#Food Fumigation

[alhajjajpest]

What is a Food Fumigation

Fumigation is critical to eliminating bugs, bugs and so on. There are many vermin like insects, termites, rodents, bugs, cockroaches, mice and others. They can be unsafe and influence well-being, annihilating property. Food Fumigation is the most common way of wiping out bothers by involving dangerous gas in an encased space. Website: https://www.alhajjajpest.com/fumigation/

[s-c-l-n]

sakuatsu psychological warfare against each other when one is mad at the other

[hasnazameer]

How to keep your food franchise Successful? What role does fumigation play?

We are aware that these pest infestations might completely devastate your food industry if not adequately managed. Your firm as a whole and your brand's reputation could both be damaged. Fumigation is one of the best ways to prevent these sneaky pests from attacking your business. Many countries follow strict laws and regulations when it comes to the fumigation of food processing companies.

Visit the website to know more: https://armourpestworld.com/fumigation-dubai/

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls Chapter 12 part 1/2

Masterpost

Call me when you’re free!!!!!!

“Geeze,” Danny muttered. “Calm down, Jazz.” Still, he did what she said. He hefted up his backpack, waved goodbye to his shift relief, and dialed her up as he jogged down the library stairs.

“I’ve found two solutions!”

Danny winced at how cheerful his sister’s voice was. “Great!” He tried to match her enthusiasm, despite feeling like something that had been peeled off the sidewalk. He’d ended up working the morning shift on Saturday anyways. “Should I come over?”

“No.” Jazz sounded a little shifty. “I think it’s best if you don’t come over right now.”

“I’m not nuts!” her roommate was faintly audible, as was some kind of repetitive thwap. “We are getting this place fumigated and cleansed and exorcised-

Jazz must have power walked away from poor Tiffany. Her voice faded out. “Ahem.”

Danny pressed his lips together tightly and tried not to laugh. There was a brief space in the conversation where he probably should have said ‘I’m sorry that I made her think your place was haunted.’ But honestly? In a very literal sense, it had been haunted?

“Danny,” Jazz said, in her quiet scary voice, “shut up.”

He shut up even harder than he’d been shutting up before.

She continued in one of her determined tones that meant there was no point in arguing unless it was a hill he was willing to die on. “I am not going to stay in your place because it’s small and scary.”

‘You’re scarier,’ Danny thought mutinously. ‘You’re scarier than anything in my apartment.’

Aloud, he said something else. “Then where?” He did his best to communicate, dummy, via his tone. “I don’t think this is a coffee shop conversation.”

More importantly, he didn’t really have much coffee shop budget. Jazz didn’t have that much either. They were both on scholarships and part time jobs.

“Of course not,” Jazz said practically. “The main Gotham public library is a mid-point and you can rent out a room there for hour blocks. I’ll reserve it online on the way there. I’m halfway to the train station now. What’s your ETA- you just left campus, right?”

Danny looked down at his foot incredulously as he stepped off the final cement stair onto the sidewalk. How did she know that? He looked around dumbly for a know-it-all sister spy plane or something.

“I’ll get a media room from 3-4 pm, that gives you time to stop and get us drinks and snacks. I’ll pay you back, budget of 10 dollars. That sound okay?”

“Fine.” Danny sighed heavily. “Yeah, I can get to that area pretty fast.” He hung up and resigned himself to pushing through foot traffic. He was a lot closer than Jazz was at the moment. He put his head down and ignored the masses of humanity for a little more than 20 minutes of walking. The high lifted roof of the city's main library came into view over the surrounding buildings.

There was a grocery store pretty close by. Danny detoured there and got wrapped sandwiches, chips, and coffees. He hid them all in his backpack just in case the library had a no-food policy.

Then he checked his phone. Jazz had sent him a text telling him the floor and room number in the library. He also had seven missed calls from his parents. That initially freaked him out until he noticed that Dad had sent him a link to an update on the family blog with a string of ghost and wink emojis.

Yeah ok. It wasn't going to be important in the slightest. He ignored his parents.

He jogged the rest of the way to the library and then up the ramp. Danny slipped in the doors and enjoyed the rush of air conditioning. He nodded to the librarian visible from the door and then took the main stairs at an easy pace up to the fourth floor. The rented media room was a straight shot to the back. His sister was waiting to pounce when he opened the door.

“Get back, beast,” Danny said, alarmed. He held his backpack out like it would ward her away.

“Open it!” Jazz demanded.

Holy cow. Uh. He scrambled to unzip it and hold out the plastic shopping bag in offering.

“Gimme gimme, thank you,” Jazz sang and she snatched the snacks from his hands. Danny blew on his fingers pointedly as if her speed burnt his fingertips. She ignored him and unwrapped the ham and cheese at lightning speed.

Oof. Danny kept his fingers a little closer so they didn't get bitten off and side-eyed his big sister as she all but inhaled the sandwich. He popped open the chips bag and ate a couple, feeling a bit freaked out by how ravenous she was. He opened his mouth to comment and then thought better of it.

“Are those for both of us?” Jazz swallowed her sandwich and pointed at the chip bag.

Danny held his hands up and let her take it away. “Geeze,” he said, quietly. He took his own sandwich out from the bag that Jazz had abandoned and ate it at a more normal speed. By the time he'd finished Jazz was content with the chips. He cautiously reached out and fished the bag back towards him. A glance inside showed that she'd left about half.

“So!” Jazz clapped her hands like she had pretensions of being a preschool teacher.

“That body language making you friends at Arkham?” Danny jabbed. He popped a chip in his mouth and crunched down.

Jass casually flipped him off. “Yes, actually,” she said primly. “Dr. Quinn was very complimentary-”

“Before she broke out?” Danny said dryly around a mouthful of chips.

“-and I have formed meaningful clinical bonds with many other patients. But I digress.” She gave him a version of her smug face. She, as always, looked like that meme of the knife cat. “I have two solutions for you.”

[gothamite-rambler]

Kate is the only one who can do this to him

Bruce Wayne is sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. The morning sun filters through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. The kitchen is quiet until Kate Kane enters, talking on her phone.

KATE

(into phone)

Yes, I’ll be there. Yes… Kelly, stop panicking. Hold on a sec.

Kate walks over to Bruce, casually reaching over and grabbing a few pieces of scrambled eggs from his plate. She pops them into her mouth, then eyes a strip of bacon and takes it.

BRUCE

(half-hearted protest)

That… That was mine.

Kate holds up a finger, still ignoring him as she continues her call.

KATE

(into phone)

Is Mike going to be there for the meeting? … You’re sure? I can’t have him just not show up again.

Kate leans in, whispering to Bruce.

KATE

(whispering)

I’m just gonna take the other strip.

She takes the second piece of bacon. Bruce looks at her, exasperated.

BRUCE

(sighs)

Hey, hey, stop doing that.

Kate pulls away from her phone for a moment, dismissing his complaint.

KATE

You’re fine, I’m in a hurry.

She returns to her call.

KATE

(into phone)

Sorry, my cousin is pestering me. Now, he’ll be there? … Good. I’ll be a little late, it’s—

Kate lifts Bruce’s arm to check his watch.

KATE

Shit, 10:10 already? So I’ll be there in another ten minutes… Yes, I’m aware I’ll be late, but Mike has been late fifteen times— Hold on.

Kate grabs Bruce’s glass of orange juice from his hand and drinks it down in one go. Bruce taps his fingers on the table, clearly aggravated. Kate finishes the juice, her face contorting at the taste.

KATE

Tangy. Is there pulp in this?

BRUCE

(trying to process)

Yes.

KATE

You’re weird. Here.

She hands the empty glass back to Bruce, who takes it, unamused.

BRUCE

(sarcastically)

Oh, thank you, I needed the glass back. Want my coffee too?

KATE

Nah, there’s no cream in there.

Kate returns to her call, as Bruce stares at his now nearly empty plate.

KATE

(into phone)

Kelly, we’re going to get into this expo. Just keep him busy… Thank you. See you in 10 minutes.

Kate ends the call and turns to Bruce, who’s left with only a piece of toast on his plate.

KATE

(smirking)

Business meetings, am I right, cuzzo?

BRUCE

(frustrated)

Hn, yup. At least you filled up on my food and drank my juice before heading in. Don’t want an empty stomach!

Kate ruffles Bruce’s hair playfully.

KATE

I know, thanks for that. I’m gonna head out. Thanks for letting me crash here while my place is being fumigated. I’ll be back in a few hours. What���s Alfred making for dinner, by the way?

BRUCE

(raising an eyebrow)

Oh, do you want me to make you a plate, or will you just eat off mine again?

KATE

(teasing)

You can make me one. It’s the least you can do as a rich man. Aww, you’re so sweet. I’m off.

Kate grabs the piece of toast from Bruce’s hand just before he can take a bite and heads for the door. Bruce groans.

BRUCE

(sarcastic)

Oh thanks, I didn’t want the toast anyway. I’ll be fine with coffee!

KATE

(calling out as she leaves)

Kay, I’m taking one of your cars! Bye!

The front door closes with a thud. Bruce sighs, rubbing his forehead.

BRUCE

(muttering)

I wanted… some of that. This is what happens when I’m a good person.

The Wayne kids, who have been silently watching the whole scene from the table, exchange glances.

DICK

(trying to process)

How did she manage to do all that?!

BRUCE

(grumbling)

Shut up… Welp, I’m not getting back up to get more. I’ll eat yours.

Bruce casually reaches over and takes Jason’s plate, starting to eat off it. Jason glares, grumbling.

JASON

(complaining)

Come to breakfast, you said. I’ll enjoy it, you said. Jesus!

Jason tries to grab Dick’s plate, but Dick slides it away, shaking his head.

DICK

(firmly)

I’m not the one right now.

Jason, not to be deterred, swipes Tim’s bagel instead and takes a big bite. Tim just shrugs.

TIM

(seriously)

I’m cool. I can actually be good with the coffee.

[brenayla]

fin - AO3

The end is anticlimactic. As soon as the clock strikes 4:50pm, Doggett leaves politely with a one-armed hug and well wishes for the little one.

And then it’s just them. Scully and Mulder in their secretive underground den.

Scully sits at his desk and he perches in front of her.

Of all things, Mulder says: “You remember that time we got food poisoning from Wendy’s?”

God, does she ever. She complains, “Mulder, do we have to go there?”

They were barely two years in, somewhere in rural Missouri. It might have been the only time Mulder stopped driving before 7PM and to her absolute horror, the first motel he found to pull into was fumigating or doing construction or something. Whatever. They shared a bathroom for 24 hours and mutually concluded that they would never discuss it again.

“Not if I have any say in it,” Mulder says, “I haven’t been there since.”

“Seriously, Mulder," she warns with a good glare. "I'd rather hear about the praying mantis man. My gag reflex isn't what it used to be.”

“Doesn’t seem any different to me.”

“Mulder,” she scolds him around a barely contained laugh, as if the walls have ears.

Mulder dodges and shifts topics expertly. “I got you something,” he says, free hand scouring around in his pocket.

He produces a stress ball painted to look like a little baseball. “Happy anniversary, Scully.”

They have never celebrated an anniversary and even if they were to take up the practice, it would be somewhere in the crisp dew days of spring, not today.

“Our other anniversary,” Mulder explains, “I’m a little late.”

“Ah,” Scully says, taking the gift and turning it in her hand. He is several months late, actually.

Their first time was not what she expected but it was what she needed. In her more creative moments, she’d imagined that when the dam broke, he would tear buttons from her blouse and pull her panties aside, no frills maneuvering her into position. And that is Mulder, but it is not first time Mulder. First time Mulder wanted to kiss her forehead and take her in. Before, he asked, can I and after, he fell asleep grasping her thumb like a newborn.

It seems like you two have an intense relationship, Scully's therapist once told her, accurately. Leg shaking, concussed sprinting after them intense; pre-sunrise giggling on his couch intense.

“Thank you,” she tells him, slipping it into her bag on the floor.

“It’s my contribution to your labor pain management plan.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that.”

“We can add it the hospital bag checklist.”

“Sure, Mulder.”

Mulder waits under the hum of the AC. “You’re welcome.”

A smoke detector is still hanging by a wire from when she took it apart to discover a bug. Sharpened yellow pencils that appeared in the ceiling – again – without explanation. The chunky patterned blanket from his couch, slouched over the back of the computer chair, brought in when she was sick and cold.

Nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted.

“Mulder, there have been periods where I spent more time here than at home,” she confesses.

“Me too. Probably too many times, actually.”

“I met you down here.”

“Yeah. You did.”

“And I– …we –” Her voice cracks, an all too common occurrence recently. We fell in love down here.

Or maybe not – maybe it was the rental cars or the autopsy bays – but she can’t quite remember because the where and when was never all that important. Now that she’s leaving this place behind, it feels like it happened here.

“I know.”

Mulder could say: This place isn’t going anywhere, Scully or you can always come back to visit, but it would be a sore consolation and they both know it. This is the wheezing death rattle of Special Agents Mulder And Scully. It’s such a Mulder thought, she would never dare voice it. It wriggles into her temporal lobe anyways.

She is leaving behind the birthplace of them, the first space they ever shared. Early Them live down here, with their shoulder pads and patterns and loose-fitting suits, stealing shy glances at each other over his whirring slideshows. And Middle Them survived the fire, too; floppy haired and caught in crackling tension and sopping with grief and fear and love that they don’t yet know what to do about. Even flirty, curious Right Before them are down here, testing out new boundaries; lighter, dreamier, sweet and sticky them.

Fudge the dates a little and their baby could have been conceived down here, and in the moment, that's the story she tells herself. It's a nice one. Maybe the fetus is a little bigger than typical, or maybe she misremembered the dates of her last menstrual cycle. Maybe she’s carrying a child made from dusty file cabinets, tacked up printouts, scrawled handwriting, crumpled up sticky notes left beside the trash can filled with takeout containers, and them; all the Thems.

Scully amends her last comment. “Well, I’m not sure that it happened down here. But I realized it down here.”

Mulder takes her hand. “Tell me?”

“It’s nothing crazy.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m good with nothing crazy these days.”

She smiles; damn, he’s got her. “Okay, well…it was a weekend. You had this dark blue jacket on. It was more casual than you’d typically wear.”

“I think I know the one. I can find it, if you ever need a reminder.”

She gives him a look and continues, unperturbed. “You were sitting here at your desk and I was over there working at the computer. You were eating Reese’s Pieces. Very loudly, I might add.”

“When are we gonna get to the flattering part?”

“Never, if you’re going to interrupt.” Scully gets her bearings again. “You were humming something, I’m not sure what but it was a short tune, over and over. And I looked over to tell you to quiet down so I could focus. You were leaning over your report – or whatever it was you were writing. You had a little cut here above your eyebrow. And I just…I just knew.”

He stares, disbelieving but still holding her hand. “That was it, Scully?” He asks. “I was being annoying and you looked over to tell me to knock it off, and that’s how you had this grand realization?”

She shrugs. “I think maybe it was the mundaneness of it.”

“You’re gonna have to elaborate on that one, Scully.”

“Well,” she tries, “how many times have we had very similar conversations? How many times have I probably been working at the computer and looked over to tell you something? Hundreds, maybe.”

“Maybe more.”

“Right. So, it was all of those…everyday things that made up our relationship, our partnership in the first place. It only makes sense that it would be one of those everyday things that...triggered something.”

Mulder takes that in.

“Huh,” he says, gently splaying out her fingers as he processes. “Did you ever tell me to knock off the noise?”

When she puts herself back in the moment, nothing breaches her memory but the all-consuming red sun dawn of the revelation that she knew she was not going to be able to ignore like she had with all the prior little stair step realizations.

“I don’t think so. I don’t think I said anything to you.”

“You might have saved us a lot of time if you had.”

“No, I don’t think so, Mulder. I don’t– maybe it’s all the hormones, but I don’t think we were ready then.”

Mulder takes a moment to digest that idea. He doesn’t necessarily agree, she can tell and it occurs to her to push it. But when he lapses into quietly dragging a fingertip across the lines in her palm, she decides against it.

A gush of self-consciousness rolls over her and she see it hit him like an aftershock. “Well,” she covers, “what about you?”

He presses his thumb against one of her nails, scanning his print into the keratin of her nailbed.

“When you came to my room in Bellefleur,” he says.

“You– …the first time?”

He smiles, covering. “Yeah.”

“No,” she insists, “Mulder.”

“Yes, Scully.”

In the moment of silence, Mulder fiddles with her fingers, their heads bowed over their joined hands. Then he kisses the middle of her palm like a stigmata and releases her, gauging her mood.

When he gets a reading, he stands and offers her a hand up. “You ready to go, Agent Scully?”

She takes it, shaking hands with this little death.

“I think I am, Agent Mulder.”

[thegodsaremyhome]

Hekate’s Deipnon

History

In Greek, “deipnon” means evening meal, usually the largest meal of the day. Hekate’s Deipnon was a special feast held on the final day of every lunar month, during the New Moon. It’s main purpose was to honor Hekate and placate vengeful souls who were unavenged or wrongfully killed. However, it was also a day for purifying the self, the home, and the altar, and atoning for any wrongdoings that may have cause Hekate to withdraw Her favor. Some accounts say that the poor and less fortunate were also given to on this day. It was said that those who were poor would come and take the offerings left on Hekate’s altar outside. And while some believed this incurred the wrath of Hekate, others believed this was welcomed by the Goddess.

Foods most often mentioned used as offerings on the Deipnon were typically offerings associated with the dead, like raw eggs, small cakes garlic/leeks/onions, and fish. The offering was placed on or inside the household altar to Hekate after sunset. The altar was usually located outside their door, as the street in front of the house and the doorway created a 3-way crossroad, which was sacred to Hekate. After the meal was left out, they would not look back. believing that any spirits there would become enraged if anyone saw them. Athenians would then spend the rest of the Deipnon inside. 

If a household believed that one or more of it’s residents commited an act against Hekate and lost Her favor, they would all perform a ritual involving the sacrifice of a dog, her sacred animal. They would each touch the dog, transfering their misdeeds into it, then sacrifice it. Following the sacrifice, they would do a divination reading with it’s entrails to ensure that the sacrifice was accepted by Hekate.

Cleaning and purification was also an important part of Hekate’s Deipnon, which was executed in two parts. Part one was fumigation, where one would carry a censer made of clay burning insence through the house. Afterwards, they would place the censer on the altar or at a crossroads for disposal. It wasn’t used again, as it was seen as a leftover, which was disposed in the second part of the purification. Other leftovers included, ashes from incense or sacrifices, blood, or any remaining food that had fallen on the floor. This is because food that had fallen was said to belong to Hekate, which she would then distribute to the spirits. Leftovers were deposited on the altar, preferably at the same time as the meal since you weren’t supposed to look back at the altar once it was placed, and then they would go inside, lock their doors, and not come out again. However, it’s not clear how these offerings were then disposed the following day.

Modern Celebration

For your main offering, some do replace the meal with an offering of incense or something else. And while most don’t have an altar to Hekate outside as they did in ancient Greece, you can definitely just leave the offering on your altar to be disposed of in any way you see fit later. You could leave the offering on your altar, and then leave it at a crossroads outside if that space is available to you. Although our ritual leftovers, or “sweepings” would be different these days then back then, you could still offer ashes from incense and other burned offerings, leftovers from candles, or other leftovers from rituals of the previous month. If you do leave your food and sweepings at a crossroads, then try leaving them on a disposable plate, that way you can just throw the plate away in your trash can outside after. 

Donations of money, food, or volunteer work has become an increasingly popular way to celebrate. Any way you can think of to help those who are less fortunate than you. Even if it’s just donating a dollar to a charity you like. This is also a day to get any cleaning done that you would like. Tidying up your room, cleaning out the fridge, dusting and sweeping, etc. doesn’t have to be any deep cleaning, just the surface level stuff. Some clean out their Kathiskos* while also cleaning out their pantry, altough this could also be done on the following day Noumenia as well. Cutting ties from anything you don't want to bring into the next month, finding closure, and tying up any lose ends is what this holiday is all about. So try to fulfill any promises, or obligations from the previous month, as well as paying off any dues or debts if you can.

Other ways to celebrate:

Use this day to honor and remember your ancestors, passed on loved ones, and the spirits around you, if you work with spirits.

Do some sort of protective spell to put on your home

Do a ritual to cleanse yourself as well!

Sit in meditation, reflecting on the past month and things you are proud of yourself for achieving in this time. Maybe reach out to Hekate and ask for guidance if you need to do so.

You could also do a tarot reading, or any other means of divination that you wish to use in order to commune with Hekate.

Sources : Deipnon - Wikipedia  Hekate’s Deipnon - Hellenion  Hekate’s Deipnon - Backyard Banshee

Other links:

* Kathiskos - Hellonion

-Hellenic Festivals Masterlist-

[oscarpiasstri81]

Confessions ★ Max Verstappen

summary ~ max, who has always been scared to express his feelings, has a confession to make.

pairing ~ {max verstappen x female!reader}

content warnings ~ literally just fluff

a/n ~ I thought that i’ll try writing another fanfic without oscar, so my second husband max makes his debut

word count ~ 1.2k

There were a lot of moments where Max Verstappen thought he could be in love with his girlfriend, and one moment he knew.

After working through a triple header between Austin, Mexico and Brazil, Max wanted nothing more than to be at home cuddled up with his girlfriend and two cats. Him and y/n had been together for a short amount of time, only about two months, but the connection they shared was like no other. He felt like she could read his feelings and emotions from across a room blindfolded, and it was one of the many things he admired about her. That is exactly how she knew that after coming back to Monaco from Brazil, Max just needed to unwind a relax a little.

Getting to work with her planning, she spent the day, while he was distracted by the sim race, going from store to store. She purchased ingredients for dinner, snacks, drinks, desserts, candles, and even rented an old movie from Max’s childhood to watch on the big TV. Once she felt as if her task was completed, she made her way back to her small apartment. Her plan was to set up, and lure Max over by telling him that her car wouldn’t start.

After about an hour or two, her apartment was set up for date night, and dinner was cooked and ready to be served. She prepared herself in the mirror for her best acting skills, and called Max. Thankfully, he picked up after only two rings.

“Hey schat, what’s up?” Max said into the phone. She could still hear the clicking in the background of his sim setup, and felt only a little bad to be distracting him.

“Maxie, I don’t know what’s wrong with my car, but it just won’t start. I keep turning and turning the key, and it won’t give. Can you come over and help me, please?” Dragging out the ‘please’, hoping that it would make Max come over faster; since she didn’t want dinner to get cold.

“Yeah, I’ll be over as soon as I can,” She can hear the sound of him turning his monitors off, “Just please don’t try to start the car with the garage door closed again.” He says laughing at a previous time she had almost fumigated her apartment building.

“Haha, very funny,” She said sarcastically, “Now please hurry! I have to go to the store very soon.”

After only about 10 minutes, she could hear the familiar sound of Max’s Porsche 911 GT3 RS pull up on the side of the street outside the building. Making her way outside, she tries to keep the smile off of her face, although it’s a difficult task. He obviously asks to see the car, but she tricks him by saying she brought the keys back to her apartment while she was waiting. And so the two of them make their way up the stairs, hands intertwined.

The second she opens the door, Max knew she had tricked him. A strong scent of her mother’s enchiladas verdes de pollo recipe filled the small apartments air, and a smile rose to his face. As he took a step inside, he noticed the dining table set up with the food and candles. He turned to look at her, only to see eyes staring back at him with an excited smile covering her face.

“Okay! I know I lied, but you seemed so tense after the triple header, so I thought a little date night might help?” As she spoke, she sounded a little more unsure about her plan. Nervous, almost. The two of them hadn’t had a proper date in weeks.

“Oh schatje, it’s perfect. Thank you so much.” He pulled her into a soft kiss, and placed a hand on her back to lead her towards the dining table.

As the both of them ate, the conversation flowed smoothly, talking about work, the race, their families. She hadn’t been able to attend any of the three races due to conflicts with her work schedule, so the catching up was much needed. By the time they had both finished their dinner, the loud beep of the oven indicated that dessert was finished. Digging into the small cupcakes she had made, Max pulled her into a hug in the middle of the kitchen. They danced in silence for a few moments before she pulled away from him, leaving one last peck on his lips and grabbing his hand to drag him to her bedroom.

Inside of her bedroom was the real surprise. The bed was covered in soft, comfortable blankets and fluffy pillows. On the bedside tables were his favorite snacks and drinks, obviously chilled to the perfect temperature. The TV had already been set up and paused in the opening credits of Max’s favorite movie. She dimmed the lights slightly, and ran to burry herself in the covers. Seeing his girlfriend looking so cute piled under a dozen blankets was an enticing sight, so he joined her within a millisecond.

The movie had barely even started before Max got distracted by her perfect, plump lips, focusing on planting his on them instead. Although she had hoped to be able to watch the movie, she wasn’t about to complain about Max’s attention completely on her. He broke away from the kiss to look at her in the eye.

“Thank you so much for this, mijn liefje. I don’t know how you always know exactly what I need, but this is perfect.” He gazed into her eyes for a moment longer before pulling her into another soft kiss.

“All I want is for you to be happy and relaxed, Maxie. You being either of those things means the world to me.” She responded without missing a beat, the compassionate words melting his heart. Without thinking, he spoke four words he never thought he would say so soon.

“Ik houd van jou.”

“Max, you know I don’t speak Dutch.” She said with a giggle. It took him a moment to even realize what he had said, and another few seconds to gain the confidence to say it again, this time in English.

“I… I love you.”

Now it was her turn to freeze. She knew that she loved Max, she had since the moment he first kissed her, but she never expected him to say it first. Her brief moment of shock was sending a cold sweat up his spine. Before he had the chance to try and take it back, she responded.

“I love you too, Max. So, so, so much. I hope you’ll always remember that.” And with that, she pulled him in for a long, passionate kiss, the movie now long forgotten.

At this moment, he knew he loved her, and that he always would, for the rest of his days.

a/n ~ this one is very short, so i apologize for that. I don’t really know what to write anymore, and it is also finals weeks, so i am very tired. anyway, i hope you enjoy, despedida.

[blushweddinggowns]

“I know I have something clean in here!”

Eddie watched him, half amused and half exhausted. He leaned his head back against Steve’s bed, crossing his legs on the floor. He was dripping wet and freezing, impatiently waiting for Steve as he dug through his closet. He didn't know what he expected to find when ninety-nine percent of his clothes were on the floor of Eddie's room.

See, shit like this is why they always hang out at Eddie and Wayne's new place, instead of this certifiable mansion. Besides the fact that Steve liked to be as far from his house as possible, it took away some options for them to do dumb, impulsive shit. Like dragging each other into his pool, fully clothed at 2 am. 

In November. 

If it wasn't for the stupid fumigation at his apartment, they would be dry and asleep by now, or at least dry and giggling throughout the night. He also wouldn't be trying to think of an excuse to sleep in Steve’s bed, with all of these stupid guest rooms. It was so easy at his place, with its uncomfortable couch and shitty heater. It took almost nothing to convince Steve to sleep with him every night.

He sighed, shamelessly staring at Steve from behind and thanking the powers that be he decided to wear white tonight. He could make out all of the muscles in his back through the transparent fabric, cold water still dripping from his hair. He was too beautiful for his own good, or Eddie was just obsessed. 

Probably both. 

Maybe Eddie should use this as an opportunity to get used to being without him. This little game he was playing could only last so long after all.

He knew he was monopolizing Steve's time, like an ass, and he’d been doing it for months. Ever since he was out of the hospital, the two had been inseparable. No one even called Steve's house anymore, half the time when Eddie answered the phone it was Robin or one of the kids asking for Steve. 

There's yet to be a time when he wasn't there. 

Hell, even before that. The little saint had been there for every step of his recovery, bringing him books, music, and his own adorable self. His little crush on Steve had grown into a full-blown infatuation. He was all he could think about anymore. 

Steve was just so…him. Self-sacrificing, hilarious, disturbingly attractive, Eddie had been doomed from the start. Eddie became the one who picked Steve up from work and dropped him off, deciding that he deserved to be chauffeured around for a change. 

Steve became the one waiting for him at home from his dealings, cooking food for him and his uncle, always reassuring him that he wasn't a bad person and it was temporary, just until he had enough cash to leave this hellhole. He wasn't sure how he was ever going to leave without Steve, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. Or he would just stay in a town that loathed him until Steve moved on with his life. 

Whatever came first. 

They just fell into each other, like they had been best friends all along. And maybe he was tricking himself, just building up a mountain of false hope, but from his view, Steve loved their time together just as much as Eddie did.

Steve had been the one to press himself against Eddie's chest on that first night, sleepily putting Eddie’s arm around him with a soft, "I'm cold."

Steve was the one who would spend hours laughing with Wayne on the couch, giggling at elementary school photos of Eddie and swapping stories, never shutting up about how cute he used to be. 

Steve was the one who wiped his tears away if he had night terrors, reliving almost dying over and over again in his dreams.

And Eddie couldn't help but push. 

It felt like he had to touch him all the time or he'd combust. Steve was touch-starved to hell and back, and Eddie took full advantage. An arm around his shoulders when they walked, a hand on his thigh when they drove, pinkies linked when they went to sleep. Steve leaned into it all, he never tried to push Eddie away, he'd only ever pull him closer. 

He rationalized it. If Steve ever told him no or to back off he would immediately but…he just hasn't. 

Besides, Eddie almost fucking died to save the world, he could indulge in some self-destructive behavior a little bit here and there, even if it would lead to the worst heartbreak of his life. 

Eddie shifted, trying to get comfortable but there was something digging in his back. He reached behind, pulling at whatever was poking him under the mattress. It was some wadded-up denim, shoved right under the edge of Steve's bed. A question was already on his lips as he unwrapped it, dying when he realized what it was. 

It was the vest from the Upside Down. Steve had told him it was unsalvageable months ago and Eddie had believed him, even if it made him a little sad. He had loved that thing.

But here it was, washed and only partially stained with the remnants of Steve’s blood and the general muck of the Upside Down.  Why did he still have this? Why did he lie?

Steve turned as Eddie stared at it, a yellow sweatshirt in hand and a pleased smile on his face. Eddie doesn't think he's ever seen Steve’s smile drop so quickly. He was kneeling in front of him in an instant, snatching the vest from Eddie’s hands with trembling fingers. He clutched it against his chest, looking absolutely mortified. 

“I can explain.” 

“You kept it?”

“I-I’m not a creep, really! It just helped me sleep when you were in the hospital and it became this stupid habit and I should have told you- ” 

Steve’s face was on fire and he was talking a mile a minute, his voice shaking. Eddie just looked at him, stupified as Steve desperately tried to explain why he was cuddling with a ratty piece of Eddie’s clothing.

“I was gonna give it back," Steve held it tighter against him, like the thought of parting with it physically hurt, "I swear! but you just wouldn't wake up at first and I needed something-" 

Eddie’s eyes traveled down, landing on his lips, his self-control evaporating with every stuttered word out of Steve’s mouth. 

“A-and I shouldn't have lied, I can give it back, really, I didn-” 

“Steve, I’m going to kiss you now.”

“I-what?"

Eddie didn’t wait, couldn't wait, and Steve was so close, looking irresistibly embarrassed. Eddie grabbed behind his neck and pulled him down to his level, pressing their lips together before he could question himself. 

Steve was kissing him back before he could even think to regret it. He melted against him, letting the vest drop down in between them. Steve sighed against his lips, resting his hands on Eddie's shoulders to steady himself. Eddie pulled away first, half to double check that this was okay and half to try to will his erection away so Steve could sit in his lap.

Steve looked down at him with dazed eyes, his lips wet with Eddie’s spit. He watched with rapt attention when Steve licked at it, closing his eyes with a pleased hum, like he just loved the taste.

God, he was going to give him a heart attack. 

They grinned at each other like idiots, Steve finally breaking the comfortable silence with a shy smile, "Does this mean I get to keep it?"

[elminx]

French Onion Soup: A Look Into Single Ingredient* Kitchen Witch Spells

*There are actually eight ingredients in my recipe, but I am only using one (onions) for the purpose of my witching

Last weekend, when my partner announced they were taking the short ribs out of the freezer to dethaw, I knew my dark moon banishment had been decided for me: it was time to make my yearly batch of French Onion Soup. I always make this soup with a combination of the au jus from the short ribs and broth made from the leftover bones; it is part of our goal to use as much of the animal as we can. But French onion soup does more than fill our bellies: it fills the entire house with the essence of onions.

This, as a kitchen witch, I can USE.

Some background on what I call Single Ingredient Kitchen Witch Spells

One of the things that I have found when pursuing Kitchen Witch spells is that the writers often try to attribute a magical intention to every ingredient they put into their food. Although this is well intended, if one is actually enchanting their meals (rather than just "asking" the ingredients to impart some magic - which is valid), it becomes - in my opinion - very energy-intensive and cumbersome. That's not what I am all about when I'm witching in the kitchen.

My idea of a good kitchen witch spell is one where you spend a hot minute cooking your food (stirring and returning to your meal is a LOT of where I impart magic into food) but where the actual magic is fairly simple. In this way, I am drawn to a spell where one type of magical intention is highlighted by using only one ingredient or a (small) combination of ingredients that all work towards a common goal.

I find this approach easier for witches who are to kitchen magic and low-energy witches like me. This doesn't mean that you need to stick to very simple recipe to enchant kitchen magic, instead, we are focusing on one or a handful of ingredients for the material of our spellwork. Sometimes flavoring (everything else) can just be flavoring.

I will point out here that by my thinking, whatever primary ingredient you are enchanting for your kitchen magic SHOULD be a primary ingredient/flavor in the dish that you are making. While a pinch of salt can and will cleanse, I wouldn't call your dish a cleansing spell just because you added a pinch of salt. In this way, this type of magic works best with ingredient-forward dishes like pesto (basil), pies (fruit), or - in this case - French Onion Soup which calls for multiple cups of Sweet Onion.

The Magic of Onion

In my opinion as a witch and amateur herbalist, the magic of onion lies in its organosulfur compounds. It is unmistakable if you have ever cut or eaten an onion (or other members of the allium family) that they carry a distinctive smell and taste of sulfur. Sulfur, also known as brimstone, has long been associated with banishment or dispelling magics of all kinds.

Notably, here this association carries over to onion both in the metaphysical realm where it is believed to banish or keep away evil and ill will, but also in its physical properties as onion is antiseptic and antibacterial. Perhaps, in this way, we can imagine that onion chases away the bad by removing it from our bodies.

That's something that I can get behind.

French Onion Soup: a Banishment for the Body and the Home

If the magic of onions is found in its organosulfur compounds (as I believe), this is activated thrice in the making of French onion soup.

Firstly, when you cut the onions. Secondly, when you caramelize the onions (fumigating your home), and thirdly when you eat the onions. We've been talking a lot lately about the magic of the number 3 - a number that can naturally increase or decrease depending on how it is used. This a decreasing 3-spell, and could be used as an adjunct to a more traditional decreasing spell. For example, I might start a banishment or decreasing candle spell and then make and eat the soup while the spell was burning.

Note here that I think that the PRIMARY banishment stage comes during the caramelization process, this is where I focus the energy of my banishment.

You will need:

6 cups thin sliced Sweet Onions

8 cups beef broth, homemade preferred, but boxed is okay

A small bundle of Thyme, fresh preferred

1/2 Stick of Butter or comparable oil substitute (EVOO)

1/2 cup dry wine, optional

Baguette or other crusty bread, sliced into 1/2-inch pieces

Gruyere cheese, grated

Salt and Pepper to taste

Prepare your kitchen Do this in any way you prefer before starting a kitchen witch spell. I like to have a hearth candle that I light when doing kitchen magic to help create the proper mood.

Thin Slice Your Onions We want the onions in the soup to have a thin ribbon-like texture. It helps with caramelization to have all your onion slices be the same size, but this may not be possible if you start with very differently-sized onions. This is your chance to connect with the spirit or powers of the onion. Very quickly, you will begin to physically experience the effects of onion's sulfuric nature as the syn-propanethial-S-oxide gas released by cutting the onions mixes with the water content in our eyes, creating sulfuric acid. This is part of the banishment properties of onion; although it might not be pleasant, thank the onion for doing what it is doing. Depending on your magical traditions, you may choose to interact with onion in any manner of ways. Remember here that this is the first of three banishment steps in this process - whoever cuts the onions will get the direct and most focused banishment of the entire spell. If the intended recipient of the spell is you, cut the onions yourself. If it is someone else, consider asking them to cut the onions for you. I wanted to work this spell for both myself and my partner, and I knew that they would still be out of the house when I caramelized the onions, so I asked them to cut the onion for me. You can choose to talk to the onions, pray over the onion, carve sigils into them before you cut them, or do anything that feels appropriate to your path during this time. This step will take a while, especially if you need to take breaks to cry your eyes out over onions. This can be done up to a day ahead of time - store your cut onions in the fridge until you are ready to use them.

Camarmelize Your Onions I thought about giving you the basics on caramelizing onions here, but this is a kitchen witch blog. I assume you have some proficiency in the kitchen if you are attempting a spell like this. Besides, the process of doing this will change drastically depending on how wet your onions are, the general humidity, and how your stove manages heat. The butter, onions, thyme, and salt go into the pot in this step. Start on medium heat and adjust up or down as you need to so that your onions cook until they are golden brown. Expect this to take at least an hour, and be happy if it takes less. The secret to caramelizing onions is that you need to consistently stir the pot so they do not stick to the bottom and burn. This is where I put the majority of my magic into this spell - each time that I return to the pot, I draw a banishing sigil over my onions. I also stir in the anti-clockwise direction of removal. You should adapt this to how you perform kitchen magic, of course. I will note here that my apartment has a relatively open floor plan and I intentionally do not turn on the kitchen fans so that the oniony goodness vents into my house, not out of it. This is the step that I use to banish unwanted energy from my physical space - I speak words over the steam rising from my onions and ask it to assist me in this process. If I lived in a place with a less open floor plan, I would open any doors and windows needed to get the steam/smell into as many parts of the place as I could. If you just want to focus on your physical body, you can skip this step but I find that if my energy has gotten off enough to require a banishment, my place needs cleansing, too.

Heat Your Broth You want your broth to be at a similar temperature to your onions. This doesn't need to get done at the beginning of your caramelization process as you might evaporate more than necessary, but you will want your broth up to temperature by the time your onions are at their desired doneness.

Construct the Soup When the onions are ready, deglaze the pot with wine or beef broth. Scrape the bottle to reincorporate any stuck residue back into your base. Add 1/2 cup of flour and mix to form a weak roux. Slowly add beef broth by the ladle full into the base, stirring as you go. Cook on a simmer for 10 minutes. This is the time for any last intention setting,. You can adjust for salt and add pepper as a final pop of banishing if you are so inclined.

Serve and Eat All of our magic has already been accomplished, so now it is time to plate (bowl?) our meal. French Onion Soup is traditionally served in individual ramekins with a slice of bread and melted Gruyere on top. This is accomplished by putting the soup into the ramekins, topping with the bread and cheese, and then popping those suckers under the broiler. I don't do this. I just grill the bread and top with thinly grated cheese. There isn't enough difference here to wait the extra few minutes after I've already been standing over the stove for an hour. You can say a few words over your meal if that's you thing, but you don't need to here. The rest of the magic will be fueled by your own digestive system. It is done French onion soup keeps for a couple of days in the fridge and freezes nicely so long as you omit the bread and cheese.

If I could choose one thing for you to take away from this writing, it is that kitchen witchery does not have to be complicated. You don't need to know the magical associations for every ingredient you put into your meal. You only need to know one and use it well.

Do you like my work? You can support me over on Kofi.

[alhajjajpest]

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[cloudmancy]

I think gluttony is such a deeply underrated sin. I don't see it as the act of eating but the instinct to consume. different from greed but they drive each other: indulgence. consumer products. what is a consumer? capitalism will tell you: it's not about food. to glut: supply or fill to excess. it looks like perishable luxury. overindulgence. gluttony is not inherent to food. there is nothing sinful about nourishment. what does gluttony look like? cheap plastic crap used once and strewn about the room. designer shoes mouldering away in a display case that need to be fumigated every two years or the leather will begin to rot. indulgent exotic treats exported from halfway around the world sitting at the back of the fridge expiring before it can be used. rotting in luxurious excess. navel-gazing while the world starves around you.

[anarchitectofdreams]

I think the Recycle Bin or Trash bin on your desktop should behave like real ones and attract roaches if you don’t empty it out regularly. Like they’ll digitally crawl on the apps or screen sometimes. You’ll open Firefox and see the roaches have infested your search history from Tuesday, when you were google searching stale bread and sugar water. If it gets really bad you call the exterminator and they’ll fumigate your desktop, ruining any word, text, or food files you had out in the open and requiring you to clean everything else afterward and you’ll start finding dead roach files all over your computer. You toss them in the Trash bin and by God you better remember to empty that thing regularly from now on.

[writeyouin]

Damn, it's the middle of the night but I I this cat at the side of the road. She's so skinny, jas fleas and some ticks. She ate 2 packs of food when I brought her home. She's quarantined in the spare room and I'll have to fumigate it after the vets, but damn, saving a little thing lime her really reminds me why life is worth living.

She had the bad luck of being born in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I'm going to find her a place with the local animal charity tomorrow, or I'll be damned.

[gmanwhore]

Ok, so me, @breakcoreboxcat and @saytrsystem have been discussing a theory on what the doppelgangers from That's Not My Neighbor actually are, and here is what we have come up with (as well as some related headcanons)

So the doppelgangers themselves are actually bacteria that take over corpses and can stimulate a brain to act like it's alive. The bacteria was first developed as a bioweapon, but it's effects have spread to the country you live in. This is supported my the fact the real world D.D.D. deals with infectious diseases and things like that. It also makes sense why the D.D.D. wear Hazmat suits, as well as why it is called a "cleaning process". Since it's a more evolved bacteria it is able to change appearances, hence why it can change the host body to mimic people. That's also why they need to break into apartments, they need fresh host bodies as well as food.

Since it is bacteria, the host is only usable for a week or two if it's lucky, as it is eating the host as it uses it. A freshly infected person will have smaller but still obvious changes in appearance, then there is the sweet spot where they have had the body long enough that they understand how humans work and how to mimic them properly, then the body starts to decay and you get the REALLY freakish doppelgangers.

The cleaning procedure starts with fumigation, which is why you always have to close the shutters first so you don't breathe anything in. The gas itself is more harmful to bacteria, it won't kill a human right away but it will knock them out and by the time they are taken away it's too dangerous to bring them back.

There is a 10 pm curfew for all apartment buildings. This is because there are nighttime sweeps of the town to get any doppelgangers that aren't able to hide. Homeless people are usually moved into buildings where all the people have been killed, and there are D.D.D funded centers for them to go to.

Doormen aren't allowed to leave their apartment building. They are sent bread and butter for breakfast, tea or coffee, and a small selection of dinner items, as well as soap and general hygiene products. Doormen are supplied with gloves and masks, and there are hand-washing stations for people when they come in. Doormen are encouraged to go around to apartments after curfew to check that everyone got home safely, and also to get to know their neighbors.

Each apartment building is required to have a common room type area and an exercise area to prevent the people living there from going stir crazy. Befriending your neighbours is highly encouraged, and socializing is a great way to keep everyone sane. It also helps you recognize if someone is replaced.

All important personnel (doctors, firefighters, ect.) live where they work in case of emergencies. The doormen to their facilities are among the best, and they are fast workers in case of emergencies. The D.D.D. headquarters has even higher quality doormen. They have the first doorman, then a sterilization room, then another doorman to ensure absolutely no doppelgangers get in.

The D.D.D. itself really cares about the citizens they protect. They are government funded, but they mostly do their own thing. But they aren't corrupt and genuinely want people to be safe.

[isaac031]

Glad you enjoy , bird behavior is a Special Interest ( wanted to be a zoo keeper , got the degree but alas minimum wage doesn’t mesh with my medical expenses 😫) MORE CROW Stuff for you!

Crows like all birds are prone to parasites and pests that destroy feathers. But crows be smart! They have learned to use multiple methods of extermination ! Sit on an ant hill to piss off the ants that spray chemicals to drive off parasites, Use the smoke from fire to fumigate them out. Philza probably using the gas storms for free pest removal.

The watching thing he does might get amped up, most birds hanging out in pairs has one watching while the other eats or cleans themselves, especially when feeling unsafe. Man probably waits until someone else is up and ready before he starts preparing for the day, same with eating, pausing while someone else is putting food in. Paranoia is bad . Also feather destroying behavior if stress is super bad.

Number 1. fuck no having the dream job because of minimum wage. I'm probably fucked too because I'm studying art, the best option is doing ceramics in Manises and move to Portugal (Spain is starting to get fucked).

Number 2. Others: oh no, another disaster!

Bolas: yes! Our gasmask cult is the best

Philza: bye bug bitches

Number 3. Man is paranoid af. Right now I'm making fluff so his guard is down but I'm raising it like crazy afterwards