#hvac screening

[sesakamonster]

Charlotte Container Garden Patio Patio container garden - medium-sized, unprotected concrete paver patio container garden idea for the backyard

[ovalnews]

Reset Pivi Pro, Reset Infotainment Screen for Range Rover, Defender, Discovery

Adding this for reference since things changed with the MY24 physical controls purge. For Pivi Pro vehicles prior to 2024, with central volume knob 1 –  Select Park (P). 2 – Hold the media power button down, AKA the central volume knob 3 – Continue to hold the media power button(volume knob) down, until the touchscreen goes blank, followed by the brand logo screen being displayed. 4- Release the…

[crow-aeris]

okay, so here's the seer!tim au i promised:

Tim, freezes on the rooftop, camera in hand as the pressure of a Vision creeps against his temples. He quickly sits down next to the HVAC unit, quietly lamenting the loss of some potentially beautiful pictures before closing his eyes.

His Visions weren't easy to deal with, and would always leave him with terrible headaches- especially if he didn't have his little ball with him. Sometimes, if he wasn't careful, the Vision would overlap with his current sight, creating a vertigo-like sensation that would NOT be good next to a freaking ledge.

So, he sits down like a good kid and breathes. Tim covers his eyes further with his forearm and gently accepts the Vision.

Does he know where the Visions come from? Nope! And neither does his parents, but Tim's still grateful he gets to have it, since-

No, focus. He has to focus. If he doesn't focus, then the Vision would remain as an overlay for up to an hour, and it would make getting down from a three story rooftop extremely difficult.

So, he focuses.

The world seemed to fall away as the sounds of the current gotham faded away to gotham, but different.

Vision-Tim opens his eyes and slips into their room. The decor was the same as Current-Tim's, and the placement of the trash was similar, though the discrepancies could be waved off as natural movements and shifting as time passed. When Vision-Tim looked at the date, Current-Tim shoved it to the back of his mind to review later.

But then, Vision-Tim looks at their laptop screen, and Tim- Both Tims- felt their breath hitch in shock, and the Vision is abruptly cut off as Current-Tim feels a hand against his shoulder.

He rips his arm from his face, ignoring how his brain SCREAMED at the sudden movement, and he looks up to see Robin- the second robin, his robin- staring down at him with a worried expression, batman hovering on the next roof over.

"Hey kid, you okay?" Robin- Jason- asks, "You're crying... do you want to talk about it?"

Tim freezes like a deer in headlights, two agonizingly long seconds filled with silence stretched between them when, in one fluid and sudden move, Tim darted away.

Jason called after him, but they weren't fast enough. Tim easily drowns in the shadows and disappears, leaving behind the confused duo and a air of quiet mystery.

But, five days later, even AFTER Tim had tried to warn the bats about Jason's impending death... They didn't listen, and the future played out like clockwork.

So, what could he do?

Well, Tim did what he does best, and takes matters into his own hands. He receives his visions, sometimes looking for them himself using his scrying ball, and deposits the information directly into the laps of the GCPD and the Bats like a cat of sorts.

on one of the nights, when he's calling on a burner phone to try and warn people of Batman's path, he says, "Rumor has it: Batman will be carving through the East End tonight. Stay home, and remain quiet."

And then, people start referring to him as Rumor, and it wasnt hurting anyone, so Tim never intervened and the name just... caught on.

Little did he know, Rumor was now on a certain Oracle's radar...

[copperbadge]

Hi! Just wanted to say you're a really cool person, a great writer and friend, and a positive presence in every space I've seen you in. People like you make the world a better place.

This came in yesterday and Anon, I gotta tell you, it was extremely well-timed. I appreciate it! I do my best to be all of those things. Probably don't always succeed, but how boring would life be if I did.

I'm pretty open about my mental health here -- more open than most expect, really, which always surprises me -- but one of the things I struggle with in a kind of ongoing low-grade way that I don't really talk about is knowing, or not knowing, what others think of me, and fretting about that in pointless ways. And I'm mature enough to know that asking for validation in the ways and at the frequency I'd want to isn't appropriate, especially since I know intellectually, if not emotionally, that yes of course people like me and care about me. I do okay with it all, and actually being clinically diagnosed as charming when I got my ADHD screening helped a great deal, but it's still just always there, lurking.

So it's...IDK, it's nice to hear from someone randomly and without any real reason to that they think I'm a cool and likable person. And yesterday between the HVAC flooding and some other personal stuff was a rough day, so it was super helpful. Thank you :)

[frances-kafka]

Thought living rent free in my head:

The future of space travel belongs more to the person with the 50 Bad Dragon dildos than it does to anyone resembling a midcentury test pilot.

The person who can live in 24/7 HVAC while staring at a screen, *that* is what golden age writers couldn't envision when they imagined that generation ships would just fall into disorder.

It's gooners that are optimized to be the middle generation on a gen ship.

Gooners are the future.

[belles1011]

Today’s Updates From Off Track (idk why I keep doing this cos no one asked but here we are)

- They talked about the chaos of Talladega and the big crash

- Alex would have gone to watch Pato race if he’d done the F1 rookie race this year and seemed genuinely sad that he wouldn’t 😭

- James likes matcha lattes now and Alex says he’s not an idiot

- Alex’s screen name today was “arson is annoying” and here’s why: his power obvs went out last week, he had a bachelor party in Montreal this weekend (he was the youngest by a lot) - got woken up in the middle of the night and there was a huge fire a few doors down with casualties. Alex went back to bed, and then got woken up cos the fire was in the rafters and sat in the foyer and ate sandwiches, then the power went out. Then they finally got back in, went back to bed but still no power - turns out it was a slum lord Canadian real estate guy, and it was arson with a lot of accelerants (some kind of gang war) - still no power and no HVAC but it’s a WILD story

- Alex got called a dumb bitch and giggled

- Alex has filed a claim with Airbnb because of course he did

- Alex didn’t used to get hangovers, he would just go to the gym the next day then to bed early the next night “and everything was fine” but now he’s in his 30s not so much

- They used hangover patches and they seemed to actually work but they genuinely questioned if they were adderall cos they worked so well (b vitamins in a patch format which you can actually buy - about 33 minutes if you want the details and a promo code haha)

- Tim has a new couch

- They talked a lot about scotch, whisky and bourbon but they lost me a bit there (James was hungover after the wedding but didn’t have any patches on him)

- James reminded Alex it was his wedding anniversary soon which thankfully he knew (they’re going to an island apparently ooooo)

- James has Petit Le Mans this weekend (hasn’t driven since March tho, hasn’t done this track since 2008) and is also doing NBC comms when he isn’t in the car

- Alex has his ECR test tomorrow

[carolmunson]

love language four

happy love language sunday. this episode brought to you by me having the 'another scorcher!' sears hvac commercial stuck in my head. (if she doesn't know this commercial she's too young for you bro!) there is a description in here for a 'confetti glitter cup' and i need you to know i don't mean the ones you know of today. i mean these ones from the 90s.

love language set list

sticky. melted popsicle on toddler hands hot. running to the ice cream truck hot. public pool day for the kids with some pocket money, home made sprinkler with the hose for the kids without it hot. every shriek of their laughter peirces your ears and you smile. you sit on an almost broken beach chair, the lounge kind, blue, green and white plastic suspending you in place. a trailer park duchess on her throne in her yellow polka dot bikini and cut off shorts. the tinny echo of the radio plays across the way where mrs. milly plays with her kids, beach ball in one hand over her head, baby milly on her hip in the other. her husband took the car for work so they couldn't have the pool day they wanted. you would've driven them if eddie hadn't been going to and from home depot all morning for parts.

in the cacophony of the tinny radio, the woosh of hoses, the bubbling laughter of kids, you hear the clang of metal on metal just a few feet away -- followed up by a grunt of frustration you knew all too well. that HVAC unit needed fixing at the end of winter but he forgot about it. forgot until it started to get too hot. kicking off the sheets hot. cold showers at night hot. 'don't touch me, it's too hot' hot. the moment you said it he knew it had to get fixed, the sun isn't gonna get between him and whats his. "you okay over there?" you ask, sipping your lemonade through a curly straw, the ice cold drink making condensation build on the confetti cup you inherited from your aunt. you cross your legs, losing a flip flop in the process. "mhm," he grunts. you look over, his messy curls tied up on the top of his head, tongue poking out of his lips. his tattoos glisten in the sun, covered in a sheen of sweat and sun screen. he's been stripped down to a pair of black jean shorts all morning and early afternoon, bandana dangling from the back pocket that he's been using to wipe off his face. the soft definition in his arms, back, and chest makes you feel girlish -- giggly. the park's mr. fix it -- all yours, all the time. until it's too hot. broken hvac during a heat wave hot. "do you want me to help?" you ask. you see his eyes peer over the top of the machine and give you a look that can only be understood as 'please stop talking'. you sip your lemonade again. mrs. milly's beach ball hits you on the top of the head with a soft 'bop!' and you laugh. you look back over to eddie holding back his own, desperate to stay focus and annoyed at the task at hand. if he giggles, the hvac will know and won't take him seriously anymore.

"sorry!" her four year old says, her seven year old waves his hands to get the ball back. you spike it over like you know how to play volleyball. you don't. another twenty minutes and the sounds of the park mix with your boyfriend's cussing, the clang of metal on metal, of wrenches and bolts being thrown against the side of the trailer. "hey, hey," you say, getting up off the nearly broken lounge, "stop that." you hurry over in your half way on flip flops, the strings of your bikini tickling your back. he takes in a deep breath through the nose and it's just too hot and humid for it to soothe him. you offer him your lemonade and he blushes over the sunburn pink on his cheeks. the ice cubes jiggle against the plastic, the confetti in the cup catches the light while he forgoes the straw and chugs it. he breathes heavy after, passing the cup back to you, empty. "thought i could fix it," he says softly between breaths, "wayne could always fix it. this stupid piece of shit." "fuck the hvac," you say with a smile. he laughs, taking the bandana out of his pocket and wiping the sweat from under his bangs, dampended and curly. "yeah, fuck it," he smiles back.

"fuck it!" you say again, giving it a little kick. something clicks and clinks inside of the machine and it roars to life. you both look at each other, eyes wide. the sun beats down on your both -- a reminder of the heat. 'can't believe a kick in flip flops fixed the hvac' hot. "you gotta be kidding me," he says, half mad, half surprised, "i've been out here all fuckin'' day." "maybe you did need my help," you smirk. he collects his tools, tossing them in the box, muttering an annoyed 'don't talk to me.' you head into the house, shutting the windows to keep the air in while you feel it start to fill the kitchen and living room. not quite cold, but the air flow was welcomed in the stagnant heat. you pour more lemonade for yourself and your mr. fix it boyfriend. your aunts recipe that just tastes better in confetti cups. he comes in, tossing the tool box on the table and sighs at the feeling of the air flow in the room. not cooled yet, not conditioned. just the flow. he sees your offering and smile spreads across his face. he's delicate in his sips now, using the curly straw you put in there, a clear blue -- shiny. "hm," he he says in relief, feeling the drink revive him now that the worst was over. he stalks over in his black cut off shorts, hands dirty, cupping them behind your thighs to lift you onto the counter. "hey," you protest, but not really. his fingers reaching behind your back to pull at the strings of your bikini, "s'too hot." "that's why i'm takin' it off," he smirks, knowing it won't be too hot in a half hour. you feel the scratch of his five o'clock shadow brush against your jaw while his tongue collects a stripe of sweat from your neck. lemonade and salt, margaritaville skin. "hm," you mumble at the feeling. "hm," he mumbles back. dirty hands on your waist. your relief at the blinds on the storm door being shut. too hot. neck kisses on the counter hot. bikini top on the kitchen floor hot. can't complain about it being too hot, hot. lemonade sips off your skin, hot. sticky.

[screenmobile]

Is Enclosing a Patio a Good Idea?

If you’ve been looking at your patio, wondering if it’s time to do something more with that space, you’re not alone. Plenty of homeowners in South Bend and beyond consider enclosing their patios for extra comfort, functionality, and even property value. But is it worth it? Let’s talk about it.

More Living Space Without the Hassle of a Full Remodel

Adding an enclosed patio is like giving your home a bonus room—without the headache of a major renovation. It’s less expensive than building an addition, doesn’t usually require major structural changes, and can be customized to suit your lifestyle.

A sunroom for year-round enjoyment – If you love the idea of a bright, airy space where you can enjoy natural light without dealing with wind, rain, or bugs, an enclosed patio could be your dream come true.

A safe play area for kids or pets – Families (especially with young kids or pets) appreciate having a controlled environment where little ones can play freely without running into the yard.

An extended entertaining area – Imagine hosting a get-together without worrying about rain ruining the fun. Enclosing your patio gives you more flexibility for gatherings, no matter the season.

Weather Protection—Because South Bend Gets a Little Unpredictable

Let’s be real—South Bend weather doesn’t always play nice. One day, it’s a warm, breezy afternoon; the next, you’re dealing with unexpected rain or even an early cold snap. An enclosed patio helps you stay comfortable no matter what’s happening outside.

Shield yourself from the elements – Rain? No problem. Sudden gusts of wind? You’re covered. Even in winter, you can still enjoy the space with a space heater or well-insulated windows.

Say goodbye to annoying bugs – Mosquitoes, wasps, and other pests love outdoor spaces. But if you enclose your patio with screens or glass, you can sip your coffee or enjoy an evening breeze without swatting at insects.

Reduce outdoor maintenance – Leaves, dust, and debris can make maintaining an open patio a chore. With an enclosure, you’ll spend less time sweeping and more time actually enjoying the space.

Adds Value to Your Home—But How Much?

If you’re considering enclosing your patio as an investment, the good news is that it often increases property value. While the exact return depends on materials, design, and overall execution, here’s why buyers and renters love enclosed patios:

More usable square footage – A functional enclosed patio can make your home feel bigger, which is always a selling point.

Energy efficiency benefits – Insulated enclosures help with temperature regulation, reducing the strain on heating and cooling systems.

Aesthetic appeal – A well-designed enclosed patio adds to your home’s overall look and charm, making it more attractive to potential buyers.

For those thinking about renting out their property—whether as a long-term rental or on platforms like Airbnb—a finished, enclosed patio can be a standout feature that commands a higher price.

But What About the Cost?

Of course, the big question is, how much will this set you back? The answer depends on materials, design, and whether you hire a professional or try the DIY route.

Screened-in patio – One of the more affordable options, adding a screened enclosure can range from $3,000 to $8,000, depending on size and quality.

Three-season room – A step up in both comfort and cost, a three-season enclosure (with insulated walls and windows) can run $10,000 to $25,000.

Four-season sunroom – The premium option, complete with HVAC integration, can go upwards of $30,000 to $50,000.

The key is balancing budget with what makes sense for your home. If you plan to stay for years, a high-quality enclosure is worth the investment. But if you’re thinking short-term, a simpler option might be better.

Choosing the Right Enclosure—Screened, Glass, or Hybrid?

Your enclosure choice depends on how you plan to use the space.

Screened patios – Best for warm-weather enjoyment, keeping bugs out while letting fresh air in. Affordable and easy to install.

Glass-enclosed sunrooms – Ideal if you want to use the space year-round. They provide more insulation but come at a higher cost.

Hybrid options – Some homeowners choose a mix of retractable screens and glass windows for flexibility.

Consider your local climate, lifestyle, and budget before making a decision.

Who Benefits Most from an Enclosed Patio?

An enclosed patio isn’t just a home upgrade—it’s a lifestyle improvement. Here’s who gets the most out of it:

Homeowners who love outdoor living but hate dealing with unpredictable weather.

Retirees looking for a relaxing, bug-free space to enjoy their morning coffee.

Families needing extra play space for kids and pets.

People with seasonal allergies who want fresh air without all the pollen.

DIY enthusiasts looking for a workshop area that isn’t exposed to the elements.

Remote workers who want a bright, peaceful home office.

Restaurant or café owners needing an all-weather seating area.

Final Thoughts

If you want more livable space, better weather protection, and a potential boost in home value, enclosing your patio is a solid move. While it does require an upfront investment, the comfort and usability it adds to your home often make it worthwhile.

Thinking about enclosing your patio in South Bend? Screenmobile South Bend specializes in high-quality enclosures tailored to your needs. Whether you want a screened patio for summer evenings or a full sunroom for year-round comfort, we can help.

Don’t wait—transform your outdoor space today with Screenmobile South Bend!

[rokurookajima]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

🥵 Any plans to write steamy or spicy content this year?

🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year?

🛳 Are there any new ships you want to write for? (Platonic, romantic, or anything in between.)

HAPPY NEW YEAR FRIEND!!!

🥵 any plans to write steamy or spicy content this year?

ohhhh you already KNOW!! i can't write anything without spicy content its just a necessity to me at this point. the waava free use agenda....will continue >:) that's the main thing i can say for sure, but also my original novel is like ... constantly spicy scenes so anything i write for that there is spice guaranteed. i've yet to write any spicy scenes with the two secondary protagonists (lock & jaye) so that is on the docket for sure

🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year?

honestly i'm not sure!! i mostly plan to just keep working on what i have been - finish claw machine, put more work into my original novel (bitter tooth) bc if i could possibly finish or come CLOSE to finishing that this year, that would be amazing (though idk what i'd do with myself when that day comes....). a "new" project i'd love to finally get going on if possible would be my graphic novel concept which i showed you those old "teaser trailer" pages for & i haven't made anything for it since. the plot is solid but i rlly wanted to take time to develop drawing skills further to where I wanted before actually rlly moving forward on it, and i feel like at this point, I at least am ready to revisit the character designs & revamp, and maybe....go somewhere from there!!! but it's called melancholy humor, its about an immortal and a demon overcome with their own ennui, maybe finally learning to live in the moment :')

🛳 Are there any new ships you want to write for? (Platonic, romantic, or anything in between.)

also hard to say!! the ships just kinda come at me out of nowhere (or more often, they're ships I've had forever and suddenly get the intense urge to write for again). i think.... I wanna possibly try my hand at sunstar at some point 👀 metalbanders au au.....or like. polyamory LMAO bc metalband raava cannot exist as herself without wan, but the hvac fiasco fallout + vaatu's gender ego death leaves open a world of possibilities doesn't ittttt. but platonic too, i want to just give vaatu more screen time --write more about him and raava's weird childhood relationship, their estranged teenage relationship, his painful horrible hideous hate filled not yet realized crush on wan. there is so much to explore

[procrazedfan]

Fanmily

Minnie Mae Murderface was the kind of gal who didn’t let anything stand in her way. Whether it was running from Johnny Law for blowing up illegal explosives in a swamp, drinking booze to numb the back pain, or outright diving in the lake to noodle for a catfish dinner, she never hesitated on any decision she made. The way she saw it, it was a waste of time hemming and hawing. It was better to take action than to sit around and wait to ask for permission. For right or wrong, at least something would be done.

That was probably why she didn’t hesitate to put in a little somethin’ extra in her Pa’s beer before she gave it to him.

Or why she didn’t look back when she crawled out the back window of the broken screen of Daddy’s trailer with nothing but her usual overalls, sneakers and tool kit.

Or why she didn’t stop walking when the sun rose again over the horizon of the ten-mile marker on the road.

All she knew was that she had better get free or die trying. Cause it was either that, or she'd have to go back to Pa.

Granted, he was alright for a Pa. He was nice enough to let her keep wearing overalls and play with the other boys her age when she was a youngin'. Taught her how to fix the truck, along with HVAC units, and all other things that would need fixing at the trailer or the junkyard. They even watched NASCAR together on Sundays.

It wasn’t until that preacher fella done come by their little ol’ nowhere town of Mount Pantera that her Pa went crazy. Suddenly, he’d gotten funny about what she should wear, was told to do less “men’s work” and more “women’s work”. Even the NASCAR on Sunday went away in favor of hearing that same preacher man on the pulpit.

If that was the only thing he was trying to change she could have tolerated it.

Trying to ignore the growing pain in her lower back, and took a swig out of the bottle of beer that she saved for herself for the trip.

The question was...where was she gonna go now?

Her Ma was buried six feet under, not that she remembered much of her. Her aunts and uncles nearby would just turn her back in to her Pa as soon as they could. And the rest of her extended family was Lord Knows where.

She chewed her red hair from her right pigtail, trying to think of a solution. It was a shame she didn’t have her fiddle on hand. That was useful for thinkin’. But she reckoned she had to travel light on an occasion such as this.

Minnie tried recalling any relatives that were out there in the world, far away from the quaint little ol’ town of Mount Pantera. The only place she knew her whole life. Who was at that family reunion last year?

A beat up car in the parking lot of the diner she was walking by had been blasting some kinda music she never heard of.

The rhythm was...heavy. The sound of the drums were consistent, and the sound of the guitars were low, like a war song for a march. The singer must’ve had a frog in his throat, because she could barely make out the words from the sound of his growling.

"Hungry and tired the frigid plain yields little

  We trudge on further, eating pride and snow that's brittle

  We ride

 We ride"

She grinned a little to herself with her tooth gap showing, imagining what it would be like if she had a horse to ride out of town on instead of her own mismatched feet.

-That was “The Lost Vikings” a Dethklok Classic, stay tuned to 5184MTL for metal hits old and new -

Where had she heard of Dethklok befo- her hazel eyes widened in revelation as she slapped her knee. It was Cousin Willy’s band! She remembered Granny Murderface braggin’ about it after she had one too many beers at the reunion last year.

Everyone called her Granny on account that she was the Murderface clan’s oldest living matriarch. And when she put her foot down, that meant her word was law, even though she retired to Florida some years back.

If anyone could get her out of this situation, it was Granny Murderface, she was sure of it.

Minnie Mae walked through the doors of Flotsam and Jetsam’s Diner with a spring in her step and a wrench in her hand.

“Got anything need fixin’ round here for a plate and a phonecall?”

[criminal-mids]

#7 - Hoodie

Prompt: Borrowed Hoodie 

Sickie: Garcia

Caretaker: Morgan 

Word Count: 1,411

“Hah? What? Since when!?”

Garcia can’t believe it. She swears she hadn’t heard a word of this until now, and she usually keeps a tab on office renovation schedules because she knows the noise bothers Reid.

“Listen, lady, we’re just the repair guys, it’s not our fault your bosses didn’t tell you. Take it up with them. We still have our job to do. Feel free to work somewhere else.”

“Some- this is my place!” Garcia tries not to shriek, but she can’t help it when they’re shoving her oh-so-carefully painted minifigures aside for their dusty work bags. She rolls her chair over just in time to prevent an elf from being crushed and scoops the rest of her plastic children into her skirt, just to be safe.

“And the aircon is old and falling apart, it's an OSHA violation waiting to happen. If you wanna be in here when it causes a spark, be my guest.”

“UGH!”

The repair only takes a half hour, and truthfully, she is grateful, grumble as she may. A fire or even too much smoke could kill her hard drives.

The real problem is when they finish.

“Um, could you turn the heat up a bit, please?” Even through her chattering teeth, she tries to be kind to the repairmen. She knows how hard they work.

“Sorry, ma’am, not yet. We’re still workin’ out some kinks. The HVAC’s been updated and we’re still trying to patch in the new system and the old system together. As I said before, other parts of the building will be warmer, but hey, you’re welcome to remain in your fortress of solitude if you want.”

She suppresses the urge to roll her eyes.

‘Can’t they see I’ve got a complicated setup?’

But, she shows no outward aggression. She’s not really that upset, just cold. “It’s fine. Thank you for your help. Could you at least tell me when it’ll be fixed?”

“Sometime in the next few days.”

She can tell that’s as good as she’s getting so she nods and waves as they head out.

Instead, she directs her ire towards the faulty machine itself.

“If I could hack you I would, but you're older than me, so you're safe . . . for now.” She holds up the minuscule screwdriver from her glasses repair kit as she glares at the aircon.

- She was being dramatic before, but she really is well and chilled now.

‘Ugh. Isn’t this just Bonita?’

“I’m a California girl, I wasn't meant for the cold.” She whines to her screens.

‘If I catch a cold, I’ll really be annoyed. And everyone knows my brain goes to complete mush when I’m sick. I’m useless. I can’t afford to be out of commission, not when the team seems busier than ever. Maybe I should move outside. I can always come back in here real quick if I need more computing power. The team’s still on the jet, so I’ve got some time to compile files.’

-

“Garcia, we need a list of all homicides involving victims with cuspids removed. Go back at least 10 years. We think this may be our unsubs signature.” Hotch’s voice is firm, but calm, as usual.

“You got it, cap’”

‘All those records, I’ll need my office for that, ah, oh well.’

She hurries back to her little corner of Quantico, opening the door to find that it has, somehow, gotten colder.

Still, she sits down and gets to work.

-

Just as she hits send and gets up to retreat to the land of warmth, her screen dings.

It’s Rossi this time.

“What can I do for ya, Italian amor?” Penelope finds it hard to keep a cheery tone with the cold blasting at her, making her lips quiver, but she hopes she manages.

Her effort is wasted because Rossi ignores the quip, pressing straight to business. Another request that requires her big screens.

“All these records are from the way back when before our good friend the internet. They’re unorganised at best. Combining through all of them will take a while, I’ll pull as many as I can, and send them to you as I get them.”

“Good.”

He hangs up. She sits back down, huffing.

“Potential OSHA violation? This is an OSHA violation right here!” She mutters, pulling her cardigan around herself. 

‘If I’d known I’d be working in Antarctica today I would’ve worn a jumper.’

Nevertheless, she begins.

—

Her hands are freezing, her fingers stiff and every click of the keyboard takes conscious effort. Okay, maybe she’s being dramatic, but she’s a California girl! Can you blame her?

Just when she thinks she’s done, more files under the search parameters come up. It’s unusually demoralising.

‘If only I had a jumper or something. Note to self, pack extra clothes for future emergencies. . . . Wait, emergencies! That's it!’

She springs up, with newly formed determination, and heads out to the bullpen.

She has a destination in mind, but as she draws closer, doubt creeps in.

‘I hope he won’t mind. Is this creepy? No, it’ll be fine, I’ll wear it, then put it right back like nothing ever happened at all. That’s what I’ll do.’

She reassures herself as she approaches Morgan’s desk. Everyone has two go bags, just in case they don’t have time to wash one set of clothes before departing again.

Garcia knows that in this bag she’ll most likely find one of Morgan’s many grey or black hoodies. And she’s right.

It’s right on top. She takes it gingerly, slipping it on, careful not to disturb her hair ornaments. It’s warm and soft.

With the extra layer, her office feels almost normal. 

Her typing speed quickens again until she’s at normal capacity. Rossi gets the data within the next 15 minutes.

She sighs, happy with her work.

And, now that she takes time to notice it, ‘This hoodie does smell nice.’

She catches herself, then remembers she’s alone and takes another deep sniff. Morgan’s detergent has a pleasant smell that reminds her of him. Yeah, this was a good decision.

—

“Give us the best you got, pumpkin.” Morgan teases

“Oh, that’s for your ears only, handsome.” 

“I know. I’m going to transfer to video call, so you better be decent.”

“Never.” She teases with a theatrically breathy sigh.

The video chat opens revealing the team gathered around a desk, and maps in front of them.

“So Garcia, what did you find on-”

Prentiss cuts Reid off, “Wait, is that Morgan’s hoodie?”

Penelope blanches. “Wh-hat?” After a second of hesitation, she looks down, hoping by some miracle that all she’ll find is her cardigan and dress, but she already knows. She can still smell the detergent. “Oh, I- they were fixing the aircon in my office and it’s colder than the Fortress of Solitude in here so I just . . . I honestly don’t know what I was thinking! I wasn’t, I was just really cold! I can take it off. Let me just . . .” She fumbles with the hoodie, starting to pull it over her head.

“Slow down, baby girl. You look even cuter when you’re in my clothes, and I can’t have you catching a cold now can I, hmm?”

Penelope makes a noise somewhere between a squeak and squeal. “ . . . okay.”

Rossi clears his throat loudly, “Now, tell us what you found, we’re running out of time to find Kate.”

“Yes, at your service.” Still shaken, but with a new warmth in her chest, she continues.

—

“Baby girl, you in here?” Morgan’s familiar warm timbre drifts in from the door over the audio of an RPG game.

“Yes.” She blushes fiercely.

“I talked to Max and he said the system would be back to normal by tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank god. . . . I guess I should give this back to you then.” The end of the sentence is noticeably less enthusiastic than the beginning.

“Well, I was actually thinking you should keep it. Gotta mark my territory, don’t I?”

Penelope giggles, getting up to hug him.

He smells even nicer in person . . . like home, sometimes more so than the dozens of candles that fill her flat.

“Yeah.” then softer, “I’d wear a collar for you, Derek Morgan, you know that.”

“Tempting, but that can wait till tomorrow, it’s late, and even girl geniuses need their sleep.”

What a day, huh? And tomorrow she could come back to a warm office. Gideon was right, like he always said, life really is about the small things.

[dollsahoy]

In case no-one told you since that post was made 9 years ago

in which I express a series of disagreements with a very old post that still circulates largely unchallenged

Bras last longer when they're air-dried, yes, and they last even longer when they're hand-washed. Chuck 'em into a sink of warm water and detergent, swish them around a little, then leave them for a few hours; drain the sink, refill a little, and swish the bras--repeat this a few times until the water is clear, then hang them to dry

If you have a 'problem' with frizzy hair, you may actually have curly or wavy hair. The internet is full of advice for how to treat it (be aware of the "no chemicals!!!!!" approaches and their overzealous adherents)

White laundry stays whiter when you wash only whites in a load, even with cold water

You can kill a lot of the bacteria in a kitchen sponge with microwaving or a dishwasher cycle, but there aren't that many dangerous pathogens in there to begin with. If the idea of dirty sponges still icks you out, consider using knit or crocheted dishcloth scrubbies, which you can wash in the regular laundry after every use

All the top search results I looked at that talk about he benefits of airing out your home seem to be websites that are directly trying to sell you windows/screens or HVAC service, and they don't include sources, often repeat the false idea that houseplants filter air, and don't at all mention the idea that airing out your house will keep insects from coming in. (This isn't saying not to air out your space--my window is open right now--just that it may not have the miraculous benefits promised. Open your window if you want to, but not doing so won't lead to infestation and doom.)

Hair does not need to be "sleek and beautiful" (see the second point above)

Dryer sheets, and fabric softener in general, only give the sensation of soft clothes because they coat the fibers with a substance, which eventually forms a build-up that can't be easily removed (both on the clothes and in the machines, and, no, vinegar is not a good substitute.) I'm actually not clear on how the act of removing lint from the lint trap takes so long that you need a dryer sheet hack to make it go faster, which was the advice given in the post...unless lint from fabric softened laundry is...stickier?...than otherwise? I haven't used fabric softener for a very long time, so I genuinely don't know. I can quickly roll the lint off of our dryer lint trap screen with my fingers.

Washing your face every day may not be the best approach for everyone, as skin varies wildly among people, especially when aging is considered. (Removing make up is important, though)

(not a rebuttal to the post, but the above applies to hair, too. Washing every day may not be optimum for everyone.)

Take your laundry out of the dryer when it's still warm whenever possible to avoid wrinkles, yes, but don't fold it when it's still warm or the folds will be set in as they cool. I drape/stack the clothes on the dryer door as I take them out, then lay them on top of the basket until I put them away, folding then as needed.

Again: there are always multiple approaches to a lot of everyday activities, and none of them are going to work for everyone, not even the things I presented here. If you've never thought of something before, the first way it's presented to you isn't necessarily the best way.

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

On Death's Doorstep (pt 46/52)

[<<First],,,,[<Prev],[Next>] [ODD Masterlist]

Word count: 1331

Rating: teen

Pairings: none in this part

Warnings: espionage, guns, fire

~~~START~~~

The front desk secretary was talking to some kind of workman when Sophie arrived at the office. She caught a snippet of their conversation as she passed, something about the HVAC system in the basement, nothing she needed to bother with. 

Sophie made her way up to her floor and went about her business like normal. Janus had about an hour to figure out what obstacles would be present in the office before Gemini began their distraction a couple blocks away — close enough to draw the office’s attention, but far enough away that an evacuation would not be called for. 

“I’m in position,” the communicator in their ear chirped with Roman’s voice. 

I’m at Sophie’s desk. Janus texted, hiding their hands with their illusion. 

“Janus is at their desk,” Roman reported in case Remus wasn’t in a position to check her phone. 

Janus would be in constant communication with both a Roman and a Remus duplicate throughout their mission — or at least for as long as the duplicates lasted. The duplicates would have access to their respective hive minds to know what Logan and Gemini were doing, but they would only relay relevant information back to Janus. 

Remus didn’t respond, but Janus wasn’t worried. They logged in to Sophie’s computer and began scanning her emails for anything pertaining that particular day. They had just moved on to hacking into the security systems — with screen hidden, of course — when Remus finally responded. 

“I’m in the men’s bathroom!” She informed them chipperly. 

“Ew, why?” Roman asked. Janus did their best to tune out this conversation. 

“I’m a janitor. Plus, there’s no cameras in here.” Director Agon appeared to be out of the office today, but her secretary, Jared Rodgers, was still at his desk in front of her office. 

“Can you really be sure the bathroom’s empty?” There was slightly less security in the building due to Agon’s absence. 

“As sure as you can be that the basement’s empty. There’s an out of order sign on the door.” Other than Agon and her personal security guards’ absence, everything and everyone looked to be in exact order as Janus had been anticipating. This would be child’s play. 

The twins continued to bicker — though why they had to do it where Janus could hear them was beyond them — as Janus hacked the security cameras to loop footage of Rodgers. 

Go time. They texted, this time Roman didn’t read it out. 

A couple minutes later, the background chatter of the office shifted in pitch as attention was drawn to Gemini’s attack on city hall. Most of the chatter was detached gossip about what the supervillain could want; a few people expressed some concern over safety, but for the most part people felt safe in the office. 

Sophie sent her report on Logan Berry to the printer as one Gemini duplicate broke a fire hydrant, soaking one of the reporters who’d gotten too close. Once her report was printed, she gathered it up and headed towards the stairwell. A colleague pointed out that the elevators would be faster — and easier — but Sophie laughed the suggestion off with a joke about being “bikini ready” for her upcoming vacation; the colleague laughed too, and Sophie disappeared into the stairwell. 

This, Janus thought ruefully, is what Logan’s stupid ‘no elevator’ policy has been preparing me for. They intended to climb ten flights up to Agon’s office — rather than the three flights to Sophie’s supervisor’s office — in the cameraless stairwell, then disguise themself from Rodgers with a mental illusion and hopefully enter Agon’s office unnoticed by man or technology. 

Janus cursed the heels Sophie usually wore to work with every clack-clack against the concrete stairs. Sounds echoed around them, but they were fairly certain they were alone in the stairwell. 

And even if I’m not, they reminded themself, she’s allowed in the stairwell. This isn’t that suspicious. 

They were practically out of breath when they finally reached the floor Agon’s office was on, but they stood a moment and forced their breathing into a more regular rhythm. Show time. 

Janus would need to at least see Rodgers if they were going to project a mental illusion onto him, so they popped the stairwell door open, just a crack, as quietly as they could. Through the crack, they could just barely make out the secretary, gaze focused on his computer screen. 

Usually, Janus’s mental illusions were some kind of midirects — images that weren’t actually there, or sounds they weren’t really hearing — but this time, they used their powers to erase all traces of themself from Rodgers’s notice. Even with this layer of protection — as well as the altered security cameras — Janus still made their way carefully across the room from the stairs to Agon’s office door. 

Rodgers didn’t react. 

Agon’s office door was locked, but getting through locked doors was old hat to Janus. It took them slightly longer than usual to pick the lock, but as with most interior doors, the lock wasn’t as enforced as it could be. With one last glance at Rodgers, Janus slipped into the office. 

“I’m in,” they said quietly, well aware that Agon could have more security than they knew in her office. “Start Phase Two.”

“On it!” Remus cackled. Phase Two was her favorite part of the entire plan; Janus tried not to feel too concerned about that. 

None of the Logan-made sensors Janus had on them detected any anomalies in the office, so Janus proceeded to the computer and plugged in their usb. The program on the drive started up immediately, and Janus watched as code flashed across the screen. 

The drive would do the hard part of hacking into Agon’s computer, all Janus would have to do was wait. Wait, and hope that Phase Two didn’t come too fast. 

The small click of the door handle was their only warning before the sound of a gunshot filled the office. 

At the sound of the door handle, Janus had thrown themself to the floor, narrowly avoiding a bullet that would’ve torn through their shoulder. Rodgers was standing in the doorway, gun cocked, eyes somewhat unfocused as Janus’s illusion remained firmly in place. 

“JANUS!” Roman yelped over the comms. 

“I’m fine!” Janus hissed, watching Rodgers carefully, but their illusion held firm. “Continue with the plan.”

“I know you’re here,” Rodgers said, his eyes scanning the room for any sort of inconsistency that would suggest the presence of the villain. “I’m not afraid to shoot at nothing.”

Just as he took a step into the room, almost as though he’d caused it himself, the fire alarm began to blare. 

Phase Two had begun. 

From where he’d set up shop in the basement, posing as an HVAC repairman, Roman had eyes on almost the entire building. They had all of the security feeds, as well as access to the varied sensors that both Janus and Remus were wearing. 

So he knew when Sophie Laufferty entered the stairwell, and he could watch as Janus ascended the stairs; but with Janus having looped the security feeds, he hadn’t seen Rodgers coming until Janus themself had been shot at. 

“JANUS!” Roman yelped. 

“I’m fine!” Janus hissed quietly over the comm. “Continue with the plan.”

A flash of light and color on another one of their screens drew Roman’s attention as the fire Remus was starting in her out of order bathroom took hold and quickly spread into a blaze. 

Remus didn’t stick around to watch her fire grow any further, instead she sprinted from the bathroom towards the stairwell. Seconds after she left the bathroom, the building’s fire alarms began to blare, calling for an evacuation. 

“I’m on my way!” Remus yelled, secrecy being thrown out the window as the office workers began to panic. 

Internally, Roman cursed their roll as the eyes of this particular operation, but he faithfully stayed put, watching the evacuation unfold as Janus played a deadly game of hide and seek many stories above them. 

~~~END~~~

The more I write, the more I’m certain chapters 44-52 will need some extensive edits before being posted on AO3. Not necessarily the contents, but just how they’re put together and organized

We’re now entering the part where I need to ask myself: can I write fight scenes? We’ll find out

ODD taglist

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @aeternum-ablaze @misunderstood-shadowling @lost-in-thought-20 @jinxcrafter @apinkline2715 @gothfoxx @donutsarepartybagels @xoaningout @awful-at-naming-things @lunatatic

[copperbadge]

[ID: A photograph of a corner of my living room; in front of a white screen, a fake Christmas tree is covered in ornaments. The tree itself is bare branches with small white bulbs on it, and lest you think this is rather sad looking, know that I love this tree because despite its creepiness and slight instability, it is the perfect way to show off my ornaments.]

The tree is trimmed! And with that, we bring National Clean Your Home Month to a close.

Dearborn was unimpressed by my tree-trimming and, after one of the ornaments suffered a tragedy, hid in the coats. She is our resident Grinch, but she's cute.

[ID: Two photos; left, my hand with palm open, holding a baroque crescent moon ornament. It is in several pieces after I dropped it on the ground, but I'm pretty sure I can fix it. Second image, my coat closet, with two large fabric bins on the floor; sitting on the top bin, mostly hidden by a number of jackets and hoodies, Dearborn the tortie peers up pensively at the camera.]

I didn't get everything done on my cleaning list, but that's okay; I did get a lot done, and I realized stuff like "clean the bathroom" needs to wait anyway, since the HVAC system is in the bathroom and I'll just have to clean after that gets replaced in any case. Meanwhile, I've decluttered, hung shelves, ridded myself of a bug infestation, organized the tupperware, cleaned out the closet, learned how to use a carpet shampooer, and more.

Thank you all for a) participating or b) tolerating my antics or at least c) quietly blacklisting the tag during NaClYoHo; this was the fifth year of the event, and we had definitely our largest turnout of participants yet. I hope you all feel great about the work you've put in and the accomplishments you made!

Remember: if you can't do a great thing, do a something.

Keep the Salty Pirate in your heart year round, and I'll see you next year for Salty Pirates 6: The Winter Scrubber.

[writefinch]

FRIENDLY CHAT

Hey! Sorry to pull you in here before your break, we just need a quick chat. So, long story short, uh, a customer complained that you point-blank offered him a condom.

This isn't the first time. You know it's against company policy. You're only supposed to get them if the customer requests it first. Like, you're not even supposed to have them on display. I know that part is stupid, but if the regional manager checks the tapes and sees condom bowls in plain view, I'd still get written up.

No, no, absolutely not, I'm not going to write you up. I don't think it's necessary and you know it goes totally against my management style. I want to talk through your concerns.

I wanna remind you that we take all the recommended industry-standard precautions. In fact we go above them! First off, you're fully vaxxed, and that's the end of ninety percent of things to worry about, period. You've got an IUD on the company health plan, even though your T-shots probably suppress it. The customers get a physical screen in the waiting area. All us boys and girlies get tested every three weeks, twice as frequent as the industry standard.

That's already extensive, it makes you safer than the vast majority of people in our line of work. If we did any more, customers will get the wrong idea. They'll think we're an unclean brothel with unclean customers. It'd remind them too much of all the you-know-what from the past few years.

Yes, you're not wrong about that. Breakthrough infections happen, and people get sick. But you know what I'm gonna say? You're very robust, you know that? You've been here for what, eighteen months, you've been pulling long hours and beacoup extra shifts and you've barely caught a sniffle. The testosterone must be helping!

Now you might not stay this lucky forever, that's why we have six paid sick days and a flexible admin rota. Usually when you catch something it'll be a mild itch and trouble peeing. You won't even wanna rest, and yeah you won't get the full rate for paid clients, you can still get paid to do the laundry and the paperwork for a week while it clears up.

Every year I get a couple of colds from my kids and take three or four days off, and every year I always get a VD from one of the clients and spend a week washing sheets and cleaning dildos. You know what that gives me? Two or three days rolled over into vacation time!

Yes, you can get unlucky. You can get a couple of back-to-back infections. I tell every boy and girl who starts here the same thing: before they take out a loan on a new car or move out of their toxic roommate situation, make sure to get two weeks pay in a savings account. Even if you do have to dip into your rainy day fund, you know full well that there's always extra shifts to pick up around here.

Yeah, you can catch something nasty. You can have a bad reaction. We all remember how scary it was before the vaccines were available. But here's the thing: you drive to work, right? You're on the freeway twice a day. Forty-thousand people die every year in car crashes, and tens of thousands more get life-changing injuries. You don't spend every day worrying about that, right?

You just get on with it and live your life.

Look, I'm really sorry about this whole thing. You're really special to me, you know that? You're a genuine friend to me, I mean that. We get on really well, all the girls love you, you're a hit with clients and that's why I jumped on this y'know? This job is only as fun as the people here make it, and I don't want to see you written up for something that can be talked out.

Discipline here is so stupid. I'm fucking sick of the owners hassling girls, and boys, out of working here and then crying and bitching when we can't meet customer demand.

I said I'd be out of here as soon as I get my HVAC cert but if they put us all through that again I'll just quit on the spot. That's why I want to look out for you. You've helped me through some really difficult times, on shift and off. I wouldn't have been able to get through junket season without you. I'm serious, if you hadn't joined when you did, there'd be gun laws named after me.

Thanks for listening, and again, I'm sorry for even bringing this stuff up. Just promise you'll keep what I've said in mind? We've all got to look out for each other here.

Hey, once you're back from break, can I have your help with something? I've got a no-refusal client and well, all the other girls refused. What? No I don't want you to take him, c'mon man I'm not gonna let you off a written warning to guilt you into picking up my shit, honestly! No, I'm the supervisor on shift so it's up to me.

Anyway he's not into boys, even pretty ones like you, sorry. But he's a real charmer, so would you mind sticking close in case he starts throwing up or throwing hands? If I have to hit the panic button I think Sergei will throw him out of a window, and nobody needs that headache.

Thanks, I really appreciate it. We'll be in the spa room, so let me know when you're ready to play pool boy…