#Dissolution Basket

[bhfilter]

SS316 40 Mesh USP Basket with Certificate - Bluslot

[rcmclachlan]

Relative Value (buck/tommy)

"And I feel for her, you know? I really do. The dissolution of a relationship, especially a marriage, feels like you're drowning in hot tar, and you spend every waking moment kicking your way to the surface to try and breathe. But if she brings up her divorce again while I'm in the middle of peeing? I'm going to divorce her head from her body."

Buck makes a face at the thought of Maddie's decapitated coworker. "Please don't send the 118 to that scene. I'm not so great with entrails these days. Send the 147—they deserve it after they botched that extrication on Monday." 

Maddie laughs, the sound tinny but comfortingly familiar coming through his phone's speakers. She'd propped her phone on Jee-Yun's dresser halfway through the call so she could put away laundry while she talked, and for the last five minutes he's been watching her fold Jee's clothes like she's being judged at the Olympics. 

It's nice to see that hasn't changed. Maddie should've been in jail years ago for the way she loads a dishwasher, but when it comes to laundry she's a goddamn wizard. When he was younger, his parents saddled him with taking out the trash and doing the dishes, but putting away the laundry was always Maddie's chore. She actually enjoyed it, the weirdo. She used to tell him the first whiff of warm Snuggle right out of the dryer was a cure-all. Also, she can fold a fitted sheet in under ten seconds. He'd timed her once.

Maddie takes an eye-wateringly orange shirt out of the laundry basket and with three decisive motions turns it into a perfect rectangle. If Jee ever decides she wants to go deer hunting, she'll be all set. "Since when are you not good with entrails?" 

"Since that guy was ripped in half last week."

It'd easily been the grizzliest car crash he'd ever been called to. It made the 405 pileup a few years back look like Disney on Ice. About halfway through tagging and bagging almost a dozen casualties strewn all over the westbound lanes of the Pomona Freeway, the guy responsible for the crash snapped awake while Hen and Chimney were setting up and drove off in a panic. The top-half of the motorist stuck under his car was dragged maybe sixty feet, and Buck had a front row seat to the sight of the poor guy's nerves and vasculature trailing behind him like squid tentacles before the driver came to a stop by hitting yet another car. 

"I'm also not eating spaghetti for the foreseeable future, FYI," he adds.

Maddie wrinkles her nose. "Okay, changing the subject: when do you leave again?"

It wouldn't be an overstatement to say the smile that question invokes explodes over his face. He feels it happen; the spark eats the fuse so quickly there's barely any lead-up and his cheeks burn from the sheer magnitude of the blast. 

"You look deranged," Maddie says, laughing.

"I feel deranged." He's been like this all week and it's starting to scare everyone. Chimney keeps leaving pamphlets for Clozaril in his locker. "Tomorrow morning. We're picking up the bird right after we do a coffee run."

"I wish my boyfriend was whisking me away to the mountains for a romantic getaway." Maddie heaves a theatrical sigh. "My husband says the best he can do is Shake Shack."

The whole thing is absolutely bonkers. He'd been minding his own business, half-watching a documentary about volcanoes with his feet in Tommy's lap, when they showed some insanely beautiful footage of Mount Rainier. And although his mind was focused on completing level 29 of Euclidea, his mouth was busy saying, "I've always wanted to go there." 

Thumb digging into Buck's instep, Tommy had made a thoughtful sound and said, "I'd tapped a buddy of mine to get us into Griffith Observatory after hours, but I like your idea way better. Let's do it."

If someone had told Buck 1.0 that someday a beast of a man would be flying him by helicopter to the Cascades for their two-year anniversary, he would've laughed his way into a pneumothorax. And then he would've tried to fuck his nurse. 

He looks across the living room to where their bags have been sitting, fully packed, since last night, and grins. "Tell Chim he needs to step up his game. You're worth Zankou, at least."

Maddie snorts. "Gee, thanks."

Behind her, there's unexpected movement, and every muscle in his body locks up as his heart stops in a moment of brief, blinding terror. 

It's stupid to feel this way after seven years, but a little part of him is still waiting for Doug to crawl out of the shadows like a wraith to finish what he tried to do. He's spent many a sleepless night spiraling to the soundtrack of Chimney's desperate, Do you know he's dead for sure? Did you see a body?

Buck did see his body, but a little voice sometimes whispers to him from some deep, dark place at two in the morning: it was freezing that day. It could've slowed the bleeding, could've kept him alive long enough to go to a hospital. You don't know what happened after the ambulance left with him. What if he survived? What if he's out there right now, just biding his time?

Which are bad and ridiculous thoughts to have because he knows that monster is dead, and frankly he's got better things to think about than Doug, who's absolutely having his skin torn off in hell right now—especially since his adorable, perfect niece is the one who came into the room. 

"Say hi to your uncle, Jee," Maddie says, smiling. In her hands, a pair of polka dot leggings becomes a polka dot brick with hospital corners. 

Jee-Yun jumps a little like she can't quite see him, and Maddie goes over to the dresser to obligingly tilt the camera down. 

"Hi, Uncle Buck." Jee-Yun waves, then rises an inch or two higher in the frame, and he realizes she's standing on her tiptoes. She cranes her head, moving it a bit from side to side like she's looking for something. After a few seconds, she drops back down, grimacing in disappointment.

He looks over his shoulder, but no one's there. "Sorry, kiddo, it's just me."

"Just you is fine, always," Maddie immediately pipes up, and he ducks his head with a smile. It's always nice to hear her say that. "It's just that… well, she had a question and we weren't sure if you were the one we should be asking."

Buck grins. "Lay it on me, Jee."

It's always a little hilarious to watch how Jee reacts when the spotlight's on her. She bounces and twirls a little, and her whale-spout pigtails move with her. For someone getting ready to enter kindergarten, she's got the stage presence of a Broadway star. "Uncle Buck, how do airplanes fly when they're so big and heavy?"

He opens his mouth to answer her, but there's nothing there, just an empty pocket of air that tastes vaguely like the ham sandwich he had for lunch. He closes his mouth with a click, stymied. He could've sworn he knew this one. Something about lift and drag?

"Jee, I-I'm sorry. I don't know off the top of my head. I could look it up for you?"

A little groan escapes her, but it turns into a shriek when a tie-dyed sweatshirt comes winging from off-camera and lands on her head. Jee wrestles the shirt away, static making her hair cling to her face, which she swipes with a whine. 

"That's why I wanted to ask Uncle Tommy!"

Buck has forgotten a lot about the tsunami. Time has softened the memory of how warm the water was, how it shoved its way into his mouth and nostrils like it was trying to find a way inside his veins, and that it was filled with so much debris it scored the insides of his cheeks bloody. But the one thing he never lost was how his feet went out from under him when that first wave hit like a freight train. He hasn't been able to ride a roller coaster since: he doesn't see the need to pay to experience the feeling of free fall again. He remembers every second of it like it just happened. 

He may be sitting on the couch with his feet firmly on the floor, but his stomach is thrilling at the familiar sensation of being completely unmoored. Only instead of being dragged into the dark, he's being pulled up into endless blue. 

Breathless with stratospheric joy, he digs his trembling fingers into his knees like it's going to do anything to keep him grounded, and chokes out, "Who, Jee?"

The look Jee turns on the camera is so confused that Buck isn't sure he was even using real words just then. It could've been a jumble of sounds falling from his mouth like aquarium gravel. 

"Uncle Tommy," Jee says, with the patient air of someone who forgot they were talking to an idiot. "It's okay if you don't know about airplanes, Uncle Buck. You drive fire trucks."

He's pretty sure he was just insulted. Behind Jee, Maddie's wide-eyed and mouthing an ecstatic oh my god! 

"Tell you what. When—" he swallows thickly, overcome "—Uncle Tommy wakes up from his nap, I'll have him call you and he can tell you all about how planes stay up in the air."

She mulls it over, and he can see the outline of her tongue poking the inside of her cheek like she's swishing the offer around in her mouth. Finally, she gives him two decisive nods of her head that has her pigtails bouncing. "Okay. When's that?"

"I-I don't know. Soon." If the lightning had struck a few feet away from him instead of dead-on, he thinks it would've felt like this. Any second now he's going to vibrate out of his skin and scar Jee for life. "Maybe I should go check on him." 

"I think that's a good idea," Maddie says cheerfully, coming into the foreground. Her eyes are glossy and red, and even with two screens and several miles between them it feels like she's about to wrap him up in the warmest hug. "Why don't we let you go for now? Uncle Tommy can give us a buzz later."

"Yeah, t-that sounds like a plan." He knows he's rocking the deranged look again, except it's somehow so much worse. He doesn't care. He hopes his face gets stuck like this. When he rolls into the station two weeks from tomorrow, he's going to take every pamphlet Chimney shoves at him and eat them.

Maddie's grin is threatening to split her face in half. "Give Uncle Tommy a big kiss from us."

He's going to do way more than that. "You bet. Bye, Mads. Bye, Jee!"

The very second the call ends, he's on his feet and practically running down the hall. Tommy had been coming off a rough 24 earlier when he'd sloppily kissed Buck and then staggered into the bedroom. It's been almost three hours and Buck hasn't heard a peep since. 

Buck makes sure to lift the bedroom door when he opens it so the hinges don't creak, and when he sees Tommy—sprawled diagonally across the mattress with his jeans still on and enough drool soaked into the pillowcase to fill a bathtub—his knees decide it's the perfect time to stop working. He clutches the door frame so he doesn't crumble to the floor under the weight of all this euphoria.

Jee thinks of Tommy as family. It's not hard to figure out the logic she must be using to get there: she has an Uncle Buck, who has had a Tommy for as long as she's been making real memories, and therefore… 

He can't help but wonder who else in the world is operating on that same intel. Jee has no doubt told the teachers at her kindergarten about her mom and dad and her amazingly cool Uncle Buck, but maybe she's also told them about her other uncle, who always lets her ride on his shoulders when they go to the park and who talks to her like she's a forty-seven-year old at brunch. Maybe she's told kids at the playground about the uncle who knows why planes stay in the air and who folded himself into a pretzel because she wanted him to sit next to her at the kids' table last Friendsgiving. Maybe she's drawn shitty pictures in crayon of two stick figures holding hands under a smiling sun, and when her classmates ask who they're supposed to be, she tells them, "That's my Uncle Buck and my Uncle Tommy." 

Inhaling shakily, he makes himself move from the doorway to the bed, crawling in as gingerly as he can. It's all for nothing, though, because Tommy cracks an eye open and fixes it on him. Buck scrunches his face up in apology, but Tommy just smiles a little and tugs Buck down, pressing his face into the space between Buck's neck and shoulder and settling with a hum.

Buck slides a hand into his hair and holds him close, breathing in old sweat and a hint of his own shampoo. "I love you, Uncle Tommy."

"If this is a new kink, I'm going to need at least another two hours of sleep before I'm prepared to tackle it," Tommy mumbles. 

Choking on laughter, Buck presses a kiss to the side of his head and wonders if it's possible to die of happiness. "Not quite. Your niece has a question about airplanes and wants you to call her when you wake up."

When there's no immediate answer, Buck is sure Tommy's fallen back to sleep, but then Tommy shifts a little in his arms, presses a kiss to his shoulder, and murmurs warmly, "Will do."

[blooming-violets]

💔 heart break headcanon

I sat with this ask for quite a few days now. I thought it over whenever I went into my daydream world. I had about fifty ideas come and go but none stuck like I wanted.

Until tonight thanks to this picture of Andrew:

Time for some modern day, superhero Romeo and Juliet.

Let's do this!

Wilson Fisk, New York City's most powerful businessman, infamous crime lord, one of the most feared men in the state, mayor of the city...or as you like to call him...dad. He has his hands in every inch of this city and puppets it to his will. His extensive wealth is spent on spoiling his wife (your mother), Vanessa, and his only child (you). His businesses activities were not exactly something that was hidden from you. Both parents made it clear that danger followed your father wherever he went. You knew he was into shady business. One doesn't get power and wealth like he has without stepping on people on the way up the ladder.

Your life was spent inside a protective bubble. Privacy was not something you were used to. Armed guards followed you wherever you went, your internet activity was heavily monitored, and you were never allowed to have friends.

Your childhood was spent by your mother's side instead. She home schooled you, took you to museums, and gave you as much knowledge about the world as she could. She instilled her love and appreciation for art into you at a young age. Lucky for you, the city was crawling with art museums. The first place you were ever allowed to go alone (as alone as you could get with two body guards trailing behind you) was to The Metropolitan Museum of Art. It became one of your favorite places. Your happy place.

On this particular evening, you were wondering through the MET, making a straight line towards one of your favorite pieces of art work. Tonight, there was a young man standing in front of it. You pushed up beside him to admire the work together, craving any kind of human interaction you could get.

"Isn't it beautiful?" You asked him. "The Dissolute Household. Jan Steen is the master of creating the perfect depiction of domestic chaos."

The man turned his head to look at you with curiosity. His face was scruffed with stubble like he'd forgotten to shave this past week. He wore a red beanie to hide the overgrown, greasy hair poking out from under the brim. Dark bags deepened his bright brown eyes. He seemed to take in your outfit in comparison to his own. You were well dressed and put together, perfect posture, not a single hair out of place. The epitome of wealth and class. Meanwhile he looked like he shuffled in from an overnight bender and couldn't remember how he ended up in the museum but was just going with the flow to not draw attention to himself.

He gave you a weary smile, "I wasn't sure why I stopped at this one but I found it hard to look away."

"Steen is good at holding the observer's attention because there is so much to look at. That's him, in the painting, and his wife. It depicts a variety of sinful acts happening. He's lacing fingers with the maid behind his wife's back, his wife is clearly intoxicated, a bible is being trampled on the ground, there's broken bottles and food strewn about, someone is warding off the beggar at the door. Chaos and merriment all around. And above all of them hangs a literal basket full of future misfortune like a terrible fate hovering over their heads. The items in the basket promise poverty, disease, and bad luck. Steen enjoyed painting commentary into his work. Everyone always looks so happy amongst the chaos even with the darkness of reality hanging above them."

You never had chaos in your life. Everything was controlled and quiet.

The craziest thing to happen to you was when you were 13 and your mother woke you from a sound sleep. The two of you had to evacuate the house into a private helicopter and be flown to the airport. You heard shooting happening in the hallway as you ran but you never actually saw where it was coming from. The two of you then spent the next year in a beautiful home in Sicily. When you were finally able to return back to the city, your father had set up new, stricter measures of security. No one ever told you what happened that day and that kind of thing never happened again. Despite being terrified in the moment, it was the most excitement you'd ever experienced in your entire lifetime. Sometimes you longed to feel that again.

"I never really looked at art too deeply before," the man mumbled. He was quiet, speaking as if he was in a library, afraid to be scolded by a rude librarian. "At least not paintings. I'm more of a photography kind of guy."

Whoever he was, he was attractive in his own grimy kind of way. You found yourself wanting to lean in closer to hang onto every word he spoke. You'd never had a boyfriend before. Once you flirted with one of the younger guards assigned to you. You hooked up with him in a coat closet at a fancy party. That was your first and only time being intimate with someone. When your father found out, that guard disappeared from your life. You liked to pretend that he was just let go and fired but you knew the darker truth. That man was no longer alive.

You wanted to know this new stranger even with the threat of death hanging over his head. You needed excitement. You craved the idea of having someone to love. So, you introduced yourself. First name only. Last name's were off limits. He smiled. It was a nice smile. And told you his name was Peter.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening wondering around the museum together. You insisted on showing him all your favorite works. He would listen intently, like he really cared what you had to say, while you over explained every little bit of knowledge you had on each piece. You could tell he was hyper aware of the two men following behind you everywhere you went. Even if they were dressed in civilian clothes, it was obvious they stood out as your personal bodyguards. It was even more obvious when you leaned in extra close to Peter while he unleashed his own knowledge about a particular old photograph you two were staring at and a gruff, pointed cough echoed out behind you, making you immediately jerk back and take a step away from your new friend. They may be here to keep you safe and out of trouble but they were loyal to your father, not to you.

Before you left for the night, you made plans to meet Peter back at the museum next weekend. He asked for your number but you refused to give it to him. Not yet. If you wanted to see him again, you would have to do it carefully. Slowly.

It took two months of weekend museum visits before you worked up the courage to tell your mother about him. You were certain that the guards assigned to you had already informed your father you were meeting a friend every Saturday night. You wouldn't be surprised if he had full intel on every detail about Peter Parker's life neatly stacked into a binder in his office. No one mentioned it to you though so you never brought it up. Until now.

Peter had asked you out to dinner. Up to this point, the two of you had never left the MET property. That was your safe place but you both wanted more.

Bringing up the idea of dating had to be run by your mother first. She was the more reasonable of your parents. She valued romance, loyalty, and love. If anyone could help get your father on your side, it would be her.

It was over dinner in your shared penthouse apartment that you brought it up. Just the two of you...and the security standing outside the room.

"How did you and daddy meet?" You asked, keeping your tone casual.

Vanessa smiled at the memory, "You know this story all too well. I used to tell it you as a bedtime tale when you were a girl."

"I know but I want to hear it again."

"He wandered into my gallery one night. He was very entranced by a particular painting I was trying to sell. The one hanging up in our bedroom. Rabbit in a Snowstorm. I found him standing in front of it, quietly taking it in, and I knew I needed to know more about him. It takes a certain kind of man to appreciate a painting like that."

Funny how her story mirrored so similarly to your own. You pushed your food around your plate with the end of your fork as you hesitantly brought it up, "I met someone. At the museum. He was standing in front of one of my favorite paintings. We got to talking and next thing I know, we've explored the entire building. Head to toe. Every inch of of the place. He seems like an amazing person, mom. He loves listening to me talk about art and I love hearing him explain all the details of photography. I feel like we're on the same wavelength. I want to see more of him. He asked me out to dinner but I told him I would get back to him. You know how daddy can get..."

Vanessa sighed, studying your face and seeing a lovestruck, desperate look gazing back at her. You could tell you won her over with the story of your first meeting. She knew you were in your twenties and never had a chance to date before. You couldn't stay locked in your tower forever. "What's this man's name?" She asked.

"Peter. Peter Parker. He lives in Queens with his aunt. He's been helping take care of her ever since her husband died a bunch of years ago. He's compassionate and kind. He cares about other people. He had a really good heart, I can see it. Please, can you talk to daddy about it. I can't stand the thought of trying to get close to someone only for him to hurt them. I can't let him hurt Peter for being interested in me. That's not fair. I really want this to work out. Please, pretty please, will you talk to him."

And she did. With his begrudging blessing, you were allowed to date Peter.

Peter knew limited details about your life. He didn't know who your parents were or your last name. He just knew that you were the daughter of someone important and that you two needed to be careful. Strangely, he took it all in stride. He never seemed nervous by the fact he was always surrounded by loaded guns or constantly being watched. The potential danger hanging over his head never once phased him. You weren't sure if he was naïvely stupid or just really brave. You liked to think that he didn't care as long it meant he got to stick around you.

He was definitely in a different social class from your family. Peter didn't grow up with wealth. He'd never even left the state of New York before. That shocked you. Your mother and you loved to travel.

You upper class lifestyle was probably the only thing that ever shook him. He seemed to fidget and get uncomfortable the more fancy, high end places you brought him to. He preferred things to be more low key. You'd never stepped foot inside a McDonald's until he brought you there after a date to get McFlurrys. It was surprisingly delicious even if the floors stuck to the bottom of your feet as you walked.

The longer you two spent together, the more you fell in love.

Six months in, you decided it was the right time to tell him more about your life. You were sitting on a bench in the middle of central park. You liked this spot because the men following you had to stand further away and it put you two out of their direct ear shot.

Peter held your hand, his thumb brushing over your palm. You laced your fingers through his.

"I have something to tell you," you both spoke at the exact same time.

After a pause, the two of you broke into laughter.

"You go first," he offered. "Mine can wait."

"Did I ever tell you who my father is?" You knew the answer was no but you asked anyway.

He shook his head and shrugged, "I figured he was probably some politician or something. Someone important. That's why you always those guys following you. They keep you safe so that makes them alright in my book."

You nodded, "Yeah, I guess so. It sucks having them around but I guess they're useful if shit goes south. My dad is Wilson Fisk, you know, the big, giant business man and current mayor of the city. That's why those guys are always around. I thought it was probably time you knew since he invited you to attend our family dinner this weekend. He wants to meet the man I've been spending all my time with."

Peter tensed. He tried to play it off like he wasn't bothered but you noticed. His shoulders hunched and his back stiffened. You watched his jaw clench together and quickly loosen again as he forced a smile.

"Mayor Fisk, huh? He's your father? I didn't even know he had children." His voice was strained.

You slowly nodded, carefully taking your hand out of his grasp to place in your lap, you didn't like the reaction he was giving you. Something was wrong. You glanced over your shoulder to the guards a few few feet away just in case you need their help. "...Just one kid. Me. He likes to keep his family separate from his work and the public eye. There are bad people in the world who want to hurt him so he keeps my mom and I off the television and news as much as he can."

Peter chewed on the inside of his cheek. His shoulders still hadn't relaxed and he refused to look at you. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"Tell you what? That my dad was the mayor? What does it matter to you? It's not something I go shouting off the rooftops. It's not a big deal. I'm not the mayor. He is."

"Not a big deal?" He gave a stiff, dry laugh. "Do you have any idea the kinds of things that man has done? Your father has caused me-" He cut himself off with a heated grunt of annoyance.

Your brow furrowed and you leaned away from him, "What are you talking about, Peter? Why do you have anything to do with my dad?"

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, obviously thinking better of whatever he was planning on saying.

Tears welled up in your eyes at his reaction. You expected him to be mildly shocked or maybe even nervous about having dinner with the mayor but you didn't expect him to get angry as if he had a personal vendetta against your father. Even if he wasn't shouting at you, you knew what silent anger looked like. He was fuming.

"I don't know if I can do this," he huffed, still refusing to look in your direction.

You gave a soft gasp of shock, "What are you talking about? What are you saying?"

"I'm-" he glanced back at the the men who were still oblivious to the conversation being had. "I can't. I don't want to be associated with anyone who ties themselves with Fisk."

"Associated?" You voice heightened, causing your security team to take an interest in what was going on. You quickly lowered your voice again to ward them off. "The only way I'm associated with my father is when we have the occasional family dinner when he can spare the time."

Peter scoffed, "Yeah, right. You'd have to be stupid to not have any idea what shady shit he gets up to? Human trafficking? Drug trafficking? Weapon trafficking? Murder? Anything illegal, take your pick, and Fisk has his hands over it."

This was news to you. You assumed he got his wealth through shady business deals and backstabbing his opponents. You knew he had hit men who would kill for him if he asked them to. Maybe you just never wanted to think too deep about it. Your silence was all Peter needed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just can't."

He got up and walked away, leaving you silently crying on the park bench.

You made up an excuse for why Peter couldn't attend dinner with your family. You smiled and kept the sadness out of your face. Even though he hurt you, you knew what crying to your father would mean. Your heartbreak wasn't enough to risk his life over. You weren't your dad. Revenge and violence wasn't in your blood.

And maybe Peter was right. As you sat across from your dad at the table, you couldn't help but wonder how the rest of the world saw him. You wondered if your mother knew. She had to. They were in this together. You felt like a stranger in your own home. These people you knew all your life were no longer covered by their masks.

A week passed before Peter found you again. It was late at night. You were in your bedroom when there was a knock on the balcony door. That was unusual due to the fact that you were over 50 stories in the air and the balcony had no other entrance besides your bedroom.

You looked over, the bright lights of your room making it impossible to see out into the blackened night. You slowly stood up from your desk, your heart racing, as you grabbed a pocket knife from your drawer. You couldn't see anyone out there. It might have been a bird attempting to fly in the dark. You unlocked the door and stepped out into the crisp night air with your knife held at the ready.

There was no one.

You were alone. Your arm slumped back to your side, the knife loosening in your hand. Just as you were about to turn around to go back inside, chalking it up to your sleep deprivation, the presence of a body lowering behind you made you jump. Before you could let out a piercing scream to alert the guards, a heavy gloved hand clamped over your mouth. This was it. This was how you die.

You struggled against the mass pining your arms down but it was solid. You were no match for the intruder. A hushed voice whispered in your ear.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he hissed. "Stop struggling and I'll let you go. By the time you scream, I'll already be two blocks away so I'd rather you not try it. I'm here to talk."

It was Peter's voice. You had no idea how he got up here, your mind was going a million miles an hour, and you nodded. His grip around you loosened and you pulled away, whipping around to face him. Except that you weren't face to face with the Peter you knew. The sight of Spider-Man standing before you made you almost scream but you quickly clamped your hand over your mouth.

"Wha-" you stuttered out. "Peter?"

"Can I trust you?" He asked.

You weren't sure. If there was on thing your father hated, it was vigilantes. He'd go on long rants over his hatred of people like Spider-Man and Daredevil. They were the bane of his existence, always throwing a wrench in his plans.

The more you thought it, the more obvious it was that he wasn't a good man.

You nodded, making up your mind then and there, "Yes. I won't tell a soul."

That night Peter revealed his truth. It was a hard pill to swallow. The poor, disheveled man from Queens, your first love, was your father's sworn enemy.

You had many doubts. There was no way those two men could ever be put into the same room with each. Your family and Peter could never mix. You two stood on opposite ends of the equation.

But you didn't want to give him up.

And he felt the same.

The relationship progressed as normal and you vowed to stay out of whatever your father or Spider-Man had going on. That was not your concern. Peter wouldn't ask about him and you wouldn't ask about Spider-Man.

But that knowledge always hovered over your heads. Once the truth was out, there was no way to reverse what you knew.

You were the key to tipping the scales. You could destroy Peter Parker and Spider-Man by snitching to your father. Or you could destroy your family by feeding Peter private information.

There was only so long you two could pretend to ignore the obvious.

A time would come when you would have to chose between love or family. There could only be one winner in the battle between good and evil.

And, which ever way the scales tipped, a piece of your heart would be ripped out and buried alongside the loser.

AND I'M GOING TO STOP IT HERE because it's getting too long for something that was supposed to be simple headcanons. I'm very sleepy and have not proof read my mad ramblings so please excuse any forgotten words or mistakes. I'm tired old lady just trying to do my best.

[borderepisteme]

“If ever, my dear Hawthorne, in the eternal times that are to come, you and I shall sit down in Paradise, in some little shady corner by ourselves; and if we shall by any means be able to smuggle a basket of champagne there (I won't believe in a Temperance Heaven), and if we shall then cross our celestial legs in the celestial grass that is forever tropical, and strike our glasses and our heads together, till both musically ring in concert, -- then, O my dear fellow-mortal, how shall we pleasantly discourse of all the things manifold which now so distress us, -- when all the earth shall be but a reminiscence, yea, its final dissolution an antiquity. Then shall songs be composed as when wars are over; humorous, comic songs, -- "Oh, when I lived in that queer little hole called the world," or, "Oh, when I toiled and sweated below," or, "Oh, when I knocked and was knocked in the fight" -- yes, let us look forward to such things. Let us swear that, though now we sweat, yet it is because of the dry heat which is indispensable to the nourishment of the vine which is to bear the grapes that are to give us the champagne hereafter.”

Melville to Hawthorne

[veeagainsttheday]

post the first line from the last 10 fics you posted (and are there any patterns?) - I got tagged by @scarrletmoon, @spirker, @mxmollusca, and @chaotic-neutral-knitter <3 <3 <3

You Made It Home with Silver String Unbroken

It occurs to Stede, halfway to the shore, that he shouldn’t leave Ed waiting back in the trees. 

Made for Each Other

The man wakes, warm, in his own bed, a ghost of pain in his belly but otherwise all right. For a second he thinks - maybe - but no, his head weighs as much as it always has. 

How to Make a Lifelong Romantic Commitment and Escape the Temple of the Snake

‘Where should I begin?’ Ed asks nervously. 

More of the Gravy Basket than of the Grave

‘Occludist Ed Teach completed his 88th Occludement in the last four months, breaking a record that had stood since 1924 for most Occludements in a three month span. Occludist Teach serves at the pleasure of the Crown as a former Apprentice Occludist, and thus is duty bound to perform Occludements, but he has been seeking out more than are required of him since the very public dissolution of his unorthodox friendship with independent Occludist Stede Bonnet, who purchased his Temple membership earlier this year. Bonnet, who has not performed an Occludement since the tragic end of the Badminton Affair in July, refused to comment.’ Occludist Weekly , November 2023

The Kissing Game

‘Can I kiss you?’

Five Ways That Could Have Gone Better (and One Way It Maybe Will)

‘Don’t do it, Stede. Killing in cold blood - you can’t come back from that.’

One Reason to Live

The hold is cold and Ed feels like his entire body has been pummelled for hours with a sack of sharp rocks.

Here Comes the Bride

The Kraken sits like a king before his court, slumped diagonally across a brocade armchair. 

lovers in a dangerous time

The US Navy detected it first: alien energy radiating along the jagged rim of the tectonic plate that underlies the Pacific Ocean, appearing on scans like a long-fingered hand prying up the edges of a sealed jar. The energy stretched, expanded, seeped into the gaps like hot magma until it became a wormhole, a portal through space, connecting Earth to a planet millions of light years distant. 

The Legend of the Gentleman and the Outlaw, by Lucius Spriggs (La Leyenda del Hidalgo y El Bandido, translated by Jim Jimenez)

Stede Bonnet, a handsome middle-aged gentleman with a full head of wavy blonde hair, arrived by train to Aspen, Colorado in 1893. He came with more money than sense, dressed in a flamboyant outfit more suited to a London nightclub than a rough and tumble mining town in Colorado. Bonnet was the lucky beneficiary of a massive inheritance, but the eccentric gentleman wanted to strike it rich again as a prospector in the silver mines of Colorado. 

Hmmm I do like to start with a line of dialogue! Otherwise there's not much of a pattern here. This is a fun ask though.

Also I think everyone I know has already been asked :D

[comicbookclub]

31 Days Of Halloween Comics: Basketful of Heads

Looking for a bloody slasher comic this Halloween? Look no further than Basketful of Heads by Joe Hill, Leomacs, and Reiku Murakami.

Basketful of Heads, written by Joe Hill, with art by Leomacs and Reiko Murakami, has an interesting publishing history. Originally meant for DC Comics‘s Vertigo line, with the dissolution of the label, the publisher launched two new imprints: Black Label, and Hill House. Basketful of Heads was published under the latter horror imprint, but as a collection is now back under Black Label, DC’s…

[comicbookclublive]

31 Days Of Halloween Comics: Basketful of Heads

Looking for a bloody slasher comic this Halloween? Look no further than Basketful of Heads by Joe Hill, Leomacs, and Reiku Murakami.

Basketful of Heads, written by Joe Hill, with art by Leomacs and Reiko Murakami, has an interesting publishing history. Originally meant for DC Comics‘s Vertigo line, with the dissolution of the label, the publisher launched two new imprints: Black Label, and Hill House. Basketful of Heads was published under the latter horror imprint, but as a collection is now back under Black Label, DC’s…

[noeticprayer]

Moses the Black of Scete

Reading from the Synaxarion:

Saint Moses, who is also called Moses the Black, was a slave, but because of his evil life, his master cast him out, and he became a ruthless thief, dissolute in all his ways. Later, however, coming to repentance, he converted, and took up the monastic life under Saint Isidore of Scete. He gave himself over to prayer and the mortification of the carnal mind with such diligence that he later became a priest of exemplary virtue. He was revered by all for his lofty ascetical life and for his great humility. Once the Fathers in Scete asked Moses to come to an assembly to judge the fault of a certain brother, but he refused. When they insisted, he took a basket which had a hole in it, filled it with sand, and carried it on his shoulders. When the Fathers saw him coming they asked him what the basket might mean. He answered, "My sins run out behind me, and I do not see them, and I am come this day to judge failings which are not mine." When a barbarian tribe was coming to Scete, Moses, conscious that he himself had slain other men when he was a thief, awaited them and was willingly slain by them with six other monks, at the end of the fourth century. He was a contemporary of Saint Arsenius the Great (see May 8).

Apolytikion of Moses the Ethiopian in the First Tone

Thou didst prove to be a citizen of the desert, an angel in the flesh, and a wonderworker, O Moses, our God-bearing Father. By fasting, vigil, and prayer thou didst obtain heavenly gifts, and thou healest the sick and the souls of them that have recourse to thee with faith. Glory to Him that hath given thee strength. Glory to Him that hath crowned thee. Glory to Him that worketh healings for all through thee.

Epistle Reading

The Reading is from St. Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians 16:4-12

Brethren, if it seems advisable that I should go also, they will accompany me. I will visit you after passing through Macedonia, for I intend to pass through Macedonia, and perhaps I will stay with you or even spend the winter, so that you may speed me on my journey, wherever I go. For I do not want to see you now just in passing; I hope to spend some time with you, if the Lord permits. But I will stay in Ephesos until Pentecost, for a wide door for effective work has opened to me, and there are many adversaries. When Timothy comes, see that you put him at ease among you, for he is doing the work of the Lord, as I am. So let no one despise him. Speed him on his way in peace, that he may return to me; for I am expecting him with the brethren. As for our brother Apollos, I strongly urge him to visit you with the other brethren, but it was not at all his will to come now. He will come when he has the opportunity.

Gospel Reading

The Reading is from the Gospel According to Matthew 21:28-32

The Lord said this parable, "A man had two sons; and he went to the first and said, 'Son, go and work in the vineyard today.' And he answered, 'I will not'; but afterward he repented and went. And he went to the second and said the same; and he answered, 'I go, sir,' but did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?" They said, "The first." Jesus said to them, "Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the harlots believed him and even when you saw it, you did not afterward repent and believe him."

[dankusner]

Antisemitic Images of Jews Conspiring

6-II Antisemitic Images of Jews Conspiring

The theme of Jewish conspiracy recurs often in antisemitic rhetoric and imagery.

In figurines such as those shown here, Jewish "types" share business secrets.

A more sinister conspiracy is outlined in The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a forged treatise first published in Russia in 1903.

It purports to uncover a plot by leaders of world Jewry to dominate the economy, the press, and politics.

The tract has been published in many languages-including a 1912 English edition published under the auspices of carmaker Henry Ford—and persists as an influential work of antisemitic propaganda today.

6 Plaque with a Jew Telling a Secret to Another Jew Possibly Germany, 19th century

Oak wood: carved

Gift of Dr. Harry G. Friedman, F 2871

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2013

Henry Ford

from The New Vulgate:

Henry Ford was a nut.

But he was an ungodly rich American nut, and when he got a bug up his butt, he had the resources to do something about it.

He started his own newspaper, The Dearborn Independent, and when that was insufficient for spreading the hot news about the Hebrew-haters preferred hoax, “The Protocols of the Elders of Zion,” he distributed it through Ford dealerships and had it translated into German.

When he decided he needed a dam, he hired forty Negroes to dig him one, specifying an all-colored crew to his contractor, then had them knock off work to sing him Stephen Foster songs — he was especially fond of “Old Black Joe” and “Old Kentucky Home.”

Once he decided that the contemporary world had gone to hell in a handbasket, he set himself up with a Never-Never Land right there in Dearborn and named it Greenfield Village.

It was a psychic twin to John D. and Abby Aldrich Rockefeller's Colonial Williamsburg (and both places were kin to Walt Disney's seven-eighths scaled Main Street USA, with its banjo-spanking Dixieland band, striped coats and straw hats direct from the blackface minstrel walkaround.)

These were industrialist fantasies of pre-industrial feudal villages — once she'd presided over the founding of the Museum of Modern Art, Mrs. Rockefeller sent forth her minions, collectors who would shortly be dubbed "curators" and they worked New England and the Mid-Atlantic states the way maidenly New Englanders were working the mountains of the South, hunting for the pure and the purer.

Her employees gathered up weather vanes and quilts, pried Pennsylvania Dutch hex signs off the front of barns, loaded trucks with cigar-store Indians and sewing baskets and duck decoys, each and every one of them by that celebrated and super-prolific folk artiste "Anonymous."

Then she commissioned her curators to come up with a definition of "folk art" that would fit a collection that included no totem poles or kachinas or Navajo blankets or santos or bultos or bottle trees or wrought iron work or anything else made by anyone who wasn't rustic, white, and located on the eastern seaboard.

Mary Black, the director of Abby's collection, declared, "The genesis, rise and disappearance of folk art is closely connected with the events of the 19th Century when the dissolution of the old ways left rural folk everywhere with an unused surplus of time and energy."

It was a theory to warm the heart of any Rockefeller.

Henry Ford, on the other hand, was a nouveau riche buttinski who supplied his own damn theories, and plenty of 'em.

He turned collectors of his own loose, hunting for backwoods fiddlers who could remember the words and melodies of the old tunes, the fiddle tunes that were American's true pure heritage.

He set himself up a dance hall in his factory's Engineering Lab, with his fiddle-and-dulcimer orchestra on hand at all times.

He hired a dance instructor and produced a book, Good Morning — After a Sleep of 25 Years Old-Fashioned Dancing Is Being Revived by Mr. and Mrs. Henry Ford, then distributed hundreds of thousands of copies, just as he did with the Protocols.

The book's rules of etiquette were as rigid and unwavering as a manual for a mass-production line.

By now, Henry Ford had dance fever.

He traveled the country preaching the gospel of his square-danced etiquette.

At his factory, engineers were constantly being dragged onto the dance floor, and on his Georgia plantation, Negro children were taught the polka.

He created his own record label for "Henry Ford's Old Time Dance Orchestra."

When his collectors brought Stradivarius violins for his approval, he'd saw off a fiddle tune, then write a check.

He purchased the cottage where Stephen Foster was born and had it moved to Greenfield Village.

He bought a Cape Cod windmill, and English shepherd's cottage, the schoolhouse where the author of McGuffey's Reader swatted his first sleeping students, the Springfield courthouse where Abe Lincoln lost his first court case and the Ford's Theater chair Lincoln was sitting in when John Wilkes Booth shot him.

He came within days and dimes of buying a pickled corpse alleged to be Booth.

He tried to have Foster's Old Dog Tray exhumed and stuffed but the operation was a failure.

He purchased a dozen railroad cars of research on the folkloric history of "Mary Had A Little Lamb."

(The poem's author died at seventeen, the lamb was gored by a cow, and Mary herself ended up in an asylum.)

Henry Ford had hated farm life when he was a boy stuck on a farm, and he invented his way out of it — a couple of ways.

Late on a night in 1936, one of the many family acts who were making it through the Depression off country music drove down a Michigan road trying to find a tourist court so they could sleep.

It was the Rhodes Family — brother Speck Rhodes would play bass with Porter Wagoner for many years, all the while playing the Toby role, a black-toothed rube variant from the minstrel days, the white Jim Crow, the Arkansas Traveler's squatter.

Exhausted, they found a country road — it sure seemed like a country road — so they pulled over and slept in the car.

A guard woke them in the morning; they had spent the night in Henry Ford's driveway.

He'd let them stay there because they drove a Ford.

"Sure enough," says Speck's brother Dusty, "…here comes Henry Ford with two bodyguards. He was a real nice fellow and after we talked to him for a while he asked us to plays some music. He really did like country music."

He asked Dusty Rhodes if he wanted to play one of his fiddles, then sent the servants to fetch it.

"This is a genuine Stradivarius violin," Ford told him, "and is worth $150,000."

He asked me if I would play 'Red Wing' for him because that was his favorite fiddle tune. So I played 'Red Wing' and several other tunes for him on that Stradivarius fiddle."

Ford sure did love country music.

"Red Wing" had been written and published in 1907 by Tin Pan Alley's Kerry Mills, author of "Rastus On Parade" and of "At A Georgia Camp Meeting" as well, the biggest cakewalk hit of the whole coon song era.

Mills had been head of the violin department of the University of Michigan School of Music; he'd snagged the melody, all too appropriately, from Schumann's "The Merry Peasant."

To this day, "Red Wing" is known as an old fiddle tune.

(My mom, Lawrence Welk's cousin, Francesca Schweitzer Bull, has always played it oom-pah accordion style on the organ, but that's pretty much how she plays everything.)

It is an old fiddle tune, just as it was in 1937, maybe just as it was by 1908.

The vogue for coon songs was cooling down, and a brief fad for frontier Indian romance numbers came and went.

It was a coon song of a different sort, and Henry Ford was right.

It was country music, just as his driveway was close enough to a country road to fool country folks in a country band.

Henry Ford, the man who killed off the horse-and-buggy-era, once the fastest man in the world, died by the light of a coal lamp.

And that $150,000 fiddle of his? "Well," says Dusty Rhodes, "I have to admit that I didn't like it any better than the one Daddy made for me."

[labnic235]

Disintegration Testers

Disintegration testers are instruments used in pharmaceutical quality control to assess the disintegration time of solid dosage forms, such as tablets, capsules, and suppositories. They consist of a set of individual test stations, each equipped with a basket rack or holder. During the test, the dosage form is placed in the appropriate holder and immersed in a suitable dissolution medium, typically water or simulated gastric fluid. The apparatus agitates the medium, mimicking physiological conditions, and monitors the time it takes for the dosage form to disintegrate into smaller particles.

[labnics25]

Dissolution Tester

Dissolution Tester NDST-100 is a U-shaped vessel composed apparatus engineered to determine the velocity of dissolution of pharmaceutical tablets or capsules. The basket units and paddle units are made up of stainless steel with resistance to exposure to high temperature. The magnetism pumped circulating water systems enables to maintain the uniform temperature of the liquid in the vessels. The microprocessor-controlled automation system accurately displays quantified data for temperature, rotational speed and time.

[aarohij]

Beyond the Rinse: Unveiling the Benefits of Ozone-Washed Vegetable

Ozone washing is a cleaning method that gained popularity after COVID-19. It has long been prevalent among greengrocers due to its multifold benefits but has drawn the attention of retail customers recently. Ozone is a most efficient natural broad-spectrum microbiological control substance and a very reactive disinfecting agent thus, it is important to note that overconcentration of ozone in the solution can be potentially harmful and should be used with care. The good news is you can save yourselves from the tedious process by ordering washed and cut vegetables online from a retailer who uses ozone-washing. This will not only save you time but also provide healthy ready-to-cook vegetables contributing to your family’s health.

Benefits of Ozone Washing

Deep Cleaning

Ozonated water helps to clear the microbial load on the surface of the fruits and vegetables including bacteria, viruses, cysts, and pathogens, in a very short duration.  

Reduces Chemical Residuals

The chemical oxidizing action of ozone breaks down the toxic chemicals (which are long-chain organic components) converting them into harmless biodegradable elements. 

Improved Appearance and Shelf Life

Ozone reduces the microbial count from the surface of fruits and vegetables increasing their shelf-life and shipping distances. This also improves the appearance of the food.

Lower Water Requirements and Supports Water Recycling

When combined with filtration, ozonation can increase the amount of time water can be used before it must be discharged. As ozone is an outstanding disinfectant, ozone can oxidize organic contaminants in the water. Additionally, ozone has a micro flocculent activity which enhances filtration.

Eliminate Chlorinated By-Products

Ozone does not produce by-products on the surfaces of the fruits and vegetables maintaining their quality.

Methods of Ozone Washing

Washing Fruits and Vegetables in Open-Tray

Fruits and vegetables are washed in an open tray by spraying strong ozonated water onto them. The system consists of a storage tank equipped with a water pressure booster pump which draws water from the tank, passes it through the ozone injector, and later a static mixer that improves ozone dissolution. The ozonated water is returned into a tank through a central diffuser. There are two solenoid valves that control the flow of ozonated water for washing or re-circulation to increase the ozone concentration in the water. A push button is installed at the washing nozzle which is responsible for changing the configuration of water flow from re-circulation to washing and back to re-circulation.

Washing of Vegetable and Fruits in Washing Tank

For this method, the fruits and vegetables are kept in a stainless steel basket which is dipped in a special washing tank. Water is drawn from the bottom portion of the washing tank, pressurized by a booster pump, and passes through an ozone injector, and a static mixer. Later the ozonated water is injected inside the tank on one side so that the complete water in the tank is continuously agitated.

Buy Ozone Washed Fruits and Vegetables OnlineIf you are also looking forward to buying ozone-washed fruits and vegetables online, GreenChopper has your back. They retail ozone-washed fruits and vegetable delivery in Bangalore. Not only the fruits and vegetables are ozone-washed they are also available in various shapes and sizes to suit your specific cooking needs. These are hygienically packed and delivered to your doorsteps. So, do not delay and order fruits and vegetables for your next meal now at GreenChopper.

[zhehanfiltration01]

Basket Filter

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Our company has advanced equipment and standardized management. The main products are: sintered wire mesh, stainless steel wedge wire filter element, stainless steel filter cartridge, stainless steel filter element, sintered mesh filter element, various stainless steelfilters, filter bags, filter discs, cone filter cartridges, and various precision stamping parts and more than 300 kinds of filter equipment products.

Click Here For More Info:- https://www.zhehanfiltration.com/   

Location:- Anping County，Hebei Province, China

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[nityarawal]

8/19/2023

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Are You Dead?

Morning Songs

Waited On Hold

3 Days Straight

To Confirm Trial

Back And Forth

To The Library

Charging Phone

Telling Alibis

I'm Not Your Receptionist 

Said The Clerks

Not One Alibi

Showed Up At Court

Not One Alibi 

On The Phone

No One Wants 

BS Your Sellin'

Mr. Stapleton

Wanted A Continuance

Rape

Murder

Dr's Threats

But Don't Your Eyes

Work Sir

No Research

No Retaliation

No Suppanaes

What Did You Do

No Victim Reports

DA Disclosures

Who Fixes

Your Mess

"Bless This Mess,"

I Re-endacted Probate Lies

You Made Murder 

A Foul Pride

Parade

Are You Dead

No Knowledge

What Is A Probate

The PD Asked

Ignorant

Of Law

Yesterday

Let Me Google 

That For You

A Realtor Anyway

I'm Not Your Receptionist 

The Clerk Back Talked Me

I'm Not Your Receptionist

No Management

Here

I'm Not Your Receptionist

No You Are Not

Who Hired You Anyway

I'm Not Your Receptionist

She Threatened

With A Deputy 

I'm Not Your Receptionist

She Said

And The Backstory

Was

She'd Rather Murder

Moms And Me

Jealous Dyke

With Infertility

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Says Riverside Courts

San Diego PDs

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Says IEHP

I'm Not Your Receptionist

I Have A Gag Order

You See

Pimps Got Me

Everytime You Call

A Gun Up Against

My Back

As I Type

Your Transcripts

Hoping AI

Will Take Over

Record

Give Me

Ease

I'm Not Your Receptionist

She Says

With A Dick

At Her Back

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Does He Smell

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Are You Allergic To The Dick

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Is It Because Of What The Judge Did

I'm Not Your Receptionist

But Why Not My Dear

Why Such A Mommy

Hater

You Know Your Parents

Brought You Here 

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Then Get Another Job

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Learn How To Network

Google Stuff

Or Send An Email

With Files

For A Suppanaed 

Trial

Investigation

Now Complete

After 7 Years

Of Mediocrity

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Not To The Judges

Either

No Transcripts

Just Dumping 

Covid Matter

Nanoparticles

Heavy Metals

Brain Broke

With Courts

Seems You Have PTSD

Trauma

Bonding

No Empathy

Compassion

3rd Eye Burned

Out

On Drugs

Like Lahaina

Mother Maui

Only Ashes Left

Dust

I'm Not Your Receptionist 

So Why Doesn't 

AI Take Over

I'm Not Your Receptionist

"It's Britney Bitch,"

She Says Again

Calling

Appealing

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Then Why You

Taking Our Calls

Interfering

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Says The Clerk

Clearly 

We Wish You Were

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Says Court Clerks

Above It All

I'm Not Your Receptionist

Clearly

Because Our Courts 

"Went To Sh**

In A Hand Basket,"

Brits Say

Of Germ Warfare

From UK

Not A Receptionist

Not A DishWasher

Not A Nanny

Mom

Got No Credentials

Not A Dr

Not A Lawyer

Not A Mother

Not A Court 

Contender

Just A Silencer

For Dr. GARDNER

Pedophile Rapes

Dyke Defender

Yeah- We Got Your Number

CPS

And We're Reporting

Court Murders

All Your Probate Murders

Today

Stealing Mothers

Children's Estates

With Foul Play

Bribes

In The Dark Holidays

Burned Out Of Maui

Anyways

Courts In The Dark

Neglecting Moms

Kids

Not A Receptionist

Says Another Civil

Servant

Not A Receptionist

No You're Not

Won't Cooperate

Never Trained

Won't Liquidate

50 Billion Dollar Government

Moles

Spies

Breeding Whores

Stop The Rapes

Gigolos

Not A Receptionist

Not An Officer Of

Court

Press A Button

Then

We Don't Need You

Just AI Hurry

Calculate

Today

Divorce Dissolutions

With X Grace's 

Do Your Job

Not A Receptionist

Well I'm Not Dead

Why'd Court Put

A Probate

On Millions Of Heads

I'm Not Dead

Are You Dead

Did You Enjoy

Maui

Fires

Are You Dead Now

900 Lost

800 Body Bags

Ready To Go

Bury Sins

No Obituary

Or Testimony

From Silencing Defense Team

Raiding You

And Me

In Riverside

With Coroner Sheriff

Faggoting Up

Law Enfocement

With Bigotry

Are You Dead Now

Because We Need 

Your Homes

And Our Homes

Back

Every Attys Office

From Clerk To President

Are You Dead Now

We Need You Homed

Hospital Beds

Taxes To Pay

Leave Our Homes

Are You Dead Now

Mr. Judge 

Now

For A Probate

Did Hurricane Hillary

Blow Your Courts Away

Wife Murder

No Monica's Left

To Blow

Are You Dead Now

For Rotating

Magistrate Judges

Murder

Are You Dead Now

Mr. JUDGE

Now

Sanctioned

Your Honor

Judith Clark

Judge Davis

Commissioner Ratekin

Mok & Brower

Sawbraw

Immigration

Trans

Construct

Are You Dead Now

Maybe You Should Be

Is That Why

A Good Samaritan

Gave Me $20 Dolla'?

Add 8 0's And We'll 

Call It Even

Mr. X

On The Triple

Please

Mahalo

Elon

Peace

Pau,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

[krispybluebirdstarlight]

Likely Liquidation If Reverse Merger Vote Fails

Magenta Therapeutics (MGTA) ($39MM market cap) is a member of my broken biotech basket, I’m bringing it forward again to highlight the opportunity for shareholders to vote down the proposed reverse merger with privately held Dianthus Therapeutics.  In MGTA’s S-4, the company strongly hints that if the deal is not approved, a dissolution and liquidation is on the table: If the merger is not…

[bibicoffee-com]

How Does A Drip Coffee Maker Work? In-depth Explanations

How Does A Drip Coffee Maker Work It's not uncommon to see a coffee machine in households nowadays. People love drinking coffee but have little time to brew a cup. Thankfully, a coffee maker will do every single heavy lift, making it easier to have a cup of coffee by only pressing a switch. However, these machines come in different types. Thus, if you don't often brew your drink regularly, you may not know the basics of a drip coffee machine. How does a drip coffee maker work? Your machine consists of various components to have your task done perfectly. Let's read this article to get into details! How Does A Drip Coffee Maker Work? You wonder how a drip coffee maker works if you have never used this machine. This device brews coffee by using gravity. After being heated, the water flows over the coffee ground in the basket to extract the flavor. As a result, hot coffee drops gradually into the pitcher below. It's better to know the different components of a drip coffee machine to comprehend how it functions thoroughly. A drip coffee machine features various parts to work together to brew coffee, including: - Carafe - Water reservoir - Power switch - Heating element - Showerhead - Filter compartment Keep reading to discover how to brew excellent coffee in dark or light roasts with a drip coffee machine. Heating Whenever you switch on your drip coffee maker, it's time to trigger the heating component of your device. This heating part generally includes a metal element that will get activated when electricity travels through it. Occasionally, this part may be a tube made of aluminum. This metal will release the warmth to heat anything nearby. Some conventional drip coffee makers also have a temperature sensor to detect whether the water in the tube reaches the optimal heat and prevents electricity from passing through. This component heats the water in the reservoir and the carafe. Thus, the freshwater will gradually boil. You'll also discover an additional heating element in the carafe's base. It can keep your coffee warm if you want to brew your drink beforehand or prepare several cups. Tubing This part features two tubes: one lets the water go through, and the second is to allow the water to exit. The tube with a one-way valve brings the water into the reservoir, preventing the boiling water from flowing. Another tube sucks the hot water into the machine's top, thanks to the bubbling movement to force up the liquid. After that, the water flows into the showerhead and eventually releases into the coffee ground. Do you hear the gurgling noise during the brewing process? This tube is the main culprit. Dripping Area The dripping zone includes a basket-shaped or cone filter compartment. When the boiling water from the showerhead flows, it drips into the chamber, which contains coffee grounds and a metal or paper filter. As a result, the hot water will extract distinct coffee flavors from the roast. After being entirely saturated, the boiling water starts dripping into the machine's carafe via the filter. The functionalities of the device What Are The Phrases Of Coffee Brewing? The three stages of the coffee brewing process include: - Blooming - Dissolution - Diffusion Blooming Coffee beans may absorb carbon dioxide when they are roasted. Degassing the drink at the start of the brewing process is crucial since the air repels liquid. The blooming stage will happen in seconds when water flows into the coffee ground. This phrase will help you eliminate carbon dioxide trapped inside the beans to bring the best flavor and aroma. Dissolution The coffee's tastes and oils dissolve during this phase. It's worth noting that the good elements will break down faster, while the weak ones require much time during dissolution. Be careful to stop your coffee from dissolving in time at this stage since timing is crucial. Diffusion Oily compounds begin to emulsify as soon as water enters the coffee particles, dissolving the substances inside. These compounds will then migrate inside the coffee beans during diffusion and emerge on the bean's exterior as ‘caffeol’. Different phrases of brewing What Are The Pros And Cons Of A Drip Coffee Maker? If you are really into drip coffee, you will find it convenient to have a coffee maker. However, this machine may have some drawbacks. Let's scroll down to learn the pros and cons of this device! Pros #1. It's Easy To Use. Most drip coffee machines are simple to use in this variety. You only need to follow the directions, know how to measure coffee grounds and water, and you can start brewing your cup. #2. It's Relatively Affordable. The price of drip coffee makers will vary like any machine, but they are more affordable than other types. You can choose the best-suited machine, depending on your requirement and budget. #3. Most Drip Coffee Makers Are Programmable. You can set the brewing time at a specific time. Many models come with additional features to adjust the temperature or water quantity. #4. These Machines Can Make Coffee In Large Quantities. While other types, like aero or French press, only allow you to brew coffee with up to 3 cups, a drip coffee maker can make about 12 cups at once. Cons #1. They May Be Difficult To Clean. Although most drip coffee makers are easy to maintain, you must flush out some models with vinegar to remove build-up. Besides, it's challenging to eliminate the vinegar smell. Next time you make coffee, your drink will probably have an unpleasant vinegar odor. #2. For Coffee Connoisseurs, Drip Coffee Machines Are Not Suitable. While most drip coffee makers can create acceptable cups and keep them hot, controlling the flavor and taste is challenging. As a result, even when you use freshly roasted coffee beans, good water, and grind before brewing, you may still find the final flavor potential limited. Pros and cons of the machine How To Make Coffee Using A Drip Coffee Maker? You can't go wrong with a drip coffee maker if you are a beginner. Brewing many servings is the simplest, quickest, and most consistent. Have you used this machine before? If not, it's a good idea to follow the guides. Make Sure The Grind Is Suitable The ideal grind size for drip coffee is often between medium-fine and medium-coarse. Grinding the beans at these textures can prevent some extraction problems, which leads to a too-bitter or too-mild brew. Besides, it's advisable to invest in a high-quality grinder. This way, you can ensure your coffee will extract the most excellent flavors. For instance, you can consider a burr coffee grinder. It can create a more uniform grind size than a blade one. You can watch this video to get some buying guides before purchasing a grinder: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgjvLQu5NlE Use the right grind Add Water You must consider the water type to brew your coffee. Some options may cause harm to your device. For example, tap water may contain minerals influencing the drink's flavor. However, distilled water doesn't have vital substances like calcium and magnesium to keep the water's flavor. The ideal option for making your coffee is filtered water. It can create a more flavorful drink. Furthermore, consider the number of cups you want to brew. For instance, if you plan to make 8 cups, adding more than this number is better as the coffee ground will slightly absorb the water. Add Coffee You can use either a paper or reusable filter, but there are a few things you need to keep in mind. If you use a paper coffee filter, remember to soak it before making coffee to prevent a papery flavor in your beverage. After that, locate the basket. Place the filter into this section, measure the coffee ground, and add it to the filter. Turn On The Machine After adding the coffee, it's time to turn your coffee maker on, and it will do everything to get the brewing process done. It's worth noting that the features will vary depending on your device. Thus, ensure you read the instructions manual carefully. Turn on the device Turn Off The Machine After the brewing process, remember to turn your device off. Otherwise, you will get into trouble or a fire. Remove Grinds When you notice the machine produces a purring noise, it's time to remove old grinds. If you skip this step, your cup of coffee will get over-extracted and taste bitter. Enjoy Your Cup Now you have a fresh and hot coffee to enjoy! If your machine consists of an electric heating plate and a glass reservoir, remove the reservoir from the plate. Enjoy your cup Tips For Making Drip Coffee If it's your first time using your drip coffee maker to brew your cup, the following tips will be helpful. Let's see! Choose The Proper Filter. It's essential to consider the filter when brewing drip coffee because it will affect the taste and the quality. A paper coffee filter is thick, so it can hold more soluble coffee grounds. As a result, it will offer a clearer cup. However, this filter may keep the oils trapped in your coffee, which may flatten your beverage's taste. For these reasons, rinse this filter with fresh water before using it to eliminate paper dust. You can consider a mesh filter. However, using this type would be best if you ground coarser. Drink Your Beverage Immediately. It would be best if you enjoyed your cup immediately after brewing it. Leaving it on the stove causes the flavor and aroma to evaporate. Drink your beverage immediately Grind The Coffee, Seconds Before Brewing. Coffee beans begin to deteriorate as soon as the roasting is complete, but the process speeds up significantly when you grind the beans. That's because ground coffee has more surface areas exposed to the air. Thus, the oils will disperse quickly. Keep Your Machine Clean. You must clean the components regularly, including the tubes, the carafe, and the water reservoir. Moreover, it's essential to descale the interior of your device after using it to eliminate the calcium build-up. Otherwise, these things will impact your coffee maker's functionalities and your brew's taste. Keep your device clean Ensure Your Coffee Is Evenly Saturated. If your machine doesn't feature a showerhead, it's a good idea to cease this process for about 20 seconds. This way, the water will accumulate inside the basket. After that, you can use this liquid to stir the coffee ground to saturate it uniformly. How To Clean A Drip Coffee Maker? Coffee often creates oils and particles, accumulating gradually and influencing your coffee's flavor. For consistently excellent coffee, it's crucial to keep your device clean. It will guarantee that your coffee machine lasts for a very long time. It's advisable to rinse all components of your device after using it. Also, use a soap-water solution to wash them once a week. Besides, you should thoroughly clean your drip coffee maker every three months. Follow the simple steps below to clean your device! Preparations Before you start your cleaning task, you must prepare the following things: - Water - White vinegar - Dish liquid - Sponge - Rice - Baking soda - Paper coffee filters Step-By-Step Instructions Step 1: Wash all removable parts You should disassemble the removable component and use dish soap to wash them after each use. This step will help you remove excess drips, oils, and grinds. You can wash these pieces by hand with soapy water and wipe down the heating plate and the outside. The trick is to leave the water reservoir lid open, so it will dry more quickly and entirely after using your machine. Step 2: Decalcify Your Coffee Maker Hard minerals might accumulate in your machine's internal workings over time, which causes your device to take longer to make a cup. You must decalcify and cleanse your machine. Some models feature a led indicator that turns on when a thorough cleaning is necessary. However, it would be best not to wait until the light turns on. Otherwise, you must perform several deep cleaning sessions to remove it. It's a good idea to do this task every three months. Follow the guides below to decalcify your machine: - If your device has a charcoal water filter, remove it from the water reservoir. - Pour the water vinegar of a 1:1 ratio into the water reservoir. - Put a paper coffee filter into your device's empty basket. - Set the pitcher in position and let the mixture "brew" until you see the "add water" light turn on. - Drain all the water-vinegar solution in the pitcher. Let your device sit for about 30 - 60 minutes. - Empty, clean, rinse and substitute the reservoir. Pour clear water into this part. You only need to fill the water inside if it isn't removable. - Place a paper filter in the pitcher. Brew until you notice the "Add water" illumination turns on. - You can pour more water into the pitcher and brew 1 - 2 cups until you don't smell the vinegar odor. - Use a new charcoal filter. Step 3: Clean The Carafe Generally, you must clean and wash the carafe after using your device. Over time, this part will look dingy. Fill the carafe with a bit of uncooked rice and sudsy warm water. To remove any grit, stir the mixture. To eliminate any leftover dirt, clean the area with a sponge soaked with baking soda. Rinse thoroughly. Cleaning tips In A Nutshell After referring to this post, have you got the answer to your concern: How does a drip coffee maker work? Hopefully, your answer will be yes! This machine brews coffee by using gravity. After the water gets hot, it flows over the ground in the basket to extract the coffee flavor. Eventually, the coffee drips into the carafe, and you have a cup. We've recommended simple guides and extra tips to make flavorful drip coffee with this device. Moreover, remember to clean and maintain your machine after each use to get your beverage's best flavor and taste and increase its longevity. Thank you for taking the time to read our article! Read the full article