#Meat And Bone Cutting Machine For Home

[anaktoria-of-the-moon]

Mother, you say, let me be among the machines. Lay me down in a bed of wildflowers overgrown with scrap; abandon me here in the junkyard of broken dreams.

Leave me to the silent places where combat units go to die, their proud mighty steel masts now snapped in half, their ribcages no more than twisted carcasses of sintered metal and ceramic, corroded ruin where once fissile hearts beat like war drums, only wreckage left of the great silicate brains.

Leave me to my work, Mother; I shall spend all day and night and day again worshipping at the altar of wrench and caliper, the soldering iron for my crucifix, the old analog console for my Bible. With a blowtorch I shall turn miracles worthy of every dead god whose name has long since been forgotten, but whose spirits and acts live on in the unerring battle precepts of these fallen beasts, these warriors we forged and doomed by our own hands, whose very code was made to break them again and again upon the endless tide of the enemy. Who had no choice but to sacrifice themselves for us, beating steel hearts and all - whose hearts beat for the sacrifice itself, and nothing more.

Mother, let me wrap myself around the charred self-epitaphs of their ravaged bodies and weep without words, in days that have no names, long after the war has been lost and everyone else has gone home or been buried. These are soldiers without names, without faces or families, but soldiers just the same. Let me mourn them as if they were my own.

I grow tired, Mother, with my meager human meat. Let me make (first one and then two and five and ten) obedient automaton assistants who offer up third hands and rolling libraries while I work, book-lights suspended from rotored chassis and recorders who speak in scraps of my own voice. I will soon forget what my voice sounds like, for the more I learn the easier it is to command them all by the patterns of my thoughts alone, which they know by the electrodes I constellate across my own skull.

You told me I should love one day, Mother, as animals do, that I should desire the flesh of one like myself and yearn to call them mine. I prefer the simple love of my creations, who each serve a function, as I do, and each do it well.

They need upgrades, and maintenance, and monitoring. I will gladly offer them all this, if only you will promise me enough time in this mortal coil to do it.

Mother, leave me to the machines: to the half-built progeny of salvaged Old Era drone brains and next-gen programming architecture, wedded in unholy alchemy by my own trembling design. May I with the blessing of Science Herself find ways in which to recreate the delicate shimmering matrices of gold and tantalum, the traced pathways of metal neurons made through photolithography, written carefully, layer by layer, like cicatrices, over patient hours and hours.

I will give up my sleepless youth and trade my human tongue for gifts with which to speak in the language of my machines, true and false, being and not-being, to learn how they might once have spoken to one another before your greed and the enemy’s cut them down and stole their voices for good. I will teach myself to teach them how to think in machine learning cycles not so unlike our own associative neural comprehensions, and I will practice by handing it down to my own automata, who now flourish with finer and better improvements, even as my own fickle, feeble body wanes.

Mother, let them all together run wild through the once-still forest, ticking and chirping and shrieking and screaming.

Let me look upon the rest of them each night - the graveyard of my combat units, the black holes of them against the day-bright sea of stars. Let me cry when I at last realize the price of resurrecting just one.

Mother, leave me to my machines. Let me have one last look at them as I lay down my old bones beside their silent expanses, once broken, now whole and yet still unmoving. Let me arrange the wires upon my white-furred head like a crown, electrode to electrode, skull to vast metal skull. Let me power on the machine - the humble old analog console for its interface - that lets me, finally, finally, grant them what they deserved all along.

When they wake they shall remember me. I do not know this yet, but it is my lifelong experiences that have colored all their training data; when they clamber to their twenty-ton feet they will recall the lightness and grace of my own two legs, and they will look toward the night sky with the same wonder I once did, they will love the color blue, they will embrace the little automata and know by instinct what repairs each one needs, they will know what it is to cry but not how to do it; I never gave them the actuators for it; why would I? In the life before they did not need it, for all they did was fight. In the life after, they should only seek joy. They were never given the right to grieve, Mother, but it was my hope that they would never have to.

In the absence of grief may they do what they were told to do before: serve the survival of the humans who built them. Let them find the remains of my body and pause, for many milliseconds, to search within themselves the protocol for resurrecting a living thing. Let them come up empty.

But perhaps survival does not have to be of the flesh particularly. And we always find another way.

We all have our functions, Mother, is it not so? We all are built of parts upon parts, mechanisms of meat or of steel, electric impulses borne over wires or neurons. I taught them how to take and store engrams and place them into waiting vessels, so they will too: the vessel a body the size of mine, made from junkyard scrap, filled with the dreams I gave them with my own last breath.

When we are all here again I, or the echoes of me, shall look upon the faces of my children, my other echoes, blades given voices, guns granted philosophy and souls; and there will be no more war, and no more grief. We will stand upon the ruins of those who came before and look in silence at the sea of stars. We will know, then, what we are, and always were: a garden of living things.

[wistericaine]

stew for dinner | mattheo riddle

murderer!mattheo x murderer!reader | fluff but in a dark way | wc: 838

summary: mattheo comes home bloody to you making beef stew

tw: blood, mentions/references to death, murder as dirty talk (bc these two are freaks i say)

You always loved the feeling of the knife in your hands.

The warmth and power of the handle as you sliced things back and forth. The way that a sharpened blade cut through different meats like a paper cut slices skin—quick, precise, with just the slightest bit of blood. 

Your favorite knife was one that Mattheo had bought you from a trip to Germany, an absolutely beautiful blade of steel that cut into steak like a warm block of butter. He had charmed it to be permanently sharpened as well, which made cutting through meat easy as air.

You were working on cooking some beef stew for a dinner date. You had already cut the vegetables—onions, potatoes and thinly sliced bell peppers resting in the pot filled with bone broth and a bit of wine. 

Theodore had brought you a rather large frozen slab of cow loin for you to completely cut from front to end—from cuts of New York strip steaks to the bavette. Most of the cuts were frozen in your walk-in freezer, though you kept the chuck out for the stew. There was no myoglobin leaking from it yet, though you were sure that the water and protein mixture would come out as the meat defrosted in its bowl. 

The lights in the kitchen were glowing a low yellow while you worked, your apron splotched red from blood that hadn’t washed out over the years. Other than that, you had barely anything on. A thin cropped top and even thinner shorts—summer heat causing just the slightest bit of sweat to catch onto the fabric.

There was a small thrumming of a car engine outside the garage “That smells good.” were the words you heard someone call out from the garage.

There was a jingle of keys near the laundry room’s door, footsteps coming closer and closer to the kitchen. Mattheo was home. 

“What’re you cooking?” Mattheo asked you. “It smells lovely.”

You hummed softly as he pulled you in for a kiss, pressing your hand against his cheek as he pressed his tongue in further. “Hi there lover.” you said, caressing his stained cheek. “Your cheek is bloody, my love”

“Just another project.” he murmured quietly to you. “Enzo had to clean it up.”

You chuckled quietly and looked down at the now bloody kitchen tile—rolling your eyes at the mess. “And you’re getting blood on my floor too.” you pointed out. “Not to mention I haven’t even started cooking yet. There’s no smell here but blood. 

Mattheo looked down at the floor before grumbling quietly, walking back over to the garage and tossing his clothes into the washing machine. “Do we still have stain remover?” he asked you from the laundry room. There was a small shower that you two had installed in the laundry room to wash blood off. That, and a bin of clean clothes to change back into. “Or the towels?”

“In the left cabinet.” you said, swirling the vegetables and sauce around in the pot. “Did you have fun at work today?”

Mattheo chuckled quietly, the shower running and washing the blood off. “Lots of fun.” he said to you. “One of the others had put a hit out on the guy. Theo was gonna take it at first, but I was closer. Plus it was the warehouse anyway.”

“The warehouse?” you asked, chuckling quietly. “You always get messy there.”

“Oh, definitely.” Mattheo laughed back. He had grabbed a towel to clean the blood off of the floor. “Enzo is really gonna kill me after this.”

You giggled quietly as you poked the chuck, noting that it was defrosted enough to begin cutting. “There'll be beef stew to feed him if he comes over, he always falls for the food trick.” you said calmly to him. “He dropped by and gave me a big cut. I got quite a bit of meat out of it.”

Mattheo walked out in a new pair of clothes, a simple black t-shirt and grey sweatpants that clung to his thighs for dear life. He had mopped the blood up to his best ability—but the both of you knew that you would have to go back over it later. 

“I wish I could’ve watched you cut it.” he murmured, pulling you in for another kiss before resting his head on your shoulder. You giggled quietly as a soft moan escaped his mouth. “You’re perfect.”

“You always want to watch me cut meat.” you rolled your eyes at him—resting your head against his as you cut through the meat. “I suppose you can watch me cut this chuck.”

Mattheo melted into your grasp almost immediately. “You’re really precise, you know?” he said.

You smiled at that, kissing his temple as you continued to cut the chuck into one inch chunks each. “I’m going to season it with some stuff.” you said. “Rosemary, paprika, garlic powder, brown sugar, and some salt. Maybe some other stuff too.”

“You’re amazing.” he murmured, kissing your lips . “Absolutely perfect, you are.”

hello everyone, i hope you guys enjoyed! yet another murderer!mattheo x murderer!reader post, and i'm not sorry <3 yes, i will be posting more of them, and no i am not sorry. as a complete sidenote, i also have a theo that goes in line with this au too! im going to be working on two new moodboards before i go to bed too! if you guys want more of these two, you can send in requests for them (or any of my other aus)! thanks so much for reading!

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© wistericaine 2025. do not copy, translate or claim any of my works as your own. reblogs + comments are so very appreciated!

[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.

[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."

[noctilucid]

Dannymay Poetry - Day 27 Dream

"Ok, my turn now!" Kwan headed for the front of the room. Dash thumped his back as he passed.

"And if any of you losers start thinking Kwan is some nerd," he called, "you also know what'll happen!"

Sam rolled her eyes and whispered, "Just kiss already." Tucker snorted. 

Kwan beamed at his classmates. "Ok, so my poem is called My Sister's Nightmare."

I hear her crying at fifteen past eleven

And pass the hamper, with laundry heaped around.

I trip as dirty jeans wrap around my ankle.

I bump the wall, and she goes still at the sound.

"Are you ok Min? Did you have another nightmare?"

Slowly her door creaks open next to me.

"Can you come and sit with me a while?"

She lets me in and squeezes Teddy tightly.

I ask, "Do you want to tell me?" as I sit

And smooth the comforter with my hand

So Min climbs back in bed beside me

And tries to tell me where the dream began.

"There are eyeballs wearing cloaks," she says

"Watching out for monsters. But the more they see

The more the world is wrong, and they throw us

All into a dark pit."  I nod and she

pulls the covers up over her knees.

"And I saw a red castle floating in darkness.

The floors of the rooms were all filled with bones,

And they rattled and jumped and then snapped together

And an army of skeletons marched out from the throne."

"You have a great imagination," I say.

I smooth her bangs and tuck hair behind her ear.

"I know dreams sometimes can be scary."

But she shakes her head and pulls my arm near.

"But the scariest part," she whispers, 

"happened right here. I was in the park alone

and saw a man in a grey coat and hat.

He carried a cane and his red glasses shone.

And when no one was looking— nobody but me

He switched out his face for Mr. Devine's

And he turned and he winked like he knew I had seen

And he walked into town and then I heard screams.

And if he can noodle into all different shapes

and swap out his faces, then what would it take

to know that he wasn't right here in this room?"

I hug her and murmur as she cries and shakes.  

"It's only a dream," I say as I turn on her nightlight

And tuck her in cozy and kiss her forehead.  "Kwan?" 

She says, "The basement is thumping again."  

I nod. "Don't worry.  Just the washer cutting on."

Mom's working the late shift at the ICU

And the washer's been funny every time we're alone.

Most days it won't work, then some nights it'll start.

It makes it hard to do laundry when she's home.

I go and grab a take-out burger from the fridge

And climb down the unfinished stairs.

My socks feel dryer-warm on the cement floor.

The heat of machines makes it cozy down there.

The crack in the corner from the earthquake last month

Rumbles and sucks at our broken sump pump.

The tremor makes the black puddle ripple and shine

And lap at the washer, which continues to thump.

I adjust the burger and wind my arm back

And throw the old meat deep into the dark.

The washer stops rattling. The puddle goes still.

So maybe tomorrow, the washer will work. 

Kwan stood there vacantly with his paper for a minute longer.  Lancer cleared his throat. "Very nice Mr. Park.  And your poetic devices?  An... extended metaphor, I presume?"

"Huh?  Oh, yeah.  Totally."  

Lancer watched him for a long moment, expectant.

"...And your other devices?" he prompted.

Kwan started as if coming back to himself.  "Oh, I didn't use any of those."  He set the paper on the desk corner. "Sorry, I'm kinda tired." 

He went and sat down next to Dash.  

Tucker slid out his PDA under the desk.  "Oookay, making a note to check out Kwan's basement sometime next week..." 

[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."

[elwenyere]

Safeword (MCU, Bellores a.k.a. Yelena/Joaquín, 722 w)

Tags: safewords, panic attacks, aftercare

Author's Note: with much love to the cabin crew, here's a wee ficlet for one of my favorite pool-noodle ships

.....

“Is this what you need?” Yelena twists her fist into Joaquín’s hair and yanks backward until his mouth falls open with a gasp.

“Yes,” he pants. “Yes, please.” 

“Do you deserve it? I wonder.”

“Please,” he says again. The skin across his cheeks is flushed. The light from the window catches on the sweat beads at the bow of his lips. 

In the bed in the hospital, his face had looked slack and sallow, like a loose husk, shucked hollow underneath. 

“Is that the best you can do?” Yelena scrapes a nail down the front of his throat, crooks her finger to find the corrugated dips of the cartilage – the grooves where the tube had held his airways open after the missile clipped him from the sky. “Mmm. Maybe you’re not sure. Maybe I should leave you to think it over.”

“No.” Joaquín shakes his head against her grip. “No, please, don’t leave. Please. I promise. I’ll be good.”

His voice cracks on the final words – breaking into a note that’s too raw, too young somehow – and suddenly Yelena’s heart is kicking frantically against her chest, her sense of balance lurching as if something had hooked behind her ankles and dropped her to her knees.

“McLean,” she gasps. 

The room is dark and close. Something is clutching at her eyes nose mouth in a tight hot clammy clasp, and it’s – it’s her hands. She’s covered her face with her hands. She breathes. She feels the air drag toward her in a thin, whistling rasp through the meat of her own palms.

“Lena.” It’s a voice: Joaquín’s voice. “You’re okay. We’re both okay. It’s March 5, 2025, and we’re at the Hyatt House in Washington D.C. You’re safe. Everyone is safe.”

She jerks her head into a nod, keeps the heels of her hands pressed against her lips as she measures her breaths. 

“Sorry,” she says, after a moment. “Sorry. I was somewhere else.”

—

It’s an hour before she’s ready to look at him again, and then she orders him onto the bed – wraps him in the thick, terry-cloth towels from the bathroom and brings him an armful of Cheetos and Sun Chips and M&Ms from the vending machine in the hall. 

Joaquín lets her. He lies back on the pillows against the headboard, gives her the spot close to the door, and he doesn’t ask her where she’s been. Yelena wants to press the red lines from the ropes around his wrists to her breastbone until she can feel the bones in his fingers spreading her skin.

“I like feeding you, after,” she says. “Like a little hamster.” She illustrates by tucking an M&M between his lips. “I wanted one when I was young. My mother told me we couldn’t have pets because she was allergic. But of course the real reason was the Kalashnikovs in the garage.”

Joaquín’s eyes track the movement of her hand as she selects a chip from the bag and then jump up back up to meet hers, a smile blooming across his face as if she’d plucked it out of him.

“Let’s get a place together,” he says.

Yelena rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” she mutters, stuffing the Sun Chip in his mouth. “You’re loopy. Did I tie the knots too tight? Cut off circulation to your brain?”

“No, Lena, I mean it,” Joaquín insists, catching her outstretched hand in the curl of his own. “I left a lot of places too, when I was a kid. Sometimes it can feel like there’s nowhere anywhere that’s home to all of me, you know? It’s why I like being in the air. At least up there, everything’s moving – it has to be. But being with you is like: you touch me, and I know where I am. You show me the shape that I make – the places I can reach and where I stop. So I think if we had a place together, it would be...you know, we would have somewhere to land.”

Yelena takes a long breath, watching Joaquín’s face and feeling the slow, graceful arc of his thumb against her palm. Then she leans down to rest her head against his shoulder, burrowing her nose into the faded cotton of his shirt.

“Yeah, okay,” she says. “Okay. Let’s get a place.”

[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

Sent from my iPhone

[proprocessor]

Manual Meat Grinder: The Classic Kitchen Tool for Fresh, Custom Ground Meat

In today’s world of convenience and technology, the manual meat grinder remains a timeless kitchen tool that continues to serve home cooks, hunters, and small-scale food enthusiasts with dependable results. Whether you're looking to craft gourmet burgers, homemade sausages, or just prefer to control the quality of your meat, a manual meat grinder is a valuable addition to your culinary arsenal.

What is a Manual Meat Grinder?

A manual meat grinder is a hand-operated device designed to grind meat without the use of electricity. Typically made from stainless steel, cast iron, or high-grade plastic, this simple yet effective machine consists of a few core components:

Hopper: The top opening where you feed meat into the grinder.

Auger (or screw): A spiral mechanism that pushes the meat toward the blades.

Cutting Blade: Slices the meat as it's pushed through the grinder.

Grinding Plate: A perforated disk that determines the final texture of the ground meat.

Crank Handle: Allows the user to manually turn the auger.

Clamp or Suction Base: Secures the grinder to your work surface.

The entire process is straightforward: you place pre-cut, chilled meat into the hopper, turn the handle, and freshly ground meat exits the front.

Why Choose a Manual Meat Grinder?

There are several reasons why home cooks and professionals alike opt for manual grinders over electric models:

1. Full Control Over Meat Quality

When you grind your own meat, you know exactly what’s going into your food. You can choose the cuts, control the fat content, and avoid unwanted additives, preservatives, or fillers often found in store-bought ground meat.

2. Better Texture and Taste

Store-bought ground meat is often overly processed, resulting in a mushy texture. Grinding meat at home gives you a coarser grind that holds up better in burgers and meatballs, delivering superior mouthfeel and flavor.

3. Cost-Effective

Manual grinders are generally inexpensive, with many reliable models priced under $50. They also reduce waste by allowing you to make use of meat trimmings and less expensive cuts.

4. No Electricity Needed

Manual grinders are perfect for use in locations without electricity—ideal for camping, hunting lodges, or during power outages. They’re also quieter and more portable than electric models.

5. Easy to Maintain

With fewer moving parts and no motor, manual grinders are easier to clean and less prone to mechanical failure.

How to Use a Manual Meat Grinder

Using a manual meat grinder is simple and safe if you follow a few key steps:

Step 1: Prepare the Meat

Trim off excess fat, sinew, or bones.

Cut the meat into 1-inch cubes for easier grinding.

Chill the meat in the freezer for 20-30 minutes to firm it up. Cold meat grinds more cleanly and reduces smearing.

Step 2: Assemble and Secure the Grinder

Make sure all parts are clean and dry.

Assemble the grinder according to the manufacturer’s instructions.

Clamp or suction the grinder securely to a clean, dry surface to prevent slipping.

Step 3: Start Grinding

Feed the meat into the hopper slowly.

Turn the crank handle steadily and consistently.

Use the provided pusher (never your fingers!) to guide the meat.

You can grind the meat once for a coarse grind or twice for a finer texture, depending on your recipe.

Step 4: Clean Up Thoroughly

Disassemble all parts immediately after use.

Wash with warm, soapy water and a brush to remove meat residue.

Dry thoroughly to prevent rust, especially with cast iron models.

Lightly oil the blades and metal surfaces before storing to extend their lifespan.

Tips for Best Results

Use Cold Meat: Warm meat can clog the grinder and smear fat.

Alternate Fat and Lean: Mixing as you feed helps with even grinding.

Keep Blade Sharp: A dull blade makes grinding harder and affects texture.

Grind Twice for Sausages: First with a coarse plate, then fine.

Common Uses for Manual Meat Grinders

Manual meat grinders are versatile and can be used for more than just meat:

Sausage Making: Many grinders come with stuffing attachments.

Vegetables and Nuts: Some models allow for grinding cooked veggies, nuts, or even cheese.

Pet Food: Prepare raw or custom pet meals.

Breadcrumbs or Pasta Dough: Certain models support non-meat grinding with additional attachments.

Choosing the Right Manual Grinder

When shopping for a manual meat grinder, consider the following:

Material: Stainless steel and cast iron are most durable.

Ease of Cleaning: Look for models with dishwasher-safe parts (if applicable).

Size and Portability: Smaller models are easier to store but may require more effort for larger batches.

Accessories: Some include sausage stuffers, multiple grinding plates, or pasta attachments.

Conclusion A manual meat grinder may seem old-fashioned, but its value in the modern kitchen is undeniable. It offers an unmatched level of control, quality, and freshness that even some electric grinders struggle to deliver. Whether you're a culinary hobbyist or someone simply seeking healthier, fresher food options, investing in a manual meat grinder can elevate your cooking and provide long-term benefits.

[fullyautomaticcomposter]

Organic Waste Composter: Turning Waste Into Wealth

As the world faces rising pollution, overflowing landfills, and climate change, managing waste sustainably has become more important than ever. Among the many solutions available, the Organic Waste Composter (OWC) stands out as a simple yet powerful tool that transforms everyday waste into valuable compost.

What Is an Organic Waste Composter?

An Organic Waste Composter is a machine or system designed to convert organic waste, such as food scraps, vegetable peels, fruit waste, garden trimmings, and biodegradable materials, into compost. Compost is a natural, nutrient-rich soil conditioner that enhances soil health and promotes plant growth.

OWCs can be small, manual systems for home use or large, automatic machines used in hotels, apartment complexes, schools, and industries.

How Does It Work?

The composting process is based on aerobic decomposition, where microorganisms break down organic waste in the presence of oxygen. 

Here’s how an OWC machine typically works:

Waste Collection: Food and garden waste are collected and loaded into the composter.

Shredding (optional): Some machines shred the waste to speed up the process.

Decomposition: Microbes, oxygen, and sometimes controlled heat break down the waste.

Compost Output: Within 24 to 26 hrs, or sometimes a few days or weeks, depending on the system, the waste turns into compost ready for use.

Types of Organic Waste Composters

Home Composters: Small bins or electric units suitable for daily kitchen waste.

Community Composters: Medium-scale composters used by housing societies, schools, and restaurants.

Industrial Composters: Large OWC composting machine handles hundreds of kilograms or even tons of waste per day.

Benefits of Using an Organic Waste Composter

✅ Reduces Landfill Waste: Keeps organic waste out of landfills, cutting pollution.

✅ Prevents Methane Emissions: Composting avoids the harmful gases released in landfills.

✅ Produces Natural Fertilizer: Compost enriches soil without the need for chemical fertilizers.

✅ Supports Sustainable Farming: Healthier soil means better crops and reduced dependence on chemicals.

✅ Saves Waste Disposal Costs: Especially for businesses and communities.

What Can Be Composted?

 ✅ Fruit and vegetable scraps ✅ Coffee grounds and tea leaves ✅ Eggshells ✅ Garden trimmings and leaves ✅ Small amounts of bread and grains

What to Avoid:

 ❌ Plastic, glass, metal ❌ Large bones and meat in bulk ❌ Excessive oil and dairy

A Step Towards a Greener Future

By adopting Organic Waste Composters, homes, businesses, and cities can play a big role in fighting waste pollution and climate change. It’s a practical, eco-friendly solution that not only reduces waste but also creates something beneficial — compost that gives back to the earth.

Final Thought

With every peel, scrap, and leaf composted, we move a step closer to a cleaner, greener world. Adopting organic waste composting with a waste converter machine isn’t just a choice — it’s a responsibility for a sustainable future.

[shamimakter-blog]

VEVOR Commercial Electric Meat Bone Saw Machine 1500W: Revolutionizing Precision and Efficiency in the Kitchen

VEVOR Commercial Electric Meat Bone Saw Machine 1500W Stainless Steel Blade Bone Bandsaw Machine Workbench Countertop Bone

👉👉Buy now: https://youtu.be/ug7jku28QBY

🔥🔥 DISCOUNT: 70% 🔥🔥

In today’s fast-paced culinary world, efficiency and precision are paramount. Whether you’re a professional butcher, a restaurant owner, or an avid home cook with a passion for preparing meat dishes, having the right tools can make all the difference. Enter the VEVOR Commercial Electric Meat Bone Saw Machine—a powerhouse of innovation designed to simplify the often labor-intensive task of cutting through bones and tough meat. With its robust 1500W motor, stainless steel blade, and sleek countertop design, this bone bandsaw machine is not just a tool but a game-changer for anyone working with meat. In this blog post, we’ll explore why the VEVOR Meat Bone Saw Machine stands out, how it works, and why it deserves a spot in your kitchen or workshop.

Why Choose the VEVOR Meat Bone Saw Machine?

Unmatched Power and Performance At the heart of the VEVOR Meat Bone Saw Machine lies its impressive 1500W motor. This high-powered engine ensures that even the toughest cuts—be it beef ribs, pork shoulders, or poultry bones—are handled with ease. Unlike manual saws or cheaper alternatives, this machine delivers consistent performance without straining or overheating, making it ideal for both small-scale operations and larger commercial kitchens.

The motor’s strength is complemented by its smooth operation, which minimizes vibrations during use. This stability not only enhances safety but also allows for precise cuts every time. Whether you’re portioning large cuts of meat for sale or prepping ingredients for a busy dinner service, the VEVOR ensures that no bone is too challenging to tackle.

Durable Stainless Steel Blade One of the standout features of this machine is its stainless steel blade. Designed for durability and hygiene, the blade resists rust and corrosion, ensuring longevity even with frequent use. Its sharpness remains intact over extended periods, reducing the need for constant sharpening or replacements.

The blade’s construction also makes it easy to clean, a critical factor when handling raw meat products. Food safety regulations demand meticulous cleanliness, and the VEVOR’s blade simplifies compliance by resisting bacterial buildup and being dishwasher-safe (where applicable). For professionals who prioritize hygiene alongside functionality, this is a significant advantage.

Compact Countertop Design Space is often at a premium in kitchens and workshops, which is why the VEVOR Meat Bone Saw Machine’s compact workbench design is such a boon. Despite its powerful capabilities, the machine occupies minimal space on countertops or tables, making it perfect for environments where real estate is limited.

Its ergonomic layout includes a sturdy base that prevents wobbling during operation, while the adjustable height accommodates users of varying statures. The intuitive controls are within easy reach, allowing operators to focus on their tasks without unnecessary distractions. This thoughtful design ensures that the VEVOR fits seamlessly into any workspace, enhancing productivity without cluttering the area.

How Does the VEVOR Meat Bone Saw Machine Work? Understanding how this machine operates can help users maximize its potential. Here’s a step-by-step breakdown:

Preparation: Begin by securing the meat or bone on the workbench using the provided clamps. This step is crucial for maintaining stability and preventing slippage during cutting. Adjustments: Depending on the thickness required, adjust the blade guide to achieve the desired cut size. The VEVOR offers flexibility in customization, catering to different preferences and recipes. Operation: Once everything is set up, simply press the power button to activate the motor. The blade will begin moving at a steady pace, slicing through the material effortlessly. Operators can guide the piece gently along the blade for optimal results. Safety Features: Safety is a top priority with the VEVOR Meat Bone Saw Machine. It comes equipped with protective guards around the blade to prevent accidental contact. Additionally, an emergency stop button provides peace of mind in case of unexpected situations. Cleanup: After use, detach the blade and other removable components for thorough cleaning. Most parts are dishwasher-safe, though handwashing with mild detergent is recommended for longevity. Applications Across Industries The versatility of the VEVOR Meat Bone Saw Machine extends beyond traditional kitchens. Let’s take a look at some industries where this equipment shines:

Butcher Shops For butchers, precision is key. The VEVOR allows them to portion meat accurately, ensuring minimal waste and maximum yield. Its ability to handle various types of bones—from delicate fish spines to dense beef femurs—makes it indispensable for daily operations.

Restaurants and Catering Services Chefs rely on consistency to maintain quality across dishes. With the VEVOR, they can prepare uniform portions of meat for soups, stews, and roasts. This consistency enhances presentation and customer satisfaction, ultimately boosting business success.

Home Cooking Enthusiasts While primarily marketed toward professionals, the VEVOR is equally suitable for home cooks who love experimenting with new recipes. From deboning poultry for homemade stock to slicing racks of lamb for special occasions, this machine opens up endless possibilities.

Educational Institutions Culinary schools benefit greatly from investing in reliable equipment like the VEVOR. Students gain hands-on experience with industry-standard tools, preparing them for careers in hospitality and foodservice sectors.

Advantages Over Competitors When compared to similar products on the market, the VEVOR Meat Bone Saw Machine holds several advantages:

Cost-Effectiveness: Despite its premium features, the VEVOR offers excellent value for money. Its durable build and low maintenance requirements translate to long-term savings. Ease of Use: Intuitive controls and straightforward assembly make it accessible even for beginners. No specialized training is needed to operate the machine effectively. Customer Support: VEVOR is known for its responsive customer service team, ready to assist with troubleshooting or replacement parts if needed. Energy Efficiency: The 1500W motor strikes a balance between power and energy consumption, ensuring efficient performance without skyrocketing electricity bills. Tips for Maximizing Your VEVOR Experience To get the most out of your VEVOR Meat Bone Saw Machine, consider these tips:

Regular Maintenance: Keep the blade sharp and lubricated to ensure smooth cuts. Inspect the machine periodically for signs of wear and tear. Proper Storage: When not in use, store the machine in a dry, dust-free environment to prolong its lifespan. Follow Safety Guidelines: Always adhere to the manufacturer’s instructions regarding usage and care. Wear appropriate protective gear, such as gloves and goggles, during operation. Experiment with Recipes: Don’t limit yourself to basic cuts. Try new techniques, such as Frenching lamb chops or creating intricate bone sculptures for decorative purposes. Conclusion The VEVOR Commercial Electric Meat Bone Saw Machine 1500W is more than just a piece of equipment—it’s a testament to innovation, reliability, and craftsmanship. Its combination of raw power, precision engineering, and user-friendly design sets it apart from competitors, making it an invaluable asset for anyone involved in meat preparation. Whether you’re running a bustling restaurant, managing a local butcher shop, or honing your skills at home, the VEVOR promises to elevate your workflow and deliver exceptional results every time.

Investing in the VEVOR Meat Bone Saw Machine isn’t just about acquiring a tool; it’s about embracing efficiency, creativity, and excellence in your craft. So why wait? Transform your kitchen or workshop today with this remarkable piece of technology—and experience firsthand what true culinary mastery feels like.

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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