#stories

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weaselle:borinquenaqueer:thirtyknives:mooncustafer:captain-snark:Kudos to the fucker in the back Lov

weaselle:

borinquenaqueer:

thirtyknives:

mooncustafer:

captain-snark:

Kudos to the fucker in the back

Love that everybody’s response to this has been: “Look, if the food Tyler made is good enough to deserve compliments, Tyler deserves compliments. Don’t be a snob.”

TELL TYLER HIS FRIES FUCK OR SO HELP ME

if someone is STONED and cooks something tasty enough to deserve compliments, either i’m stoned too & this food may be of questionable quality, or he’s a goddamn miracle worker because I tried to make grilled cheese while high once and slapped my hand in the butter and started crying. Tyler deserves ALL the compliments.

whenever i’m a server (like one year out of every three for two decades) i always ALWAYS tell the cooks when someone says something nice about the food

because they sure as fuck hear when someone hates it, and it’s not fair if that’s the only thing they hear


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stories

oh-mother-of-darkness:

Ran into my seventeen year old brother in the kitchen at 1am last night and when I asked him what he was doing he just shrugged, said “these are my roaming hours,” and walked off strumming vaguely on his guitar

dycefic:

writing-prompt-s:

Two identical infants lay in the cradle. “One you bore, the other is a Changeling. Choose wisely,” the Fae’s voice echoed from the shadows. “I’m taking both my children,” the mother said defiantly.

Once upon a time there was a peasant woman who was unhappy because she had no children. She was happy in all other things – her husband was kind and loving, and they owned their farm and had food and money enough. But she longed for children.

She went to church and prayed for a child every Sunday, but no child came. She went to every midwife and wise woman for miles around, and followed all their advice, but no child came.

So at last, though she knew of the dangers, she drew her brown woolen shawl over her head and on Midsummer’s Eve she went out to the forest, to a certain clearing, and dropped a copper penny and a lock of her hair into the old well there, and she wished for a child.

“You know,” a voice said behind her, a low and cunning voice, a voice that had a coax and a wheedle and a sly laugh all mixed up in it together, “that there will be a price to pay later.”

She did not turn to look at the creature. She knew better. “I know it,” she said, still staring into the well. “And I also know that I may set conditions.”

“That is true,” the creature said, after a moment, and there was less laugh in its voice now. It wasn’t pleased that she knew that. “What condition do you set? A boy child? A lucky one?”

“That the child will come to no harm,” she said, lifting her head to stare into the woods. “Whether I succeed in paying your price, or passing your test, or not, the child will not suffer. It will not die, or be hurt, or cursed with ill luck or any other thing. No harm of any kind.”

“Ahhhhh.” The sound was long and low, between a sigh and a hum. “Yes. That is a fair condition. Whatever price there is, whatever test there is, it will be for you and you alone.” A long, slender hand extended into her sight, almost human save for the skin, as pale a green as a new leaf. The hand held a pear, ripe and sweet, though the pears were nowhere ripe yet. “Eat this,” the voice said, and she trembled with the effort of keeping her eyes straight ahead. “All of it, on your way home. Before you enter your own gate, plant the core of it beside the gate, where the ground is soft and rich. You will have what you ask for.”

Keep reading

#PointandShoot #stories with #muse @karina__korr (at Vilnius, Lithuania) https://www.instagram.com/p

#PointandShoot #stories with #muse @karina__korr (at Vilnius, Lithuania)
https://www.instagram.com/p/CSHhuCDIAuC/?utm_medium=tumblr


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prokopetz:

prokopetz:

whitemarbleblock:

prokopetz:

drneverland:

prokopetz:

unsurpassedtravesty:

prokopetz:

Some of my favourite urban sights:

  • Bricked-up windows
  • Upper-storey doorways that open into empty space
  • Staircases that lead nowhere
  • Clean, working, fully stocked vending machines in obscure and inaccessible places
  • Detailed graffiti on surfaces with no obvious spot for the artist to stand, like the underside of a high bridge, or ten metres up a bare wall
  • Machinery left to rust because there’s no use for it anymore, but it’s in a weird or precarious location and there’s no way to safely remove it

(I’m sure there’s a theme here…)

I’ve been rereading Unknown Armies again recently and there’s a part of me that wants to find occult significance for this sort of nonsense.  But then, I kind of enjoy looking for occult significance for a lot of nonsense.

I’m not convinced that there isn’t some occult significance to some of these. The vending machine in particular stems from what’s definitely one of the weirdest experiences I’ve ever had.

First, some context: I don’t know if it’s like this everywhere, but major Canadian cities tend to have a lot of underground infrastructure - particularly in their downtown areas, where train tunnels, parking garages, underground shopping malls, and hotel basements often connect in such a way that you can easily walk for miles without ever seeing sunlight. The interconnections typically aren’t public, or at least not advertised, but a surprising number of them are accessible if poke around; I once followed a maintenance tunnel in a shopping mall parking complex and emerged in the basement of a nearby casino!

Anyway, I was snooping around in the maintenance tunnels below one of the larger local hotels - legitimately, mind you; I was working for the local telecom at the time, trying to track down an errant network cable - when I rounded a bend and noticed that the corridor a few dozen feet ahead of me was brightly illuminated by something. On top of being filthy and difficult to access, the tunnel was also unlit (I’d been navigating by flashlight), so this really stood out.

I couldn’t see any obvious light fixture to account for it - the light seemed to be emerging from an alcove off to the side of the tunnel - so I went to investigate, and discovered… a Coke machine.

Spotlessly clean, fully stocked, and apparently in full working order; the illumination was coming from its interior display lighting.

In a grimy, unlit maintenance corridor twenty feet below ground level.

In retrospect, I’m kind of glad I didn’t have any change on me at the time, because I’d have been sorely tempted to buy something, and who knows how that would have worked out.

This is like those (____) Gothic posts.

Infrastructural gothic should totally be a thing.

(Honestly, working with infrastructure is a bit like living in a video game, at times. I once had to navigate an honest-to-gods jumping puzzle in order to track down a missing router, all hopscotching from beam to beam and dodging hanging bits of machinery inside the pitch-black vault of a false ceiling, with nothing but a thin layer of cardboard veneer between me and a thirty-foot drop to the floor of the ballroom below. And then there was time I installed a giant laser on top of a skyscraper and pointed it at City Hall…)

Can it be story time forever? Please, good sir, tell us more. 

Okay, sure. This one isn’t weird or creepy, but it’s definitely in line with the whole “infrastructural gothic” thing, and anybody who’s worked corporate may find the circumstances of it hauntingly familiar.

Another gig for a local telecom (though a different one from the vending machine story): I’d been tasked to track down a phantom server. It was an old database box - probably it’d been running for twenty years at that point - and it was normally administered remotely.

Well, it had finally developed an issue that needed to be addressed in person - and here’s the catch: owing to the company’s high staff turnover (to say that they had a personnel retention problem would be an understatement), there was literally no-one left who’d ever laid eyes on the thing. In fact, nobody knew where it was physically located at all!

I ended up having to work backwards, mapping out the building’s network topology, identifying the nearest router whose physical location was known, and physically tracing the cabling as it snaked through the walls and ceilings in order to find where it ended up.

(Luckily, the phantom server had been set up before wireless networking was commonplace - otherwise the little bastard could have been anywhere.)

Finally I narrowed it down to the exact cable the phantom server was using to communicate with the outside world. Nothing can ever be straightforward, though, so a new problem faced me: the cable disappeared under a baseboard on one side of a wall and simply never came out the other side. That was a big problem: if it ran for any distance inside the wall, I might have had to start tearing out drywall in order to figure out where it went.

Before anybody broke out the sledgehammers, it occurred to me that the dimensions weren’t adding up. In the absence of a floorplan, I had to eyeball some measurements, but it seemed like there was a gap of several feet between one side of the offending wall and the other, about what you’d expect if there was a closet there - but there was no door to be found.

Long story short, it turned out that what had happened is that at some point in the preceding decade, an inattentive (or perhaps simply overzealous) contractor had drywalled over the door to a server closet, without first checking whether there was anything inside. Since the phantom server was remotely administered, and it had never had a problem demanding physical intervention before that point, nobody had noticed that it was now literally sealed inside a wall, all Cask of Amontilladostyle.

My job was simply to find the thing, not to fix it, so I never did find out how the situation was resolved, but I’d loved to have been a fly on the wall at the resulting meetings.

Well, I’ve been asked about the laser like a dozen times, so. Sadly, the story’s less interesting than the one-line summary makes it sound, but here goes.

It was another gig for one of the local telecoms (you may detect a theme), this time to get City Hall up on fibre optics. Most private offices in town had gotten fibre optic network service years ago, and the civic infrastructure was basically playing catch-up; I’m given to understand that getting City Hall on fibre was mostly a political gesture toward keeping with the times, since they didn’t really need the bandwidth, but whatever - it’s not the networking technician’s place to question why!

In principle, it should have been an easy task. There’s a lot of underground dark fibre all over town, left over from the dot-com bubble, and most of it’s gone totally unused since the whole WDM fiasco cratered demand for optical bandwidth - most of the time, it’s a simple matter of finding a dark line that goes vaguely where you need it to and lighting that sucker up. For a variety of reasons, however, there was no dark fibre running to City Hall. Something about being unable to excavate due to the presence of historic statues, I think - I never did get the details.

Basically, some bright folks came up with an idea to bypass the need for physical fibre. One of the local hotels had dark fibre running all the way up to the top floor, and thanks to its elevation (and the fact that this province doesn’t really have topography), there was an unobstructed line of sight between the hotel roof and the roof of City Hall. The plan was to light up the hotel fibre and hook it up to a giant fucking laser on the roof, pointed at a large optical sensor on top of City Hall. A similar laser at City Hall would send data back to a matching receiver atop the hotel, thus establishing an open-air optical link.

i was responsible for the hotel end of the link, so up I went. Now, there’s a couple of things you need to know about this scenario:

  • Out here on the Canadian prairie, once the wind gets going, there’s nothing to really get in its way. It’s not uncommon for a particularly windy day to sport winds of up to 50 km/h, with gusts approaching 90 km/h. This was, in fact, a particularly windy day.
  • Fibre optics are greasy. Both for ease of installation and to prevent the hair-thin glass threads from kinking or rubbing once in place, large fibre bundles often have their protective cladding coated - inside and out - with a thick petroleum-based gel. It’s gummy and slippery, and when you cut into a fibre bundle it gets absolutely everywhere.

So there I am, on a high roof with no safety rails, tethered so as not to get blown away, covered head to toe in fibre spooge, attempting to set up this goddamn laser cannon without smudging the lens. Given the distance involved, being even a millimeter off with the aim could cause the beam to miss City Hall entirely, so this was an exceedingly delicate operation; I basically had to clamp adjustable spanners onto the aligning bolts, then very gently tap the wrench handles with a small hammer, carefully checking the calibration sensors after each tap to see whether I was getting further from or closer to dead on.

In the end, it was almost as much fun as the time I got stuck inside a wall because I was the only member of the crew who wasn’t too fat to fit through the maintenance hatch - but that, as they say, is another story.

(For bonus fun, the aforementioned bright folks screwed up their calculations with respect to interference from airborn particles. Their math would have been fine in a typical community, but out here we’re in the middle of sprawling farmland, and the amount of macroscopic crud in the air during planting and harvesting simply wasn’t accounted for in their models. Long story short, the thing doesn’t even work very well half the year!)

The full #smokingfetish story, that basically got inspired from this one picture, somehow:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1F8ez3ykF_eYBhEjcFWxFMFuRFNAqZzfw/view?usp=drivesdk

portraitoftheoddity:

Thinking about how my mom tried to “seduce” my dad when they were in college together by sneaking oranges into his backpack, because she grew up food insecure and feeding someone/sharing food was a big deal with her upbringing with a lot of emotional meaning–

and meanwhile my poor dad is just convinced that he’s been haunted by some citrus poltergeist because why the fuck are there always oranges in his bag he swears he did not put there???

kedreeva:

kedreeva:

randommiscellaneousthings:

kedreeva:

I had to have a minor medical procedure today and the important thing is that they anesthetized me for it. I warned them up front that I do not wake up well from anesthesia, as in I wake up belligerent over my disorientation and ready to escape unfamiliar surroundings, and asked them to please make sure Sark was in the room when I woke up.

Highlights from today include:

  • They did notmake sure Sark was in the room when I woke up
  • Thehot second I had any amount of consciousness returned, I attempted to get out of the bed and was thwarted by the railing they left up and my technician repeatedly telling me to lie down, which I did not because I was CERTAIN that I needed to leave.
  • I tried to remove my IV myself 15+ times in under 3 minutes and told the technician I could do it. I could not; I had asked the nurse who put it in to put extra tape on it so that I could not. I could also not remove the rest of the things they had me connected to, but only because I couldn’t figure out how, not for lack of trying
  • I could not remember the technician’s face because my facial blindness is MUCH worse when tired, and I called him Steven several times, and Josh. His name was Andrew.
  • My gown slipped down my shoulder in my struggles to escape, and the technician attempted to replace it and I told him “you’ve seen a boob, Steven.” His name was still Andrew, and the procedure space was an open outpatient area with other people
  • I was instructed not to bend over or the anesthetic would ‘rush to my head’ to which I responded in outrage “WELL WHERE THE HELL IS IT NOW?”
  • I asked everyone present “who the hell are you” and insisted the doctor tell me how to say her first name. They asked me if I remembered Sark when he arrived a minute later, and I stalled out entirely staring at him like a deer in headlights because I could not parse how he got there.
  • When they brought Sark in, the technician asked him “Does she normally wake up like this” and Sark told him “Depends on when you wake her up.” which is very fair of him because he remembers that I was woken at 4am once by someone honking their horn repeatedly because they wanted to fight my neighbor, and I charged outside in pajamas across a field to go attack their car while shouting about how rude they were and that they could fight me. They did not want to fight me, if you were wondering.
  • Sark told me they fetched him from the waiting room by saying “maybe you can come calm her down.”
  • This all happened in approximately 5 minutes, before I had gotten control of myself and could remember Andrew’s name and shape.
  • Andrew told me goodbye at the door and thanked me for being his most amusing patient today.

At least I managed to put my own clothes on and walk out the front door unassisted this time.

… “this time“?

Yeah the last time I was anesthetized, as soon as I was conscious I managed to actually make it out of the bed, naked and confused, and the doctor was like “well good luck with that” and left me squirming on the floor like an overturned turtle, shouting angrily at my mother that I could put my own clothes on while being entirely incapable of actually doing so. I remember being in the car afterward but not how I got there. I feel like this time was a vast improvement for me. Really taking a leap forward in dignity.

There are quite a few people reblogging this who are very angry on my behalf because the staff didn’t listen to me and have Sark in the room when I woke up, and while it is very valid to be angry at the medical community in general for not listening to patients, I feel I need to make it clear that Sark being in the room was not for my benefit, it was for theirs. I would have done nothing different. I absolutely would still have attempted freedom and been just as belligerent. Sark has absolutely no ability to calm me down in that state, but he would have made Andrew’s job easier for him, like some kind of rehabber that is better at handling the feral raccoon than the vet that’s just trying to do their job. Instead Andrew got to babysit my uncoordinated escape attempts personally, which I am positive he regretted enough to make up for not listening to me.

Self-analysis


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beaft:

beaft:

this morning when i woke up i had sleep paralysis so to pass the time i pretended that i was battling an invisible wizard who had cast an immobilising spell on me, and i focused on this wizard and thought at him “YOU HAVE NO POWER HERE” in a really loud mental voice, and as soon as i did that the paralysis went away like literally immediately

I defeated the wizard

The fact that I can’t have you makes me want you even more. I don’t know you, so I make up the wilde

The fact that I can’t have you makes me want you even more.

I don’t know you, so I make up the wildest stories about you and me…


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image

무엇이든 물어보세요!
(https://instagram.com/stories/thv/2800964007874549165)

Ask me anything!

image

: Taehyungssii

V: 안녕하세요?
(https://www.instagram.com/stories/thv/2800970050558015241/)

: Taehyungssii

V: Hello, are you doing well?

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: 뭘 물어봐야할지 모르겠어 :(

V: 나도 처음이라 신기함..
(https://www.instagram.com/stories/thv/2800974017631381043/)

: I don’t know what to ask :(

V: This is a first for me too so it’s fascinating..

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: 오늘 밤 함께 별을 보자? ✨

V: 정확히 2시간 뒤 거기서 보세요 저 여기서 볼게요⭐️
(https://www.instagram.com/stories/thv/2800974741526483719/)

: Let’s look at the stars together tonight ? ✨

V: Exactly two hours later, look at them from over there, I’ll look at them from over here⭐️

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무엇이든 물어보세요!

Ask me anything!

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: Taehyung come to france !

V: J'aime tellement la France
(https://www.instagram.com/stories/thv/2800995559862138110/)

: Taehyung come to france !

V: I love France so much

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: or

V: 그래 마지막으로 이거 하고 끝내죠! 이야 무엇이든 물어보기.. 어렵다
(https://www.instagram.com/stories/thv/2800999856658060784/)

: or

V: Okay yes let’s do this last one and end it here! Oh man this ask me anything.. it’s hard

당신의 선택은
곰 | 호랑이
(https://www.instagram.com/stories/thv/2801005915314431761/)

Your choice
Bear | Tiger

곰 승
(https://www.instagram.com/stories/thv/2801011716716457357)

Bear wins

Trans cr; Annie & Aditi @ bts-trans
© TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

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