#Plastic Tube Filling Machinery

[midseo]

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[maybeelse]

what happens when you win

Victory should have been sweet. Standing over your foe's corpse, augmented muscles straining to yank your spear from her ruined heart, should have triggered a flood of dopamine. It should have felt like your handler's hand in your patchy hair, the rush of hearing her clicker in your ear—

You thumb your radio's buttons.

Nothing.

It's as dead as your enemy, as dead as everything else within a dozen meters. Another few hours and your battlefield will be fatally irradiated; you can hear the rising buzz of radiation leaking from her ruptured engines.

The enemy used to load their mechs with scorched-earth traps, beads of antimatter magnetically isolated. Victory—or, in many cases, an unfortunately placed shard of flak—meant devastation. No one bothered to tell you when they stopped, or why. Maybe they decided that poisoning the land was better than destroying it.

Warnings hum at the edge of your vision, damaged subsystems and requests for maintenance. Her desperate struggles as you pinned her down and took her to pieces inflicted more damage than you realized. Nothing deadly, but the section of your life support responsible for managing your neurotransmitter balance is completed unresponsive: no tasty combat drugs for you.

That, then, is why you feel nothing except the last, fading remnants of war-trance and a slowly growing sense of failure.

Bad hound. No orgasm. Go back to the barracks and think about what you've done.

Not your handler's voice. Just your conditioning rising up to punish you.

You need to get back to base. If you don't, if you can't—

This is your enemy's fault.

Parts of her body are still intact. Her head, probably; you didn't land any hits on that part of her mech. No point, really; obliterate the pilot's mind and the mech's guidance systems go feral trying to read intent from whatever is left behind. Unpredictable and dangerous, like you're supposed to be.

Her armor bends and tears. It's not so hard to take her apart, really; active countermeasures get all the funding. Don't be seen; don't be hit; don't make the mechanics spend more time putting you back together. It's a pity that yours didn't work better.

There's a face under there, buried in broken machinery and leaking plastic tubes, still visible through the bismuth-like growths that encrust her skull. Still alive, barely; her eyes flutter in the sudden light, struggling to focus, failing.

There's something familiar about it. Something in the tilt of her eyes, the shape of her nose, her lips—not what your handler looks like, not at all, but what she feels like. The impression her face leaves on you when you see her in the hanger, between missions; the way your heart always skips a beat.

You shouldn't recognize her face. You have never seen the enemy's face before. A warning siren keens in your ear, filling your heart with hatred, but—how do you know her? Why?

She says something, a word your augmentations will only let you hear as painful static, and you reflexively drive your fist through her skull.

Destroying her doesn't save you.

The last thing you feel before your own scorched-earth countermeasure activates is the bloody pulp cooling on your skin.

[p1nkcanoe]

thinking about Phantom being curious and horny and getting his cock stuck while using a vacuum cleaner to get himself off 💀

( i like the way you think, anon. 1.1k words that probably shouldn't exist )

Phantom is smarter than this. He really is. He should know by now not to test the limits and possibilities of objects, specifically machinery, and should know that when something’s entire job is to suck, that it will indeed, suck. 

He’d borrowed the vacuum from the supply closet to clean the cobwebs from the high corners of his bedroom–a simple machine with a large central canister for the dust and mess, and a long flexible hose affixed with a plastic tube to do one job: remove the eyesores from the rafters so Aether would finally get off his ass about it. It turns out that a task so tedious can be made interesting if you turn it into a bit of an experiment. A game, if you will. It takes approximately two minutes after turning the machine on for the curiosity to set in. Phantom begins by holding the end of the hose further and further away from the cobwebs, testing how far away he can keep it for it to still suck them away from the walls and wooden supports, then he moves on to waving it wildly from side to side, seeing how quick he can clear an entire section with a wave of his long arms. Turns out, it’s pretty quick. And finally, when he tries to stick the hose to the ceiling, he wonders exactly how strong those suctions really are. 

He attaches the end of the hose to his palm first, jolting in surprise when his skin gets sucked up tight to the end of it and makes a loud, high pitched hissing noise at the lack of circulation. He pulls his hand away, listening to how the sound frequencies change and how the machine still tries to suck his palm back up. He lets it. It makes the noise again, a dull hwumph, and he chuckles, pulling it off and letting it reattach again a few more times just to hear it. The remaining webs quickly become an afterthought. 

But eventually his palm gets boring, so he tucks the hissing hose under his arm and reaches down to lift his shirt, tucking the bottom hem under his chin and exposing the soft skin of his tummy. The first contact of the hose against his tummy is much different. His skin is more plush, protected by a thin layer of fat, and the tube attaches itself more firmly, sucks more of him up. When he pulls it’s harder to remove and it leaves behind a pretty pink circle in its place. He lets it suck different areas of his torso, testing different areas where his body is harder, others where it’s soft, and he can’t help but giggle when it thubthubthub’s over his bellybutton in an imperfect seal and tickles his hair. He even lets it engulf his nipple. The instant hypersensitivity and consequential gasp were enough to have him jerking it away rather quickly. Yeah… too much. Noted. But who knew a vacuum could be so fun? 

The ghoul looks down at it, right down into its opening, and gets a stupid idea in that brain of his. One quick glance past the side of the hose reveals his half chub tenting the front of his basketball shorts. 

He looks back at the hose, back at the tube connected to its end, over at the door which is very much unlocked for anyone to walk into as they please, and shimmies the elastic waistband of his shorts down just enough to pull out his shaft. 

The hose hisses in his hand, sucks air. 

Curiosity gets the best of him. 

He inches it closer to the head of his dick, which is rapidly filling out with intrigue, and hums, pleased, when it lures him and sucks freezing cold air around his hot skin. He nods, shrugs–this could work–and brings it that last centimeter closer, letting the end of the tube encase his head and suck him in. The strangled noise he makes is almost louder than the machine and he slaps a hand over his mouth. His eyes flick towards the door. 

He doesn’t fill the entire opening. Cold air sucks down around his skin but the suction is nice. Not too hard, but also definitely there. He thinks he likes it. It’s nothing like getting a blowjob, not even close, it’s something entirely different and the odd combination of cool air, rapidly changing pressure around his shaft, and vibrations from the machine’s fans and motors make him tingle in all the best ways. Maybe a vibrator, he thinks. An odd, hard, plastic fleshlight that really isn’t that satisfying in all honesty, but he keeps his dick in it nonetheless, choosing instead to jerk the head of the hose over his shaft in shallow, quick moments that make him suck his bottom lip between his fangs and groan. 

The machine tries desperately to suck him up. It’s so loud, so obvious that something is blocking its tube, but Phantom is beginning to enjoy it in that odd, twisted way too much to stop. Plus, there’s something erotic about getting your dick sucked by a vacuum… Or… maybe not?

He lets go of the tube and lets the machine suck him all the way down to the hilt and nearly caves in on himself when his tip vibrates violently against the rubbery plastic sides. His belly tightens immediately. Suddenly the need to cum is overbearing. Against his best judgment he leans over and flicks the switch on the machine, sending it whirring and hissing into max suction. It screams around his skin, milks every drop of pre from his body and sends it somewhere wholly out of mind. He fails to notice the suction pulling his balls from his shorts and it’s the last little bit of skin the machine needs to complete the perfect seal. 

The ghoul chokes. He feels the air sucked from his lungs as his soul gets sucked from his dick, and in a matter of excruciating seconds he cums violently and hard into the tube. His mess gets sucked away into the canister. 

Overstimulation sets in quickly and the machine doesn’t let up in the slightest. Even when he’s panicking–whining and pulling desperately at the vacuum head–it won’t come off, stuck in a tight and unrelenting seal around his shaft and against his sack. Scrambling hands can’t find the on/off switch fast enough.  “Hey, Ant, are you done with the vacuum yet or–” Phantom whips around towards where his bedroom door swings open on its hinges, shock and mortification slapped over both his own and Cirrus’ horrified face. “–oh my god??”

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 1: It's Still Not Quite the Way It Was

Author's Notes: We've made it to the posting of chapter 1! Each chapter has a corresponding song, noted (and linked) at the beginning of the chapter; the italic paragraphs between sections are lyrics from the corresponding song. After this chapter it'll make sense, I promise 😉

This is multi-chapter friends-to-lovers, angst with a happy ending fic. Full synopsis/masterlist can be found here (and read on AO3 here)!

Content Warnings for this Chapter: Medical whump, near-death experience, description of serious injuries. Angst for dayssss. If @loki-cees-all and @infinitystoner are to be believed, you might want kleenex. It gets much lighter after this (for a while, at least), I swear!

Word Count: 5,217

It’s Still Not Quite The Way It Was

Song: Hospital - Lydia

So I’ve been sleeping with  This silence in my mind And all I see scares me And no one knows it but she– She saved me

It was a reality that Loki could no longer ignore: they were running out of time. 

After hours hunched over in vigil, he sat up a bit taller in the stiff plastic chair that could have doubled as a torture device, stretching aching muscles and sore joints that had yet to recover from a battle unlike any the god had ever seen. Raking one hand through unkempt curls, he bit back a snarl when a passerby glanced into the cramped infirmary room and made the mistake of locking eyes with the Asgardian prince. 

Perhaps he ought to be proud of himself for the restraint; hardly thirty minutes prior, he allowed the tempest within him to take control, unleashing his worst upon his elder brother. It was not fair to Thor - everyone was reeling from the aftermath of what transpired, and though Thor may not have been as intertwined with the very heart of the matter, the repercussions impacted him too.

But Loki? 

He was not merely impacted by the fallout; it tore his world asunder.

Before him, the harsh reminder of the upheaval endured over the three days prior laid unconscious, reliant on Midgardian medicine and machinery to give her a fighting chance at survival. 

Not an inch of Theo had been spared from suffering. The blood, the dust, and the grime of battle had long been washed off of her body; now, her wounds were covered with pristine, crisp white bandages. Swaths of jagged, indigo bruises marred her otherwise ghostly complexion, which appeared more sallow under the harsh infirmary lights. Sweat poured off her skin and soaked her hair. Half-open, glassy yet clouded eyes seemed to stare right through Loki as if he wasn’t there. One eye sported a bruise, swollen and tender, beneath it. 

The sheer volume of wires and tubing connected to her body gave the appearance of a puppet. Multiple intravenous lines were placed in her arms and collarbone. Wires under her shirt collar and a sensor clipped to her index finger provided vital signs. Tubes trailed down her mouth and nose to provide oxygen and sustenance. 

And yet, it had become clear that no machine, no medicine would be enough to save her from the eldritch infection that tore through her side. 

Though no one admitted it, the truth could be found in the silence between the discordant rhythms of beeping monitors and the hissing ebb and flow of the ventilator, none of which ever aligned to the ticking of the clock on the wall. Amidst the shuffle of muted footsteps and hushed conversation in the outside corridor, the truth echoed within sterile infirmary walls. It scrawled itself along the monitors filled with vital signs that crept further and further towards demise, numbers and lines blurring together as time passed. 

Scattered across the room, stacks of ancient tomes failed to provide any insight or solution. Loki was supposedly the most powerful sorcerer in the nine realms, yet he could do nothing to help. The Scarlet Witch, with chaos magic at her fingertips, was helpless in the face of this affliction, as was the Sorcerer Supreme. Even Vision, who had the power of the mind stone and held the full knowledge of all of Midgard, was useless to stop the spread.

It was the subject of taboo: they were running out of time. 

This affliction was unlike anything they’d ever encountered. Then again, Theo was unlike anyone Loki had ever encountered. 

Leaning forward once more, he carefully enveloped her pale, cold hand in both of his.

“Cheating death is my forté, not yours. Healing is your forté, darling.” He said to the perfectly still form before him. “Forcing a reversal of roles was not a wise decision. I imagine you would know how to cure this malady; one of the many secrets tucked away in that memory of yours.” 

One of many secrets that until recently, were incomprehensible to the God of Trickery.

“It is rather ironic, isn’t it?” Loki said, brows furrowed as he focused on Theo’s face. “The most powerful healer in millennia, one who rivals that of myth - unable to save herself.”

The steady, incessant beeping of a monitor above the head of the bed echoed through the room, reminding Loki that his scolding fell upon deaf ears. No response was expected, but that did not mean the silence stung any less.

“If I could, I would admonish you thoroughly for such a reckless decision.” He continued, “You have done no less to me, dove, and they say turnabout is fair play.” 

The late hour, though hauntingly still, brought the assurance that any further visitors were unlikely.  Perhaps a nurse might pause and glance into the room, but the rounds which took place in the dead of night were less frequent than during waking hours. 

Solitude was rare - between the steady stream of medical professionals and visitors paying what very well might be their final respects, it was perhaps the second time since Loki’s life was violently upended in which he had a moment to himself. Theo - or, who Loki believed Theo to be - was well-loved on Midgard, so perhaps it was little surprise that her imminent demise affected so many.

Most were oblivious to the truth - that the woman they had come to love was little more than a lie. Yet, he did not have the heart to reveal such information; though he held a multitude of emotions regarding the situation, he could respect it was not his place to say anything.

Getting lost in the ebb and flow of breathing was easy - it certainly made it easier to lose track of time. With each rise and every fall of Theo’s chest, Loki committed it to memory, unwilling to admit to himself that it might be her last. 

“Feeling any better now?”

Loki’s attention snapped to the doorway, where Maximoff leaned against the frame. Loose copper strands fell from a disheveled ponytail, framing pursed lips and a furrowed brow. She crossed her arms crossed over her chest, the sleeves of her hooded sweatshirt shoved up to her elbows as almost an afterthought. 

“You seem more calm,” she continued, pressing herself up and stepping further into the room. “Did yelling at Thor make you feel any better?”

Loki rolled his eyes and with a huff, settled back into his chair. “He sent you, didn’t he?”

“He’s worried.” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, bloodshot eyes flitting towards Theo. “We’re all worried.” 

Of the many words the silvertongue wished to say, they all vanished the moment he opened his mouth to speak. Unable to provide a retort, Loki simply glowered at the Scarlet Witch.

“She loves you.”

Loves, present tense, as if Theo was not on the precipice of death.

Loki scoffed. “And how would you know?”

“Because she’s the one in that bed, and not you. You love her too; if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“One cannot love something which they do not know.” He muttered, shifting around in his seat for the umpteenth time as he sought out a tolerable position for sitting.

He had been foolish enough to love her, for all the good it had done either of them. Her, on her deathbed, and him, left to reconcile the woman he thought he knew with the woman she truly was.

Though he had averted his gaze, Loki felt the heat of Maximoff’s disappointed stare.

“Spare me your pity, witch.” 

The sigh which Maximoff replied with was akin to how a mother might respond to a petulant child. “Look, you need a shower, and some water. Sleep, ideally. Food if you’re feeling like an overachiever.” The hint of concern which wove itself into her tone only added to the festering unease within Loki’s chest. She turned on her heel, making as if to leave; however, she lingered in the doorway, twisting to face Loki one final time. 

“We’re here for you, you know… Even when you’re being a jerk,” She murmured, amber eyes glistening as she met Loki’s bitter gaze. “... Maybe especially then.”

The soft padding of feet in the hall grew faint as Maximoff departed, leaving Loki alone to face the painful truth:

They were running out of time.

So I’ve been sleeping with  This silence in my brain, my brain I wake up every day In this goddamn place But I won’t wait here anymore

Stepping outside of Theo’s infirmary room reminded Loki of what it must feel like for an animal to be released from its cage. Granted, an animal would likely relish the newfound freedom, even if it was only temporary. On the contrary, Loki dreaded such ventures.

Leaving Theo’s side was unavoidable - it was required for examinations and procedures, as well as basic elements of care like bathing and changing bandages. This particular instance was the result of the medical staff calling everyone together for a conference regarding Theo’s prognosis, as if there was anything to discuss. Everyone knew what the future held; discussing the inevitability of demise seemed rather pointless.

… Not that Loki had much choice in the matter.

Though he had no desire to be present, his pride refused to allow him to reveal the precarious state he lingered in. A quick glamour gave the impression that he maintained full control of his composure by obscuring wrinkled clothing, tangled curls, and the permanent crease between his brows that came from a deep-set frown. Only artificial light filled the corridor, casting a sickly glow on all who occupied the space.

Those who walked past him in the hall provided a wide berth, reminding him of his earliest days among the team known as Earth’s mightiest heroes, when treading on eggshells around the Asgardian prince was standard protocol. It was just as well - Loki was entirely prepared to snarl at anyone who dared draw near. Approaching the conference room door, Loki could make out hushed voices engaged in tense conversation.

“Have you talked to him?” 

“I… yeah.” 

“And?”

Before Maximoff could answer, Loki forced a cough and stepped across the threshold.

Dr. Harper and Maximoff both whipped around, eyes wide as saucers at the sight of the obvious subject of their discussion. Scattered about the room, the rest of the Avengers, along with Dr. Cho, had packed themselves into the rather claustrophobic space. Some sat in leather-backed chairs around the table, while the rest leaned against the walls with expressions ranging from confusion to displeasure.

“Loki, good - you’re here.” Dr. Cho said, flashing her best attempt at a placating smile as she clasped her hands together. “Now we can get started.”

“Yes, please do share what could be so important to necessitate the abandonment of other responsibilities and gather in this prison cell of a conference room.” Loki snipped, crossing his arms and ignoring the disappointed glare that Thor flashed at him.

Dr. Harper glanced at Romanoff as she drew in a deep, cautious breath. “Max figured out what the magic is that’s infecting Theo.”

Stunned silence permeated through the room; only the ticking of the wall clock gave the indication that time had not come to a standstill. Around the room, nervous glances accompanied mouths which hung slightly agape. Loki waited expectantly for a follow up, some sign that there was a positive outcome to the conversation or additional information. 

When none came, Loki steeled himself to ask the question which lingered in the darkest corners of his mind: “What good does that do if there is no means to reverse it?”

“That’s why we called you all here—“ Undeterred by Loki’s cynical inquiry, Dr. Cho replied, only to be interrupted by Maximoff. 

“You’re saying there may be a cure?” Something between hope and desperation seeped through her question; Loki could not ignore the stutter of his pulse at the prospect, though he quickly tamped it down.

“According to Max,” Romanoff interjected. She leaned back in her seat, legs crossed as if this were simply another mission briefing and not the life of an Avenger in the balance. “From what he gathered, there are documents with the information about how to remove whatever this is. Last he heard, they were stolen… by Theo.”

“Then what are we doing here?” Barnes leaned forward, tapping vibranium fingers clinking against the steel table. “She already has what we’re looking for.”

“That’s the problem—“ Rogers spoke from the head of the room, leaning against the wall with arms crossed. Dark circles beneath his eyes and a five-o’clock shadow revealed the toll the recent events took on the captain. “We’ve searched her entire suite and can’t find them anywhere.”

Romanoff leaned forward once more, resting her elbow on her knees. “Tony has FRIDAY reviewing the security footage—“ 

“Not that it does any good if she never took the documents out of her room.” Stark cut off Romanoff, massaging his temples with both hands. Somehow, the engineer appeared to be even more sleep deprived than usual.

“Assuming that’s the case, she would have known where they were stored, right?” Dr. Banner chimed in, sounding unnervingly calm given the circumstances.

“Even if she did, it’s not like she can tell us,” Wilson interrupted, shaking his head. “She can’t even breathe right now.”

“...Maybe she doesn’t need to.” Dr. Banner replied, adding on a thoughtful hum. 

“What?” Belova piped up from beside her sister, mirroring the elder Widow’s posture; however, unlike the stoic expression which Romanoff maintained, Belova openly wore her confusion.

“We do have two people who can read minds…” Dr. Banner glanced between Loki and Maximoff, silently dragging the pair of sorcerers into the fray.

Combing through the memories of another was something Loki would not give a second thought in his younger years; if he could access the memory, he assumed he was entitled to know. 

Yet, after the Mad Titan and the void, he had no interest in the act. The vulnerability of having one’s mind scoured brought an ominous chill to Loki; though he was uncertain of his feelings towards Theo, he had no desire to cause her to feel violated, even if she had withheld such vital information.

“Absolutely not.” Loki crossed his arms and stood a bit taller, fiercely shaking his head with feigned determination. “I refuse.”

“You’re afraid.” Stark cocked a brow at Loki, nodding as if he understood the sorcerer’s motivations.

“Why would I be afraid?” Loki snapped, glowering at Stark for daring to leverage such an accusation.

Stark rolled his eyes, then leaned forward in his chair while locking eyes with Loki. “Because you don’t know what else you might find?” 

“Hardly,” he scoffed, “I simply doubt it would be a fruitful venture.”

“Wanda, what about you?” 

“I don’t know…” The witch hesitated, frowning as her attention skittered around the room. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking me to do? It’s pretty invasive.”

“Would she know if you tried?” Parker frowned, arms crossed while one leg bounced incessantly, contradicting the rhythm of the clock.

“I don’t think so.” Maximoff shook her head. “But would you want someone digging through your thoughts and learning all your secrets?”

“We’re out of options,” Romanoff pointed out. “Shuri and Bruce haven’t been able to replicate this thing, and if we do nothing she’ll die. I think, all things considered, she could forgive you for invading her privacy.”

A tense silence fell over the room; outside, muffled footsteps and assorted announcements reminded everyone that while they dithered over the subject, time continued to pass - time which they did not have.

If anything, perhaps having one of the sorcerers search the suite would be more useful - if Theo had some sort of magical ward placed on the space to hide the documents, they would be able to detect it.

“Okay,” Maximoff’s agreement, though quiet, rang clear. “I’ll try - I mean, it can’t hurt, right?”

Rather than argue, Loki held his tongue and prayed the witch would be right. 

Oh, no one is watching now Sing like you just might drown But always come back for air

Though he dreaded what he might see, Loki could not resist the curiosity of what might transpire at Maximoff’s attempt to enter Theo’s mind. 

Two hours after the meeting, everyone gathered to witness what was hailed as the only way Theo’s life could be saved. There was a certain buzz, an almost frenetic hum to the space. Doctors and nurses stood by, ready to act, as if Midgardian healers would be able to do anything in the face of magical destruction. 

Loki stationed himself near the door, leaning against the wall with arms crossed while watching the scene before him with open skepticism. His position allowed for a clear view once they began, yet kept him out of the traffic patterns as others moved about the space.

Meanwhile, Maximoff positioned herself at Theo’s bedside. As she waited for instructions, she carried a certain heaviness in the slump of her shoulders and the crease of her brow that Loki hadn’t seen in some time. The Scarlet Witch might have been the more optimistic of the sorcerers, but she too understood the gravity of the situation before them. 

A roiling, churning sense of dread pitted itself in Loki’s stomach, swelling as the anticipation increased. He hadn’t noticed that the rest of the room had drawn to a standstill until Dr. Cho made the announcement:

“Wanda, we’re ready when you are.” 

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Maximoff nodded, then turned her attention to Theo. She leaned over the bed, hands hovering just beyond Theo’s temples as tendrils of translucent crimson energy curled and disappeared beneath Theo’s skin. Maximoff closed her eyes, lips downturned as she focused her attention on the task at hand.

All hell broke loose.

Alarms erupted while a horde of doctors and nurses swarmed the bed. Despite her many injuries, Theo thrashed about on the bed, back arching and hands clawing at the sheets with a face twisted in anguish. Despite the tube down Theo’s throat, Loki swore he saw her lips twitching in a cry for help. 

A panicked glance at the monitor revealed a mess of flashing crimson numbers glaring at Loki, taunting him with how foolish this entire scheme was.

Cry as she might, nothing they could do - nothing he could do - would be of any help. 

The realization rendered Loki unable to fight as a Midgardian pushed him away, while another grasped his arm and dragged him through the threshold and into the hall. 

Though forced from the room, Loki plastered himself against the glass door in a futile attempt to remain close. He caught a glimpse of her body falling limp against the bed, not moving whatsoever; meanwhile, discordant shouting and alarms slipped beneath the door.  A scarlet glow reflected from the monitors onto the crowd surrounding Theo, casting a menacing air on the scene as it unfolded. The doctors and nurses moved with a brisk, detached precision, as if oblivious to the knowledge that Loki’s love balanced on a knife’s edge.

Just when he thought the situation could not worsen any further, a nurse noticed Loki. She remained stone-faced as she yanked the curtain closed, fully obscuring his view. 

Elaborate possibilities of terrible outcomes spun through his traitor of a mind. Every footstep echoing down the hall felt akin to the Hela and Fenris approaching. The sound of monitors spilling from other patients’ rooms was the countdown prior to a bomb detonating. He hardly realized when his knees gave out and he sank to the floor, blocking out his surroundings before he could spiral further. 

A lifetime and a moment passed all at once, Loki sitting with his back against the wall and knees against his chest, palms pressed to his eyes in a pathetic attempt to stop any further tears. He may as well have been nothing more than a child, pitifully helpless to stop the slow dirge that accompanied mortality. Theo’s final moments would be spent in a hurricane of chaos and fear, devoid of any form of comfort or meaningful companionship.

“Loki?”

The internal debate of whether to remain in the purgatory of the unknown or face a truth that might very well be Hel stopped Loki from immediately reacting. The tone offered little indication of the outcome, increasing Loki’s hesitancy to respond.

“Loki.” The repetition was firm; enough so that he realized that there was no ignoring whatever was about to come.

He drew a deep breath and braced himself for the worst before lifting his head. 

Dr. Harper stood before him, offering him a hand and a weak smile. “She’s still here - gave us a bit of a scare, but she’s hanging in there.” 

Relief washed over Loki, though it was short-lived at best. 

Theo couldn’t leave him - not like this. He would not - he could not allow it.

Then again… what could he do to stop it?

‘Cause I never got to  See you once more, no I guess that’s all I wanted I guess that’s all I needed

“Brother, please - you must try.” Thor all but begged his younger brother, trailing behind Loki’s relentless pace like a puppy chasing its master. 

In the same cramped conference room where the idea of entering Theo’s mind was initially entertained, those who had not yet given up hope of rescue gathered to discuss the best path forward.

“In such reckless desperation to save her, all that has been done is hasten her demise.” Loki snarled, “And yet, you continue to believe that such barbaric methods could reap any benefit! Has she not suffered enough?”

“We would try something else if we had another option,” Barnes pointed out, aggressively massaging where vibranium connected with flesh. “but we don’t. It sucks, but it’s our best shot.”

“I doubt it would prove successful,” Loki muttered, bravado giving away to bitterness; another reminder that being among the most powerful sorcerers of the nine realms was of no value; for all the magic in the world, he was useless. “If Maximoff could not break past the wards in her mind, what makes you believe I would be capable?”

“Isn’t there something about the power of love?” Whether Stark was serious or facetious was difficult to ascertain; regardless, Loki found both possibilities to be utterly infuriating. “True love conquers all, yada-yada fairytale sort of thing?”

“That is nothing more than myth,” Loki hissed, blood boiling at such an insolent proposition. “There is no evidence to indicate it would make any difference in such matters.” 

“Loki, please–”

“Do you truly wish for my magic to strike the killing blow?” Loki slammed his fist against the table, stunning the others into silence. Every muscle in his body wound itself tight with tension as he struggled to maintain any semblance of respect for those who asked him to commit such a horrific act. “You ask of me the impossible; my seidr would be the last touch of life she feels before she is thrust into a painful, cruel death. How could I live with that?” 

His voice betrayed him, breaking as he asked the question; with it, he felt his carefully composed mask begin to crack. The heat which built behind his eyes spilled over, seeing nothing but burning red as his cheeks grew wet. Before the others could comment, he turned away and wiped his eyes, forcing a glamour for just long enough to hide his slip in composure.

When he returned his attention to the others, Thor stared at him as if he saw through Loki’s tricks. “Brother, can you live with yourself if you try nothing?”  

“There must be another way.” Loki implored, clenching his jaw to stop the trembling of his lower lip. He let out a tense breath, raking one hand through what had become unkempt, tangled curls. “Something we’ve not yet tried–”

“Fine - if you won’t try, maybe you can make yourself useful and go through her laptop.” Romanoff’s own carefully composed mask of indifference began to slip, allowing the faintest hint of tension to show in the manner in which she scrubbed her face with her hands.  

“What exactly do you presume I will find?” Loki drawled, though he accepted the device when Rogers held it out to him. 

Romanoff massaged her temples, her frustration more openly on display. “We won’t know until you look, will we?” 

Try as he might, Loki could not conjure a counterpoint.

Not long after, Loki sat in the torture chamber of an infirmary room, staring at Theo’s laptop before him. Searching through files seemed like a fruitless task, however he could at least acknowledge that it might prove more beneficial than other means of research.

Unlocking the device was simple; such a task could be completed in his sleep. However, the image that greeted him upon entering the password triggered a memory so painful that Loki nearly slammed the damned contraption shut and banished it into another plane. 

It was a picture of Theo and Loki, from the day he took her to Coney Island. They were at the top of the ferris wheel, with a view of the city in the background as the sunset stretched across the sky. It was relatively early in her tenure as an Avenger - in need of an opportunity to destress, Loki suggested they spend an afternoon at the amusement park. 

By the time they boarded the ferris wheel, Loki’s sides ached from the endless laughter between them. Theo’s cheeks flushed the faintest pink from sunburn, but the sparkle in her ocean eyes told him that the adventure was worth the slight discomfort. He remembered how she pestered him to take the photo because he had longer arms, and how at the last moment Theo wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer to her, causing him to laugh in surprise right as he took the picture.

Everything had been so simple then; what he would have sacrificed to go back to that moment and linger there eternally.

Rather than casting the laptop aside, the desire for connection pushed Loki to see what else he might find. He methodically worked his way through the files, searching folder by folder for anything that might have even the slightest connection to the predicament before them. Hours passed as he worked through the multitude of files, the motivation from earlier replaced with hopelessness as he failed to find anything that might be useful moving forward.

After he closed the final document, a different folder caught his eye.

Titled “Covers,” inside were the recordings of the many songs which Theo performed her own renditions of and shared online. The files dated back to approximately when she began her role as an Avenger, covering a variety of styles and genres of music.

In a way, looking through her music felt like he was reading her diary: intimate, vulnerable, and candid. But he also knew that this was the closest he would get to easing the ache of not being able to talk to her, to apologize endlessly for his foolishness, to understanding and reconciling the woman he thought he knew with the woman she truly was. He could always tell how she was feeling based on what she was listening to; right now, with their relationship in such a precarious place and her well-being in the balance, he craved anything that allowed him to feel closer to her.

Just before he could press play, a nurse entered, politely requesting that he take his leave as they tended to Theo.

Loki glanced one final time at the laptop, the question lingering on his mind: what if entering her mind truly was the solution? 

As if on cue, Thor’s voice echoed in Loki’s mind: Could he live with himself if he did not at least try?

Then again, if she perished, could he live with himself knowing he was the cause?  

Now look, you’ve made a fool out of love When all you want is to be enough, When all you want is to feel enough

In the end, desperation won over.

The Norns must have truly cursed him, to force his hand into taking such action. The stacks of texts which failed to provide any hints about a path forward, the laptop which held no documentation of the secrets Theo kept, the chimes of machines which provided borrowed time - they all taunted him as he sat alone in the darkened room, with nothing but one small lamp above the head of bed illuminating the space. The corridor outside was eerily still, no doubt from the late hour, with not even the squeak of rubber sole on polished floors making it to Loki’s ears.

Before he began, he decided to revisit the playlist of covers she recorded. If there was one thing that had not been cast into doubt after everything that transpired, it was that the music she created always provided a window to her emotions at that moment in time. Though it was a long shot, Loki hoped that hearing the very songs she covered might help Theo subconsciously lower her guard, allowing Loki to see into her memories.

Selfishly, he hoped it might also offer him the opportunity to determine if the bonds between them were true, or if they were little more than illusions.

If nothing else, the sound of her voice floating through the air offered him a comfort that he desperately craved, particularly as he stared down the prospect of being both her lover and executioner. 

In the dead of night, with no one around to witness, Loki said a prayer to whatever deities might offer him grace. He leaned over, delicately cupping Theo’s cheek in his hand. His gaze carefully cataloged the features he’d come to love and the remnants of a war she hadn’t chosen to fight in, committing them to his own memory.

“If this is to be your final moment, I hope that it is peaceful,” he murmured, as if she could hear his voice or comprehend his message. “Come what may, I pray you will forgive me for that which I am about to do; I wish nothing but the best for you, my dear.”

Theo’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and for a moment, Loki’s pulse stuttered as he swore traces of recognition could be found. Yet, it was a fleeting moment before they fell shut once more, and the reality of their situation set in.

It was now or never.

Taking Theo’s hand in his, Loki closed his eyes. The tingle of Seidr flowed through his veins as he channeled it into Theo, uncertain about what he would find when he attempted to probe her mind. 

In some sort of poetic irony, that was exactly how he found himself back where most stories start - at the beginning.

It’s still not quite the way it was, But you promised me that  this is love, so stay and  Watch the hospital that’s Just across the street From your apartment balcony I’ll never ever leave, I’ll never leave

Tag list: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @thedistractedagglomeration @lokisgoodgirl @simplyholl @mochie85 @coldnique @lokixryss @gigglingtiggerv2 @infinitystoner @loopsisloops @mischief2sarawr @crzyplantladyvibes @buttercupcookies-blog @vickie5446 @wolfsmom1 @sarahscribbles @loki-cees-all @the-lady-amphitrite @tripleyeeet let me know if you want to be added!

[transienturl]

dreamed that redpop was rewritten in htm/preact, breaking the majority of xkit (cool dev tool though), and also that april went on hiatus pending the reintroduction of some kind of hook into what used to be the react props, and then also the site update got pushed to prod with like 2/3 of the site missing or nonfunctional, and then also one of the dependencies of the site was a composite polymer material filled with micro machinery that did security stuff (you know, kind of like a usb security key) and the way you interacted with tumblr's desktop site was now not using a computer but rather by squeezing a small tube of goo into an empty white plastic bag of the sort used to sell soil or concrete mixes at the garden center or hardware store (that this somehow resulted in you being able to peruse media was entirely unexplained)

"was this what sreegs was talking about with that vaguepost," I thought; "I try to give the company the benefit of the doubt but I really think this cost cutting measure may have been too aggressive"

[untilteddocument]

After-Action Archive Caves of Qud - I'm Here, I'm Here...

Welcome again, one and all, to the After-Action Archive! Last time left off with us nearly at the summit of our climb through the Tomb of the Eaters, and thus an end to my quest here...or so I presume.

This is Part Four of my journey through the Tomb of the Eaters. Despite there being only couple of steps left, so to speak, there's enough packed into them in certain ways that I think it best to give them at least some room to breathe. With that in mind, it's time to die like we're living.

Content Warning: Rumination on impending death

So, here we are. The stairway to some sort of heaven. The thrum of unknown machinery ripples under us, and I at least can feel the sudden pull of a normality field. That means there will be resistance to reality-warping, ranging from recoilers to Esther's Temporal Fugue to even my force bracelet. It is a matter of concern, especially since it's interfering with the majority of my defense, but given our numbers and the necessity of our mission, we press on.

I pass the myriad holograms and marvel at the differences. Such variations in form...and these are all Eaters? Once again, I find myself scoffing at the Putus Templar. Insipid fools. Yet...I wonder if their forbears would scoff as I do. What would they see if they saw me? Or Yrame? Form is divergent, but did their thinking veer into the same essentialism? My expression sobers at where my mind wanders.

Until we find our way to another sobering sight.

I forgot to screencap the description for these, but every cherub follows a formula, with the only real difference being the exact essential qualities of the type of creature being extolled. For example, fungi, or at least mushrooms:

Gallium veins press against the underside of their crystalline skin and gleam warmly. Their body is perfect, and the whole of it is wet with amniotic slick; could they have just now peeled themself off an oil canvas? Were they cast into the material realm by a dreaming, dripping brain? Whatever the embryo, they are now the archetypal mushroom; it's all there in impeccable simulacrum: the wheezing gills, the turgidness, the hunger for dead things. Perfection is realized.

The others we see as we walk on through the halls are little different.

Even the mechanical facsimiles, despite falling clearly short, are marvels in motion.

Dials tick and vacuum tubes mantle under synthetic chitin and inside plastic joints. Eightfold gams, hundred lenses, and ageless bearing are wrought from a vast and furcate machinery into the ideal form of the spider. By the artistry of its construction, it closely resembles its referent, but an exposed cog here and an exhaust valve there betray the truth of its nature. Its movements are short and mimetic; it inhabits the valley between the mountains of life and imagination.

Regardless of the shape, there is a certain...awe to be ascribed to these beings, though some revulsion as well. That the Eaters were so skilled as to make them as a matter of course is something that, as a tinker, fills me with respect and jealousy, and the creatures themselves have a certain power to them, a grandeur I can't deny.

The revulsion is due to what manner of thinking they represent.

Ideal form, the perfect archetype. All else of its kind a pale imitation, even as the cherubs are themselves representations. Perfection, to a tinker of my tradition at least, is less than anathema; it is nonsense. Nothing is less possible.

This is not just from a practical perspective, though that is also true; if a thing is perfect it has no need to change, and is therefore worse than dead, for even death brings change and life in time. No, the crux is that it betrays a method of thinking that leads to little good. A world where perfection is possible, of forms and pure ideas, of initial height and inevitable descent, is a world that does not exist. We exist in relation to each other, in connections and conversations and systems that arise from these connections. All existence is change, all existence depends on context. Anything is "perfect" insofar as it matches its current relations, and when any of those change, it must change too. I freely acknowledge the skill their makers possessed, but I cannot, in my current understanding, ascribe wisdom to their creation.

This, however, is not why I decide to order an attack.

Rather, that is due to simple greed.

Each sultan's reliquary contains some artifacts, including their respective death mask. True to the most prominent figures of their ages, the masks are marvels of craft.

That's...a lot of power in one package. It could be the single most complete piece of equipment I've ever seen, with something for every possible skillset. The other items in the reliquary are almost afterthoughts.

I'd like to say that the cherubs easily live up to their status, and it is true that they are powerful. They have a special property that makes them almost immune to direct ranged fire and their capabilities in melee, while varying with the type, are nothing to scoff at.

But no, the battle proves almost boring.

The cherubim were mighty, but could not stand up to the sheer power and numbers that faced them. As I gain the spoils of the tomb they guarded, however...

That's entirely fair, though I find myself wondering what, if anything, would bring them back up. Regardless, with my companions' muscle no longer needed, I take them back down to the Upper Crypts before recoiling them back to the Yd Freehold and returning by myself.

The rest of this journey, I must make alone.

The rest of the cherubs don't bother me as I go onward, and I pay them no mind either. My focus is on reaching the top.

I look at the surroundings as I proceed, feeling a mix of dread and curiosity. Compared to the others, this place looks so...

Raw.

Along the winding passages I go, every step echoing, feeling the emptiness press in. With my companions gone and not even cherubs around, I-

Wait, what the heck's this doing here? Despite the unfinished look of the place, there's no leaks I can see...and the glowcrows?

Glowcrows?

The absurdity of the sight would be nothing in any other circumstance, but here, amid the ragged and otherwise-empty space, I can't help but grip onto it with disbelieving laughter. The crows largely ignore me, and eventually I wish them well and continue. Perhaps they are a mark of the path's impending end, because it's just past them that I enter Resheph's tomb and find...

I approach them and start conversation.

I am tired, but my curiosity and unease gain the upper hand for a moment. Why is this tomb unfinished?

....Wait. They have until Resheph is dead to complete the tomb...and they're still waiting.

Does that mean...

If it's been 1000 years...

I shake my head and get to brass tacks.

Well...I expected that, but having the out-and-out confirmation, just like that...

I take a breath.

I hold still as Herododicus continues the scan, eventually cross-referencing with the Thin World in some way. As they go, I try to settle myself.

I'm...going to die.

I take in the little whirs of Herododicus's motors, the faint thrum of the tomb's machinery, the unyielding flatness of the floor beneath my shoes, the non-sound sound of an entire near-empty stratum. I am reminded of...patience. Calm endurance. This place has lasted for hundreds upon hundreds of years. Always thrumming away, content in its slow but unending motion, the shuffling animated corpse in place of those interred within it. In that placidity is...apathy. Even if it's in Resheph's tomb, the one remaining empty grave in this place...it's just one more, isn't it? Just one more for the pile. A misplaced mote of dust.

I'm...going to die.

I take in the faint sound of the glowcrows, sharing whatever stories they might have to each other. Perhaps they're talking about me. I take in my heartbeat, quickening in anticipation and dread. There is silence. There is a sudden beep as the scan finishes and Herododicus confirms as much. I wish them peace. I wish them the peace I cannot feel. I do not shiver.

I'm...going to die.

I actually manage to settle a bit as I watch Herododicus work. The clinking of their chisel and the hammer is steady enough to be calming, and they are clearly skilled. Chip by chip, I watch my life unfold before me. They...really seem to like the stories of me sharing random books with the librarian of the Six Day Stilt. I find myself wondering if I should recommend they join the mopango, or perhaps find their way to Ezra. There ought to be more for them than waiting for someone who might not ever come. Staying in here would be..stifling.

Stifling.

Yes.

Before long, after eternity, they finish.

My heart begins to beat faster again, as if trying to meet a quota as I climb into the empty sarcophagus.

I am here.

I am here.

There is a moment where I am unsure of what to do with my arms. Do I cross them over my body? Interlace my fingers at my navel? Leave them at my sides? Try a rude gesture? I do not know what I end up doing.

I am here.

Then the lid closes ov

[memurfevur-archive]

Hide and Seek Part 3: A Promise

Character(s): Athena Uyilst, The Hidelord (@mageofspacemultiverse), NPC

About: The Hidelord worms himself into Athena's mind, playing on her weaknesses and strengths while they skin a traitor alive.

CW: blood, light graphic depictions of torture, human zoo

Words: 3,736

Plot Page

Song and Dance (part 1)

The Bronze Girl (part 2)

==================================

 Hidelord sniffed the air, glancing to the left in the direction of a long tapering stack of smog climbing the night sky. I stood beside him in a half-cower, knowing what lies ahead and undecided whether or not I could brave it. The Zoo was not like any other place in Hidelord’s domain, and what he had planned beyond here I would not know would break or save me.

"When we're alone with the bastard, then we'll talk about accountability. We can spin our turning knife, see who it lands on. Now, hunch forward a bit, and move."

He led the way through the field of reedy grass that flicked at our forearms and jostled noisily across our legs. It took us less than ten minutes to walk the full length and for the wide metal shed to come into sight: the Zoo had everything, not just holding cells for all of Hidelord's prizes, but a surgeon's bay, a kitchen, some bathrooms, and even a trading post inside for the exchange of skins and the occasional auction.

A guard was poised outside one of the rear doors. He leaned in to whisper something in the Hidelord's ear, and after a moment the Hidelord whispered back. The code words were not audible to the ear in case a slave tried to remember one as a means to escape, but it didn’t stop me from angling my ears listening for a shred of hope. For a brief moment I questioned whether this was what I truly wanted-- an escape; with rainbow drinker senses as sharp as a knife, I could easily hear soft murmurs and whispers as loud as a crowd’s roar. And yet, I heard nothing, and reminded myself that I am too weak to leave on my own volition. With a quick key jingle, the door was unlocked and the Hidelord grabbed me with a convincing tug and pulled me inside.

I had learned to be a good actor, playing my part to give people what they want. Looking sad and pathetic was too easy, though really the depression was the true star. I followed Hidelord with my head down and ears closed, but I didn’t need to act. The dread I felt was real.

Leading the way into the makeshift warehouse, the formerly tranquil air was instantly aplomb with screams, pleads, moans, weeping, and the noise of metal being shaken and scratched. Stacked in aisles at least twenty feet high and a hundred feet long were industrial cages, partially covered with numbered tarps. Empty or broken boxes were stacked against the wall for future use. Plastic tubes for dispensing water fed from each cage up toward the ceiling where one great cooler sat, like rodent sipper bottles, collecting from pipes buried in the ground outside. Flayed skins of past pets hung on the wall, a fatal reminder that despair was all anyone here had in store.

The place smelled of bile and sweat and dirt, but most of all, misery.

We passed the barrage of noise and doomed souls to the rear end, making it to an entryway made of thin plastic curtains. "Wanna wait here?" Hidelord put forth with a rhetoric chime to his voice, then stalked through the entryway to speak with his other minions. There were the faint sounds of beeping machinery through the cooler entrance, but it was mostly drowned out by the wails of the creatures behind me.

I was sure to keep my head down, though this time more for my health than out of obedience. I couldn't quite remember the path there, everything had been a blur, and I had been outside of my body for most of the journey through the Zoo, past the twists and turns filled with hollowed faces caked in blood and dirt and worse. I tried to keep myself together, gritting my teeth just to have that pressure as an anchor. The vile scene was almost too familiar to me. Underground slaver rings were only the scratches of the surface compared to this, though.

I wondered briefly if I was meant to be here, if this was my punishment for last night’s foolery. Or had he grown bored of me after all and decided to lock me away in the Zoo? I'd die, I decided; I'd rather die than go through this again. Hidelord had plenty of knives on his person. I could easily take one when he isn’t prepared, and slit my own throat right in front of him....

I began to hum to myself softly to try to drown out the screaming and crying, a short lullaby my brother would sing to me as kids. The memory of my brother brought forth its own guilt and regrets, but it was better to feel those than face the smothering atmosphere around me.

It was, to the relief of the surrounding universe, that Hidelord’s abandonment wouldn't come just yet. He soon returned as the squeaks of rubber against metal began to fade from the other room. He did not speak, only urgently waved to join him within the suite.

Beyond was much of the same, though some fabric curtains were fastened to the ceiling, and the room only held one or two cages, currently empty. All was covered in caked blood, none having bothered to clean the proof of their gruesome activity. Violet, blue, and brown alike were splattered across the room, as well as two of the otherwise shining metal tables that lay dormant before them. The room was cooler here, and the sound of the beeping grew closer.

Hidelord slunk past one of the curtains, gesturing to one table that was, in stark contrast, very much occupied. The traitorous warlord from before, Jembra, was a mass of tubes and cables hooked up to odd, archaic contraptions. A jar of leeches was set on the ground next to him, bright gold and swollen in their putrid swill. An accordion-like object sank up and down to the rhythm of his breathing, and bags of olive-hue blood surrounded his tired, unconscious face.

"The blood'll poison him before too long." Hidelord remarked, snorting. "He's no drinker, so if you want to bask in this for a second, don't fuck around. Let me know when we should get started, and how we'll decide this."

I looked at him, eyes wide. What more could this man go through? What were… we...going to put him through? I glanced back at the barely-conscious corpse on the table. Try as I might, I could not hold much sympathy for him. He knew the rules of the land better than I, and he had been willing to throw away what kept him safe for greed and power. He had been willing to betray what kept me safe. I can’t afford this man any sympathy, so my response was short and dry, “Anytime.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” my master grinned wickedly, reaching under the table and grabbing a small satchel, then sticking it under the lord’s nose.

It took a few moments to kick in, but the corpse lurched forward slightly with a sharp inhale, eyes pulsing from the aftermath of shock.

“Wakey wakey…” Hidelord’s smile faded into a mask of concentration, as he went to the far side of the room and took hold of one knife and a worn whetstone. A long, tapering sound of metal meeting plastic began to repeat through the small bay, and Jembra’s head swung back and forth weakly between the two of us, the reality quickly sinking in. With every haunting shing, his pupils looked smaller and smaller, and his breathing hitched and hiccuped with dread.

I could smell it, his fear, a sweet acidic taste on my tongue and fragrance to my nose. It made my fangs ache and the shudder that ran through my body could clue anyone in that the promise of what was to come seemed... enjoyable. Exciting. Much to my shame and guilt, I felt excited.

No… no it must be because I’m hungry, my blood thirst waking the undead monster within me. But even with this reasoning, I knew I wasn’t strong enough to help myself.

I approached Jembra, wanting him to see me, wanting more of that fear scent. Did he recognize me? Did he recognize me as the reaper who brought him to his knees? If there was recognition, it seemed Jembra’s mind was too far gone to rationalize or vocalize it. He didn’t scream or writhe about, but the puffs of his breath came out desperate, as though his lungs had holes he was desperate to fill.

It did not take long for the knife to be sharpened, and for Hidelord’s heavy boots to lumbar back. He held the blade between his thumb and two fingers. “I don’t think we need to decide. I can see the urge practically erupting from your skin. Shall the knife turn once more, Athena?” It felt like an oddly intimate moment.

Jembra’s legs started to shake pathetically against the gurney, tearing a bit at the medieval stitching that kept his dissected carcass together. He must’ve been on painkillers to even stay conscious with the damage…not that it would matter soon.

Despite the shame and guilt that I could feel building up, it was much easier to fall into these temptations. There was a part of me that missed being the hunter instead of the prey, a part of me that yearned for the days of blood lust and money. I could go back, step into the past, relive the days when I felt most powerful....

Jembra's struggle really sold it. As he moved and tore at his stitching, I could smell the blood welling in his wounds. Hidelord's offer danced in my mind; what would Jembra look like without his skin? With the smell of blood covering his whole body? I shuddered at the thought, and the words of an old story about a fur trader came to my head; one who had been so greedy that he had killed all the animals, and had begun to feel sorrow only then for the victims as he found himself alone. I hummed a bit giddily as words broke past a ghosting smile, "So long it has felt since I have brushed with the soft fur of a pelt."

My mind somehow made up, I looked to the Hidelord then, "If you could guide me…"

The hunter hummed, leaving the knife on the table by the troll's foot, then coming to the side of the table to press the recoiling cadaver's arm tight to the steel, gesturing over with his eyebrows. "I'd normally soak the skin in some salt water to help loosen it from the muscle, but...you get the point. Bastard's weak but he's still gonna shake so I'll hold him for you."

Jembra's moans, barely audible, became weak pleads that warbled through the streaks of tears that bubbled along his eyelids and nose.

"We'll start here." He dug the tip of his elbow against the wrist to keep it secured, then gestured to the secured area of skin just below said wrist. "I'd normally flip him onto his stomach and start from the back, but with his injuries that'd just kill him. Don't expect to be perfect on your first time skinning, it took me a few tries to get the right method." Ugh, dreadful to think about. Almost as dreadful as the excitement that was bouncing in his voice. It irritated me how much we mirrored each other. "You've peeled fruit with a paring knife, right? Same idea. Stick just the tip under, then angle upwards so you're only getting under his skin, then press on a slight angle. The knife isn't a tool, it's a friend; let it do the work."

I readied myself just as Hidelord instructed. My breath became shaky not from nervousness but from the sight of the knife entering Jembra's body and how smooth the movement was. I angled the knife once it was in, and began to peel down. "Is there a pattern you do this in?" I tossed him a glance and ignored Jembra's cries. "Patches? Strips? Is any of this salvageable to you? Or should I have fun with this blood orange?"

The biting remark caused a shift in Jembra's face; the smallest hint of prideful fury at the demeaning tease. Apparently the only thing stronger than fear to the Lords was their pride. But it wouldn't last, and the machines began to beep louder as a deep, dark goo ebbed along the edge of the knife. Groans rose in pitch and the man fought to free his arm with what little fight remained in his form.

"To flay and filet a troll is an art form. Part of the appeal is the different styles. This product is just for a trophy, not for a special sale, but do try to make it recognizable." He pointed along the lines of veins bulging with each dig and pull of the blade. "Try to keep the veins intact if you can, don't slice and dice them for the sake of our turf war. Pyritebloods have thin, mutant veins, but they're almost as much of a trademark as how much of swindlers they are. Never met one that wasn't itching to try and fuck you over for advancement, isn't that right Jembra?" Hidelord chuckled. "Keep doing what you're doing. Maybe cut that first side of the forearm off, and then we'll give him a break so the shock doesn't take him. He's gonna have to keep from croaking too quick for his fucking stupidity, hmm?"

Listening to Hidelord's advice I worked the seconds away. I was careful and attentive as I could be, admiring the way the blood pooled around the knife and the texture of peeled skin. A part of me hated it. It felt as if a lost memory was threatening to play in my mind, something I pushed so far back so long ago. I feared I would uncover it again if I continued. But I wanted to keep going out of spite of my master. And yet there’s a part of me that was hungry and eager to please. I’m a complete mess with torn wills.

I stopped peeling when this half of the forearm was exposed. I held the patch of skin in my hands, my eyes wide. I had once been renowned as the Huntress, playing with my prey before eating it, before shedding their heads from their bodies. These weren’t forbidden thoughts or memories, no more as they were reflections.

I held the patch up for the Hidelord to see, seeking his approval and showing off the catch. I both hated myself and yet was impressed at the same time. I wanted to scream and cry at the Hidelord, fearful of the memory that threatened to come. There was a reason why I’m not up close and personal with my kills, usually. This is up close. This is personal. This is...

I glared at him, burning hatred onto his face. Look what you made of me! This isn’t punishment, but entertainment, and I feel I have become a jester. Yet, this might as well become of me: the very same monster I revere. Despite it all I couldn’t help but wish this to end, and for him to hold me and praise me; did I put on a good show? The proof is in my hands.

Wading in the stench and promise of blood, the night swam into morning in the vigorous agony of the broken man and Hidelord's uncontainable satisfaction. It was early during the start of his chest being worked that the shock and pain finally took hold and Jembra lost consciousness. As long as he was dead, I could numb myself.

"Weak man," the Hidelord huffed, wiping his palms with a dirty cloth. "There was a lot more fun in store if he wasn't such a pansy-fuck. At best, it makes carving him easier, especially for hands and feet, and when we remove the eyes." His index finger went under my chin and pointed my gaze towards him. "Tell me, what do you feel, Athena? A rush? A pride? Honor?"

There was an uncomfortable silence between us as he waited for my answer. I glanced back and forth between the cadaver and Hidelord, studying my handiwork while battling with emotions I couldn’t fathom.

My lip curled slightly as I relented, “Satisfaction.” My voice had cracked, and I could not maintain it. My words grew breathless and soundless, almost like a sob. "Eagerness. Regret. But pride, yes, there's certainly pride." There was a growl rising in my throat, barely audible. He pressed me to him and we rested our foreheads against the other’s. "I hate the person I am when I’m with you.”

His fingers coaxed between strands of my matted hair. "You're lucky to have the luxury to hate what you're doing,” he hummed, "in the Safari, everyone surrenders to me; it's best to surrender with the part of you that's truest. Uncaged, untamed...an exotic nemesis to all that would disrespect you, and disrespect me. “A knife is made to cut, Athena. You may want to keep it sheathed, use it to pin your letters to the wall, make it something it isn't, but it'll never be as good or as happy as when it's cuttin'. You're a knife-" He pointed down at his pants. "You're on my belt, heh. You're sharp, dangerous, beautiful. I'll keep you clean, polished - as a prized possession deserves." His lips brushed across my blood-stained knuckles, his other hand encircling the middle of my neck with two fingers. His breath was warm, rank with the smell of alcohol and spittle. "Now...I've paid you two more favors than I'd pay any other troll in this fucking madhouse of mine. Is that enough to trade for a prophecy, my little bird?"

He was making a promise to me. My chest and throat tightened as tears stung the back of my eyes. This. This was the best my life was going to get. Someone who would protect me, cherish me, want me. I meant something to him, even though I was just a slave-- no. If I had been just a slave, I would have been treated like everyone else. I wouldn’t have the privilege of his protection or praise, of his bed or his knife. He knew me. He knows what’s best for me, can see me for what I am, for what I can’t fight.

And in that moment, I found myself content for the first time in three sweeps. Why should I fight something that seemed too good? I could be here, by his side, on his lap or on the floor, and he would protect me. Clean. Polished. He wouldn't let anyone else have me. I wouldn't move from place to place, hand to hand, whip to whip. I’m his. I have a place. A purpose. His. This was the best I was going to get, and so I’ll have it as long as he'll have me.

Well, there was a problem with that, though. I hesitated. I’ve seen this coming for a long time now, and had always accepted that it would just be Fate. To move around and shift from hand to hand forever. But something was coming. While before I had refused to tell Hidelord this, now that I was convinced of how close Hidelord would hold his knife to his belt I reconsidered. "There will be a hound of metal," I said softly. "Fiercer than your knives. You will lose one of them." The Hidelord’s a smart and clever man, and though sometimes he struggled with figuring out my cryptic words –as per our song and dance-- he knew instantly that this was about me. "How long?" He queried, blinking slowly. "How near is this hound to its scent?"

I reached up and cupped his cheek, running the side of my thumb along his cheek bone and part of the scar that ran over his eye. "You're the most cunning trapper I've had the displeasure to meet," I brought my lips to his skin and traced his uneven stubble on his jaw, then did the same to his throat. I felt him stiffen and radiate with confusion, but soon his shoulders relaxed. I let my fangs graze lightly, then looked up at him. The hesitance was still there, but now I allowed my voice to be distant. Reserved. As always, I knew more than he did, and I knew Fate cannot be fought with. I accepted that a long time ago, after the death of my matesprit. So what am I to do now? And him? "You figure it out."

Predictably, flattering the great lord earned enough favor to distract. The smirk that sprouted was torn between grabbing me by one shoulder blade and pressing me deep into the space between his pectorals and letting me lead, just as he had a moment ago. In the end though, the moment was fleeting, and as we stood at the window, he put the cool metal of his rings against the trail that my teeth had left. “If I ever killed a troll for every time you talked smart to me, the mountain would be higher than the one we took to get here,” he jested dangerously, the words ringing in their usual dynamic.

I nodded, falling silent, but not for him. A small glimpse of time rolled behind my eyes, showing a glimmer of metal and splashes of blood. How topical; I knew the hound was coming, but I hadn’t thought it would be today. Which meant we didn’t have time to stand around. If I don’t distract him, he’ll be dead like the rest of them. What a cruel irony, when I had just chosen to believe in his promise.

"If you do not mind, Aktaio, I would like to confess."

With the use of his real name, the coy game stopped. A vein bulged in the side of his neck as he tried to figure out what that meant. Heat rushed to his face. His jaw set, a suspicion ghosting his expression, though I knew he didn’t want to believe it. “…What have you done? Talk. Now.”

[damnbrosius]

*leaves James for Ambrosius*

Leave an object in my ask and my muse will react to it being given to them.

"Oh? No grand Atlesian machines or--forgive me--another weapon?"

It takes a minute for him to realize James himself is the object he's intended to examine, and forgive him, because he lets his utter delight be known on his face.

"Really? You'll let me see?"

Cue the eye loupe. He floats quite close, peering at everything he can find, gaze shifting from one internal component to the next. The machinery alone is fascinating--tubes and wires filling a metal frame in the shape of a human body. Electrical impulses shot through, moving it with the same dexterity.

And so many processes that had to be replicated! He had examined human anatomy here and there, and knew it for a truly complicated network of interlocking systems. Just in the torso alone, vascular, nervous, lymph, pulmonary, and skeletal functions all had to be replicated.

Please, General, forgive him his wandering hands. They land on his shoulder and elbow, lifting his right arm so that he can watch the parts inside move in total cooperation. The loupe vanishes in favor of just drawing closer, close enough to see all of the insides, the details, eyes scanning deeper and deeper. Everywhere he looks, he finds something new.

It's the hand he spends the most attention on at one time, and he returns to it several times. The fingers, he spreads and lifts, peering at them as if there's something written on them. The palm and fingers, they're hollow metal casts, insides lined with numerous razor-thin pads and sensors, and small impulses...what are those? Nanomachines, perhaps? To help the sensory pads in case of damage? No, no, to remove microbes and other filth that could damage them in the first place? Both?

Around and around he goes, circling the General and looking at everything, from the structures making up his leg and calf to the plating occupying the place where a shoulder blade would be. He loses himself just a tad in the abundance of things to examine and observe, being perhaps a bit rude in how thoughtlessly and openly he's just...looking, looking, looking, at everything!

But more fascinating even than the metal and plastic crafted to replace human flesh is where and how that human flesh interacts with it. Floating there before Ironwood, his eyes linger on the place where smooth metal became fused and whitened skin tissue, drawing a line down from his neck to his waist. His hand stretches out, lingering in the air before he finally remembers his manners and withdraws it.

A mechanical sack of filters that sorted impurities out... A complicated system of tubes replacing intestines that must've been torn away ages ago... A fully mechanical spine, holding him straight and connecting to a lengthy set of nerves. A lung tucked within the metal frame of the ribcage that sat snug against the heart, which is the last place his eyes linger. Some pieces of metal here and there, and it's flowing with those same nanomachines...but otherwise, completely organic, sitting there wearing its proud red, pumping defiantly in that chest of his.

The last thing he examines, floating up horizontally to get a much, much too close look, is what's going on in Ironwood's head. He trails upward, looking at the insides. The spine connected to a half-metal clavicle attaching to the shoulders, of course, which itself led to an intact esophagus supported with a strange fabric-like mesh. The spinal cords, of course, led up into the brain, which was intact, but with a few mechanical implants slotted inbetween it and the skull frame. Ambrosius' next touch is very deliberate, coming up to cup Ironwood's head (gently!) by the jaw, just holding him still while he looks closer.

"Your eyes..."

What are those small wires in his ocular plates for? Just stabilizers? Too simple to comprise any form of enhanced vision... Ah, but of course. They kept the eyes clean. Whatever incident had warranted all these grafts might've damaged a tear duct, or some background organ that released retinal fluids.

His hands fall away from Ironwood's face, and he slowly floats backwards, his analysis all but complete, but eyes drifting back down to the place on his chest where metal met flesh. His next words are overflowing with rapturous wonder.

"This is amazing, this is beautiful...!" he breathes out, overcome. "You're a masterpiece!"

[alinagentry90]

Science Project : How to make a Hydraulic Lift

Constructing a hydraulic lift for your science project offers a captivating exploration into fluid dynamics and mechanical engineering. Begin by assembling materials: two large syringes, plastic tubing, a stable base (cardboard or wood), and a movable platform. Attach plastic tubing to the syringes, creating a closed loop. Fill one syringe with water, removing air bubbles, and secure it to the base. Connect the other syringe to the platform, ensuring both are positioned vertically. By pushing and pulling the water-filled syringe's plunger, observe the lift's impressive mechanism in action. The hydraulic lift demonstrates Pascal's law, showcasing how pressure applied to an enclosed fluid is transmitted equally in all directions. Experiment with water levels and payload weights to deepen your understanding of hydraulic systems. This engaging project not only elucidates scientific principles but also enhances your appreciation for the mechanics behind hydraulic machinery. Share your discoveries and newfound knowledge with your peers during the presentation of this interactive and educational hydraulic lift science project.

[pragatiplastic]

High-quality PTFE/FEP/PFA/PVDF flexible tubing: plain, colored, multi-lumen, radio-opaque, striped

Pragati Plastics PVT. LTD Established in 1985, we are market leaders for prime quality engineered parts in plastics and rubber. Materials offered are ZEDEX®, PTFE/ FILLED PTFE, PVDF, UHMWPE, PEEK, PA6/66/12/612, POM, PCTFE, FEP, PFA, and many other long-chain polymers and composites

We design, prototype, re-engineer, retrofit and supply performance products in optimized materials, for applications involving:

Sealing - static and dynamic

Bearing - slide, rotational, static

Thermal / electrical / electronic insulation

Chemical resistance and corrosion protection

Abrasion reduction and impact resistance

High load bearing / conveying applications

High speed / Low Wear plastic parts 

Substitution of metals with plastics, rubbers & composites

Food grade, medical grade, semi-con grade materials

Optimization of existing plastics and rubber parts for reduced life cycle costs

Reduction of machinery downtime using new generation of ZEDEX® materials and other superior material options.

Typical parts offered are:

Machined parts as per drawing/specifications

Extruded profiles and flexible tubing

Film and tape

Rods, sheets, hollows, and blanks for further machining.

We offer high-quality, perfectly concentric PTFE/PFA/FEP/PVDF/ETFE/PEEK/PI tubing with dependable pressure ratings and electric breakdown strengths. Used for chemicals and gases, electronic, electric, automotive, medical devices, semi-con, food/pharma, and instrumentation applications. Full std. size range + over 1500 non-standard sizes in stock. Radio-opaque, multi-lumen, colored, striped, fabrications also. Quick deliveries.

For More Details:-   Pragati Plastics Pvt. Ltd. B-219, 2nd Floor, Naraina Industrial Area Phase-1, New Delhi-110028, India.Tel: +91-11-40161678, 42637678, Sales: +91-9958004282 Email- info@pragatiplastics.com , Website - www.pragatiplastics.com

[midseo]

High Speed Multi Head Container Filling Machines, Mumbai, India

Harish Pharma Engineering : Manufacturer and Supplier of High Speed Multi Head Container Filling Machines, Mumbai, India.

Pharmaceutical Machinery, Tube Filling Machinery, Tube Sealing Machinery, Soft Drink Filling Machinery, Container Filling Machinery, Pharmaceutical Equipments, Pharmaceutical Machine, Food Processing Machinery, Chemical Equipment, Plastic Tube Filling Machinery, Multi Head Container Filling Machine, Cone Blender, Volumetric Bottle Filling, Filtration Unit, Rotary Bottle Washing, Rubber Bung Washing Machine, Storage Tank, Pressure Vessel, Cosmetic Filling Machinery, High speed Multi Head Container Filling Machine, Multi Head Container Filling Machine, Plastic Tube Filling Machine, Plastic Tube Sealing Machine, Plastic Tube Coding Machine, Plastic Tube Cutting Machine, Automatic Multi Head Container Filling Machine, asia, asian, india, indian, mumbai, maharashtra, industrial, industries, thane, pune, nashik, aurangabad, ratnagiri, nagpur, ahmednagar, akola, amravati, chandrapur, dhule, jalgaon, raigad, sangli, satara, belgaum, kolhapur, belgaon.

[mitchelindustri]

How Are Automatic Bagging Machines Applied in 5 Different Industries?

In a world with many plastics processing machinery, automatic bagging machines steal the show.

A bagging machine is also known as a packaging machine or a bagger. This equipment is designed to pack products into bags, pouches, or other containers efficiently, accurately, and automatically. The use of these machines has spread to a wide number of industries, and it will not stop any time soon.

A fun fact: Do you know the record time of one of the world’s fastest automatic bagging machines?

34,000 per hour x 800 ml bottles

This is going to keep getting better. So, before too late, consider implementing automatic bagging systems in your business as well.

Here are 5 different industries that tailored semi and fully-automatic bagging machines to their needs.

1. Food and Beverage

The food and beverage industry has always been a booming industry, with many new businesses entering the market every day.

With so much competition, businesses are constantly looking for ways to improve their production process — One of which is implementing an automatic bagging system.

Automatic baggers are crucial players in this industry as they can handle various packing materials and products with zero human errors. Besides, businesses use these machines specifically for strict portion control and enhanced product presentation.

Here are a few ways businesses in the food and beverage industry have tailored these systems for their specific needs:

Packaging with biodegradable materials

Handling items like crisps, cookies, and other delicate items

Modified atmosphere packaging (MAP) to extend product shelf life

2. Chemicals and Fertilisers

Here’s another industry that is getting vastly benefitted from this plastics processing machinery. Chemicals and fertilisers are potentially hazardous materials, so automatic baggers can help businesses avoid the risk.

These machines are tailored to do the following operations for the chemicals and fertilisers industry:

Incorporate dust control and precise weighing features

Specialised sealing and closure systems for safe packaging

Handle heavy-duty packaging materials such as polypropylene or laminated bags with barrier properties

Besides, automatic bagging eliminates human contact with chemicals, which can help avoid the risk of contamination and other health issues.

The importance of all these operations cannot be overstated, and automatic bagging machines are vital.

3. Personal Care and Cosmetics

Bagging machines are not just for time-saving and other technical benefits. These plastics processing machinery can also produce visually-appealing packaging for your customers. This is especially needed in the cosmetics industry, as it hugely banks on aesthetics and presentation aspects.

But it doesn’t mean a cosmetic business cannot rely on automatic equipment — it definitely can. Automatic bagging machines have also been tailored to this industry over time, and now it has become an integral part of big cosmetic companies.

So, what competitive edge do these automatic baggers bring to this industry? They can:

Incorporate additional labelling and precise filling mechanisms

Accommodate various container types, such as tubes, bottles, or jars

Include other promotional materials, such as coupons and product samples

You can imagine how long it will take to do all these manually. All that time is saved with automatic baggers.

4. E-commerce

In recent years, many e-commerce businesses have been born. And as an e-commerce business grows in scale, one of the first things they consider to upgrade is their packaging process. They consider semi or fully-automatic bagging machines because they know fast and precise packaging means higher customer satisfaction.

But, once again, these plastics processing machinery is customised to serve the specific needs of the e-commerce industry. For example:

Integration of weighing scale

Incorporation of a labelling system

Enabling automated order fulfilment

Customisation to handle multiple materials, from cloth to fragile items.

With all these benefits, e-commerce businesses are better equipped to handle overflowing customer orders.

5. Pharmaceuticals and Medical Supplies

The pharmaceutical industry is one industry that must adhere to strict protocols, as one mistake can have severe consequences. Every step of the production process is crucial, including the packaging.

Stringent packaging standards ensure product safety and integrity, and automatic bagging machines are vastly helpful here. These plastics processing machines are equipped with features like:

Precise dosage control

Tamper-evident packaging

Barcode integration for traceability and regulatory compliance

Besides, automatic bagging machines in this industry help handle various types of medical containers, such as bottles, vials, or blister packs and can accommodate different packaging materials, including sterile or barrier films.

Final Thoughts

Though these are the top 5, the use of automatic bagging machines is more widespread. Every industry can take advantage of this plastics processing machinery, as having a competitive advantage is everything in business.

Lastly, make sure to speak with a reliable and experienced supplier before making a decision. You must ask the right person the right questions to get the right answers.

Mitchell Industries may be the right person you need. Meet with them, discuss your business needs, and see how their assistance can help you.

[sleevelabelmachine]

Best Packaging Machinery- Automatic Shrink Sleeve Label Applicator Machine 

The packaging industry has experienced significant growth in recent years, with businesses competing to create unique, attractive, and secure packaging solutions for products. Shrink Sleeve Label Applicator Machines have become an essential investment for companies that require effective packaging solutions. Siddhivinayak Engineering is a leading Automatic Shrink Sleeve Label Applicator Machine Manufacturer & Exporter in Ahmedabad, Gujarat, India. The Automatic Dual Head Shrink Sleeve Applicator Machine can operate as a single head or dual head multifunction machine that can apply and shrink sleeve labels using two sync heads. Dual head sleeve labeling machine is a unique and flexible dual lane automatic shrink label applicator machine. This Automatic Dual Head Shrink Sleeve Applicator Machine is extremely simple, highly efficient, and operates with minimal maintenance.  Automatic Neck Shrink Sleeve Applicator Machine is used for tamper-evident sleeve labeling applications. Neck Sleeve Label Applicator is a cutting-edge technology designed to apply shrink sleeve labels to the necks of bottles or other cylindrical containers at the desired position. The Automatic Neck Shrink Sleeve Applicator Machine uses heat to shrink the sleeve around the neck of the container, creating a tamper-evident seal. 

Our Automatic Horizontal Sleeve Label Applicator Machine is designed to apply small diameter sleeves for small, unstable, and lightweight products that do not stabilize themselves in a vertical position. This advanced technology model can handle 10-40 mm dia containers and sleeve leaflets up to 50 mm. A Steam Shrink Tunnel uses steam instead of hot air to generate the heat needed to shrink the sleeve covering over the products. One of the most common applications for steam tunnels is tamper-evident packaging products, such as shrink sleeves. This Automatic Steam Sleeve Tunnel is suitable for Partially / Full body/cap shrink applications.

An Automatic Bottle Unscrambler Machine is a piece of equipment that is designed to help businesses in the packaging industry streamline their bottle sorting and orientation process. The Automatic Bottle Unscrambler Machine is designed to sort and arrange empty bottles in an upright position for easy filling, capping, and labeling. Our bottle unscrambling machine can unscramble any round or flat bottle at speeds ranging up to 200 BPM. Ideal for use in cylindrical, oval, and rectangular plastic bottles with heights ranging from 50 to 300 mm and outer diameters ranging from 20 to 105 mm.

Future trends in packaging machinery- 

The packaging industry is constantly evolving, and new trends are emerging. One trend that is expected to gain popularity is sustainable packaging. Consumers are becoming more environmentally conscious, and businesses are expected to adopt sustainable packaging solutions. The Automatic Shrink Sleeve Label Applicator Machine can be used with sustainable packaging materials such as biodegradable films, making it a viable option for businesses looking to adopt sustainable packaging solutions.

Another trend that is expected to gain popularity is the use of artificial intelligence in packaging machinery. AI can be used to optimize production processes, reduce waste, and improve efficiency. The Automatic Shrink Sleeve Label Applicator Machine can be integrated with AI technology, making it a future-proof solution for businesses.

Siddhivinayak Engineering’s range of Shrink Sleeve Applicator Machines offers a variety of features, including high-speed labeling, precise positioning, and easy operation. These machines are versatile and can handle a wide range of containers, from bottles and jars to cans and tubes. Our dedication to customer satisfaction is evident in its comprehensive after-sales service and support. It offers timely maintenance and repairs, as well as technical assistance and training to help clients get the most out of their investment in Automatic Shrink Sleeve Applicator.

[trumouldus]

Why Should You Go for Plastic Injection Molding?

In Injection Molding Tools, the desired shape is achieved by injecting a fluidized plastic material from a cylindrical form into a comparatively cool chamber. Injection molding is a process used to create plastic components. The desired shape is inverted in Making an Injection Mold, and molten plastic is poured under high pressure. A metal (often steel or aluminum) mold is constructed by a mold maker, who then uses high-precision machining to create the desired part's features. From the smallest part to huge automobile body panels, Plastic Injection Molding is a common production method.

Injection molding of plastics is a common procedure.

If you want to know about Overmolding Vs Insert Molding then you should know about the mold, clamping unit, and injection unit are the three main components of Design Injection Mold machine. Throughout the injection & cooling processes, the mold is held under pressure by the clamping device. Its primary function is to secure the injection mold's two halves during production.

During Design for Injection Molding, plastic is placed into a container on top of the injection mechanism, often in the form of pellets. Like a hot glue gun, the pellets are fed into the cylinder and heated until they melt. A motorized screw located inside the heating cylinder stirs the melting pellets and propels them to the cylinder's outlet. When a certain quantity of material has built up in front of the screw, injection can commence. The screw regulates the force and velocity with which the hot plastic is forced into the mold through the sprue.

During the residence stage, the injection process is halted. The Plastic Injection Mold has been injected with molten plastic, and now the pressure is being exerted to ensure that every cavity has been filled.

The plastic is melted, poured into a Plastic Injection Mold Making, and left there to harden. The two parts of the mold are unmated once the clamping mechanism is opened. The finished product is released from the mold by means of an emitting rod and plate.

Extrusion

Like the above-described injection-molding machine of Injection Mold Manufacturers is the extruder. Plastic granules are heated as they travel along a thread, which is turned by a motor. When heated, the granules become a liquid that can be pushed through a die to create a long, tube-like shape. Once the extrusion has cooled, it takes on a solid form. The tube's final form is established by the die's design.

Several Benefits of Injection Molding:

Repeatability of tight tolerances

It is adaptable to a wide variety of materials

Affordable wage rates

Low amounts of waste scrap

Reduced post-molding finishing requirements

Contemplating Injection Molding's Downsides

Must spend a lot of money on new machinery

Potentially high operational expenses

Molding needs to be considered throughout the design phase of the parts.

Injection molding is a cutting-edge process for producing components. It is used to mass-produce everything from intricate technical parts to inexpensive trinkets, and it moves quickly.

[emrich]

How Packaging Machinery Can Save Your Business Time and Money

When packaging machinery breaks down it interrupts production – this costs companies time, money and customer satisfaction. This is the main reason it is essential to invest in regular maintenance. Relying on best quality packaging machinery is inevitable.

Human error – overfilling containers, damaging packaging and applying incorrect labels or tightening caps – wastes products and leads to unhappy customers. Automation enables greater consistency in output.

Flow Fillers for Portion-Counted Product Packaging

Using packaging machinery can increase productivity and reduce production costs, while improving hygiene standards. It can also eliminate hand contact with food and medicine to ensure high product quality and safety standards. However, the cost of purchasing and operating this equipment is a significant dynamic that needs to be considered carefully.

Flow fillers are designed for products that are counted by portions, instead of weight. These machines use a hopper that’s set up to scan count candy pieces or tablets and can fill small bottles. They’re best suited for liquids, oils, and thin edible products.

Blister Packing Machines: These machines form a platform in a plastic shell, then add blister board backers that are adhered with glue or by hand to the back of the plastic. Then, the products are placed on the platform and a heated soft plastic layer shapes itself around them to create a sealed blister pack. They’re commonly used for food and pharmaceutical products.

Tablet Fillers for Portion-Counted Product Packaging

Packaging machinery can be utilized to fill a pouch or bottle with products that are counted by portions. These machines include a hopper that scan counts product pieces or tablets before placing them in the bottle, and a filler head that pushes the correct number of items into the bottles accurately. Some examples of such products are heavy sauces, cosmetic creams and thick shampoos.

Another form of packaging equipment is the vertical form fill seal machine, which makes stand-up pouches and plastic bags from a continuous flat film roll and fills them simultaneously with products and seals the filled bags. This type of packaging is capable of handling liquids and solids.

Having representatives from several packaging machinery manufacturers examine existing packaging procedures can help find ways to improve production efficiency and lower costs prior to progression to new equipment. Understanding math included in cost per film utilization will also aid the business to budget properly and exploit packaging materials with efficiency.

Vertical Form Fill Sealing Machine

VFFS machines (also known as vertical baggers) are an effective packaging solution for powdered products. Typically, these machines start with a roll of film that’s pulled by belts to a forming tube that shapes it into the desired pouch size.

Once the bag is formed, a dosing system positioned around the forming tube can fill it with your product. Then, the same sealing jaws that formed the bag form a seal on its top edge, creating a finished and ready-to-ship package.

If you have a need for additional printing, the machine can add date/batch codes and graphics to each completed package. It’s also possible to add a tear notch or euro punch so that the bag can hang on a display for easy retail sales. Depending on how your bags will be used, you can even choose to have the machine add a zipper for added convenience and security. You can find a number of trustworthy packaging machinery companies offering a range of vertical form fill seal machines to fit any type of product and bag.

Liquid Filling Machine

A liquid filling machine pours a fluid into containers that may be bottles, vials, cans, or pouches. Liquid packaging machines may also wash and sterilize containers to remove dust, contaminants, or microbial growth. Some machines have multiple fill heads that increase a machine’s top speed and capacity.

While the exact specifications of liquid filling machinery vary, most systems follow the same general principle. Bottles or jars pass along a conveyor in the machine and are filled before continuing on to the next step of production. The precise technology varies by product and container type, but inline liquid packaging systems are less expensive and more easily upgraded than rotary systems.

Overflow filling machines are especially useful for clear containers because they can produce consistent levels of liquid in each bottle even if the contents of each bottle differ slightly. You must also consider your desired automation level and production capacity when selecting liquid filling machines. Buying from the best supplier will help you get quality and advanced machinery in customized specifications at lucrative costs.

Conclusion

Business means investment. Packaging machines are a major investment to run any business.  First choose the right packaging machines for your needs considering the health and well-being of your production line and ensuring that you get the most value out of your investment.

[multifill456]

Beer Liquid Bottle Filling Machine Household Manual

While initially constructed for filling gels, lotions, and creams, these fillers also accommodate water heavy and thin paste products. In March 2021, Scholle IPN, a US-based firm that manufactures bag-in-box packaging products, completed the acquisition of Bossar Packaging Pvt. This acquisition will leverage the combined manual food filling machines capabilities of both businesses to supply one-stop shopping for vertically built-in, sustainable options for the global filling machine market. Ltd. is a US-based firm that gives HFFS machines and filling machines for pre-made pouches.

Depending on the volume, electrical necessities, location on the road and machinery weight, some early planning is a significant dynamic of this procedure. There is an absolute multitude of issues when selecting packaging machinery and supplies are a few of the most essential things to consider. The equipment is loaded with a continuing flat plastic movie roll, which has had labeling and art work on the interior or exterior of the film. For other merchandise the movie might first be put by way of a sterilizing chemical wash and drying earlier than utilizing in the packaging system. "Machinery" and "tools" are used interchangeably when it comes to packaging. In this text when discussing varieties, "equipment" will refer to machines which do the actual packaging and "gear" will refer to machines or materials which are part of the packaging line.

Suited for decrease velocity production traces, pilot plant operations, analysis, and growth laboratories. The product is loaded into the top pan and manually fed into the filling tube by an operator. From Multi-Fill can deposit some foods at speeds as a lot as 120 containers per minute while sustaining product look and integrity? The machine speed varies by mannequin, structure manual food filling machines, product, and container type, but with our expertise, your buyer is eating their green olives sooner somewhat than later. GEA’s massive bag fillers are designed to pack a extensive variety of powdered merchandise into versatile luggage . We have three types of big bag fillers — BF-300, BBS-S and BBS-D — with numerous options for both ...

All of your business’s food processing needs – beyond simply filling and closing – are lined underneath our one roof. Pacific provides manual, semi-automatic, and automatic fillers for 50-gallon drums to 500-gallon totes. These machines provide all manual food filling machines the identical advantages as their new counterparts, however at a extra mild worth. Browse our currently out there used machines and save on value without compromising your machinery’s quality.

With the perfect packaging machines, a smaller labor force will be required therefore paying out very fewer wages. Indeed, packaging machines may include a large price tag, but when whole value of possession of a packaging line is taken and compared to manual laborers, then machinery is the most sensible option. Food– ready-to-eat food, grains & seeds, milk & liquids, spice, espresso, sugar, oil packaging machine, salt, tea, bakery, beverage, candy/confections, dairy, beverage, and bakery. Running eco-friendly materials can be a significant consideration.

Nylon with TPE inside sealing gland and CR/ NBR outer sealing gland. Use caps and plugs to guard crucial profiles from damage during handling and transportation. You can even get an expert finish by using high-temperature masking for holes and get in touch with factors with easy-to-fit caps and plugs. You can regulate the filling volume by loosing the screw A1 and A2 to regulate the output. But the screw A3 must be tightened to the half above, or the deal with may be caught.

The sizzling filling equipment is stuffed at 83℃-95℃ to kill the microorganisms on the bundle and the top cowl, which meets the industrial aseptic conditions and is used for the packaging of liquid food, and so forth. Microbial proliferation testing of liquid foods packaged in aseptic packaging, sizzling filling and ultra-clean filling tools. Let us bottle and promote your best-tasting creation to the world-wide market! For over 20 years we’ve been pioneering within the beverage trade as one of many main providers of beverage machinery for food producers across the globe.

The food-grade material is anti-corrosion and wear-resistances, simple to clean and preserve. The strong base retains sturdy, provides a stable working surroundings. Moreover, some gamers are a worldwide provider for these equipments and contribute to the expansion of the market for this region. All of our food filling methods are constructed from 316SS and other FDA, USDA and Dairy 3A approved supplies. The filling machine is designed for Clean-in-Place washing and may be mixed with our exterior cleansing system to supply high levels of repeatable cleanliness. Versatile and flexible, Pacific’s viscous fillers are customized to accommodate a variety of filling techniques.

Alternatively, it could perform as a double-sided sealing frame for 2 totally different kinds of packs. Free-flowing simply refers to powdered products that can't keep its shape even when further strain is added. In distinction, non-free-flowing merchandise, corresponding to powdered milk and brown sugar, can be compressed and maintain their form.

Also, some of them have nozzles for pre-cleaning the container with a nitrogen flush. These machines are a boon and the future of the pharmaceutical business. The digital liquid filling machine works on the precept of gear pump filling, so the fluid is displaced or moved by a fixed volume within gears. This machine comes with an attached silicone pipe and uses the syringe to fill the liquid.