Crew1991
If you want to re -create, please follow the instructions below!
ptrh_
If you buy the entire wings, please divide it into flat shoes and drums.I usually do 10-12 pieces at a time.
rypcity
Preheat fryer to 360F
test
Use salt and pepper to taste wings, as well as thin fermented powder coating.Tosses evenly.
mobani
Spray the oil into the fried pan and throw the wing in.
3031983
Cook in 360 minutes for 12 minutes.shake.Cook for 12 minutes.Increase the temperature to 390 minutes.
Rayver2380
Season your wings immediately and enjoy!
hockey
So for a total of 30 minutes?I don't know if you increase the heat in the last 12 minutes.
Sunder1025
Do you mean the actual wings when you say that you spray oil in the fryer?
Crew1991
Season with salt and pepper powder, about 1TPSN fermented powder in every 6 winged blocks.
Stepyakovic
that's all?IntersectionIntersection
Crew1991
What sauce do you use?
Barry_allen208
What is the internal temperature of the wings?
Crew1991
I usually perform 9 minutes at 390, and then spray it with oil for 9 minutes after turning my wings.They appeared north of 175-180.
arrange
Are they juicy?
Bikesboozeandbacon
Does this work together with frozen wings, or better freeze and add flexible powder and seasonings?
Conner14
A Teeplespoon?
Crew1991
It is best to apply them to the flexible powder the night before, and then let them sit in the refrigerator to spend the night
Iron propeller
Interestingly, I will try next time!
Moon
I am very happy that I found this. In fact, I made air fried wings for the first time tonight.The strange thing is the best seasoning, time and temperature and all of these.Seeing 30 minutes, but I think I can stare at it after 20 minutes
Crew1991
Oh, I forgot to temporarily.I performed 360 minutes and 12 minutes, shaking, 360, another 12 points, and then increased to 390.If you want to reduce any reason, please do it during the second 360.
Snowwall
The reason I increased to 390 was to ensure that they were very crispy, and I didn't want to ignore this.
Crew1991
Even if you follow the recipes here, you can let you know how to cook wings. I suggest that the best way to make your perfect wings is through repeated tests.Every AF is different, so everyone is different.Therefore, my suggestion is to try temporarily and seasoning so that you can get your favorite taste.
misrauls
As far as I am concerned, I use lemon pepper, onion salt, garlic powder, pepper and a little pepper powder.In the first 10 minutes of 365 °, flip them, and then increase the heat by 400 ° to the remaining 10 points.A total of 20 minutes.
Crew1991
In addition, I have used some film powder, but honestly, I have not noticed that there is a big difference.
Crew1991
Hey, I wish you virgin sailing!Yes, they may be completed after 25 minutes, but only need to ensure that there are no obvious flexible powder (white spots).If you see white dots, let them cook longer.The advantage of black meat is that due to the high fat content, it is difficult to cook too much.
Crew1991
If you want to add chili powder or garlic powder or any other dried flavor, you can completely change the seasoning.Finally, add film powder and ensure that all wings have thin coatings.That will really make the skin dry and make them super crispy.
ptrh_
My Cosori spends much less time, so please pay attention to your first batch.I made salt and pepper, and mixed with film powder and corn starch.No oil.After that, throw it with sauce.Astonishing!IntersectionIntersection
rypcity
I really hope I didn't buy a small fryer because it was cheap.My biggest wings are the biggest.I have to work in batches to feed 2 people
test
Those look very good wow
mobani
Thanks!
3031983
Listen to me, OP.The soda effect is very good, but I switch to the flowers, and I think I will never go back.
Rayver2380
For ~ 2 pounds of wings:
hockey
After cutting the wing as needed, mix the following mixtures together.-1 teaspoon of garlic-1 teaspoon onion power-1/2 teaspoon salt-1/2 teaspoon pepper powder
Sunder1025
Put on the wings and mix.
Crew1991
Preheat air fried pot!
Stepyakovic
In a separate bowl, make flour mixture: -1/2 cups of flowers-1 teaspoon salt-1 teaspoon black pepper powder
Crew1991
Pick up 1 or 2 wings at a time.Make sure you get rid of excess flour mixture.
Barry_allen208
Cooking in Air Fryer in 380 minutes and 24 minutes.I stopped it within 10 minutes and turned them, and then let it shake it for 4 minutes.
Crew1991
It may not need to get oil at all, because chicken fat is done well for you, but sometimes, if they look very dry, when I shake, I will give them a little spray.
arrange
What kind of air fried pot do you have?Is it difficult to clean whether it is equipped with a stainless steel frame?
Bikesboozeandbacon
I have a more old model Philips.It has a shelf, I am.Whether stainless steel, it is positive.I have to use oil injection to ensure that everything will not stick, so
Conner14
Wow, I found my wings cooked after 375 minutes.I really need to try film flour.These look great.
Crew1991
Yes, there may be a variety of different temperature combinations to play a role.My machine is directly from 360 to 390 (the older model Philips), so I have some restrictions.
Iron propeller
What temperature and how long?
Moon
Preheat the fryer to 360 and add a wing.Cook for 12 minutes.shake.Boil 12 again at 360.Then increase the heat to 390 for 6 minutes.
Crew1991
[delete]
Snowwall
I might use the wrong shorthand, but I did not really measure it.I just put on all wings with thin coatings.
Crew1991
The title illustrates everything.Yes.I am single, I laugh loudly with a cardboard and air frying pot.However, these hormone -pre -seasoned spine is always BOGO, which is two meals for me.Cook until the perfect medium!Along with mung beans, with butter, apple cider vinegar and crushed red pepper.Gentle!
misrauls
Mazda CX-90 is made of high-quality materials, which is our most luxurious SUV so far.From the available NAPPA leather pruning seats and cross -view sunroof to optional (when we say you will like it, please believe us) Japan's kakenui sewing, each exquisite details will invite you to enter.However, design is only part of the story -Mazda CX -90 has the most powerful engine of our so far.Due to its performance -oriented platform, our flagship 3 -line SUV performs clever processing and has a rear biased AWD layout, which can provide a highly responding, exciting drive.
Crew1991
In order to reveal the design, engineering and artistic nature behind the CX-90, we have created a series of videos to introduce the design and performance and the disclosure of the SUV itself in detail.We call it an unpacking series of record companies (UNBOXED UNBOXED) with the reaction and thoughts of industry leaders, such as automobile manufacturers and master mechanical ant Anstead, international film star Hiroyuki Sanada, and indoor designer Becki.Owens.But why do you stop there?Here, you will hear Jay Chen, the manager of the design senior executive Yasutake Tuschida and PowerTrain Performance, who will pull the curtains on the design, performance and inspiration behind CX-90.
Crew1991
The Mazda CX-90 is the most ambitious and powerful tool for us to date. It is designed as the same way as it operates.It provides three power assembly options. Our first plug -in hybrid power assembly and 3.3 -liter turbine rack 6 engine have two different powers.These three power sources come from the unremitting spirit of dedication to enhance and expand every motivation and evoke every emotion of them.
Crew1991
Turbine inline 6 engine It is a long -term design of performance enthusiasts, because of its unprecedented balance and stable power transmission.CHEN explains in detail: "The advantage of inline 6 is the smooth transportation of power and peace torque curves and self -confident exhaust notes. This can give the driver's ability at any speed, thereby improving the experience of ordinary drivers."
ptrh_
Through passion and precision, we are eager to integrate life into the form of cars.We adopt the full advantages of Mazda CX-90's large platform and position, and improved the outer outside of the signature carving to deepen the interaction of light and shadow.The CX-90 actively absorbs and reflects the beauty of the surrounding world, so it never looks twice in shape or color.In this way, it allows your relationship to develop with each new encounter.
rypcity
Tasida said: "We want to create a sports design instead of discounting on the spacious interior cabin." "Generally, the sports design has a close internal wooden house. The CX-90 has three lines of space."
test
The designer Chen said: "All the power assembly options of the CX-90 are designed as an exciting and exciting steering wheel." "Inline 6 Turbo benefits from its flat torque curve, providing high at most speeds provides high at high speeds provided high at high speeds.The horizontal torque, even if the vehicle is everywhere, the driver's confidence also makes the driver confident when merging or overtaking. Our PHEV provides a similar feeling, with excellent torque, but it increases in the EV mode alone.The ability to travel short -distance travel makes your fuel storage tank further. "
mobani
In order to emphasize the elegance of the CX-90, we have developed a new Takuminuri color called Artisan Red Premium.¹ This deep, exquisite shadow highlights the strength and beauty of the form formed by the vehicle through the world, and constantly presents new color expression.
3031983
According to Chen, "The red image of the color craftsman is like the old wine made by the best winemaker." The design uses a dynamic body surface effect. When the light is hit, I see vivid red, in the shadow, in the shadow, in the shadowThe red appears deeper.In this way, the body structure is emphasized."
Rayver2380
In order to create a space for the unique physical characteristics of the Inline 6 engine, the CX-90 has a slender hood series, and then creates an extended outline and larger canvas for our designer to develop the solemn configuration file of the CX-90EssenceAs a result, a form that can be identified immediately, through its bold and command positions to evoke power and agility.
hockey
So what is the inspiration behind Mazda CX-90 immediately labeling?"The design is inspired by the powerful natural landscape. We hope that the design has a strong appearance, command and dynamic ratio, making it seem ready to take off." Tasida agreed."'Beauty with dignity' is our design concept. A proud, thicker face and a large proportion of the dignity together. The color provides a changing reflection, which can evoke a beauty."
Sunder1025
Mazda CX-90 is expected to be the spring of 2023.² Tell us your views on this; we give Reddit Gold to our favorite comments.
Crew1991
¹ Can be used with the selected model.
Stepyakovic
² adjustable.

So im kind of really, really fucked. There's a huge wombo-combo of absolute hell that has been unleashed on my household, that being my mother has metastatic brain cancer and through going to the hospital to get it treated, both my mother and father have gotten the really popular and hot contagious disease that has been going around for the past few years.
What I'm asking is as a skilled home cook, what can I make and how can I elevate it to that michelin star level. I'm pretty much BBQ Jesus, but my dad's the only one that really enjoys a good steak. I have a propane grill, a traeger smoker, a Walmart special charcoal grill, a half-assed induction stovetop/oven combo made by Samsung, and a whole range of cookware. Anyone got any ideas?
Mom's favorites:
Shepards Pie
Pork Chops
Fried Rice (I don't know how to rice properly, many wasted attempts with different methodology)
Butter Chicken (and other less-spicy Indian foods)
Tomato soups
Heavy garlic flavored stuff
Salmon with lemon pepper
Pasta salad
Some of those are family recipes that are effectively sacred but any and all ideas are welcome as long as I have the equipment to make it.
Edit - I'm probably gone in a week or 2 as well so fuck me right?

My obsession began with a humble hangnail on my pinkie finger, a digit whose function, you must agree, is entirely ornamental. The hangnail pulled loops from my sweater and threatened to make worthless my silk shirts. This superfluous shard of my personage would never amount to anything so, I bit it off. I held the keratin splinter between my teeth and touched it with the tip of my tongue. Already it felt dulled, less angry. One swallow—a spark trapped in a bottle—and I was hooked. I dare say the advertisement I put in the Gazette the very next day was more of a provocation than anything else: Cannibal wanted. No creeps.
In all my 42 years, I never was a nail-biter—I simply didn’t have the anxiety for it—but now, I was eager to celebrate the rare perfection when, after delicate nibbling, a full crescent of fingernail pulled away from my cuticle leaving a pleasantly feathered edge. Patience never was my strong suit and fingernails can take a whole month between harvests. I was fortunate, though, in that I have always been blessed with uncommon flexibility and therefore found some comfort in nibbling my toe-nails like a baby newly born.
Despite my limberness, the contortions necessary and the manner in which I had been leaning to reach the littlest piggy, caused the finger on my left hand to go completely numb. The feeling brought to mind an old friend from school who lost this very same finger to a hungry garbage disposal system. If prompted, he would insert carrots into his gloved hand and, in full view of the substitute teacher, make a big show of cutting them off. It never failed to rouse the class to laughter. I made sure to fess up to having been the one who had goaded the poor lad so he didn’t take the burden of the punishment alone. He always claimed that his missing fingers inconvenienced him not in the slightest, but he was particularly terrible at ten-pin bowling. We never liked bowling, anyway.
He was a good person, that boy. But, more often than not, people disgust me. You put one small advertisement in the Gazette and it really is amazing how many supposed cannibals want to pleasure themselves while watching someone consume their parts. Perverts! It never was a sexual thing for me. Pure cannibals are hard to find, or maybe they just never read the Gazette. Either way I couldn’t wait so long for a dining companion. Cutting off my finger was an easy decision—as natural and inevitable as cell division. Had I been a starfish my fingers would have grown a whole new me from scratch. What a lark!
It’s usually the pain that stops ordinary people from achieving anything notable in life. Anything worthy of the Gazette. But pain of the person fades in time. Pain of the mind persists. For example: I don’t recall the pain of crashing my motorcycle into a willow when I was young and foolish, but I recall, with absolute clarity, my sweetheart leaving me while I was still in traction. She said she didn’t want to go to the prom with a cripple. My legs healed in time but my heart was eternally broken. That’s real pain right there. If the most painful thing you ever feel in life is a silly little finger being lopped off then you haven’t really lived.
Decision. Precision. Incision. All in quick succession. That’s how you do it.
I tied a rubber band around my pinkie until it was numb and laid it on the bread board then popped it off with a chef’s knife. It came away more easily and with much less sensation than I expected. I inserted the severed digit in my mouth—wider, wider, a little wider—like a dentist might. My real-life dentist was always too insistent, too certain of his ability to enter me. I bit his finger once (okay, maybe more than just once). I caught him off guard—or as off guard as you can when dealing with a man whose entire professional life is spent with his hands in the mouths of beasts. He must surely have seen it coming. Nevertheless, he referred me to another dentist.
I clamped down hard on my severed finger and ran my tongue over the satisfyingly deep dent left in the flesh by my molars. It had the texture of pig knuckles. Not that I recall that particular dish with much clarity. I’ve been a vegetarian for thirty years. No harm, no fowl—no fish or steak. Eating my own flesh doesn’t hurt anyone. It just makes me a cannibal-vegetarian which is more ethical than most people.
Take my sister for example: she loves her stupid fox terrier like a child but she still eats meat which makes her both cruel and a terrible hypocrite. Nevertheless, she still insists we get together for Christmas.
”What the hell is the difference between eating dogs and cows?” I asked her, on the phone. And when I said “dogs” I meant humans.
“Cow’s don’t have personalities,” was her reply, which is entirely not true.
“Would you prefer I cook you an animal you hated?” I asked.
”Yes,” she agreed, and I knew immediately that she regretted her offer of driving all the way to visit me in New Orleans for Christmas dinner.
“What animal do you hate the most?” I asked. “I’m serious.”
I already knew what she was thinking. I just wanted to hear her say it. She had never hated anyone more than her ex-husband or possibly me. Either way, the animal she hated most was most definitely human but she said, “Pigs, I guess,” and by “pigs” she meant me.
“Good. That settles it. I’ll cook pork with cherry glaze,” I lied.
Now, obviously, a few stray knuckles can’t possibly form the centerpiece of Christmas dinner and, anyway, me-knuckle-and-pea soup had already demonstrated itself as more suitable for an appetizer. Still, I kicked myself for eating my four fingers first because it made it extremely difficult to amputate my leg at the knee. The lower leg: now there is a versatile cut of meat. You can cut along the length of the calf muscle for a juicy loin or cut across the bones for chops if you have a bandsaw, which I didn’t, of course, on account of living in a residential area with strict zoning laws. But that doesn’t prevent you from smoking a loin or make excellent sausages. I had a devil of a time removing my lower leg and none of the perverts who responded to my advertisement in the Gazette had the prerequisite nursing skills to assist with the amputation. I administered the local anesthetic myself and it worked fine enough but the knee joint was tough and rather complicated to cut through and, in spite of my keen interest in anatomy, I was certainly no doctor. Still, I had committed to hosting Christmas lunch and I was determined to harvest a tasty loin. My sister and may have had our differences but, she is my sister after all and you have to make an effort.
When she arrived, she insisted on bringing with her a special friend named George. Poor George had tried to enliven his wallflower personality with a festive reindeer sweater. I liked him immediately and not just because he worked in Germany as a surgeon, no less. My sister gasped at the sight of my missing fingers and still fresh amputation below the knee. But I told her not to worry about me. I pretended that my old motorcycle accident had effected my circulatory system. I then garnished the white lie with a case of diabetes I never had. It was Christmas, after all. Everyone loves a tall tale. I followed that up with a loin of leg in a cherry glaze.
“I’m so glad you’re no longer a vegetarian,” she said, while attempting not to pity me. “You need to keep your strength up in your condition.”
“I’m still vegetarian,” I said, as I poured extra cherry glaze on her plate. “Just don’t tell anyone.”
My sister thought the pork/I was a little tough and didn’t mind saying so, but George wanted the recipe before he returned to Cologne. He had never read the Gazette but, when he followed me to the library in search of a recipe book, he insisted on examining my wound in a way that suggested that he might have answered the advertisement himself, had he been a subscriber. He could tell right away there was no hospital involved in the amputation and he said that his grandfather had reared pigs for Schinken ham in the most beautiful little corner of the Black Forest so he knew a thing or two about pork. He wheeled me back to the dining table and helped himself to a third helping of “pork” before we opened presents. My sister said it was a pleasant lunch and George even did the washing up on account of my missing fingers.
They both left in good spirits.
When I say “left” I mean George returned the very next day for leftovers. He brought his suitcase and medical kit and examined my limbs with the upmost professionalism.
“I think it might need to come off,” I suggested, as he scrutinized my legs and arms. He agreed every time.
“Yes it will. And that too. It will all need to be removed, eventually,” he said. I made sure to leave a copy of the Gazette on the counter so there could be no confusion on the subject.
Judging by how frequently my sister called his cell phone, I think she was in love with poor George. She rang at the most inappropriate hour because she thought he was back in Cologne which he wasn’t. He was usually asleep on the sofa with a belly full of flesh on account of us having turned the second bedroom into an operating room. Eventually George said it would be suspicious if he didn’t answer so we played Kraftwerk and Marlene Dietrich in the background (though not at the same time) to make it sound like he might have been in Cologne. I thought we did a good job of keeping up our little charade, but I only had those two albums and, anyway, I still think it was my sister who eventually called the police.
After we harvested another “ham’ it was clear that both George’s surgical and culinary skills were far superior to mine. His grandparents must have been true artisans when it came to pork. Throughout the spring, I watched my biceps grow meaty from maneuvering the new wheel chair. I suspect George’s grandfather must have shared the same excitement at watching his sows grow plump and delicious as the slaughter season approached. From the comfort of my Creole townhouse in The Marigny, my body had become my very own Black Forest. We lived in a land of plenty. George, being German and in possession of a rapier wit, named my right arm Hansel and my left Gretel which, of course, made me the wicked witch.
You might think me worse than wicked—a barbarian perhaps—but I caused no more harm to the world beyond my walls than the old lady who swallowed a fly.
George wouldn’t harm a fly either, which is exactly what I told the police when they visited. They saw my diminished state and expressed concern about his capacity to care for me. I pointed out that he was a qualified doctor, a surgeon no less, but it was clear they thought he had nefarious intent. The larger of the policemen sat in my most comfortable chair, a recliner, and explained that George had, allegedly, cared for four other men in Cologne who had all undergone unnecessary amputations before their demise. I thanked the officers for their concern and promised to report any unusual behavior but I was shaking inside. My stomach felt hollow and I was in a constant sweat. I had been betrayed: the fact that George had already consumed someone else before our meeting was certainly news to me.
When he returned with the groceries (vegetables and herbs mainly, for we had all the meat we needed) I beat him with my stumps until the sutures ruptured. I cried and told him I would go no further. He apologized and soothed me by showing me what ordinary people who have never spanked their Frankfurt in public refer to as food-porn. It was this he wanted me to become. He assured me that I was the sweetest of all the men he had had the pleasure of eating. This was, I suspect, a direct result of my cannibal-vegetarian diet. You are what you eat, after all. People eat bad things, generally speaking, and I’m not just referring to junk food. Some make a whole performance of eating cars and trucks and bicycles and all manner of things that simply can’t be eaten for that stupid Guinness book of records. People eat rocks, drywall, cars, soiled diapers, live bees, batteries and light bulbs and bedsprings just because they feel like it. I guess humans are like worms through which the entire world must pass. Me? I am a loop in time: leftovers consuming leftovers.
And in the end, who needs to leave behind something so ungainly as a body?
You would be surprised at how many parts of your body you can do without too. I’m a stickler for research—ask anyone. George said that in WWII surgeons performed the first half-ectomy on fighter pilots crushed beneath their instrumentation. Surgeons sliced them in half like a magic act—tadaa! The patients survived and would have survived longer had they not been inclined to bouts of depression and taken their own lives. I guess they couldn’t see the magic in it. But I could.
Tadaa!
I must say, if ever there is such a thing as magic in the world then it comes in the form of phantom limb syndrome. After George performed my half-ectomy, I had no hips from which to leap, no shoulder joints from which to hurl a ball and yet I have never felt more active. My phantom limbs ran for miles along Elysen Fields Avenue and north, through the Rocky Mountains, all the way to Alaska. My arms swam down the Mississippi and out to sea and through the hurricanes and didn’t stop until they reached South America and the upper reaches of the Brazilian Rainforest. My phantom limbs were proficient in all manner of sports I never asked them to engage in. But when I looked down there was just air where the pumping limbs might have been. What was the point in all that exercise if my eyes called my body a liar? I had no choice but to ask George to remove them. When I say “them” I mean my eyes. We ate one each, lightly seared in a pan with onions and lemon. The imagination is far more active without sight. My hearing became more acute, my olfactory senses keener. I highly recommend it.
I could tell the police had returned by the weary way they walked, weighed down by radios and guns and the foolishness of their investigation. Unfortunately, this time George was home. I tried to explain away my diminished size and pointed out that my eyes had turned septic (and by “septic” I mean delicious) but they took George away for questioning anyway. He was away a long time.
I am not the nervous sort, but I did indeed start to panic. I called George’s name but the only reply was the gulls keening outside my window. I fell asleep and woke up and was not sure how many hours had passed but there were no more gulls so it was surely night. My ileostomy bag had over-flowed and my flesh was contaminated with the foulest smell. What if George didn’t return? Who would be my dinner companion? I couldn’t eat all this food by myself. When eventually the front door creaked opened and George called my name, his voice was shaking. The police had held him for two days and nights under the pretense of asking questions. As he carried me to the bathroom to clean me up, he was not moving well. He laid me in the tub and I could smell the nervous sweat that had dried on his shirt. He favored his left arm and there was a catch in his breath that told me his ribs were badly bruised.
“Did they beat you?” I asked.
“Sticks and stones,” he said, but I knew he envied me. You can’t beat a man who isn’t there.
He wiped away the crusted seepage that had spilled from my ileostomy bag and floated me in the fresh water. Had George not been a cannibal he could have found a job drawing baths in the nicest hotel in New Orleans. It’s not as easy as turning the water on, you know. You need to get the humidity of the room just right and the temperature of the water within a precise range. When you do, your body feels weightless and your breath invisible. I heard George open a glass bottle and listened as a few drops of lavender bath oil perfumed the room. It was sublime but there was certainly nothing sexual about the moment. How could there be? My sex had been removed in the half-ectomy along with everything below the navel. Yes, it’s true that George and I had both eaten my penis and testicles but it was far from a meal with erotic overtones. In fact, George had made Zürcher Geschnetzeltes which is a Swiss German dish usually made with veal. Cooked to perfection, he served it with a mushroom and white-wine sauce so aromatic that it made me wish I had testicles growing all over my body like mushrooms from which to harvest. When George eventually lifted me from my bath, he gently laid me on a towel and rubbed lotion into my scar tissue.
“How much is left?” I asked.
The scales scraped on the tile floor and George folded a towel in quarters for padding. Even after we ate my eyes, George always balanced me upright on my spine so, in my mind’s eye, I could look down and see my weight.
“Fourty-eight pounds,” he said. “I could check you as luggage.”
He cleaned my teeth with a new brand of toothpaste that tasted like red Tic-Tacs and took me to bed. He no longer slept on the sofa. At two-foot tall, I was smaller than the overpriced teddy bear I used to sleep with as a kid. I could tell he was tired on account of being interrogated by the police without sleep for two days but he wanted to talk about something. Finally he said: “What should I make for my first meal alone?”
I had not kept track of our meals but, from the way we had feasted and the sound of the single bag of flesh clanking around in the chest-freezer, I knew our supply was getting low. Without ever having to leave New Orleans, we had taken a culinary tour of all of Bavaria and the Rhineland. We had eaten bratwurst and liverwurst with senf; königsberger klopse meatballs; sauerbraten pot roast; schweinshaxe and speck; and baked the leftovers into a leberkäse-style meatloaf. The neighbors must have thought we were opening a restaurant. Ultimately, though, there was one meal I couldn’t share with George: the meal that would finish me . He could eat my beef-heart stew or spread my brains on toast with parsley and lemon but it was Christmas again. The festive season.
“I don’t want you to eat alone,” I told George. “Take my sister to midnight mass then treat her to a good old-fashioned Réveillon feast.”
It’s a Creole tradition in these parts, to feast until dawn. I wanted to swim in a bouillabaisse with the freshest sea scallops or be pureed with leeks and truffle cream. I imagined the searing heat of applewood smoked bacon against my lightly grilled cheek. I wanted George to swallow the last of me and know me more completely than I ever could.
He called my sister and extended the invite. She seemed distant and nervous which I thought was on account of her still being in love with George, herself. In hindsight there was clearly someone listening.
On Christmas day the house was filled with the aroma of sauce and spice and I was confident that this would be a feast like no other. Then my ears picked out the familiar lumbering step on my porch and I knew something was wrong. The door burst off its hinges and somewhere among the men’s voices I could hear my hysterical sister. She was weeping and swearing and it was clear she was not going to stay for dinner. The police handcuffed George and he cried out in pain.
“Don’t hurt him!” I yelled, but no one cared to listen.
A pair of hands transported me to a dog carrier which smelled of piss from frightened animals. The very idea that I might try to escape was completely absurd. I screamed and shouted and called them all manner of names that I am embarrassed to repeat. Someone turned off the stove and took the chest-freezer into evidence. Our Christmas was ruined.
No one listened to me at George’s trial. All they wanted to know was whether I was of sound mind. It was clear to everyone that I was. I even had my lawyer show them the letter I wrote last Christmas when I had hands and was not yet the distillation of my former self. But they didn’t care. They found him guilty and put George on death row where he will never eat anything as delicious as me again.
I hope beyond hope that when he is served his last meal, that they come for me in my hospital bed and cut out my tongue and give half to him and half to me. No sauce, no salt, no pepper or spice. Just raw and bloody. A final kiss under the cannibal’s mistletoe.

I have an AGA Elise 48" induction unit for 3 years now and think we may have a lemon.. Looking to see if anyone else has had similar issues..
My first induction experience was with a portable Duxtop brand unit that we bought while our kitchen was being remodeled. For $60, I love it - very precise and durable, even after a couple of years. It's a little sad that i still prefer it over my $8k Aga.
Fast-forward to Aga.. We've had numerous issues:

1. The induction burners are very finicky. If you turn it to 4 or 5 it will slowly melt a pat of butter, it definitely won't fry an egg - but if you go above that - it's like day and night. You either get scorching hot at 6 or above, or barely hot below that. Compared to the little Duxtop unit, i've never had to go above 5, with incredible precision in the ranges below 5. I'll start an egg on 3, then drop it to 1 after I flip it. Less than 3 minutes and very little supervision, whereas the AGA needs level 7 with constant supervision. We've tried 3 different brands of "induction friendly" cookware - all with the same results.
2. it would shock us whenever you touched something metal on it and another metal (grounded) appliance - in this case our exhaust hood. It finally "popped" with smoke and I had to get it serviced (under warranty). There was a pinched wire between two sheet metal panels that shorted out... so much for quality control.
3. Scratches EVERYWHERE on the cooktop. After literally 1 week of using it, it was riddled with scratches. Compared to the now 3y old duxtop - which still doesn't have a single scratch, even with regular use and the same cookware
4. The main burner just failed with an "E6" error code. I have someone coming out to look at it tomorrow, I can't imagine what that is going to cost... i swear I found an article about Aga extending the warranty to 3y for this issue - but I didn't bookmark the link and 3 different people at Aga (Middleby Residential) had no idea of the extension or related issues.

Surely I can't be the only one with these issues. right? Any feedback would be greatly appreciated as I feel I bought a lemon :(
thanks!

I have been reading to vary the daily caloric intake so as to not plateau and keep the your metabolism moving as eating too low of a calorie intake can cause your metabolism to slow down. Basically to keep your calories between xxx and xxx and vary each day.
Any opinions on this?
I had 1497 calories yesterday.. I am trying to do between 1200 and 1400 per day.
I am low carb low sodium low fat due to medical concerns so most of my meals are veggies and protein.
Today breakfast and lunch combined [one meal at 11:45 am was 759 calories including my morning coffee. [4 egg omelet with veggies [onion, spinach, peppers], shredded cheddar cheese and bacon bits + 1 teaspoon olive oil in the pan with garlic powder, black pepper and paprika] which leaves me with 455 calories left if today is my 1200 calorie day [I do not know if I can do it but will try] - I found a chicken and cabbage stir fry recipe that is 255 calories per serving so I can have 1 and 1/2 servings for 382 and still a few calories left for a snack..
Sorry if the post is boring I am just getting into this and trying to get feedback / advice/ etc.

I've been doing very well and I've found that sharing my success in the past has inspired some of y'all and I want to do that again. So here we go!
A couple weeks ago my car was making funny noises and I took it in to get fixed! It's a bandages fix but they agreed to a 2 year warranty on the fix and they'd refund me if the problem returns in that time.
Because of the daily struggle of life, I've racked up many points at work and if not for being a reliable full time worker, they'd probably sack me. So I'm going to apply for 2 times a month for leave without pay days so I can go to "therapy". I don't need to pay for therapy when I already know my trauma and issues and have worked out ways to fix these problems so instead I'm going to have self love days. Whether that's cleaning the house, having an everything shower, or going to the park alone, maybe hanging with friendsor doctor appointments, or seeing a movie by myself, I'm going to do this twice a month to encourage myself not call out of work when I'm feeling drained. That way I'm less likely to call out sick and rack up points! Plus at my job, if I have perfect attendance for a month it knocks off points. 1 month is 2 points, 2 months is 3 points, and so on. I should by the end of the year have no more points and look good at work! Plus it'll rack up sick hours and paid hours off so lots of good!
I lost my wallet last week while at work but I made sure to freeze my cards and wait for them to return it. They didn't. So I woke up early yesterday and went to the DMV! No one likes the DMV but I got there early enough I was seen in like 5 minutes! Sadly I forgot $10 to replace my ID and had to drive across the river (twice. Once there and once back) to see a closer bank so I can get money. That was stressful and annoying. Thankfully I can withdrawal up to $200 without my debit card because that was lost too. I drove back and successfully got my ID before having to go to work! Now I'll need to replace each of my cards and saddly my SSN but I'll make sure to report it so they can contact me if they see any loans. That'll be tomorrow.
Today! I made a chicken broccoli alfredo bake and it's absolutely delicious! Breakfast and lunch for me and dinner and lunch for my boyfriend. Making meals is such a pain but I'm glad I made this. It's so tasty. If you want the recipe let me know and ill share. It was super easy and can be scaled up for meal prep!
Last small win js I called the vet to check and see if I can take my kitten's cone of shame off because she got spayed last Monday. Tomorrow is 10 days which is the minimum but they say the last bit of healing still looks angry and we should keep it on. Don't worry, I take the cone off and cover her belly so she can luck herself clean and she gets plenty of ear scratches because she can't. Then I put it back on.
And that's about it. I've successfully adulted this week and plan to keep adulting. I think the warming weather is helping. Course we seem to be the only state with sunny skies and spring weather because of the Polar Vortex chaos attacking the world. Yay Lowcountry!
I hope my success stories help to inspire you to do something productive today. It doesn't have to be big. Something small. Take the dishes out of your room and put them in the dish washer. Or get them soaking. Take the trash out of the kitchen or bathroom. Cook a simple but healthy and tasty meal. Shower! Our brains release happy chemicals when we do something productive and we should chase that high even when we aren't in a hyper focus mode. I believe in you and this community seems to really care about each other. We should always be here to support one another because sometimes, we don't have the friends and family around to support us. Whether it's because they don't believe in our struggles or because they just don't understand, we can be here to lift each other and ourselves up!
Hugs and kisses y'all. Hug yourself and tell yourself "I love me. I can do it. I am amazing." ❤️❤️❤️

Part 53
TW: Intense, masochistic sexuality.
Caliope, Clever Little Shit
Caliope sat in the back of the transport, still parked in front of the fancy house somewhere in south LA. Finally, she had her hands cuffed in front of her body, and she could reach her crotch. She dug fingers in her panties and inside of herself, reaching deep, into her posterior fornix. The thrill of stimulation there barely registered, even though it was her favorite spot for a cock or dildo to hit. She was too angry.
She pushed hard, twisting at the cuffs until she fit her entire hand inside of herself, and she could finally reach the scar. It had been there for years, waiting for this exact opportunity.
She dug her fingernails in, the sensitive tissue sending howling signals of pain to her brain, where her own psychology twisted them into signals of pleasure. Blood flowed as she scratched and clawed at herself, but she eventually found what she was looking for. Flesh parted, revealing a small, artificial lump.
She seized in in slippery fingers and pulled it out. It was a tiny handcuff key, with a tiny bit of her own brand of magic stored inside of it, wrapped in layers of cling-wrap. She quickly unwrapped it as blood soaked through her panties and smeared the seat.
She finally got it unwrapped and wasted no time unlocking her handcuffs. The bleeding did not concern her, she knew she would heal rapidly once she was done. She touched the key to the collar around her throat and felt the relief as its magic failed. She quickly used the sharpened tooth on the key to saw through the strap of the collar.
Her own magic filled her, and she let some of it turn to healing. She turned some more into physical strength. Then she checked the doors.
Locked, of course. The DCM was not known for ignoring non-magical security measures. She saw the two officers moving towards her vehicle, and decided that violence was the way to go. She placed her hands in her lap and waited.
They climbed in and started the vehicle.
"Listen," the driver said. "Here's how this works. You don't give us any problems, we don't give you any problems, okay?"
She nodded. "I understand," she said. "No problems."
"Good. We're probably gonna hit a drive-thru on the way. You can get something if you're hungry," the passenger said. Caliope nodded. "Thank you," she said, demurely. A drive-thru would be the perfect time to strike.
She sat in the back quietly as they drove her north. Around Anaheim, they pulled into a Jack in the Box, stopping in front of the menu. "Figure out what you want," the passenger said, turning to face her. "It's my treat."
Caliope smiled at him. He smiled back, then turned to face forward, and that's when Caliope struck.
She felt like she'd gotten a raw deal, the last time. She had never really gotten the chance to fight, except when she faced off with that psycho lunatic who'd surprised her and beaten her to within an inch of her life before she even understood what was happening. She had been training to fight for years and years, and yet when the time came, she managed to catch the guy who was, according to everything she understood, out standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the gods themselves.
But these two, they were former soldiers or cops. Not demigods, not magical beings of immense power.
She surged forward and grabbed the driver by the head, digging fingers into his eye sockets. The man let loose a howl that brought a smile to her face as she blinded him and slammed his head against the seat rest. She brought her feet up and wedged them against the back of his seat even as the passenger spun, a can of paper spray coming up. She ignored him, even as the magical shield triggered by the can popped into place on the man's face and tried -unsuccessfully, thanks to her fingers- to form over the driver's face.
The man let loose and the liquid splattered her face, immediately causing an intense burning sensation. She shuddered as the pain made her cum and redoubled her efforts. With magically enhanced strength, it didn't take long to bend the headrest back, hyperextending the man's neck. His struggles abruptly stopped as she felt something pop in his body and he slumped against her.
The passenger had apparently realized that the pepper spray was just this side of worthless and drawn his sidearm. He thrust it towards he, and she had just enough time to duck her head and seize his wrist before it went off.
The sound was deafening in the enclosed space. Caliope's ears rang as she squeezed the man's wrist and slammed it into his own headrest. He reached back with his free hand and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking forward and slamming her face into the back of his seat. She felt her nose break and another orgasm swept through her as she grabbed the hand holding her head.
She slammed his wrist again and again, and finally he dropped the gun. She tried to catch it, but missed and it clattered to the floor. She reached down for it, but the man's grip on her hair kept her from it. She strained against him, reaching for the gun.
His right hand vanished, then she felt a heavy impact in her side. She glanced down to see the man drawing the four-inch blade of a combat knife out of her ribs. The impact began to throb and burn as she whipped her head around and warded his knife off with one hand, still straining for the gun with the other.
The knife darted and slashed, opening her arm in two places. She brushed the gun with her fingertips, shifting it. Caliope sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the burning in her side and her arm that made her want to touch herself, and yanked down hard on the hand holding her hair. Her scalp erupted into more burning as he yanked a large clump of hair out by the roots, but she could now reach the gun.
She picked it up and pressed it to the back of the seat, squeezing the trigger until the slide locked back. The cracks of the shots were loud, but her still-ringing ears muted them. The guard slumped, his hands going limp. He dropped the knife into the foot well.
Caliope leaned back and gave in to the urge that had been with her ever since the pepper spray struck her. She wiped her face, wetting her hands and then stuck them both in her panties, coming immediately as her vulva began to burn. She played with herself for several minutes, until she couldn't afford to remain here any longer. Someone in the restaurant or the buildings nearby would have heard the gunshots and the local police might be on the way already.
She grabbed the driver and hauled him into the back, then climbed up to the driver's seat. She put the vehicle, still idling, back into drive and spun it around, pulling back out of the parking lot.
She glanced at the body next to her. "You don't give me any trouble, I won't give you any trouble," she said with a grin.
----
A few miles later, she pulled into a mostly empty parking lot in front of a strip mall. She turned onto the road as she reached over and patted the pockets of the dead guard. She found his cellphone in his pants pocket and pulled it out. She used his phone to unlock it and opened the web browser, typing in a URL that she knew by heart. It took a second to load, and when it did, it immediately loaded a chat room.
U there? she typed and hit send. She waited.
Less than ten seconds passed before the indicator that someone was typing flashed on. A few seconds after that, a new message appeared.
Waiting on u, it said. Caliope grinned.
I no where theres guns an shit, Caliope typed, pausing to check the history of the vehicle's on-board GPS. in san clemente. im in anaheim rn
The typing icon appeared, cycled through its animation and vanished.
Coming there where r u? the chat read. Caliope's grin widened. She hit back on the GPS until it showed her current location, giving the intersection at the top.
Euclid st n katelia ave, in a car w dcm stickers by the arbys
A second later, the icon appeared and then vanished before it could animate.
Omw, the chat read.
Caliope turned and wrestled the other guard's body into the back, then got out and opened the rear hatch. She found raincoats, rifles, a shotgun and assorted gear, mostly tools that would be useful in a rescue situation. She grabbed a raincoat and a blanket and then closed it up.
She threw the blanket over the bodies in the back, then stripped out of her bloody clothes and threw the raincoat on. It was translucent, but she didn't care. She checked their pockets and then the center console of the vehicle, finding a few bills in their wallets and a mass of change in the center console. She took it and walked into a laundromat that was part of the strip mall.
She washed her clothes, smiling at the men who kept sneaking peeks at her body through the raincoat. After they came out of the dryer, she stripped right there and pulled them on. Two of the younger men cheered for her when she pulled the raincoat off.
She left and went to sit in the driver's seat of the DCM vehicle. She waited for another thirty minutes, until a beat-up old Toyota pulled into the spot next to her, and her sister and two men climbed out.
She rolled down the window. "Hulks or ninjas?" she asked the two men. Both sneered at her. "Hulks," one of them said, sounding offended. She smiled. "Good. There's only four guards left to watch the place until the cops come. If we hurry, this should be easy."
----
"Griselda, are you done?" Caliope asked, sticking her head into the kitchen. Griselda sat there, in front of the last survivor of their assault on Garcia's home. He was slumped over, insensate, the hand she had duct-taped to the table by the wrist flayed open to expose muscle and tendons.
Griselda pouted at her sister. "He fainted," she said.
"We're all geared up," Caliope told her. "We're ready to decide what to do."
Griselda stood. She picked up a sewing needle from the table and jammed it into the man's shoulder as she passed him by, but he didn't react. He really was out cold.
The two hulks, Johnny and Bob, stood in the living room, next to the shimmering portal.
"So where we going? We splitting up, or sticking together?" Bob asked.
"Well," Griselda said. "We don't really have any money. Just a couple hundred bucks. And we're on the run, so we need money."
"These guns are worth a pretty penny," Johnny said, hefting a shotgun. Caliope shook her head. "They're not worth enough for us to split up and vanish, the way we need to."
"Duke told us what to do," Bob pointed out.
"He goes by 'Dylan' now," Griselda told him, glancing at Caliope for confirmation. She nodded.
"He did, but the question is whether we want to work for him again," Caliope said.
"I don't give a shit who I work for, as long as I get paid," Johnny said.
"Duke was always good about making sure we got paid," Bob agreed.
Caliope was less sure. She looked at her sister, who shrugged. "Why not?" Griselda asked. "I mean, it's right there. The dead world. We don't even have to look for it, it's right in front of us."
Caliope nodded. Finding the dead world had always been the 'tricky part' of Duke-er, Dylan's emergency plan. But there it was, right through that portal. With that problem solved, the idea of teaming back up with their old boss was a bit more appealing.
"Fuck it," Caliope said. Griselda grinned at her. "Let's go."
They all walked through the portal, checking behind them to make sure the way back was still there as they emerged onto a concrete road, surrounded by concrete buildings and dried-out corpses. It was, the dark ritual room a shocking contrast to the midday sun around them.
"Okay, now which way?" Johnny asked after they'd all walked through. As if in response, a thunderous roar sounded from off in the distance.
"Towards the monster," Caliope said. Griselda took her hand, digging her nails in, making Caliope whimper. She slipped a hand down the back of her sister's pants and slipped a finger into her ass, wiggling it. They smiled at each and turned to share a deep kiss for a moment before they took off, following the two men.
They trudged through the city for over an hour, not seeing any sign of whatever had done the roaring. Caliope noted the bodies and made a game of trying to guess what they'd been doing when they died. She soon roped Griselda into it, and they began guessing out loud. Before too long, Johnny and Bob joined in.
"Those two were fucking, for sure," Johnny said, pointing to a pair of corpses, one piled on the other.
"With their pants on?" Caliope asked skeptically.
"Fine, but those two were definitely fucking," Bob said, stopping and pointing down an alley. Caliope looked, and sure enough, another pair of corpses were piled there. The one on top had pants around its ankles, and the one on the bottom had a skirt that was hiked up.
They all stopped to laugh at that pair, killed in the middle of their tryst.
Johnny walked over and began messing with the corpses before throwing his head back and laughing. Griselda crouched down next to him, then began to giggle and raised the man's hand to slap her palm against it.
"What?" Caliope asked?
"She's got a toy in her asshole, and the dude is still inside her," Johnny explained, wiping tears from his eyes. Caliope grinned. "Adventurous," she quipped.
"Jesus," Bob said, checking it out for himself. "How fucking jaded do you gotta be to have to get your rocks off by getting DPed in public?"
Griselda jabbed him in the ribs, hard. "Don't mock people's kinks," she said.
Bob turned a look on her. "Oh, you like getting DPed in public? Maybe Johnny and I could help you out a bit," he said. Caliope noted a certain gleam in his eyes and decided to speak up.
"How could you do that, Bob, after my sister cuts your dick off?"
"Heh," Bob chuffed, straightening up. "I know you two have your tricks, but I wouldn't need to get big to toss you both around like rag dolls. Trust me, if I decide to fuck you, I'm gonna fuck you."
"Jesus fuck," Johnny objected. "Shut the fuck up, Bob. If you try to rape one of them, I'll help them beat the shit out of you. We've got more important shit to worry about, right now."
Caliope nodded in agreement. She was beginning to like Johnny. He had that big, blonde gringo thing going for him, and he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.
"Johnny's right, Bob," she said. "And we can target our silence, you know. We could stop you from getting big, while letting him."
Bob laughed, though she detected a tinge of nerve in his tone. "You guys are way too uptight. Can't even tell when you're being fucked with."
"Well, let's stop fucking around," Caliope said. "In fact, we should stop talking, so we can hear if anything's approaching. I'd hate for whatever made that roar to catch us flat footed, talking about whose dick is going in whose asshole."
"My dick," Griselda said, "Goes in everyone's asshole." She stood and brushed sand off her pants, walking away from the fateful lovers.
Johnny joined her, leaving Bob to trail behind as they set off again.
They walked the rest of the afternoon in silence. As the sun set, they stopped to confer about what to do, deciding to stop in an intact building. They had Bob go out and gather grass and leaves and crumbling sticks to make a fire with, and then they heated up some of the camp food they'd found.
After eating, they cleared spaces on the floor and set up their sleeping bags, then went to sleep.
Caliope waited until she could hear three voices snoring before she climbed out of her bag. She stripped down to nothing and walked out of the building. The night sky looked different, she thought. The stars were different and the milky way was thicker and less bright.
She found the bench she'd spotted on their way in. It had small, sharp looking fins protruding from the arms which had caught her eye. She placed a leg on the seat and lowered herself, grinding her hips back and forth. The fins tore at the skin of her vulva, the tugging, burning pain making her body tingle. Blood dripped onto the rusty metal, and she wondered idly if she'd get tetanus from it.
The idea excited her. It was suppose to be a painful condition.
She didn't hear the footsteps approaching over her own whimpers and gasps. She didn't know anyone was behind her until she felt a pair of large hands grab her hips.
She spun, expecting to see Bob there, but it was Johnny. She smiled, seeing him.
"You want to help?" she asked.
"I'm not sure I can, now... You're all torn up," he said. She looked down to see the blood in her pubic hair and on the bench's arm.
"I heal," she said. "Like Dylan used to. It's part of the magic."
"Wish they'd given us that part," Johnny said. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. She nipped at his upper lip, making him pull back. "Don't bite," he said.
"How else do I get you to bite back?" she asked playfully. She ground herself against the bench again, feeling the slight pop as each fin caught and then came loose of her flesh.
"Ask nicely," Johnny said.
Caliope grinned, then contorted her face into a parody of pleading. "Please bite me," she whispered. Johnny eyed her skeptically for a moment, then suddenly dipped his head and sank his teeth into her neck. She gasped as he did and moaned.
"Harder," she whispered. His teeth clamped down more.
"Harder," she murmured. She felt the sudden release of tension as he broke the skin.
"Harder," she said. He let go, and she could see blood on his lips. He lifted her up and bit down on one of her nipples, and the heat of an orgasm swept her mind away for a moment. When she regained her senses, she cried "Harder!"
He flipped her around and dropped her onto the arm of the bench. It jabbed painfully into her stomach and ripped skin at the tips of each fin. She came again, shuddering as Johnny pressed one hand down on her back. She felt him roughly shove a finger into her ass, followed by a second, making her moan.
As she felt his knuckles slip inside of her, another pair of hands, smaller and softer, grabbed her head and pushed it down, smacking her cheek against the backrest. Caliope caught a glimpse of her sister between the metal bars and grinned. Nobody could hurt her quite like Griselda.
"Here," Griselda said. "Let me show you what she likes."
Caliope melted away in an ocean of delicious agony.
----
Bob seemed oblivious to what he had missed out on the next morning. Caliope moved slowly, not because any injuries lingered, but because a slight ache remained low in her stomach, and she wanted to savor it.
Johnny managed to avoid getting clingy, which Caliope appreciated. Too many men thought that fucking her meant they were now a couple of some sort, and that she needed catering to. Johnny didn't care. He packed his own bag quickly and then started the fire up again and began cooking, never so much as offering to help either of the sisters with their stuff.
They got packed up, then got some food, and then set off. Caliope was beginning to worry that they might be moving in the wrong direction, but they had no other clues to tell them where to go.
It was shortly after noon, and they had left the city, moved through a small suburb and out into the dead countryside when she heard voices. She brought a hand up, then turned and pressed a finger to her lips. Everybody crouched down, Johnny and Bob readying their guns.
The voices were getting closer, coming from the left side of the road. Caliope crept into the dead trees as quietly as she could, until she could see a break and the shine of another concrete road.
Eventually, they clarified, and Caliope could hear what they were saying.
"It's not that," one voice said, a woman's voice. "All things considered, especially with how fucking promiscuous he is, I don't really care about you two fucking. I care about him. He's been my friend for a while, and he's in a bad place."
"I did not initiate it," a second woman's voice said. "I know what he's going through. I don't want to do anything that would hurt him worse than he's already hurting."
"See, that's the thing," the first voice said. "I don't know that's true. Let me be clear, okay? I don't trust you. I know where you come from, and while I believe that you are your own person, with your own goals and whatever, I know that all of... You, comes from her. And the reason I came here is because I want her dead. I want her to die in agony, and you're a part of her."
"I am not her."
"I believe you. My concern is how much like her you are."
"Are we just going to talk about how little you trust me the whole day?"
"Nope!" the first voice said brightly. "I was just wrapping up. So if you do anything, and I mean anything, that I could possibly see as a betrayal, I'll cut your arms and legs off, stop you from healing, and feed you to Shadow."
"I understand," the second voice said coldly.
"I knew you would," said the first voice as two figured came around a bend on the other road. Both were young women, maybe in their mid twenties. One had jet-black hair with blonde roots pulled back into a ponytail, and was dressed in black tactical gear with goth makeup on. The other also had black hair, but it was longer and let free to fall down her back. She wore body armor over a t-shirt and gray cargo pants. The goth one carried a rifle, and the way her arm was casually draped over the stock suggested that she was very familiar with it.
Caliope froze, knowing that the slightest sound might draw their attention. She crossed her fingers, hoping the others wouldn't give away their presence, either. The two women walked, silent now, down the road, heading in the same direction they were moving in.
She watched them pass. When they vanished, she waited a minute or two to be sure before she returned to find the others gone.
She didn't have long to wonder where they'd gone, though. A moment after she got there, while she was still deciding which way they must have gone, the dead bushes rustled and began to shed leaves. Griselda and the two hulks appeared.
"Why'd you hide?" Caliope asked.
"There was a dude flying around," Johnny said.
"It was him," Griselda hissed, her face a mask of anger.
"The guy from the TV show," Bob added, though Caliope already knew who her sister was referring to. "The one that led the attack on the compound."
"Shit," Caliope cursed.
"What are we going to do?" Griselda demanded. Caliope held up a hand, demanding time to think.
After a moment, she gave voice to her thoughts.
"He has to be with the two I saw. At some point, he's got to land. If we follow them, we could get the jump on them."
Griselda's angry look turned into an eager grin. "I want him, after we kill the other two."
"Shit," Bob said. "If the other two are hot, I want one of them."
"So we'll kill one and capture two," Johnny said. "You recognize these fuckers, what do we have to deal with?"
"Nothing important," Caliope said. "Nothing dangerous, at least not once my sister and I take away their magic."
They all shared in Griselda's eager look, then.

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Bayview canned vegetables 15oz 10 for $10
Nob Hill:
Navel Oranges $0.97/lb
Asparagus $1.97/lb
Marie Callender's Bowl or Health Choice Cafe Steamers $2.47 digital coupon limit 4
Sunnyside Farms Butter 16oz $2.97 digital coupon limit 4
Foster Farms chicken nuggets 33.6oz $4.97 digital coupon limit 4
Pace Picante Salsa $1.97 digital coupon limit 4
Volpi diced pancetta or prosciutto 4oz $3.97 digital coupon limit 4
Ruffles, Doritos, Simply Cheetos $2.49/ea when you but 3
Cheez Its, Pringles $2.49/ea when you buy 2
Raley's Boneless Skinless Chicken Breasts $1.77/lb digital coupon limit 2
Cheerios Large Size $2.97/ea digital coupon limit 4
Chips Ahoy 7-13oz $1.97/ea digital coupon limit 4
Smart & Final:
Chicken Dark meat $0.99/lb limit 4
Strawberries 1lb 2 for $5
Green or Red Seedless Grapes 3lb pack $5.99
Navel Oranges $0.99/lb
Ataulfo Mangos $0.79/lb
Wheat Thins or Oreos Family Size $3.99
Allegra Pasta 16oz $0.99/ea
First Street canned vegetables 14.5-15.5oz $0.99/ea
Tropicana OJ 52oz $3.49/ea digital coupon limit 4
Pork Shoulder $1.99/lb
El Super:
White Onions 3lbs for $0.99
Pork Leg $1.57/lb
Cucumbers 3 for $0.99
Corn 2 for $0.99
Whole Tilapia $1.99/lb
Salt 26oz $.079/ea
Avocados small 3 for $0.99 Weds only
Roma Tomatoes 2lbs for $0.99 Weds Sat Sun only
Oranges 2lbs for $0.99 Weds only
Bananas 2lbs for $0.99 Weds only
Red Potatoes 2lbs for $0.99 Weds only
Pasilla peppers $0.69/lb Weds only
Nectarines $0.99/lb Weds only
Green beans $0.99/lb Weds only
Beef Flap Meat $8.97/lb Sat Sun only
Tomatillos 2lbs for $0.99
Avocados small hass 2 for $0.97
Green Cabbage 2lbs for $0.99
Carrots 2lbs for $0.99
Lemons 2lbs for $0.99
Jicama 2lbs for $0.99
Cilantro 3 for $0.99
Broccoli or Cauliflower $0. 79/lb
Iceberg Lettuce $0.79/ea
Limes 2lbs for $3
Pineapples 2lbs for $0.99
Monterey Jack Cheese bulk Joseph Farms $3.79/lb
Queso Fresco $3.99/lb

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