#electric meat grinder

[tekads]

Spare Parts for Household Appliances

Qadir Yadak, with more than 40 years of active experience in the field of supply and distribution of spare parts for household appliances , is at your service. Qadir Yadak supplies and distributes spare parts of all kinds of household appliances, including: blender, electric meat grinder, chopper, food processor, juicer, meat grinder, tea maker, vacuum cleaner. With years of experience, Ghadir Yadak has been able to secure a special place in the market by supplying, importing and distributing spare parts for household appliances of prominent brands such as Barvan, Monilex, Philips, Bosch, Gasonic and other prominent brands. The field of suppliers of spare parts for household appliances in the country should be kept for itself

[qianjiahui]

The Magical Uses of Commercial Electric Meat Grinder

Commercial Electric Meat Grinder serve as the backbone of meat processing operations, offering a reliable solution for grinding various types of meat into consistent textures. Whether it's beef, pork, chicken, or even game meats, these machines can handle a wide range of ingredients with ease, transforming raw cuts into finely ground meat suitable for a myriad of culinary applications. From gourmet sausages and meatballs to burger patties and kebabs, Commercial Electric Meat Grinder provide chefs and food producers with the flexibility to create an array of delicious dishes.

[faecaribou]

So horrible that Jerma would throw his chat off a cliff into a meat grinder! Anyway. How has no one associated Jerma985 with the Mind Electric before????? warnings for eye strain, blood, horror elements, flashing(?)

[texastastess]

https://www.texastastes.com/electric-meat-grinders.htm

[sirfrogsworth]

Grampa's Antique Fan (2015 vs 2024 Edit)

As a young man, after coming home from the Second World War, my grampa got a job as an electrician for Emerson Electric. He didn't work on the actual electrical products. He just maintained the electrical systems that power the tools to make electrical components.

It was a "I heard you need electricity for your electricity" type deals.

The company was founded in 1890 in nearby Ferguson, Missouri by John Wesley Emerson. He was a Union commander in the Civil War and a lawyer and then a judge and then an author and then a historian... so he was clearly qualified to run one of the first electronics companies. (This is currently referred to as the "Law of Elon".)

Emerson (the company, not the dude) specialized in electric motors and was the first to stick their motors in a fan and sell them.

As you can see by the 4 protective fan guard loopies, these were very safe for kids to be around.

I mean, the biggest thing you could shove in there is a baby arm, which is the least important part of a baby. No baby heads were chopped off—which was the bar for consumer safety during that era.

Fans are rated by the volume of air they can push over a period of time and your average box fan can push about 1400 cubic feet per minute or "CFM". When this Emerson (the fan, not the dude) was produced they actually used "CCH" or cubic cubits per hour. Emerson (the dude) loved using odd standards of measurement much to the chagrin of his engineers.

Due to the small surface area, weak angle of attack, and heavy metal blades, this electronic beast could only push a baker's dozen cubic cubits per baker's hour—which was a confusing metric of time because people were very superstitious and they refused to put the 13 on the baker's clocks. They just left a mysterious blank void after the 12 and apparently several people had existential crises during the baker's hour. Some were institutionalized for a rare condition called Time Delirium.

Thankfully Emerson Electric was able to provide the electroshock therapy devices that cured several patients. This was achieved by erasing the memory of the traumatic time delirium events along with a few other unimportant details like what they did last Tuesday and their mother's name and one engineering degree that the guy wasn't even using.

My dad actually got the fan working and let me tell you... that bad boy could really work up a gentle breeze...

...if you stood behind it and blew.

And that fine American-made electric fan motor was just as quiet as a leaf blower on Saturday morning.

Over the last century, Emerson was bought and sold and bought and sold.

And bought and sold and bought and sold.

Was that 7?

Eh, close enough. We'll call it a baker's 7.

They changed their product line countless times over their 130+ years of existence. After fans they pivoted and made electric meat grinders. To this day, no one know what inspired that decision.

Currently, they make radar avionics and are majority-owned by the private equity firm, Blackstone. Which is a totally non-evil sounding name they chose for their company-eating empire. Please ignore that the CEO was one of Trump's policy strategists. This is a non-evil company with a non-evil name run by non-evil people, okay?

Despite Emerson Electric having to settle a baker's gross of lawsuits involving a few lightly scalp'd babies, they maintain a Fortune 500 status and are still headquartered in Ferguson.

They occupy one of the most boring ass buildings ever constructed.

Just rectangles all the way down.

That architect told every angle to get rect.

Of course, I forgot all of this cool history and sold this fan in the estate auction. I suppose it is a good thing I got a nice photograph to help assuage my current feelings of guilt. I mean, it is not baby scalping, time delirium guilt—but I would feel better if I knew my gramp-gramp's fan was in a good home with 0 babies.

[umahumahumah]

😢😢😢 this is so sad 😭 reblog if you think canada should have been thrown in a giant electric meat grinder

[testure-1988]

About Me

Name: Al /Ali

Age: 34

Cisgender

Sign: Taurus

Pronouns: she/her

USA (NJ)

Goth

Aromantic

Neurodivergent (ADHD, APD, anxiety)

Agnostic

-This is a SIDE BLOG. I will follow you with my main (nivekogresimp)

DNI if you're:

A TERF or SWERF (or just transphobic and against sex work in general)

racist

homophobic

a fascist/nazi

pro-police

hardcore Christian

misogynistic

TCC/a Columbiner

into pedophilia/ a MAP (or if you like Lolicon/shota or DD/LG)

Ableist

Also don’t even bother following me if you’re a zionist/Israel supporter

-I post NSFW stuff sometimes, so minors should take note.

-If you see something (artwork, a photo) that belongs to you, please let me know so I can credit you or remove it.

What I'm mainly interested in:

The Goth subculture/ trad goth stuff

Music in general (I love Industrial Music, Experimental, Noise Music/Harsh Noise Wall, Goth Rock, Post-Punk, Punk Rock, Grindcore, Doom Metal, all kinds of Electronic Music, Italo-Disco, 80s New Wave/Synthpop, City Pop, 90s/80s Hip-Hop and a whole bunch of other genres)

Skinny Puppy

The 1980s

Horror Movies

JTHM (and Invader Zim...sometimes)

Art & graphic design

Dark/horror/ gothic/religious aesthetic posts

goth fashion

Vampires

Cemeteries

Bones

Leftist/democratic socialist stuff

bats, cats & rats :D

Anime (Berserk, NGE, Cowboy Bebop, Sailor Moon, Hellsing, Studio Ghibli, etc.)

Cartoons

Batman

Little Nemo In Slumberland (the comic strip)

Mythology (Norse, Greek & Egyptian mainly)

Elvira, Mistress of The Dark

The Addams Family

Edward Gorey

Some of my favorite bands/artists:

Skinny Puppy, Godflesh, Tom Waits, Einsturzende Neubauten, Meat Beat Manifesto, Coil, The Cure, Front 242, Bauhaus, Siouxsie And The Banshees, Severed Heads, Alien Sex Fiend, Acid Bath, Throbbing Gristle, Cabaret Voltaire, Depeche Mode, Japan, Tears For Fears, Type O Negative, Clan Of Xymox, Virgin Prunes, Cocteau Twins, Aphex Twin, Boards Of Canada, Massive Attack, Autechre, Goldie, Merzbow, Agent Side Grinder, The Klinik, (old) Ministry, Nine Inch Nails, (old) KMFDM, Front Line Assembly, Fad Gadget, Revolting Cocks, SPK, Clock DVA, :wumpscut:, Christian Death (Rozz only), Swans, The Sisters Of Mercy, Joy Division, Dead Can Dance, Sleep, Black Sabbath (with Ozzy only), Electric Wizard, Neurosis, Cult of Luna, Isis, Ningen Isu, Yoko Kanno, Church Of Misery, Bongzilla, Phobia, Doom, Pink Floyd, Altar De Fey, TR/ST, Boy Harsher, George Clanton, Ulver, Kraftwerk, Dissecting Table, Anaal Nathrakh, Lycia, Tim Hecker, Akira Yamaoka, Deftones, Porcupine Tree, Hello Meteor, The Devil & The Universe, Wardruna, Goldie

Current favorite bands/artists ATM:

Jim Kirkwood. Klaus Schulze. Severed Heads

[undead-merman]

Day Twenty One: Teacher Telepathy

Eden and GN Pc

This idea was from @inkyquince's professor Eden. Yes, I wrote this for Inky and Necro

Contains student and teacher relations, thoughts of kidnapping, abuse and extortion of reader, stalking, adoption with the intent to lock you up and fuck you

Fucking coffee grinder broke right on his first day. Snapped right in his hands before he could even make a cup. Normally he’d fix it, but this one was a welcoming gift from Sirris, some electrical hunk of shit instead of an old school mechanical one like he prefers. He doesn’t know how to fix this fucking thing.  He’s not even sure what happened to the old one. So now he’s without coffee and a grinder for it. He’d have to stop by that little run down place right at the forest edge to pick up another.

He grabbed his ham and cheese lunch, wrapped in a brown paper bag, a bottle of filtered water, and house keys before heading out. The sun had yet to rise, leaving the shadows as thick as dark as the thoughts of people passing by.

All of them, fucking disgusting.

Each one echoed in his head like a chamber. Disturbed and deprived thoughts from everyone, though a few thoughts resonate fear when he walked by. Fearing his face, his build, his walk, or even his scars. Some even … Lusted after him, thoughts they believed to be private were loud about what they’d do to him.

It just made his mood worse.

When he got to school and managed to get some coffee from there, it was watery, tasted like trash and some kind of cleaning chemical. He dumped it after the first drink and decided to opt for his water to settle him over as he sat in his room and looked over each class roster. Nothing special, not surprised.

So before everyone filed into his workshop, he took the time to start whittling and enjoy the rare silence.

-

The classes were as loud as he expected. Not just out loud, he could quiet them down in a second, but their thoughts were all over. It gave him a migraine instantly.

Some of them thought this class meat they could fuck around, either with each other or. He made sure to nip that idea right in the bud. It was a hassle just dealing with everyone. Though there was you. You minded your own business, you were particularly cute, not rowdy/ but one thing that stuck out was how calm your thoughts were. They weren’t as foul as the others in town. Sure you weren’t focused entirely on the task assigned but the thoughts about the dog you saw at the orphanage made him smile to himself.

His eyes hardly left you. He studied every part of you. The way you carried yourself, talked to your peers. He didn’t even realize till the end of class that he’d been completely enraptured by you. Even by the end of the school day, his thoughts lingered on you. Even when he got home and took a shower,

he found his thoughts lingering on you still.

Looking down, he saw his cock twitching to life, the dark head began to swell and leak. He ran a hand from his stomach down to his mess of pubes as he thought about your face. The heat of arousal just builds as he adds more kindling to it. Thinking about if you were a virgin or not. You seemed like it. His hand grabs his dick and began pumping.

How tight would you be around him? Were you a quiet moaner or a screamer? You seem like the type to like it rough, and he could provide that. Ram into your hole and until you see stars.

He spills on his hand, and he takes a moment to look at what he’s done. There's shame, though not as much as he’d thought there’d be. His contentedness outweighs anything else. He could do this again and have no problems with the fact that you are his student.

-

It’s been a few weeks now, he’s gotten used to the schedule, he knows almost everyone’s names now, even if he didn't really did not care for most of his students.

But you, he likes you. He keeps an eye on you in class. Watching you as you work and being one of the rare student’s he comes up to help instead of telling them to pay more attention in class before kicking them off the machines for the day. He would have been fine with simply having perverted thoughts about you and jerking off in the shower every night. He really would have, but you saw one of his whittled pieces and smiled looking over it.

Those soft hands of yours gliding over the carved out wolf, your head filled with nothing but genuine awe. Shit, he wanted to ruin you now. You were too docile and sweet for this damn town. He built a cage under his bed for you. It was a spur of them moment thing on a weekend after Sirris dragged him along for drinks. He hated drinking, he wasn’t even sure why he agreed. But the buzz in his stomach and head had him trying to busy his hands and lead to a half finished cage. And when he woke up to see it, he made sure to finish it. The idea of you under there had him just staring, picturing you inside, as he stroked his cock a bit harder this time around than normal. Grumbling when he realized his cum flew and he had to clean the bars.

He’d made his coffee for the day, sat at his seat waiting for the morning to start when he heard a knocking on the door. He frowned, sat up from the chair and swung it open, expecting some snotting idiot to ask him for an extension on a project. No, it was you. Project in hand.

You sat in with him making small talk that he strangely found himself enjoying as he gazed at your project. You did well. Surprisingly so, most students just turn it in for a grade with stuff he’s seen a dozen times before, but you added your own flair and seemed to work hard on it.

You’d be good as a house spouse. Fixing his clothes, taking time to sew up that rip in his nice cable knit sweater. He let one question out, just to test the waters and masking it as concern for you. You answered and seemed happy he was asking something more personal than just to put your name and date on your paper. He asked more, and before he knew it, his watch went off, five minutes before the first bell. You gave him a smile and a wave.

‘Mr. Eden looks handsome today.’

His heart went into his throat as you went out the door. He locked the door and fucked his fist. Cumming all over his hand with two minutes still left.

-

You came into his room more frequently. He could hear your thoughts. You found him safe, even nice. He couldn’t have been farther from those things. In fact, he was the most dangerous thing to you at this school. But he loved that. He loved how safe and secure you felt when he simply was just in the room with you. Would you feel the same way he sat you on his lap during class? Skull fucked you while there was a test going on?

“Mr. Eden are you married?”

He could be. He’d marry you. Not only that, but he’d take excellent care of you. Make sure you never felt lonely, the bed was always warm, He’d even make dinners for you if you made breakfast and coffee. He answers. No. he doesn’t elaborate. And you were content with that, just the way he likes it.

Though your fist catches his eye. Bruised, just ever so slightly, probably even covered up with some kind of make up. He studied you more as you looked at his news carving. Just under your school shirt right at the neck, rubbed off by the collar, was a bruise, one from a rope. He shouldn’t be surprised. You lived at the orphanage. He’d heard about your debt, he was acquainted with Bailey, after all.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d give Bailey a call about you?

-

Sure enough, he was right. He’d been getting you to pay over four thousand a week for the past few months. Figures. Bailey asked if he was interested in you, already sniffing out the reason. He didn’t fully respond, though that was because he didn’t have to.

“The brat hasn’t been able to make their payments. Probably won’t even have this week's either.”

Bailey still owed him that favor… He mentioned it, and he heard a very rare laugh come from him.

“You want them?”

That alone caused him to rub the front of his legs, feeling his trousers becoming tight.

-

It was faster than he expected. Bailey made a comment he was getting soft when he requested it look like an adoption, even though he didn’t actually care about signing it. It just had to look that way to you.

When you had gotten the news, you’d busted into his room blabbering and pulling him into a hug with big wet eyes. Your thoughts were loud today, like new year's celebrations. It was cute, he found himself petting your head and when you calmed down he could hear the thoughts you were trying to push out of your own mind.

‘He’s going to be my dad now… I shouldn’t think about that kind of stuff.’

He’d never dug into thoughts. Not like this. He chased after what you tried to bury. Fantasies about you and him. Not as filthy as what he had in mind, but the fact you saw him in that light had him clenching his hand so hard his nails were digging into his callouses. What was stopping him from pushing you onto the desk and fucking you, just like you both wanted? Tying you up and dragging you home to lock under his bed until you couldn’t do anything but drool over his cock and beg for him to claim you as his own.

He moved closer. Slowly dragging his hand-over your knee and working over your thigh. He could hear you, even though you weren’t talking. He adored the little conflict running through your mind. Even more so with the fact you didn’t move away. Your mind ran a muck, and he kept pushing. You didn’t stop him. Eternally, you were hoping for more. And he gave it to you. Large hands pushing into your underwear to grope you. His middle finger rubbing against your hole.

Soon enough you were in his lap, his fingers inside you, sloppy and wet. The sounds of your hole being abused, and your heavy breathing were loud in his empty classroom. Your fingers digging into the flesh of his arm as he watched you like a predator. You were just as tight as he hopped, if not more so.

Your toes and legs curled as you came from his hand alone. You were gasping for breath. He simply unfastened his buttons and pulled down his zipper. Slowly pulling out his fingers before pulling another confiscated packet of lube out and squeezed it onto his cock.

And he was going to have you all to himself when he finally got you home too.

[witchofthesouls]

So I got this particular scene haunting me from "burn your sins and wash away your virtues" a title submission from @skyite for an ask meme. Get ready because it's my take on what I wanted from the Camiens, the Thirteen Primes, and time-traveling humans that become Primes godfuckingdammit

_______

“Nemesis Prime, Champion-bride of Megatronus and beloved sister of Solus!”

A voice rang through the underground furnace, clear over its roar and burning meat and frames, over the breaking stakes and noises of the dying, over the chants and screams and manic jubilation that swept across the city. The flames swelled within the mouth, consuming the dead as the cavern bore it all. The engineering was a marvel to behold as distant booms rocked the ground, and the mine still held true.

:: And so they laid together and became the Forge and the Forger. From their entwined essences, a new way of Life came forth, and Death casted His Shadow upon all. :: Ravage intoned over a private channel, and Juno saw unearthly shapes reflected upon her dark armature. Soundwave tensed as a crowd gathered around them.

Anticipation and euphoria ran rampant through the throng. Violence hummed in the air with the realization that the uprising was spearheaded by Camiens that armed Darhos’ slaves. Kitted frames, bright and vivid, were painted in blood from electric-blue and ancient-pink Energon to the near human-red, poisonous-green, and striking-violet. Several mecha held the same facial markings as Windblade: bright red loops of Caminus’ own face staring back at them, burning bright in the firelight. Long Camien-red robes shifting among, like fresh blood upon an altar.

There was no other way but down in the massive grave of untold numbers held by the mine, Juno had no other choice, not if she needed to prove herself as a Prime heralded by Megatronus Prime, the Breaker, brother-twin to Prima, the Eldest Sun, and husband to Solus, the Forger.

"Prima is of the Sun and rules above, but Megatronus is his mirror-twin and rules below." Juno recited quietly, optics forward into the mine-turned-firepit.

Ravage immediately understood, red optics glinting in firelight as she sat on her haunches. Still as a sentinel. And after a long moment, Soundwave loosened as well.

Steeling her resolve and bracing her senses, Juno walked through the hungry flames and refused to look back.

The first yards were easy, even blinded by the swell of yellows and reds, then resistance was met by the bodies. Most caved under her own weight. Darhos, unlike their Quintesson masters, preferred to keep their technological enhancements for their own upper-crust citizens. Others are meant to be fed through the grinder as raw as possible : blood and tears, life and death, all of it utilized as Darhos continued Quintessa’s ways of bridging the arcane and science to a horrifying scale of cruelty.

It went deeper, and bodies liquified from the scorching temperatures, and Juno sank into the remains, crawling through the pits, partly wading through the sludge of broken skeletons, melted slag, and magma. She could hear the whispers, countless and without end, all of them slowly realizing her presence. A steady trickle into an immense roar of unfathomable emotions swarmed her.

< Give me your grief, and I will free you of those shackles. > The words poured out of her without conscious thought. The deep thrum of Megatronus’ hand in it.

And then she fell.

Juno sank deeper as the ground disappeared beneath her, falling as she had done a long time ago when a chained Fallen offered her the chance to remake the future. She managed to catch herself on an edge and haul over it, guided by the vague indents of the stairs to slowly crawl her way out as a titanic weight settled upon her. The voices of the dead were innumerable, words lost in an ocean of static woven by hatred and bereavement, but the curses on their lips were seared across their souls.

And it flowed into her, by mouth, by vents, by nose, it poured into her frame until there was another firestorm trapped within her bones, eating at her fuel lines, and devouring her insides as heat had no way to escape. She choked and cried out, but refused to stay still. Inching her way forward with every agonizing hand clawing into the rockface to pull herself. To stop was to die and she refused to consider it.

A hand suddenly reached out to pull out Juno from the miasma of all those Darhos had wronged. The change was so jarring that it took Juno a moment to gather herself as her senses felt muted as if she was blanketed away from the world.

And cold, so very cold. She went from a hell fire nightmare into freezing reality.

“And much like our ancient predecessors, you came from nothing and became everything.” The Mistress of Flame spoke with a fervent gleam in her yellow optics as the very hand that pulled Juno out began to smoke, paint bubbling.

This tall, sturdy femme with such a firm grip was none other than the Mistress of Flame. The Head Priestess of the Way of Flame, Caminus’ Truth Seeker, Speaker of the Forge, and Solus Prime’s Premiere Daughter. She was dressed in reds, oranges, and yellows, mimicking the colors of an active smithy. Her mantle designed to reflect the sun with kibble patterned as rays and the heart of a Forge as a window bared her very violet-blue spark to the world. She had an incredible pain tolerance as well: the elegant and intricate patterns of stylised flames weren't painted or tattooed, it was carved into the very protoform, nor did she fear fire and heat as her circuitry sparked and protoform charred, she kept her hand in a steadfast grip, even as her vibrant cape began to crisp and flake away from the immense temperature.

Instead, the Mistress of Flame stared at Juno with a deep sense of consummate love. Even her field was full of deep commitment and complete affection. It was the expression of how a parent would hold their newborn infant, a child to their parent, a spouse to their partner, a guardian to their charge, a servant to their liege.

A mortal to their Prime, Ravage's imagined voice rasped in low tones with the satisfied flick of her tail, Soundwave casting a haunting, protective shadow.

It was close, deeply intimate, and Juno uncomfortably knew with absolute certainty that if she fell back into the molten slag, then the Mistress of Flame would follow into the molten pit without hesitation.

Juno carefully stepped forward, guiding the other femme away from the furnace, and she simply followed, still holding her hand. They walked up the long set of stairs, the stone caked in filth, old blood, and soot, and the heat grew distant behind them as Juno spied something else in front of them, lights dancing upon the walls in familiar patterns - shapes that played across Ravage’s plating when they neared the portal to the mine turned sacrificial pyre.

“Solus is of the Forge and speaks in the flames, ash, and cinder. Within the cracks of the molten, the strike between swings, and whispers the final forms of a work. And She has spoken about you. I have seen your face, beloved of Shadow and Chaos. I have seen your ascension from the very roots of Megatronus’ altar and your glorious crusade against our long, forsaken enemies.” The Mistress of Flame said as they finally reached dias. There was the remains of an immense metalwork turned to kindling as a bonfire ate it. The piece once commanded the whole space, dwarfing all those that came, even a Predacon would feel miniscule, had warped and melted beyond recognition. Only the offerings piles remained at its base.

Upon closer inspection, those very piles, taller than a triple-changer, contained innumerable small bundles of scrapped, tiny skeletons, charred and broken. A chill surrounded them, and the whispers grew finally grew coherent to form a single word-

D R O W N

An ocean of the damned with waves of twisting, unnatural shapes lapped over the carved stairs, clawing at it with countless phantom hands, a testament to the sins that Darhos, Quintessa, Quintus had committed, surrounded the dias and the melting still-standing statue.

< Give me your grief, and I shall free you of those shackles. >

The ocean of wailing ghosts surged forward, flooding everything in its path, hungry as the molten slag, and ready to rise up and devour the city, the very planet itself if left unchecked.

Her spine stiffened, her own spark surged forward, chassis opening up to a dance of violent shadows against the raging dead, and Juno saw-

The flow of Darhos’ lifeforce and the Song of the Universe, indescribable colors of multiple streams and rivers interconnected and running into the ocean of the cosmos, but here, it laid foul and stagnant, a deep, drak wound left to fester and poison everything as it attempted to eat its way across the planet. Strands spooling out to connect to the smaller creeks leading into distant stars, already unraveling them to tear apart.

Megatronus was Beloved of Primus, too. When He stepped forward, the world held its breath.

Megatronus was one and all, and He freely shared it with her.

Megatronus was of Shadow that rose from the Sun, and so Nemesis burned the taint away.

______

The aftermath was quiet.

The symbol of Darhos’ conquest laid in pieces, smoldering as the gruesome offerings to its altar had been swept clean away. The chaos above ground was a distant dream as Juno was on the ground, retching out putrid slag. Black and viscous, its slimy texture dribbled down her mouth. She coughed harshly, spitting out bone fragments, and Energon foamed on her lips.

There was a careful rustle of shifting plates, and the Mistress of Flame kneeled beside her, uncaring of the pulsating mess. “Sacrifice and suffering. Cruelty and mercy. Compassion and violence.” The Mistress of Flame intoned, voice in a lilting cadence. “These are the tenets left by the Thirteen and shaped the universe. The very tenets Solus Prime engraved into Caminus. And we answer your call to arms, sister to Solus.”

With a snap of her fingers, the Mistress ignited the spoiled mess into bright flames, still unafraid of pain as she helped Juno to sit, hands peeling down to the base, protoform sizzling. “Light the way, Solus Prime, with the Creation Lathe guiding the path. Light the way, Solus Prime, in clear vision of our smithies to arm your children in the upcoming crucible. Light the way, Solus Prime, by the way of your Conjunx’s newest bride, your newest sister-”

“I am not his bride.” Juno couldn't help but to interrupt the chant, exhausted beyond measure, chest scraped raw and empty as if someone took out fistfuls of her own chassis, only to leave her heart bruised and aching. She felt freezing, even as her very touch scorched others. “I am just a lost daughter from a lost people.” Truth covered by omission, and it was the closest thing she was willing to divulge about her unwritten future. “My name was June, and-”

The Mistress of Flame let out a soft noise, her optics gleaming with joyous wonderment, cupping Juno’s face in careful reverence, hands burning away, and Juno couldn't part away from her intense gaze. “Nemesis Prime from the very namesake that was once the martyred daughter of Chaos and Creation. You have returned to us, resurrected from the pyre, twice-blessed and twice-cursed by their mantle.”

The Mistress of Flame pressed a scorching kiss upon Juno's crest, her lips melting from the residual heat, and Energon dripped down and told her in the dying light with broken lips -a pact sealed in blood. “Caminus marches to war once more, Juno Nemesis, Prime of Megatronus and Solus. Caminus marches beneath your banners. Caminus is under your command.”

[meo-on-prairie]

Amor

Getou Suguru x Reader

Prompt: “Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? // With every guitar string scar on my hand // I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover” - Lover (Taylor Swift)

Words Count:1.3k

Tags: Suguru x reader, AU, Fluff, pure fluff and good time.

Rambling: Back with my Swiftie agenda. This fic wrote itself ngl, I planned something completely different idk how I got here. Life has been putting me through the meat grinder so I’m writing fluffy fanfic to cope.

“We need to take down the Christmas light.” Suguru brought up while you two are washing the dishes after dinner. 

“Yeah we should. Or… we can keep leaving it up for another month.” 

Suguru pauses and gives you a pointed look, “Hun, it’s already April.”

“Exactly. We already procrastinated to this point, might as well procrastinate all the way. If we never take it down, we won’t have to put it back up in December.” you pointed out. 

You just find it’s useless to take it down. Not like you guys have it plugged in so you're not wasting any electricity, they're just there. There is no reason to waste time to put it up and take it back down every year. 

“You’re unbelievable” Suguru chuckled 

“Thank you, my genius knows no bounds.” you joke as you hand him another plate to dry.

He leans down to kiss your temple, “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” you said smugly “I love you too.”

After you finish with the dishes, the two of you decide to watch a movie before going to bed. You cuddle up to Suguru. You enjoy this little routine you two have. You both wake up an hour earlier than you need to cuddle with each other, you eat breakfast together before going to work. If possible, you two would have lunch together. Suguru would cook dinner, you would wash the dishes and he insisted on drying them. Then you would spend the night doing things together or doing your own things while being in the same room. It’s a mundane and boring cycle, but to you, it’s anything but boring.

You always thought that love is all about butterflies in your stomach, heart racing, excitement, going on dates to fancy restaurants. And yes, those are always fun and lovely. But if you really have to choose, you would choose this mundane life with Suguru over everything.

“Would you like to go on a date with me this weekend?” Suguru asked you out of the blue. 

“Do you even need to ask?”

“It’s a polite thing to do.”

“Well then, Yes. I would love to go on a date with you.” you said with a small laugh. It’s cute, you have spent 3 winters with Suguru, but somehow he always manages to make you feel like you've been with each other for 20 seconds and 20 years.

“Where are we going?” you asked

“It’s a surprise, just dress pretty.” Suguru replied softly, placing a kiss on your hair. 

You hum softly at his response, “How pretty would you like me to be?”

He takes his eyes off the TV and looks down at you. Feeling his gaze, you tilt your head back to look into his eyes. 

“As pretty as you are right now.” Suguru muttered before capturing your lips.

////

You decide to wear a white tube dress you bought a week ago. You love the way this dress looks on you, it shows off all your curves in all the right places. But you’re not the only one that enjoys the way this dress looks on you. 

“It looks lovely on you, but I think it’ll look lovelier when I take it off you.” Suguru whispers in your ears from behind. He has his hands wrapping around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing you in. 

“I bought it so you can take it off.” you hinted, turning your head to kiss the top of his hair. You can feel his smile against your skin.

Suguru reserved a nice Italian restaurant downtown. You’re seated near the window. The dimmed light makes Suguru look extra alluring. The way the light cast over his form brings out all of his best features.

You watch as Suguru pours himself his second glass of wine. The foods you order haven’t come out yet and Suguru is already on his second glass. He’s also oddly quiet, usually he would flirt with you as if it’s a first date. You also noticed that he has his left hand in his pocket this entire time. 

“What’s wrong?” you questioned, “You seem anxious. Did something happen at work?”

“Nothing, Love. you’re just looking so gorgeous it’s making me a little bit nervous.” He replied. You hum in response, deciding not to press it further. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

////

After dinner, Suguru drove you to what looked like an empty parking lot. 

“Where are we?” 

“You’ll see.”

“This place is both dark and empty, and if movies have taught me anything, this place is a good place to murder someone.” you point out.

“I can’t with you,” he shook his head, laughing a little “come on.”

Suguru opens the door for you and offers you his hand. You take his hand and step out of the car. Your hands intertwine with his as he leads you to this flight of stairs you can't seem to see the end of.

“You’re making me climb these stairs, in this dress?” you lamented.

“I’ll carry you when you get tired, it’s shorter than you think.” Suguru compromised.

“Ugh, you’re lucky I love you.”

“I know.” he acknowledged with pride.

Suguru was right, it’s not as bad as you thought it would be, though it did take the wind out of you. When you reach the top, you can’t help but stop and stare in awe. At the top of the stairs is a small shrine with a few cement benches around the vicinity. This place is at the perfect height where you can overlook the town and see the wide sky at the same time. 

“You like it?”

“Yeah, it’s gorgeous” you breathe out, not taking your eyes off the sky. 

You have never seen so many stars in the sky before. They're glistening and shimmering, as if they are beckoning you toward them. You were so mesmerized you didn't notice how Suguru is kneeling behind you on one knee. A small box in his hand.

“My love?” Suguru called out to you.

“Yes?” you answer, finally taking your eyes off the sky. You turn around to face Suguru, gasping when you see the position he’s in. Tears welling up in your eyes.

“I have been practicing this for weeks, I have about 100 thrown out speeches. No words were strong enough to describe my love for you. Even the word “love” itself falls short. But even if I don’t have the right words, I do know what I want to spend the rest of my days waking up next to you, cooking dinner for you, and falling asleep with you. So will you grant me the greatest honor, of being by your side for the rest of this life and beyond?” he pleaded, voice shaking with every word.

You were crying at this point. Full on sobbing. You can barely see through the tears. You can’t find your voice either. So you nod. Furiously. Before dropping down to his level and throwing yourself around him.

“Hey now, don’t make me drop the ring.” he teased.

You pull away from him, still sobbing. He wipes your tears away with his thumb before taking your hand and slides the ring on you. You can see the reflection of your lips in his eyes.

To Suguru, your lips look like a question begging for an answer, so he answered. He kisses you hungrily, full of relief and sheer joy. He cupped your jaws to deepen the kiss. His lips move against yours like a well practiced tango. He can’t wait to throw out another 100 speeches as he writes his vow to you.  You kiss him back desperately, trying to convey him all your joy and show him how much you love him. Because he was right, the word “love” does fall short. You can taste the wine he's been sipping on during dinner. His liquid courage, you realized. It’s almost unbelievable how much you love this man. You want to go wherever he goes. You want to be with him forever. You would gladly take this magnetic force of a man to be your lover, in this life and the next.

[cryingpariah]

My One Piece Oc Jackie's opinions on people and organizations in OP

The Strawhats: she really likes them! Be able to visit them even if just for a moment make her work day infinitely better. She knows as a member of the press she has a duty to be unbiased buttt nobody actually follows that so it’s fine. Though she knows that the race to the top is anyone’s game, if she had a personal favourite that was no one’s business but hers.

The Heart Pirates: she can tell how much their captain distrusts her and she respects it in all honestly. He never turns her away anyhow so it’s never an issue and the crew has an infectious sense of humour and camaraderie. They crowd around her and ask for all the juicy gossip the Grandline and New World has to offer and she must say, they make a perfect audience.

The Kid Pirates: like Trafalgar Law, Eustass Captain Kid does not trust Jackie a bit but he also knows the weight of the power of information has so he plays nice. His new strategy lately trying to recruit her, he has found no current success on that front. His promises are many and varied: money (she had plenty of savings), protection (she was an excellent fighter thank you very much), incessant asks from their little winged pirate-to-be (tempting but Big News waits for no man, woman, or mink).

The Seven Warlords of the Sea: she thinks the the entire idea of the Warlord system is stupid and can be too easily taken advantage of by cruel and powerful pirates (and it was..twice). She also think the pirates who join are somewhat sellouts. Isn’t the whole appeal of being a pirate is playing by no one’s rules but your own? Choosing to join the Marines, even adjacently, feels like a cop out to her. The only exceptions in her eyes are Pirate Empress Boa Hancock and First Son of the Sea Jimbei since they so obviously joined to save their people.

(Her personal rankings go something like Jimbei, Boa, Mihawk, Crocodile, Gecko Moria, Donquixote Doflamingo.)

(Kuma remains unranked so far, something in her gut tells her there’s more than meets the eyes with the Tyrant.)

The Admirals: she understands for genuinely world ending threats they are a needed force but for anything below that feels like complete overkill. Whenever she’s at Marineford she usually gets dragged into doing some secretarial work for them which depending on who it is can range from an honestly pleasent interaction to her fantasizing about shoving his head through a electric meat grinder.

(Her ranking goes Fujitora, Kuzan, Kizaru, Akainu, and then Ryokugu.)

The Underworld: hates it and the overwhelming majority of people involved in it. To be fair there’s nothing to like about it anyway, it’s a swirling cesspool of the worst humanity has to offer (yes that includes her too). Other than her boss Stussy is the only one she can tolerate.

Big News Morgan: likes him because they’re so similar and hates him because they’re too similar. She’s grateful for him taking her in and she loves her job but she also knows he just kinda sucks?? As a person?? If she thinks about it too hard it makes her dizzy with indecision so she tries not to.

Red Haired Pirates: The weird drunk uncles of the sea, they loved snatching her hat away to ruffle her hair and asking her to join in on whatever merry pirate ditty they happened to be belting out, she declined and instead procured an instrument to jam along with. Shanks was easily one of the most convoluted individuals she’s ever met, she’s dying to know what makes him tick even though she knows he’ll never tell her. A girl can dream, can’t she?

Dark King Rayleigh + Former Empress Shakky: she’s in awe of them! She practically begs to hear his tales of his time as the right hand man to the King of the Pirates and her anecdotes as ruler of the Amazon Lily! Rayleigh usually acquiesces but occasionally he (and Shakky) like to tease her for her eagerness but she can’t help it!! They’re just so cool!!

Whitebeard Pirates: if she’s there, it’s always for a big order and a big order usually means either weapons restock or a party. The members of the Whitebeard pirates always seem worried about her, offering hot meals and checkups while she’s there and threatening to head up to the WE NEWS blimp whenever she complains about work. She doubles down, acts extremely cheery the next time she sets foot on the Moby Dick and it works…mostly. Edward Newgate, father to dozens of wayward souls can’t be tricked with a child’s lie.

Big Mom Pirates: she had the pleasure of meeting Charlotte Linlin shortly after being taken in so she got Mom mode for 2.5 years. The Charlottes have taken to her in all their years of business together and are delightful hosts when she visits. It probably helps that she shares a birthday with a Sweet Commander so they love to invite her to Whole Cake Island to celebrate together!

Beast Pirates: she actively has to be forced to go to Wano, the SMILE Fruits users give her the heebie jeebies! Not to mention once when discussing some newly produced and shipped North Blue scotch The King of Beasts had called for her and, while incredibly drunk, started rambling to her about his lack of willingness to live. It went on for a while before a Tobi Roppo member found them and escorted her out. Easily the longest 20 mins of her life…

Blackbeard Pirates: truly and wholly detests them, especially their captain. She keeps a calm and indifferent mask on when she has to interact with them but she refuses niceties. Teach is offended by this and loudly recalls memories of how sweet and accommodating she was back on the Moby Dick whenever she’s in earshot.

Cross Guild: the business model of placing bounties on Marines for even civilians to collect and then when said civilians are marked as criminals welcoming them into the group is ingenious! She’s surprised no one has thought of it before. The idea of Buggy being its head with Sir Crocodile and Dracule Mihawk acting as his wings is laughable. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that just happened! Now if she could only get 5 mins alone with the Genius Jester, she’s sure she can get the real story…

The Revolutionary Army: if she wasn’t very dedicated to her current job, she could definitely see herself as a member. Conflicts of interest to her lifestyle aside, she really wants them to succeed and is usually the one pushing for their stories to be the front page. If she ever spots some Revs on a mission she’ll, despite her curiosity, leave them to their work. And if a stray arrows happens to knock aside some marines and move some slaves away from a nearby explosion…well who’s to say it was her? Forgery is on the rise lately yknow? You can never be too sure…

[qianjiahui]

Versatility of Commercial Electric Meat Grinders in Processing Various Meat Types

In the bustling world of commercial food processing, the commercial electric meat grinder stands as a stalwart piece of equipment, designed to meet the demands of high-volume meat processing. Its ability to handle a variety of meats is a critical factor in its widespread adoption across butcheries, restaurants, and food processing plants. This article aims to explore the versatility of commercial electric meat grinders in processing different types of meat, examining their capabilities, limitations, and the factors that contribute to their success in the industry.

The commercial electric meat grinder is engineered to provide a high level of efficiency and precision, essential qualities for businesses that require the processing of large quantities of meat. Its design incorporates robust motors and heavy-duty components that can withstand the rigors of continuous operation. The grinder's ability to process various meats, from beef and pork to poultry and game, is a testament to its adaptability and the thoughtfulness of its design.

One of the key features of a commercial electric meat grinder is its adjustable plate system. This allows operators to control the size of the meat particles produced, catering to a wide range of recipes and applications. Whether it's coarse grinding for burgers or fine grinding for sausages, the commercial electric meat grinder can be easily adjusted to meet the specific requirements of the task at hand.

The grinder's versatility is further enhanced by its compatibility with different types of meat. The commercial electric meat grinder is designed to handle the varying textures and consistencies of different meats without compromising on performance. From the firmness of beef to the tenderness of poultry, the grinder's robust construction and powerful motor ensure that it can process each type of meat with ease.

However, it's important to note that while the commercial electric meat grinder is capable of processing a wide variety of meats, it is not without its limitations. Some meats, particularly those with high-fat content or those that are particularly tough, may require additional preparation or adjustments to the grinder's settings. For instance, grinding fatty meats may necessitate the use of a larger plate hole to prevent clogging, while tougher meats may require a slower grinding speed to ensure processing.

The cleanliness and hygiene of the commercial electric meat grinder are also crucial considerations when processing different types of meat. The grinder's components must be easily disassembled and cleaned to prevent cross-contamination and ensure food safety. High-quality commercial electric meat grinders are often made from stainless steel, which is not only durable but also easy to clean and resistant to corrosion.

Another factor that contributes to the success of the commercial electric meat grinder in processing various types of meat is its capacity. Commercial operations often require the processing of large quantities of meat in a short amount of time. The grinder's large hopper and powerful motor enable it to handle these volumes efficiently, making it an indispensable tool in the commercial kitchen.

Maintenance is also a significant aspect of the commercial electric meat grinder's performance. Regular maintenance, including the cleaning and sharpening of the grinding plates and knives, ensures that the grinder continues to operate at good efficiency. This not only ensures the quality of the ground meat but also prolongs the life of the grinder.

In conclusion, the commercial electric meat grinder is a versatile and indispensable piece of equipment in the world of commercial meat processing. Its ability to handle a variety of meats, from beef and pork to poultry and game, makes it a valuable asset for businesses that require efficient and high-quality meat processing. With its adjustable plate system, robust construction, and easy maintenance, the commercial electric meat grinder stands out as a reliable and efficient tool that can meet the diverse needs of the commercial food industry.

[oonajaeadira]

So ok, here's a Patricio question ... what nights does he have free aside from Thursdays? Does he have clients every weekday, and then again sometimes on weekends? I know they're both going to try and make it work, but unless there's a way to get them both off of that 'schedule' where she has a set time slot to be with him, things could get tricky and not feel much different for either of them, even though they'll no longer be in the massage room. The first weekend they spend together is going to be an interesting one, I think ... and I hope that they're able to make it special.

Hello, my wonderful pal. <3

They very much made their first weekend special. I didn’t cover it in detail, but hinted at it in the previous session. The nice thing about the way their relationship works is that they’ve got the sex part kind of out of the way...although it’s different now that there aren’t any barriers or rules. So they just get to breathe in each other’s spaces now, be around the person they yearn to share time with.

As for the schedule question, you won’t find a logical schedule laid out here. His clients vary in needs and wants, some of them are long term, some only once. Some are on a fixed and limited schedule and others come and go as needed. A long-term weekly schedule is actually kind of unusual for him. If they’re long term, they’re probably on a monthly or bi-weekly at best. Whereas some need a weekly short term. And some only need one or three sessions total.

But this sporadic and erratic schedule is bound to cause some issues. It will just have to be one of the many things they work on.

Kiss and Tell: Priority Aches and How to Soothe Them (GTTT PATS)

FANDOM: Calls - Apple TV (PATS is a character from ep. 3. “Pedro Across the Street.” This is not RPF.)

As with all of my PATS installments, warnings abound for explicit content.

Thank goodness you opted for the wide couch. Your ex hardly ever wanted to cuddle it seemed, but damn if it isn’t coming in handy now. While some gorgeously-filmed spy adventure movie plays on the tv, Patricio spoons you from behind, obviously not paying as much attention to it as you are.

Bright sparks of pleasure run up and down your neck as he tries to break your focus, choosing at the moment to center on one quarter-sized spot just behind your earlobe, circling it with the tip of his nose, rotating between light nuzzling and kissing and licking and nipping there. Every time the cocky spy with the silly belt buckle and electric whip shows up on screen, Patricio pushes his hips forward. And if you gasp, he simply cups a hand over your mouth, urging your silence and calm. He wants to take his time.

It had just been a lazy Saturday on the couch with a little Netflix. But when a dark-haired, mustachioed cowboy showed up on screen and you mumbled a breathless “well, hello, pretty yeehaw,” the and-chill portion of the day began. He pulled down the back of your leggings to find you instantly aroused, whispering that he was going to help you enjoy your new cowboy crush, and pushed himself slowly inside.

Now every time this ridiculously handsome and corny character struts onto the scene, your new boyfriend drags himself slowly through you, lightly skimming mouth and nose, lips and teeth along the back of your neck, intent on creating a Pavlovian response for anyone dark-haired and honey-eyed, broad and tanned…just like himself.

Thank god he makes you come before the end of the film or it may have created a poor connection. Your cowboy’s death illicits shared groans and laughter as his boots disappear into a huge meat grinder. Sad, really. You would have loved to see him come back in another part of the series.

But you have your own brown eyes and scruffy man to turn to and snuggle into.

“Can we do this every weekend?” you ask into his chest. God he smells good. Clean and spicy all at once, a combo of some personal grooming product and detergent, but also just a healthy aliveness and warmth.

With all your concentration on his scent and burrowing past his open shirtfront to meet your lips to the skin of his collarbone, you almost miss the fact that he takes a long time to answer you.

“Ah,” he breathes reluctantly, “Maybe Sunday? I…have a client scheduled next Saturday.”

Freezing for a moment with your forehead pressed to his neck, you don’t notice how your fingers dig into the fabric covering his shoulder. “You’ve never had a Saturday client before. They...must be new?”

“Kind of,” his voice rumbles softly against your brow and you close your eyes as a swallow ripples past, letting the vibrations ground you as he explains. “Started her on Monday. She’s an author, been sitting a lot lately. But her mom isn’t doing so great and she moved in to help her. She has to lift her mother and do a lot of the housework and yardwork and isn’t in shape like she wants to be. So between getting her strength back up and the sudden amount of physical work she’s not used to, her body’s having a period of adjustment. I almost rejected her because she could go to any masseuse…but her application said her father passed last year and now her mother’s slipping. Between all of that, she hasn’t had time for relationships and has just let the need become so much that it’s bringing her morale dangerously low. She’s stressed. I can help her. But Saturdays are the only time she has until another family member can start helping next month. It should only be a few weeks. Then I’m moving her to Mondays.”

You war with yourself, not wanting to dig for assurances out of desperation. But this is part of the work, isn’t it? For you and for him. So you ask.

“You’re seeing her every week? Like you did with me?”

And if he really wants this, he won’t ever tire of answering, just to make you feel safe.

He wants this.

“Just for the time being. I’ll scale her back as she gets stronger and able to find ways to destress. She hurt her lower back shoveling her mother’s sidewalks and needed help getting up to the massage room. She’ll need some work. But she was so much better even after the first three hours. Needed less help getting back down.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can say into his neck. You know you’re special to him, but it would be nice if he would cap it with some reassurance. You should tell him that. Pride stops you. You don’t want to beg, so you give him slack instead. “If you’re too tired on Sunday then that’s okay–”

“I want you Sunday. And Friday if you’ll have me.”

“I thought you had a Friday client?”

“That one’s once a month.”

“Oh.” Once a month, once a week, he knows them all so well…how many are there? You’ve never thought to ask. Maybe you should….

In response to your silence, his hands begin to slide along your back, coming to your waistline as he tilts his chin to your ear, murmuring low. “This muscle group here attaches here,” fingertips slide under your top, press into an intimate curve near your spine, the pads leaving heated imprints on your skin, “and here,” he whispers, sliding a palm down to cup your ass. After giving it a firm squeeze, he keeps moving to the back of your thigh. “And here.”

As he lifts your leg and pulls it over his hip, you finally lean your head back to look at him. And he smiles.

“There you are. Welcome back.” But as you crane forward to kiss him, he pulls back a bit. “I’m gonna show you how I’m fixing her, but if I do that, no kissing. Because I don’t kiss my clients.”

“You kissed me.”

“Yeah. And look what kind of mess that got me into.” His expression is serious, but gentle, the comment’s both a little affectionate dig at you, but also carries the unspoken weight of I don’t know how to tell you that you’re special. I don’t know how to tell you you were the best mistake I made. 

But he’s trying.

“Okay. Show me.”

And he does. Explains what he looked for in his client’s wracked body. How he targeted the connections and radiated to other parts of the back, explaining how a muscle in your chest can pull at your rib cage which can twist your spine here, how a spot in the arch of your foot connects to your sacral area, how finger pressure inside the back wall of the vagina just here can cause these back muscles to naturally release and pull downward….

At certain times he points out how your structure differs from hers, that if it were you, he would also be prodding here (“And I’m coming back to that when this demonstration is over–what have you been doing this week that got you all knotted up here?”) and an inch or two higher here.

It’s all very technical and magical at the same time and it’s exhilarating to see how very well he knows the human body, how he’s made an expert study of it...

…and of course he’d want to work on different ones constantly, solve their puzzles, examine their differences.

Even see how it works when he fucks it.

Even a mechanic likes to take the cars they work on out for a spin afterward.

But they still drive their pride and joy home.

When he’s done with his demo he kisses you long and deep, your fingers no longer clutching. No need to hang on so tightly when you completely melt into one another.

“Go start the shower,” he mumbles against your lips. “Get warmed up. I’m gonna take care of that knot you’ve got going on.”

“You coming with me?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

As you move off toward the bathroom, you see him reach for his phone on the coffee table.

And once you have your clothes off and are climbing into the warm steam, you hear your own ding from the next room.

You’ll have to remember to check that out.

But you forget the moment you’re enveloped in the combined warmth of hot water and naked man. ________________

Sometime during the night, the glass of water he insisted you drink after your massage comes calling and forces you to slide out of his heavy embrace and head for the toilet.

Force of habit makes you grab your phone on the way, just to double-task and check the notifications while your body gets its needs out of the way.

Email: Subject: Patricio has shared a calendar with you.

A...calendar?

Curious, you tap the notif. And stare at the note attached.

--For your eyes only. You can have any and every night that’s free.

And there is his calendar, days sporadically claimed, no pattern that you can yet see, although it begins to make sense the longer you look.

Nikki. Agnes. Carol. Rumiko. Jamie. Jody. TJ. Autumn. Ness.

The next two Saturdays read “Theresa.”

Theresa. Her dad’s gone and her mother is dying and she has no one to help her right now. And everything hurts. And her name is Theresa.

Your thumb glides over her name.

The light of the screen helps guide you back to bed.

Back to a man who doesn’t wake when you climb under the covers and into his arms.

He only sighs in his sleep and holds you tighter.

It only takes a minute or two to fall easily back to a relaxed and blissful sleep.

______

NEXT

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[electricopolis-net]

S03E02: Sparker Reborn (Part 1)

1. A Brand New Bob

Six months into Bob Sparker's suspension...

"Mr. King!"

Percy looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, intently studying a report. It took him a moment to even recognize the voice--he hadn't heard the caw of his ex-number one primetime earner for at least six months.

"Bob?" He said, blinking. "What are you doing here?"

Bob Sparker looked just as taken aback as Percy was. "Well--I mean--" he sputtered. He was holding what looked like a large easel, with something wrapped in canvas tucked under one arm, and he began to busily set it up. "You said I could come to you if I needed anything, right?"

Percy searched his mind. Yes, he thought, I probably did say that at one point. "Of course," he replied. "But I'm actually rather busy at the--"

"This'll take two seconds, I promise!" Bob set up the easel and propped the cloth-wrapped object on it. "I have great news for you, boss. Just great."

With a flourish he drew the cloth off of the canvas. Upon it was a brilliantly rendered oil painting of a dark mountain, looking much like the kind found in the range that ringed Electric Valley. Behind the mountain was a halo of light in flourishing reds, yellows and pinks. It took a long moment for Percy to process that what he was seeing was a sunrise.

"And this is...?" he ventured.

"This," Bob proclaimed, patting the canvas affectionately, "is the future. My future." He drew in a breath. "Mr. King, I'm leaving the company."

Percy stopped, considered this, and laced his fingers together. "To become an artist?"

"Oh, no!" Bob laughed. "No, no, I got this from Alice Lang. She's doing great, by the way, thanks for helping her out. No, this is gonna be the guiding star for my new television network!"

The room was silent for a moment. "Your...excuse me?" Percy said, tilting his head. "Your what now?"

"My new television network," Bob repeated, puffing his chest out with pride. "It's gonna be something new, something completely different. One with humanity, where we bring people up instead of running 'em through a meat grinder. No offense," he added quickly. "I did like being the meat grinder guy."

"Wait, wait, wait. Back up a moment." Percy sat back, rubbing his temples with one hand and tapping his pen on the desk with the other. "So you're leaving the company...and founding a television network all by yourself?"

"Not by myself, no." Bob's smile grew wider. "Jam's coming with me. He's gonna be my talent scout. He knows everything about everything when it comes to up-and-coming artists and musicians! Margaret's helping, too, when she's able to, plus she's footing the bill. And Miss Lang is going to be our first profile. Best of all, it'll be free!"

"Free?" Percy repeated. "How on earth--"

Bob pulled out a small notebook and flipped through it. "Public television," he explained. "If we can get approval from the municipal government, the whole thing'll be funded by taxpayers. Television by the people, for the people," he announced, beaming with pride.

Percy sat back in his swivel chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Public television? Please," he scoffed. "Bob, you're far too good for that. Give it six more months and I'll have you back on the air. The producers at Zap! Entertainment actually sent me a pitch this morning," he remarked, turning his attention back to the layers of documents on his desk. "Something about 'a hundred contestants enter, one leaves...'"

"Mr. King."

Percy looked up. Bob stood in front of him, his hands clasped nervously together. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me," he said. "Really, I...I do. But this is something I have to do. For myself, and for Electricopolis."

"Then what do you need me for? It sounds as if you have everything all planned out."

"Well, to kick off our programming, we were thinking of throwing a festival," Bob ventured carefully. "A celebration of art and artisans from across the city, that kind of thing. We would provide space and lighting, of course. And we could have an Electric Park at the end of it all, a huge light show right in the middle of the top tier!" he explained, slowly becoming more and more animated. "I was hoping, you know, as a going-away present--that you might sign off on it, that's all. It might be kind of hefty on the power bill."

Percy considered this. "I suppose I'll...see what I can do."

"Thanks so much, Mr. King!" Bob grabbed Percy's hand in his own and pumped it gratefully. "You've always believed in me, even when nobody else did--and I hope to make you proud!"

Percy blinked again, stared at him, almost baffled--and then his face settled back into his trademark wan smile. "Of course," he said soothingly. "Of course."

Bob wrapped up his painting and practically skipped out the door, leaving Percy in his office, alone, with a throbbing headache. He turned away towards the window, leaving the half-read report on the town's energy crisis lying on top of his desk.

The city was far underneath him, the clouds not so high above. The Top Tier CEO's office was at the very summit of the town, just about--the only thing taller was the broadcast tower. This town was his, and for the longest time it had ticked along in perfect harmony with itself, every part an integral member of a well-oiled machine.

Every schoolchild knew the history of the town, though perhaps not all of it. Electricopolis was founded centuries ago after a colossal meteorite had landed in the middle of a mountain range. Though difficult to get to from the outside world, the area proved to now be full of precious hydrocarbons that could be extracted and processed into fuel. A mad rush for the territory began, during which various countries--and corporations--launched expedition after expedition to access the valley.

Many of the expeditions failed. But one particular company succeeded in seizing the territory, and began to construct a city for the purpose of exporting the hydrocarbon fuel. But when the colony proved to become rich enough to buy out its parent corporation, the city became truly self-sufficient: fresh water was created from the hydrogen molecules below and the oxygen in the air, and some of the simpler hydrocarbons turned into nitrate-rich fertilizers for the city's hydroponic farms. In short, everything they needed was here.

And so the outside world became nothing but a distraction. Centuries on, Electricopolis had cut off all ties with the outside and turned inward, focusing only on itself, concerned only with itself. But there were only so many resources left below the surface of the earth. And every day the fuel was running lower, and the brownouts became longer and longer...

Percy drummed his fingers against his desktop.

Surely there was a way to kill two birds with one stone.

[manifestingenius]

Whyyyyyyy ughhhhh

I was dreaming about meeting my relatives and after a while we had to return home. I was in my mom's car which was new in the dream. Everything looked so real and I decided to look at my hands and I expected to see 5 fingers but instead I counted 6. I was confused and counted them 3 more times and couldn't understand how I have 6 fingers, am I hallucinating or what? After that I realized that it's a dream and tried to focus on my hands more to make the dream even more realistic. Some things happened in the dream that made me forget that I'm still dreaming, like I was running from a girl and didn't know how to escape. Suddenly my brother appeared and I ran to him and grabbed his arm so he can protect me. In that moment I remembered that it's a dream and immediately asked him to take me to void. He took my hand and suddenly we were flying, it was a nighttime so everything was dark blue but when I asked him to take me to void, we were flying higher and higher and everything was slowly turning black and I was affirming that it's gonna work but I started waking up because my mom was using an electric meat grinder that was making a hell of a noise😭😭😭😭😭 I realized that everything stopped and was like NOOOOOOO😤

I tried to go back to sleep but I just had another dream in which I had a false awakening and that's all🥲🥲

I WAS CLOSE AGAIN BRUUUUUUHHH

[ayy-junipei]

Ok so people have been reblogging that Character AI post from me adding things like "but I have x trauma and talking to people is hard" "but with AI I can vent about my sic fantasies" or "but AI is more convenient RP partner than a person". Since I have nothing better to do I decided to get mad about it.

Like bros come on. Nobody is arguing that AI is quick convenient and can't argue with you like a real person can. Like wow I don't have to worry about replying too quick or too late! I can talk about my dead dove meat grinder Jerma fantasies without shame! I can have the plot go the exact way I want it to. Why pay 500 quid an hour for a therapist when I can talk with an AI recreation of the girl that left me in middle school :)

Same way that a private jet is so quick and convenient. Man I don't have to wait in an airport for 5 hours before the flight or else I miss it. I don't have to interact with waa waa crying babies or they crazy mum. Flying is so scary and anxiety inducing so it's nicer to go private :)

AI data centres use massive amounts of water and electricity to function. That's before thinking about electronic waste. That's why I wasted like 3 minutes waffling on about private jets. They're both non-essential conveniences with environmental consequences.

Even that is missing the bigger point of why boys are saying RP with your friends and not with AI. Like we all complain that babies watching that cocomelon shit is doing jack to develop their social skills or help them grow. RPing with AI isn't any better chief. I'm not gonna waste y'alls time spelling out each point when you most likely know already.

Yeah interacting with people is trash but the AI is not your friend or a professional therapist either. It's a commercial product. It can be taken away at any time, either because the devs put up a paywall you can't afford or when they change the TOS to ban your Jerma meat grinder fantasies.