ability to deliver precise cuts, enhance efficiency, and improve safety makes it a valuable investment. By understanding the key features and benefits, and carefully considering your specific needs, you can select the right meat bone cutter machine to elevate your meat processing tasks to a new level of precision and productivity.

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Elevate Your Meat Processing with Kentmaster's Top Butcher Supplies and Cutting Knives

In the world of meat processing, having the right butcher supplies and equipment is crucial for efficiency, safety, and quality. Whether you're a professional butcher, a meat processing plant operator, or a home cook with a passion for precision, the tools you use can make a significant difference. Among the essential tools in any butcher's arsenal are cutting knives, which are indispensable for various tasks from slicing and dicing to deboning and trimming. This article explores the best butcher supplies and equipment, with a particular focus on cutting knives, and highlights Kentmaster's role in providing top-tier solutions.

Essential Butcher Supplies and Equipment

Cutting Boards: A sturdy cutting board is a fundamental piece of equipment. It provides a stable surface for chopping and slicing, ensuring safety and precision. Cutting boards made from high-density polyethylene are particularly favored for their durability and ease of cleaning.

Meat Grinders: For those who prepare their own ground meat, a reliable meat grinder is essential. These machines come in various sizes and capacities, suitable for different volumes of meat processing. Look for models with powerful motors and stainless steel components for longevity.

Slicers: Meat slicers are invaluable for achieving uniform slices of meat. Whether for deli cuts or preparing steaks, a good slicer can handle large volumes of meat with consistent results.

Bone Saws: When it comes to cutting through bone, a bone saw is indispensable. Electric bone saws provide the power needed to handle tough cuts, making the process faster and safer.

Protective Gear: Safety is paramount in any meat processing operation. Protective gear such as cut-resistant gloves and aprons protect butchers from injuries, ensuring a safer working environment.

Best Cutting Knives Set

Cutting knives are perhaps the most critical tools for a butcher. A high-quality knife set can enhance precision, reduce fatigue, and improve overall efficiency. When choosing the best cutting knives set, consider the following:

Blade Material: Stainless steel blades are a popular choice for their resistance to rust and ease of maintenance. High-carbon stainless steel offers the added benefit of superior edge retention.

Handle Comfort: Ergonomically designed handles reduce hand strain and improve grip, which is essential for prolonged use. Materials like rubber or polymer are preferred for their non-slip properties.

Versatility: A good knife set should include a variety of knives for different tasks, such as a chef's knife, boning knife, paring knife, and cleaver. This ensures you have the right tool for every job.

Kentmaster: Leading the Way in Butcher Supplies

Kentmaster is a renowned name in the meat processing industry, known for its high-quality butcher supplies and equipment. Their products are designed with precision, durability, and safety in mind, making them a top choice for professionals around the world. From innovative meat saws to ergonomic cutting knives, Kentmaster provides comprehensive solutions that meet the demanding needs of modern meat processing.

Investing in the right butcher supplies and equipment, particularly cutting knives, is essential for achieving the best results in meat processing. With Kentmaster's commitment to quality and innovation, you can trust that their products will enhance your efficiency and safety, making your meat processing tasks easier and more effective.