#asbestos bags

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[meowthiroth]

GOT MY CHILDHOOD LITERAL CHUNK OF RAW ASBESTOS BACK FROM MOM'S LOL

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Me: I'm not stressed about this incredibly expensive asbestos renovation, that's life, shit happens

Me: *eating an entire bag of soft lollies in one sitting while staring at the clock for no reason*

[dhampling]

Your fics/headcanons give me the feeling of eating freshly baked cookies with warm milk while wrapped in a blanket fresh from the dryer. Just so sweet and comforting. Your post the other day about the number of kiddos he'd want got me wondering: how would astarion handle his partner being in labor? I feel like he would be freaking out so badly internally but trying so hard to keep it together for them. Does it get easier with each baby? Does he cry each time? Also, I had this image in my mind of him introducing the older girls to their new baby sister each time and just being sweet and cute with his growing family and I'm dyinngggg. Thank you again so much for all the wonderful fics sorry this message was kinda all over the place I LOVE YOU. ❤️

hello my sweet angel!!! firstly - you inspired me. I'm inspired. i wrote something based on the introducing the siblings idea. see below!

He’s not sure he’ll ever tire of it.

Feign exasperation, absolutely. Roll his eyes in jest, move things along with the smallest ‘away, away’ of his free hand at the faces pressed against the inside of the kitchen window as you both approach the house in a beleaguered stumble - snout noses and wide grins, breath fogging the glass trying to gain a glimpse. Incredulously sigh at the fact that it’s just a baby.

It looks like a baby. Sounds like a baby. Smells like a baby. The house tends to have at least one kicking about at any given time, gods; there’s absolutely nothing unfamiliar nor noteworthy about a baby dhampir in Baldur’s Gate at this point. If anything, he’d be surprised if the townsfolk weren’t banging down his door come morning with a council-endorsed petition to encourage him to stop breeding the little shits.

Frenetic. He’s still practically vibrating with adrenaline from the birth still. Shaky hands stilled under the weight of the baby basket. Legs flying.

Another girl, obviously. Another ‘A’ name conjured from the recesses of his ancient wisdom. Some variation of a label he saw in an apothecary a week ago - you’re past the point of putting too much thought into their names, a fact that becomes obvious to anyone who lends it too much of a thought.

Apothecary. He ponders the viability of that one. Apothecaria? Apothe. Antiseptic. Asbestos. Arugula.

Fuzzy as the door swings open into the night and the stew-warmth of the kitchen bleeds outside. He holds the door, the carrier containing the baby; hospital bags strapped to his back, the weight of another little thing on his conscience. A pack mule. He pulls a face.

The eldest steps from the sitting room through the parted gaggle of waiting Ancuníns and takes a look at the new addition.

A brief moment passes.

Then she smiles as anticipated, nodding her approval - a time-honoured tradition in your household ever since the second was unleashed unto her sister - before falling to the back of the crowd, pulling out a chair for an exhausted you; and resigning from her primary carer duties for the evening.

It’s bittersweet. At this point, Astarion can never be sure if this time, the whole bustling through the doorway in the middle of the night with a newborn thing; will be the last.

But as each previous youngling steps in line to greet the newest addition to their chaotic sisterhood, he finds himself looking over to you fondly. The way your hand still rests atop the round of your belly, the other supporting your head as your elbow rests firm on the table. Cheeks aflush, lids drooping closed with each breath; and yet you sit there instead of retiring straight to bed to watch them.

Their eager faces, hushed whispers; fingers poking and prodding the small exhausted thing presented to them once more. Rolling her name around their mouths to get used to the sound. You watch each movement with a warm heart and dopey grin.

Obviously you want this again. He wants this again. This moment of soft whispers and unfettered love amongst siblings.

No, he resolves;-

this won’t be the end.

-

i LOVED THAT SO MUCH. THANK YOU.

with regard to the labour:

astarion cries with the first two babies.

after that, he realises it's probably more important to be supportive to his partner at this moment in time.

he can compartmentalise any emotions he's having with the logic that they can wait, honestly.

none of his worst fears are going to materialise, he knows this now. he's done it before.

with the later babies he's a pro.

he even has the nerve to sit there and exclaim at points that he's bored, and that you need to hurry home as he has a client coming to the shop later.

despite both knowing it's a jest, this always earns him a pillow to the face.

THANK YOU NONNIE!!! I LOVE YOU!

[puyopuyo]

pics from when asbestos had the zoomies earlier today and jumped into my bag

[out-of-context-image-search]

As if this wasn't weird enough, all those bags are full of asbestos

[burstfoot]

Next 4 star shop operator needs to be the Rhodes Island Metal Detector guy who keeps contraband from getting on the landship. I know she has stories to tell.

“…no, Quercus, you can’t bring an entire duffel bag worth of plants and fruit onto the ship without having them inspected in advance. You are literally a doctor you know they can carry disease.”

“Ceobe. That is so many weapons. No, you cannot bring those back on. That is Flamebringer’s sword. Give it back to him.”

“…Skadi, I don’t even know what this is supposed to do- it’s Aegir tech? Well this Aegir tech is setting off literally every single alarm in my system.”

“Red. Take your knives out of your coat. Yes that one. And that one. And that one. And that one. That one too. And that one. That one as well. And that one. And that one. And that on-“

“Asbestos. Is that weed?”

[azzys-secret-kink-blog]

"It's just one night," Remy said to himself. He'd been dared to enter an abandoned hospital and stay the night there in a sort of hazing ritual by his fraternity, and the rules were that he had to spend the entire night, sunset to sunrise, in the building. If he chickened out he would have to be the booze runner for the rest of the year.

He'd brought a few things with him. A flashlight, sleeping bag, snacks, water bottle, and some matches, just in case, among some other things he felt he might need. He figured nothing crazy would happen, worst case scenario he ran into a squatter or something, but he was still a bit nervous. The hospital was rumored to be haunted, and his frat brothers made sure to let him know that before he went in for the night. They'd told Remy that people who went in would see the ghost of one of the patients that died in the hospital back before it was shut down due to rampant malpractice. Of course, he didnt believe them, and he didnt believe in ghosts.

He stepped through the trashed lobby. chairs were strewn about and a thin layer of dust covered them. Broken beer bottles were swept into a corner, evidence of other people coming here to goof around, maybe even previous frat members. He kept going into one of the halls, just looking for a room to hunker down in and just sleep through the night. He found one down the hall a ways that wasn't full of broken glass or anything nasty, and set his backpack down on the floor and laid out his sleeping bag. He sat on top of it and decided to play on his phone for a bit before he went to sleep.

~~~

Remy opened his eyes to a hospital room lit with fluorescent lights. In front of him stood a heavily pregnant woman with a massive belly attached to her gaunt frame. She had long black hair and tear streaks running down her face. Her hospital gown was torn and ragged. She looked at him with a pained expression and clutched her stomach. A hoarse and ragged voice escaped her lips in a fearful plea.

"Help me."

~~~

Remy awoke with a jolt. He grabbed the flashlight from his bag and shined it around the room. Nothing.

"Heh. Just a dream. Theres no such thing as ghosts. Its just what the other guys said getting in my head," he said to himself. He flicked the flashlight off and put it back in the bag, then turned around to go to sleep and was greeted with a familiar tear streaked face. He screamed and scrambled back against the wall. She stood, and he noticed that she was translucent, and had a glow to her.

"No way. I'm dreaming. This can't be real. Ghosts aren't real," Remy said, rubbing his eyes. When she was still there, hands on her belly, he stood. "Who . . . are you?"

She slowly walked toward him, saying nothing. He pressed himself flat against the wall, unsure of what to do. She stood between him and the door, so he couldn't make a run for it. And even if he could, did he want to? She had been in his dream, and maybe she really did need help.

The woman slid her hand up under his shirt. Remy began to speak, but it felt like the air had been taken from his lungs. The woman held her icy hand on his stomach, as if feeling for something. Finally, she spoke.

"You will do."

She backed away and grabbed her belly once more. Suddenly, it was flat, and three orbs flew out from under her tattered gown. They swirled around her, and she whispered something to them before they turned toward Remy. They flew towards him, right to his stomach, and then they were gone. He didn't feel any different, and patted himself down just to make sure. He looked up to see the woman gone.

"Okay, just a weird dream or a hallucination. Asbestos can cause hallucinations right? This place has to have asbestos in it. I should really-"

He was cut off by a sudden lurch in his gut. He held onto the wall for balance with one hand and lifted his shirt with the other. He gasped in disbelief as he saw a glowing spot on his lower stomach. He put his hand on it and felt a cool, pulsing mass underneath his hand. There was no way this could be a dream, he would have woken up by now. This was real.

He slid down the wall onto his but as he felt another lurch in his belly, and then pressure. It began to push against his hand, growing bigger by the second.

"Oh my god, what's happening? What did you do to me?" he yelled, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. His gut pushed out, bigger and bigger, looking like someone in the early stages of a pregnancy. He felt the three spirits that had entered him shifting inside, which showed no signs of stopping.

His shirt began to slide up, exposing the glowing orb underneath. he looked to be in the second trimester now, and still getting larger. He looked around for something, anything, that could help whatever situation he'd somehow got himself into. He slowly stood again, using the wall as a brace, and hobbled back to his bag. He pulled out a knife, considered for a moment, and then put it back. If he tried that he'd probably end up with a nasty infection, or worse, just bleed out. He had no choice but to sit and watch himself grow.

He'd reached full term size by now, but was still going. He remembered that there hadn't just been one, but three, orbs that had entered him. He figured they must be spirits, so that meant that he was carrying triplets.

A few minutes later and he was the same size the ghost woman had been, if not bigger. The spirits in his womb thrashed and kicked, making his belly deform and stretch with each and every movement. He felt the growth slow, then finally stop. Then he felt something new, like a hot iron band gripping his belly. He groaned through it, hands holding the taut mound that had become of his midsection.

When the contraction finally let up, he took a moment to breathe and reposition himself. The spirits continued to use his organs like punching bags inside him, but they had slowed down ever so slightly. He had figured at this point that he was going through a rapid pregnancy with some sort of ghost babies. He saw a bit of paper in the corner that he hadn't noticed before, and crawled over to grab it. It was a newspaper clipping about a woman who had been kept at the hospital during her pregnancy, and ultimately she and her children had died due to the doctors' negligence. The picture showed a cheerful looking young woman with long black hair named Liu, obviously a picture taken before her stay there.

Another contraction crashed through Remy and he dropped the paper. He began to feel something down below, something moving into his canal. He screamed at the burning in his belly as the head of the spirit moved down his birth canal. He managed to shimmy his pants off and felt around his crotch. A cold teardrop shape was forming, the head of the spirit. He pushed and grunted as the opening got wider around the head. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, but by the time the head had slipped out he was panting and sweating. How was he going to get three of these things out?

After a moment the next contraction hit, and he pushed with all his might, and suddenly Liu was back, between his spread legs, ready to catch the baby between them. Remy didn't have the energy to ask her where she went, but just kept on pushing. The head slipped out of him, then the shoulders, then the rest of it all at once. Remy slumped against the wall and took a deep breath in an attempt to regain a little bit of energy, before he was hit with another contraction. He pushed, again and again, until the second spirit was out and in Liu's arms.

His belly had shrunk significantly by now, but the last spirit appeared to be the biggest. It thrashed inside him, showing no signs of wanting to leave. Remy welcomed the break, taking another moment to rest.

Suddenly he felt Liu shove her arm up his hole. She wanted her babies, and she wanted them NOW. She wasn't going to give him a break until she had all three.

Remy tried to grab her arm and pull it out, but his hand passed right through it. She was pushing further and further into him, until he could see her hand up inside his belly. She grabbed the thrashing baby still inside him and began to pull. He screamed in pain, begging her to stop as she tugged on the spirit.

She pulled and pulled, eventually sticking her other arm up into him to help pull the baby. He felt a foot pop out of him, then another, then the legs, torso, arms, and then . . . it was stuck. Liu kept pulling, and Remy kept screaming, crying out for someone to help him. He pushed and pushed, but the head wouldn't budge.

After what felt like hours of pushing and pulling, the head finally slipped out of him. Liu picked up the other two babies and, holding all three, began to walk towards the door. Before she left, she turned back to Remy and spoke.

"Thank you. You're the first one they sent it who could actually help me." She smiled, and faded away as she walked out the door. The room began to spin, and finally, Remy passed out.

~~~

Remy awoke to a faint light coming through the window. He looked down to see his sore, and very much bare, crotch just out in the open, and remembered the events of the night before. It hadn't been a dream. He'd really gotten possessed and given birth to ghost babies. He couldn't believe it.

He got up and tugged his pants back on. If the other guys found out about this, he'd probably get ridiculed for the rest of his college career, if not his life. They could NOT find out about this.

He gathered up his things and rolled up his sleeping bag. He looked around for the newspaper clipping, but couldn't find it anywhere. He'd have to look for it later. He lifted his shirt to make sure everything was normal again, then booked it back to the lobby entrance. Two of the boys were waiting for him outside.

"So, how was it? Did you see any ghosts?" one of them asked.

"Come on guys, you know I didn't," Remy lied.

Both of the other boys smiled, looked at each other, and snickered.

On their way out of the lot, Remy looked back to see Liu, her three children around her, all waving goodbye. He whipped back around. He was never, ever, coming back here again.

[darlingshane]

the big bad pineapple

Frank Castle x GN!Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 703

Summary: Frank thinks you have a terrible taste in pizza.

Content/Warnings: Crack, Fluff, Eating, Pizza, Established Relationship, Gun Mention.

Prompt: Frank/anyone, he's Italian and his partner puts pineapple on pizza and Frank's APPALLED. He can take torture but this is too much. – for @daredevilexchange's Prompt Fest.

– Read below or at AO3.

On your way home, you order a couple of pizzas for dinner and by the time you arrive, Frank has already invited himself into your apartment. As you close the door, you can see from the entryway he's made himself at home as usual, leaned back on the couch, with one foot propped on the edge of the coffee table, his hands busy scrubbing a shotgun with a brush, and an assortment of cleaning tools and weapons laid all around him.

“Hey.”

“Evening, sweetheart,” his lips curve up, glancing at you as you take off your coat and place your bag down before walking up to the couch.

Standing behind him, you hold his head and tilt it backwards as you lean forwards to capture his precious mouth. Your lips bounce thrice against his, and after the third he smiles as you press one more kiss on the bridge of his nose.

“Foot,” you semi-scold right after, straightening your posture.

“Sorry,” Frank scoffs, moving his boot away from the table. “Y’know, the fact that you care more about your little table than the guns is concerning.”

“Well, I refinished that all by myself. I care about my little table, the same way you care about your stupid guns. If I went stomping on them, you wouldn’t like that either, would you?”

“Fair enough. Won’t happen again.” He pauses his task and takes a good look at the table, “it ended up pretty good.”

“I know,” you really took pride in learning how to restore used furniture to make it look new, and that piece in particular is one of your favorites.

The doorbell rings while you’re changing into comfortable clothes, and it’s Frank who answers the door to collect your dinner from the deliverer.

After placing the two boxes on the breakfast bar, he opens the one on top, and as expected, you hear him grumbling and cursing from the bedroom when he discovers your chosen toppings for that one in particular. You had a craving for pineapple, and you ordered a second one specially for him, cause you’re pretty aware that your dear Frank doesn’t do pineapple on pizza.

He’s as simple as he’s stubborn.

“Would you relax and open the other one, grouchy smurf?” you pinch his butt as you walk behind him, “I got you one with sausage and mushroom.”

His face contorts in utter disgust as he slides that one to your side, “I don’t know how you can eat that.”

“To each their own, I guess.”

“I’d rather get shot in the head again,” he states, picking up a slice of his own pizza, folding it, and shoving half of it into his mouth.

“You know… you could just say thank you, for a change,” your eyes roll, grabbing a couple of refreshments from the fridge before sitting at the bar, “there’s no need to bash my taste in food.”

“Baby, you got a terrible taste in pizza, what can I say?”

“Said the one with an asbestos mouth,” you remark, side-eying him, “do I complain about your coffee breath? No, cause I don’t care. Guess I have a terrible taste in men, too.”

“I have coffee breath?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Say what you will, but coffee breath is normal. Pineapple on pizza? That’s an atrocity that shouldn’t even exist.”

“You’re insane, Frank. It’s just pineapple,” you let out a chuckle, digging into your delicious Hawaiian pizza, “have you even tried it?”

“Don’t need to.”

Grinning, you move the slice in your hand towards his mouth, “come on, have a little taste, baby. No one's gonna know the big bad punisher got an itty-bitty bite of pineapple pizza.”

He promptly swats your hand away, scowling, “keep that thing off my face.”

Amused, you shake your head and stop teasing him, no matter how entertaining it is to see him passionately hating something as harmless as pineapple on pizza.

There are some leftovers at the end and the next day, out of your sight, he takes a bite of your so-called atrocity to discover it is not as bad as he thought, but not in a million years he would ever admit that to you or anyone else for that matter.

[gracefireheart]

Finally decided on what animal each of the mercs are for the TF2 x Beastars AU, so I'm making a new more clean post about it instead of adding it onto this rb train of mine.

So, let's get into it :]

First off, who is what animal:

Heavy - Eurasian Brown Bear

Medic - Alpine Ibex

Spy - Red [European] Fox

Scout - White-Tailed Jackrabbit (w/ some Red Fox mixed in)

Sniper - Dorset Horn Sheep

Demoman - Scottish Highland Bull

Soldier - Raccoon

Engineer - Blue Lacy [Dog]

Pyro - Gila Monster

Onto some side notes about the mercs in this AU (as well as some other stuff):

Like I wrote about in my fanfic for this AU (which you can read here if you wanna), Heavy is a bit bigger than the average Eurasian Brown Bear despite him not eating any meat. Tho', it also results in him having a weaker bite force. On the flip side, his arms are pretty powerful.

Out of the carnivores- who tend to get long, sharp nails- the only one that doesn't file them down is Soldier.

Scout's coat- as he grew older- began getting more and more tinted a red-ish orange color instead of it's usual gray-ish tan color. His tail is a bit longer than it should be, along with his nails being sharper (which he trims in secret). On the plus side, he is pretty fast, even in jackrabbit standards.

Medic has a few scars on his body he avoids showing anyone- especially Heavy and Scout- after a rather nasty night at the black market. The only ones that knows of it is Engineer (who helps clean the scars) and Spy ('cause of course he does). And ever since then, whenever he goes around the city, he always brings a bag with his trusted bonesaw, a scalpel, and a syringe inside of it.

Under his mask, Spy's fur around his face is graying a bit. As a lil' side note: He does eat meat, but avoids eating it in front of anyone. Even if he knows that Engineer (sometimes) and Soldier (quite a bit) eats meat as well.

Since it takes quite a lot to properly take care of wool, Sniper ends up just not really taking care of it. Which results in stuff getting stuck in it (like leaves, sticks, and so on), an awful time showering, and a grumbling doctor.

Due to how his hair is, Demoman always wears a headband to keep it out of his eye. On another note; While Heavy is the tallest carnivore of the group- and tallest overall- Demoman is the tallest herbivore.

Like Sniper, Soldier doesn't really take care of his fur, despite Demoman, Engineer, and Medic's best efforts to take care of it. His ears are also pretty scarred, but still works alright! If he didn't wear that helmet all the time, that is.

Being a type of dog, Engineer- whenever he isn't busy with a project- is the one to keep the other carnivores in line if they end up getting rowdy, or start losing themselves in their instincts.

Pyro does wear a mask all the time here as well- both to hide their more severe burn scars, and also to not accidentally poison someone with their venom- but only wears an asbestos-lined suit when their job calls for it. Their mask has at least one new sticker (to replace old stickers) plastered on it everyday, and their clothes tends to be decorated with patches that's sewed on, keychains, bracelets, and so on.

This one's gonna sound dirty af, but it's about horns, I swear. Out of the horned herbivores; Demoman's horns are the longest but are also somehow the thinnest, Medic's horns are the thickest (and just a tad shorter than Demoman's), while Sniper's horns are the shortest. These three- more notable Demoman and Medic- tend to get their horns accidentally hooked together and make them fall over eachother, over and over again.

I have ideas for other TF2 side characters for this AU, but I mostly have no clue what animals to give them. Except for Saxton, who gets to be a Red Kangaroo.

[thedisablednaturalist]

Office disability culture is so fucked in environmental science and fieldwork. Like the mindset that to do the job you have to be in perfect physical health or you should just quit. Like I'm not talking about something that is 100% physical labor here, everything is mostly achievable with aids and you don't need to be able to do every single thing. But there's this weird like..pride..that my older coworkers have. They work out in the gym and brag about how many reps they did. They tease each other for having medical issues. They don't ask for accommodations because they fear that their legitimacy will be hurt. That it means that they can't do their job anymore. That they won't be TRUSTED to do their jobs anymore. That it will get taken away.

So they FURTHER hurt their bodies by not resting, not taking breaks, not using ergonomic equipment, not using safety equipment. Not drinking enough water. Not using mobility aids when they are so old that it's supposed to be acceptable. They don't use the scooters at the grocery store, they don't use their handicapped placard, they don't use knee pads or compression gloves.

And here I come in, 24 years old, looking perfectly healthy. And I use walking sticks, I sit down a lot, I have my care bag, I have a ton of gadgets for making fieldwork more comfortable, I have boundaries and limits, I wear braces and knee pads and compression gloves. I use my handicapped placard.

They react in one of two ways:

1. How DARE I. I'm so lucky to be young and no one sees THEM having to do all those things (literally nothing is stopping them but pride). Like old man if you need a break take a fucking break. I'm not going to hurt my health to make you feel better about hurting yours. I'm not risking a flare up to spare the 65 year olds feelings. Im gonna take my break and use my equipment cause my boss doesn't care as long as the work gets done. I'm tired of glares from 100 year olds making themselves struggle across the parking lot when they could also be using the fucking scooter. (I never take the last scooter, there's always another available. Also it's not my fault if walmart only provides 2 scooters for the whole store).

2. It shows them its okay. Its okay to need aids. When I first showed up at my job it was very...macho..everyone was afraid of seeming old (theres probably only 3 of us under 30 in the whole department, most people are at least 50, mainly 65 year olds). Then they saw me using my walking sticks, taking my medicine openly, bringing a chair with me when working away from my desk, using my TENS unit. I overheard one lady ask her granddaughter what fibromyalgia was (apparently she had spotted my pain tracking journal).

My older coworker with a bad knee got a walking stick like mine and beamed when she showed me. The grandmother uses a cane and a walker interchangeably and more often. I get asked where I get my little portable fan and pocket heaters and special clothing. Even abled coworkers are doing it. My coworker who's younger than me sets alarms to take breaks now just like I do. People seem more comfortable using things that help them now.

My boss has really struggled. He has a lot of internalized ableism and hates thinking of himself as crippled. He spent his whole life physically active and strong and all these health issues and overexertion are catching up with him. Like he did environmental testing in areas with fucking radon. He did work where they threw asbestos around like snow for fun. He's done a ton of really hard physical work. He grew up with the mentality that pain was just something everyone has to push through. But I think seeing a young person make the choice not to push through is helping him a bit. He wants to make his own walking stick, he goes to the doctor more. We bond over having constant medical issues and I even gave him the name of my surgeon. Yea he still says stuff like "shoot me if I have to use a wheelchair" (not as much anymore since he now knows I use one) but he's getting there.

Yeah so I've had this in my drafts for a bit and I wanted to update that my boss has been walking around with a fucking broken ankle for the past couple of weeks. He thought it was just arthritis pain and eventually couldn't take it anymore and went to the foot doctor. The doctor has no clue how the fuck he's been walking on it. Now he has to wear the boot and he's banned from fieldwork while he heals.

Older people and the elderly need to learn that it's okay to not push through the pain and ask for help. Everyone needs to learn this, and not be like my fucking boss. Go to the doctor, get that sore joint checked out. Get those tests done. Use that aid. Stop walking on a broken ankle just because you can.

[hazardsoflove]

it’s these substandard motels on the la la la la la corner of 4th and fremont street appealing only cause they’re just that unappealing any practiced catholic would cross themselves upon entering the rooms have a hint of asbestos and maybe just a dash of formaldehyde and the habit of decomposing right before your very la la la la eyes along with the people inside what a wonderful caricature of intimacy inside what a wonderful caricature of intimacy tonight’s tenants range from a lawyer and a virgin accessorizing with a rosary tucked inside her lingerie she’s getting a job at the firm come monday the missus will stay with the cheating attorney moonlighting aside she really needs his money a wonderful caricature of intimacy yeahhhhh yeahhhhh aaaaaand not to mention the constable and his proposition for that virgin yes the one the lawyer met with on strictly business as he said to the missus well only hours before after he had left she was fixing her face in a compact there was a terrible crash there was a terrible CRASH between her and the badge she spilled her purse and her bag and held a purse of a different kind along with the people inside what a wonderful caricature of intimacy inside what a wonderful caricature of intimacy there are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses it’s sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses at the shade of the sheets and before all the stains and a few more of your least favorite things raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses it’s sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses at the shade of the sheets and before all the stains and a few more of your least favorite things inside what a wonderful caricature of intimacy inside what a wonderful caricature of intimacy [cello solo] raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses it’s sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses at the shade of the sheets and before all the stains and a few more of your least favorite things raindrops on roses and the girls in white dresses and the sleeping with the roaches and the taking best guesses at the shade of the sheets and before all the stains and a few more of your least favorite things

[ophanic]

The Only Tourist in Havana Turns His Thoughts Homeward by Leonard Cohen

Come, my brothers,

let us govern Canada,

let us find our serious heads,

let us dump asbestos on the White House,

let us make the French talk English,

not only here but everywhere,

let us torture the Senate individually

until they confess,

let us purge the New Party,

let us encourage the dark races

so they'll be lenient

when they take over,

let us make the CBC talk English,

let us all lean in one direction

and float down

to the coast of Florida,

let us have tourism,

let us flirt with the enemy,

let us smelt pig-iron in our back yards,

let us sell snow

to under-developed nations,

(It is true one of our national leaders

was a Roman Catholic?)

let us terrorize Alaska,

let us unite

Church and State,

let us not take it lying down,

let us have two Governor Generals

at the same time,

let us have another official language,

let us determine what it will be,

let us give a Canada Council Fellowship

to the most original suggestion,

let us teach sex in the home

to parents,

let us threaten to join the U.S.A.

and pull out at the last moment,

my brothers, come,

our serious heads are waiting for us somewhere

like Gladstone bags abandoned

after a coup d'état,

let us put them on very quickly,

let us maintain a stony silence

on the St. Lawrence Seaway.

[deepinifhell]

Warning: Gleeful Logistical Rambling Ahead Can we discuss the Agency Clean-Up crews? Like, they have to be a whole CSI team and construction crew and Theatre company and weird HGTV coven at the same time. They have to be some of the weirdest people you have ever met, even at the Agency. You thought the field agents were weird? Think again.

Sure, presumably they can get access to all of the cameras everywhere which helps significantly with exterior work and some interior work. They can also go through the rubble and locate chips of paint and other evidence to help, but what about like bathrooms and stuff? Are there Clean-Up agents who just spend their time scouring social media in search of people's bathroom selfies so they can match the moulding? Does someone have to call the contractor someone used years ago and create an elaborate story as to why they need to know random details of a remodel? Do they keep divination magic users around just to divine random details like this? We know things like creating blood seems to require quite a lot of energy, so I feel like it's not feasible to use magic all the time. They definitely have to have at least some magic users on hand though in order to recreate irreplaceable objects. Like your great-grandmother's crochet blanket cannot be replicated in an evening any other way. Is there like an oracle and set designer teaming up to appropriately crinkle and paint grease stains on messy!Detective's food bags?

Speaking of molding (the spore kind this time), I feel like you have to recreate at least the visible mold either by getting someone to regenerate using nature magic or by painting on fake mold but do they have to put back the asbestos? Or lead paint? or mold inside the walls? Who gets assigned this job and who procures the stuff? Is there some like troll or something whose job is just to put the asbestos back into walls cause he's both invulnerable to mesothelioma and buff?

[gothicprep]

I think one of the weirder experiences of my life was showing up to an ex-partner’s apartment building with an overnight bag that was basically a reusable shopping bag packed with clothing and cosmetics. i was idling at the door and one of their neighbors was like, “oh, are you an Instacart driver? Come on in.”

I explained I wasn’t, and they came downstairs a minute after that happened.

and they went on to complain about a breaking and entering that happened. I had to bite my tongue and not say, “not shocking, people will just let you in here if you have a reusable grocery bag on your person.”

also, what was the logic there? did they think I was going to dump the contents of the grocery bag on someone’s doormat and leave? has this building been checked for asbestos??