#Squeaky Stair Repair

[alexthebordercollie]

To Love at all is to Love Entirely

Chapter 2: Debut

︵‿୨ - November 1 1950 - ୧‿︵

Mirabel rocked too and fro on her toes a moment before knocking again.

Nothing.

“Vaya.” It couldn’t be helped, she supposed. Bruno’s room was enormous, it wouldn’t be shocking if he couldn’t hear her. Abuela had asked her to go talk to him. It had been like this since her tío returned to the family. Whenever conversations between the two of them were uncomfortable Mirabel would inevitably become the middleman. Middlewoman? Nonetheless, she figured it would be better to try and get this over with now rather than later.

She nudged the wooden door with Bruno’s likeness open just a crack. The small entryway echoed with the sound of falling sand. She called out tentatively.

“Tío Bruno?”

Only the soft echo of sand replied.

Mirabel tip-toed gently inside, closing the door behind her and calling out a bit louder.

“Tío Bruno! Abuela wanted me to talk to you!”

Mirabel took a deep breath knowing this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation. The fact she was barging into his room unannounced was likely not going to help. She’d tried asking Casita to get her uncle's attention for her, but Casita still had very little control over this room's interior. She tapped on the wall by the curtain of sand like her uncle had taught her and watched the curtain part just enough for her to pass through. Her shoes tapped softly on the metal grate that caught the curtain before padding down creaky wooden stairs to round tile floor. The base of the tower was still a bit empty, but it was cleaner now, so that was something. Looking at the tall winding stairs made her momentarily grateful she never got a room of her own. The thought of scaling this tower every day sounded like a nightmare. Bruno seemed unphased by it though. Man must have had legs of steel. At least she didn’t have to make it to the top this time. Her uncle’s bedroom was only halfway up.

She eyed the stairs and counted the flights she’d have to scale.

“This is gonna take a while.” She sighed.

Twenty minutes of climbing and her breath was getting short. She did her best not to let the frustration get to her, but could feel the complaints escaping her mouth in breathy grumbles.

“Great way to scare away the visitors, huh?”

Mirabel stopped for a second to catch her breath when a familiar sound caught her attention. It was Tío Bruno, he was talking to himself, sort of.

“Carlos, what are you saying?” It was a squeaky falsetto, but unmistakably her tío’s voice.

“We can’t keep doing this, Juanita. Think of what it will do to the family!” Came a gruffer equally exaggerated declaration.

“Tío!” Mirabel called up, a bit more annoyed than she intended. She trotted up a couple more steps to her tío’s bedroom.

Bruno stood awkwardly hunched over a small table with a couple of his rats in hand and stared wide-eyed for a moment. Her tío was a strange man with strange hobbies. At first, she had assumed it was just the isolation talking. The more time she spent with him the more she started to suspect he was just naturally a bit…off.

“Oh, hey Mirabel.” He smiled awkwardly. “I was just, you know,” he set the rats down and wrung his hands together before awkwardly gesturing towards the cardboard sets he’d built for them, “Just watching mis novelas He chuckled.

“You’re still doing those?” Mirabel asked skeptically and she invited herself into his space and began eyeing his chair greedily.

“You can sit if you want.” Bruno nodded to his chair as he noticed the sweat on his sobrina's brow.

“Gracias a Dios.” She gasped as she flopped down in his seat. It was warm. The chair was old but seemed to have been repaired since the last time she was in his room. Bruno’s old poncho was draped over the back of it. Rather neatly, as though he hadn’t touched it in a while.

“You know we can get you a real television. You could watch real telenovelas.” Mirabel reminded him playfully.

“I know,” He whined, “But, we have fun with it.” He turned to Carlos and Jaunita, the stars of the show. “We have fun right chicos?”

Juanita merely blinked up at him while Carlos began grooming under his foreleg. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Mirabel has a hard time telling the small furry creatures apart.

“Yeah, you guys get it.” He smiled as he picked up Juanita and scratched lovingly under her chin.

Mirabel sucked in her lips and drummed the arms of the chair as she thought. Her tío needed more human friends. That was a given. Unfortunately, she kind of doubted he’d be inclined to make many after what she was about to say next. The topic had come up at more than one town meeting now and she was hearing the same question from folks on the street. Abuela didn’t want to ask because she knew her son was still sensitive. Maybe this was Mirabel’s gift this whole time. Being the only person who could just say things outright.

“Folks in town are starting to ask about you.” Mirabel announced.

Bruno put Juanita down. “That so?” He replied nervously. He didn’t turn to face her. She could see the ruana she’d made for him pull tight around his shoulders as he tugged the front closed.

“Yeah.” She replied gently as she leaned forward. She rested her elbows on her knees and tilted her head to the side. She tried to get a glimpse at his face. “People are wondering when you’re going to start doing visions again.” She said matter of factly.

Bruno mumbled something and looked down. She could tell he was still fidgeting with his ruana.

“Could you speak up a bit?” She asked as sweetly as she could.

“Never…” He muttered a bit louder. Shooting a brief glance back that passed by in a flurry of mad curls.

“Jamás de los jamases?” Mirabel tried to sound playful and kind. She knew this was a big ask and truthfully she wasn’t sure it was a fair thing to ask of him.

“No!” He snapped as he spun around before recoiling and saying again with less conviction, “No, no...”

He paced the small space anxiously ringing the embroidered fabric around his neck. He tugged so vigorously she almost worried the stitching would come loose. “I’m not going back to that.” He said fearfully, “ I can’t,” unsure, “I won’t.” angry.

His pacing continued to get more frantic. She could see him spiraling downward. She stood up to go steady him. Placing her hands on his shoulders she held him gently as she could.

“Tío, respira.”

Bruno loosened his grip on his ruana and took a deep breath in, then out. She could feel his shoulders relax a bit under her grip. He looked in her eyes and she regretted asking. There was so much sadness in those eyes. This profound heartache that she could feel in every muscle.

“I-I can’t go back to that life.” He said sadly before looking down at his feet and sneering bitterly. “Me niego a ser el chivo expiatorio de el pueblo otra ves.”

“I understand.”

Her tío pulled loose from her and continued to complain as he paced over to his bed. His hands dropped down to his side and his body relaxed however which reassured Mirabel. He sat down on the bed slouching forward and resting his cheek in one hand as he gesticulated with the other.

“No one wants to hear what I have to say. People always think they do, but they don’t.” He waved his free hand dismissively. He wasn’t looking at Mirabel really. He seemed to stare off into space as if lost in his own thoughts.

Mirabel sat on the bed next to him, inching closer till he snapped out of his irritated trance to look at her. She snuggled her head under his arm forcing him upright.

He smiled.

“It’s ok Tío. No one was going to force you. I know I was stubborn before.”

Bruno wrapped his arm around her and put his hand on hers. “It’s ok Mija. You had good reason to be.”

“Besides.” He said waving his hand enthusiastically. “It was a crisis! What was I supposed to do? Not help in a crisis?” His playful inflection let her know he’d be alright. “I could never do that.”

“Perdón por pedirte. Abuela wanted an answer for people so they’d stop asking.”

“Así que te mandó a comerte el garrón, eh?” Bruno quirked an eyebrow and Mirabel let out a little half laugh.

Mirabel was about to think of a witty retort when hurried petite footsteps could be heard rushing up the steps. The disruption caught Bruno’s attention too as they both turned to see who the sound belonged to. Dolores stood panting in the doorway. Her delicate fingers brushed against the stone frame for support as she tried to catch her breath. Her brown eyes were wide as dinner plates.

“Are you ok? Is something wrong?” Mirabel was sincerely worried as she stood up to go support her prima. Dolores however flew right past Mirabel whose supportive arms swung through the empty air.

“Por favor, por favor, por favor, tell me what happens next?!” She pleaded as she invaded Bruno’s personal space. She gripped at her dress desperately and leaned in close to his face.

Bruno was noticeably taken aback. “Cómo?”

“Are they breaking up or not?! They’ve been putting off this conversation for three years, Tío Bruno! Three years!”

An awkward though rather charmed smile tugged at his lips. “You mean Juanita and Carlos?” He asked.

“Of course Juanita and Carlos!” Dolores replied irritably as if she assumed it was obvious.

Mirabel groaned audibly and her tío laughed.

“That’s what this is about? I thought something serious had happened, but no you ran all this way just to ask about his novelas de ratas?” She chastised.

Mirabel crossed her arms and puffed out her cheeks. Bruno’s face lit up.

“You’re a fan of my telenovelas?” He beamed in disbelief.

Dolores seemed to become more aware of herself again and returned to her usually quiet demeanor. The silliness of it all seeming to dawn on her. She clasped her hands bashfully in front of her chest. “I’ve been listening to them for years.” She admitted.

Dolores fiddled with her delicately manicured nails and looked down at her hands shyly. “I always liked your stories.”

“That’s really sweet of you mija.” Bruno smiled before a sudden look of realization dawned on him. “Wait… how long have you been listening to mis novelas?” 

Mirabel cut him off before Dolores could elaborate. “I still can’t believe you knew he was here this whole time and didn’t say anything.” She complained.

Dolores's eyes flicked back to Mirabel beneath thick eyelashes though she didn’t turn around. “With a gift like mine, you learn a lot of things that are better left unsaid. If tío didn’t want to be found I trusted he had a good reason.”

“Sure didn’t trust me.” Mirabel’s blood boiled a bit. Perhaps she was tired from all the stairs but the thought of that horrible dinner still filled her with stress and frustration.

“Mirabel.” Bruno soothed.

“Bruno can hide in the walls for years like el rey rata but you can’t just talk to me before blabbing to the whole family.” Mirabel chastised her cousin. Dolores looked like she might have said something before their tío intervened.

“Mirabel, that’s enough.” He asserted as he rose to his feet.

Mirabel looked down at the floor.

“What’s done is done. Everything worked out in the end right?”

Mirabel sighed. “Yeah I guess.”

“Then just leave it for now alright?” He asked as he put one hand on her shoulder and the other on Dolores. He looked her in the eye and she could tell he didn’t like seeing his sobrinas argue. For his sake, she agreed to let it go. Mirabel still shot Dolores a look only to receive a shrug and a small squeak.

Dolores looked back up at Bruno. “So do you think they can make it work?” She asked him pleadingly.

“Well, it’s complicated.” He replied as he launched into a tangent about plans for future plotlines only to have Dolores cover her ears. Bruno stopped, surprised by the sudden gesture.

“No lo estropees.” She insisted and thier tío laughed.

It got Mirabel thinking. Bruno seemed pretty pleased to find he had a fan. He liked talking about his stories. He was obviously a creative person. He was funny and compassionate. Folks in the village only ever talked about his powers. It was all they ever seemed to see. She needed some way for the rest of the town to see him the way she did. She just might have had an idea.

Mirabel crept quietly back out onto the stairs as her tío recited the rest of the “episode” he’d been performing to Dolores. She needed to work quickly if she wanted to get everyone on board before the night was out.

︵‿୨ -❇- ୧‿︵

After another twenty-minute descent and a quick snack break in the kitchen, she went to talk to Antonio. He was still little and went to bed early though he’d likely take the least convincing. His skill with animals would no doubt be a big help. She asked Luisa about her new woodworking hobby and if she might be willing to do something fun with it. Camilo laughed at her proposal but said it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard and simply had to be involved.

Mirabel hesitated at her sister's door for a moment. They’d been getting along a lot better since Isabela opened up but she still wasn’t sure if she’d be interested in something so silly. Not to mention she knew she wasn’t the biggest fan of rats. Eventually, Mirabel worked up the courage to knock and Isabella answered with some surprise.

“Is there something you need?” She asked, considerably less irritated than would have been expected before.

Mirabel fumbled a bit “So Tío Bruno...”

“Yes?” Isabela replied quizzically.

Mirabel took a breath and belted out. “So Bruno hasn’t left the house since he came back. Except he didn’t really come back since he never really left… That’s not the point. He’s still super closed off and he needs to get out more right? So I have this idea to help get him out of the house but I don’t think I can convince him to do it on my own so I thought if I got everyone in on it…” Mirabel trailed off as she watched her sister shift her weight and cross her arms thoughtfully.

After a moment of contemplation, Isabela replied, “So what’s your plan?”

At the dinner table, that night the kids kept exchanging knowing glances with each other. Antonio couldn’t help but snicker. Abuela seemed confused but didn’t press the issue. Mirabel was sure her mamá knew something was up. Thankfully Bruno seemed to continue obviously devouring his sister's fried plantains. Dolores shot subtle frustrated glares around the table that hushed her primas and hermanos. Thankfully Papá and Tío Félix really carried the conversation at the dinner table that night and Bruno seemed not to notice the kid's suspicious quiet too much.

Once everyone had dispersed and the dishes had been washed and put away the kids gathered back at the table to discuss.

“You all are terrible at keeping secrets.” Dolores flustered. She stood beside Mirabel with her arms crossed.

“You’re one to talk.”

Dolores cleared her throat and Mirabel rolled her eyes.

“Right, right. Agua por debajo del puente.” She turned back to the rest of the entourage. “So everyone is clear on the plan?” She asked.

“I suppose I can help with the decorations.” Isabela replied coolly through a playful smile threatened to escape her as she thought about what they were trying to do.

“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make anything impressive.” Luisa worried as she rubbed at the back of her neck.

“It’s fine Luisa. This is just for fun, so no pressure, ok?” Mirabel reminded her.

Her middle sister smiled back softly. “Yeah, of course.” She thought for a moment. “About how big does it need to be?”

Mirabel leaned back and crossed her arms as she thought. Sucking in her lips she tried to picture what she had in mind and compare it with the size of her tío’s rats. Before she could think of the answer Dolores drew a rectangle on the table with her finger.

“It needs to be big enough to fit at least a few actors at once. It’s better if it’s a bit too big than too small so something like this should give us enough extra space.”

“So you’re in on it too then?” Mirabel clarified. She hadn’t actually explained the plan to Dolores but when they had all gathered for dinner it had been clear Dolores had heard at least one of Mirabel's many pitches.

“Nope.” She squeaked. Mirabel was surprised given her prima's enthusiasm earlier. “I want it to be a surprise.” She clarified.

“How are you ever surprised by anything?” Camilo griped. The mild frustration of years of ruined pranks was evident.

“I choose what to focus on. I’ll just have to keep myself distracted while you work.”

“So it’s decided. We’ll ask him tomorrow then?” Mirabel asked the group.

“Sure.” “Yep.” “Sounds like fun.”

“This is gonna be so much fun.” Antonio chirped as he bounced in his chair.

“Tonito, go brush your teeth.” Tía Pepa called from upstairs.

“Coming Mamá!” Antonio called back. He trilled excitedly as he hopped down from his seat. “I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

︵‿୨ - November 2 1950 - ୧‿︵

The next day at school dragged on. Mirabel couldn’t help but sketch out some patterns in her notebook. Camilo snickered when the teacher pulled her notebook away and she had to explain that she was designing dresses for rats. The whole class had a laugh and Camilo couldn’t stop smiling ear to ear. Mirabel was usually a good student. Thankfully the teacher returned her drawings with a very confused warning. After class let out there were chores to do of course. Formerly agreed to obligations around town. Though the workload for the Madrigal children had eased up considerably since Castia had been rebuilt which left a lot more time at the end of the day for recreation. One by one they finished their tasks for the day and gathered outside their tío's door. Camilo couldn’t stop grinning mischievously. Antonio bounced up and down though he tried to resist the urge. Luisa seemed confident while Isabela still seemed a bit skeptical. Mirabel gave the door a knock and hoped her tío wasn’t too distracted to notice.

“Ready guys?”

“Let’s do it.” Luisa and Antonio chimed.

“He’s not gonna go for it.” Isabela maligned.

“I think it’s worth a shot.” Camilo replied.

“Only because you wanna make fun of him.” Isabela glared.

Camilo morphed into a tiny Isabela and fluttered his exaggerated eyelashes. “Who me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on Camilo, we're doing this for Tío Bruno. This isn’t a prank, it's supposed to be fun for him too.”

Camilo returned to his normal height and grumbled. “My pranks are fun.”

Dolores stopped and listened a moment as she passed by the narrow hallway cluttered with Madrigals.

“He’s heading downstairs.” She squeaked and fluttered off so as not to entangle herself too deeply in their mischief.

Mirabel crossed her fingers and smiled. The excitement waned a bit however as she considered it may take a minute for him to reach the door. After a few awkward minutes of silence, she knocked again and pressed her ear to the door.

“Vengo, vengo!” She heard echo off the walls of the tower.

She tried to listen for his footsteps and heard the sand curtain part. She was too slow to react however and nearly fell over the threshold when her tío finally opened the door. In hindsight that was fairly quick given how many steps there were. Bruno may have been scrawny but he was surprisingly quick when he wanted to be.

Bruno looked down at the gaggle of youngsters and cocked an eyebrow. “Is this some kind of intervention?” He inquired.

Mirabel hopped to her feet, took a crate from Luisa and slammed it down in the entryway. She stood atop it and excitedly announced.

“Tablas!”

“Uh…” He leaned back.

“It was Mirabel’s idea!” Antonio squealed excitedly and he ran to tug on Bruno’s hand.

“Tablas?” He asked looking down at Antonio and back at Mirabel.

“Mi hermana’s a big fan of your dumb novelas de ratas and we want in.” Camilo clarified, though he really didn’t explain anything.

“They’re not dumb.” Mirabel reprimanded shooting daggers back at Camilo. She stood upright and brushed her hair back with both hands.

“We thought it might be fun,” Mirabel explained. “If maybe you could take your rats out to town square and put on a little show. You know, something silly for the kids. We could help you put it together. Luisa agreed to make you a little theater and Camilo can help with voices. Isabela and I are gonna work on costumes and sets…”

Bruno pulled back a moment and stopped her. “Perdona?” He screwed his face up a moment and rubbed at the back of his neck as he tried to process what his niece had just proposed.

“You want me.” He said slowly. “To do my telenovelas. In public. Where other people can see me?”

“Yes. That is what I said. That is correct.” Mirabel replied as her resolve began to falter.

Bruno chuckled awkwardly, “Well that’s certainly an idea isn’t it.” He stood on tiptoe to peer over the kids towards the kitchen. “You know I think Beatrice could use some fresh water. I should go get her a clean saucer.” He pointed with his hand pulled close to his chest and began to push past the kids.

“I told you.” Isabela whined.

“Sé bueno con tu hermana.” Bruno called back as he scurried down the hall.

“Come on Tío Bruno, it'll be fun.” Mirabel pleaded. Trotting along behind him.

Bruno hopped down the stairs skipping steps and putting space between himself and the small army of his sisters' children.

“We have a very different definition of fun mija.” He chuckled awkwardly, speed walking into the kitchen. Mirabel was persistent.

Bruno never left Casita and barely left his room most days. He needed something to break him out of his shell and what better way than to show off his talents doing something he loved? He was anxious about people and she understood that but any reputation would be better than bad luck Bruno.

“Tío.” She breathed as Castia caught her with the kitchen tiles before she could fumble her stop. Bruno reached up for a saucer. “I really think people will enjoy it. You could finally be known for something other than your visions.”

Bruno looked back at her as he struggled to reach the high shelf. Casita seemed to be pulling it just out of reach to redirect his attention. “No one wants to hear my dumb stories, Mirabel.” He said dismissively before glaring at the disobedient wall fixture.

Isabela elbowed Camilo harshly in the ribs as the crew caught up with them. Luisa came over and pulled down the small saucer Bruno had been reaching for.

“Gracias.” He replied.

“I remember the stories you used to tell us when we were little.” Luisa said, gesturing toward Isabela. “You always seemed to be having so much fun. I bet other kids would love to hear your stories.”

Bruno looked to his older sobrinas as he gripped the saucer thoughtfully. Mirabel watched him attentively as he thought. “I dunno niños. I’m not sure other people would find mis ratas as endearing as I do.” He replied as he reached for the faucet.

“That’s too bad.” Antonio looked down at the floor. “I was really looking forward to practicing with them.”

The disappointment in Antonio’s voice made Bruno flinch. His tiny sobrinito who had never had a chance to know him but still showed him unconditional kindness. Bruno’s hand recoiled from the faucet. He set the saucer down and rested his weight against the countertop. His head hung low for a moment as he thought. Mirabel’s breath caught in her chest as she watched him think. It was a very silly idea and his reaction had made her second-guess herself. She had sincerely thought it would do him good. Perhaps it was cheating though, gathering up her primos and hermanas to tag team him like this.

Bruno threw back his head and groaned. “Está bien, me tienen.” He surrendered.

Mirabel squealed with delight before composing herself.

“I know it’s silly but what harm could it do? Besides, if you're not having any fun we can always call it off.”

Bruno crossed his arms and eyed her up and down skeptically.

“Tú prometes?”

“Lo prometo.” Mirabel assured confidently.

Bruno fidgeted a moment before compulsively knocking on the cabinets beneath him. He crossed his fingers and puffed out his cheeks.

“I guess we’re doing this.” He gasped out.

“Gracias Tío, you won't regret this.” Luisa patted him gruffly on the back. “It’ll give us a chance to spend more time together. Really catch up, right Isabela?” Luisa turned to her colorful sister.

Isbela flipped her hair. “Maybe we’ll learn what’s got Dolores so excited.”

“I call dibs on co-writer.” Camilo chimed.

“You did always say your real gift was acting.” Mirabel quoted Bruno’s words back to him playfully.

“I did say that.” He whined reluctantly.

︵‿୨ -❇- ୧‿︵

For the rest of the week, the group would gather in a different magical room each afternoon to work on their play.

Camilo, true to his word, kept hovering over their Tío’s shoulder as he wrote the script. They argued over jokes and line delivery. The constant onslaught of laughter and goofy voices made it clear he was far from a nuisance. Antonio sat with them and helped explain to the rats where they wanted them to stand and how to move. Rats being rats of course only have so many gestures they can do but Bruno was no stranger to making do and always prioritized his furry friend's comfort. He seemed enraptured by the chance to hear what they had to say. Mostly they talked about food.

Luisa worked on building the stage. Isabela and Mirabel worked together on costumes and props. She had a fun time doing arts and crafts with her sisters. It felt nice. Getting to bicker and smear glitter on each other's faces. She couldn’t remember the last time she and her sisters had just sat down to spend time together like this. Perhaps this wasn’t just for Tío. As she whittled more and more afternoons away this way Mirabel realized how much she needed this too.

It turns out spending ten years alone gives one a lot of time to indulge in their hobbies and Bruno had a variety of artistic skills he’d dabbled in. He would get up from wherever he was situated to write, stretch, and check on each of the Madrigal children. He’d always find ways to involve himself in whatever someone was up to. Helping Luisa with some of the stage's finer details, giving advice on set pieces, or sharing his enthusiastic thoughts on the costumes. He had a way of making everyone feel like their contributions were appreciated.

Dolores would always come and collect them for dinner. All the while she insisted her brother try not to spoil the plot for her. She always seemed charmed by the conversation when they set the table. News of this hair-brained scheme, of course, took no time at all to spread to the rest of the family, and suspiciously a few folks in town heard about a mysterious surprise in the plaza. Realizing he might actually have an audience certainly rattled her Tío but he wasn’t ready to call off his evenings of crafting and jokes with his sobrinos.

Occasionally Mamá , Papá, Pepa or Félix would pop in to see what they were up to. Most seemed supportive even if Pepa took the opportunity to take potshots at her brother. Bruno never seemed bothered by Pepa’s jabs though and always shot back with little hesitation. Camilo would provide backup and his mother would storm off in a huff. Mirabel always caught him making it up to her later. Mamá seemed to be a bit put off by the concept but was nonetheless very supportive. She seemed to be happy just to see her brother being more involved with the family.

︵‿୨ - November 8 1950 - ୧‿︵

Friday night rolled around. Thanks to Dolores a handful of folks were now expecting something come Saturday evening. Despite the nerves, Bruno still seemed to be thoroughly enjoying putting together the finishing touches with his family.

Luisa had constructed a more sizable stage than originally planned. Bruno seemed happy with the room it freed up for rat choreography. The stage was about half the size of a bathtub and sturdy enough to support a single adult's weight. With some ingenuity from Camilo a small trap door had even been constructed in the middle to allow for some very rudimentary special effects. Isabella had made pods from her plants that could be crushed in one's hand to create colorful puffs of “smoke”. The crew were performing a dress rehearsal while Dolores was spending the evening with her novio to keep herself distracted.

“Mirabel can you make the sleeves bigger?” Antonio pushed a little pink dress into her lap. “Juanita says it’s too tight.”

Mirabel had drastically underestimated the difficulty of sewing clothes for rats. Small, four-legged, picky clients. She was already struggling to finish the last costume before dinner time. She sighed as she looked down at the dress.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The rat in Anotnio’s hand squeaked. “She says thank you.” Antonio translated sweetly before trotting over to the stage with the others once more.

“I make no guarantees.” Mirabel called to him.

They decided to spend the last night in Luisa's room. A sandy beach with palm trees and an inexplicable breeze that Mirabel found deeply soothing. The family had offered to build her own room when they rebuilt the Castia but she instead opted for an extension onto the nursery. When the magic returned the door to her little expansion lit up with her name. Her likeness burned into it holding la familaia's flame. She was proud of that door. The room itself was comfy, with a space for her to sew, but modest. More importantly, she was nested right beside the nursery still. She loved being there for Antonio and decided she’d rather be able to help look after any future sobrinos. With how things were going she suspected Dolores might find herself rather busy someday.

Today she was content to sit back and watch the others as they crowded around the stage that had been set up in the gazebo. Everyone seemed to be having a blast. She was glad she could bring the family together like this.

“Mirabel, come over. I want to show you something.” Her Tío called out to her.

Mirabel carefully pinned the suit she was working on in place and collected her supplies in her bag before heading over. She could always finish it in her room after dinner. She may have had a late night ahead of her but it seemed like a small price.

“Qué onda?” She asked. As she got closer she could hear stifled snickers and Bruno looked… taller?

“Can I run a set by you mija? I’m just not really sure if this joke is gonna work.” He said with an anxious smile, tugging at his ruana.

“Uhm, sure?” She sat down between her sisters hesitantly. Antonio couldn’t stop snickering. Something wasn’t quite right.

Bruno’s face lit up as he excitedly began reciting an opening narration gag from behind the stage. He hovered over the top of the curtains waving his fingers and making exaggerated faces. A bit too exaggerated. Before long someone came up from behind and gave him a light swat on the back of his head.

“Stop trying to steal my lines!” the real Bruno scolded.

Camilo shape shifted back. “I wasn’t.” He insisted, “My impression is getting better though, right?” Camilo turned to Mirabel.

“Oh, not even close.” Mirabel mocked as she leaned back on her hands.

“Oh come on, that was perfect!” Isabela laughed.

Mirabel rolled her eyes as Luisa and Antonio could no longer contain their giggles. Bruno sat down cross-legged behind the stage. He had to lean to the side so his face could be seen.

“Still too tall.” Bruno corrected as he tested the pull cord on the curtains.

“It’s not my fault you're so short.” Camilo grumbled.

“Seven-foot frame.” Bruno retorted.

Isabela laughed even harder and Camilo turned beat red.

“Well come on! How are you supposed to be scary walking around at like five-foot-five.” Camilo whined.

Mirabel laughed as her tío eyed his sobrino mischievously.

“Oh, so I’m not scary enough for you?”

“You’re not even a little spooky.” Camilo pouted. “Honestly tío you really let me down.” Camilo crossed his arms and shook his head, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

Mirabel stifled a giggle as she watched Bruno sneak up behind her primo. Bruno quickly rapped his fingers up Camilo's back making surprisingly believable angry rat sounds. Camilo let out a high pitch squeal as he jumped and almost tripped over the stage.

As everyone was enjoying a laugh at poor Camilo’s expense Abuela’s voice came lofting over the breeze.

“Dinner is ready.” She called.

Everyone began collecting up their things. Abuela pulled up her skirt to avoid the sand and made her way over to the gazebo. Mirabel was surprised to see her actually come over to inspect their project. They’d been working on it a little over a week and she’d yet to take much interest. She watched as her adult son helped to detangle a rat from a bespoke suit and Mirabel's heart sank a little.

Bruno had sand in his hair and rat hair on his ruana. He spoke to his tiny actors like little children. He was happy. Odd but happy. Abuela wasn’t.

She could tell Abuela thought this whole idea was ridiculous and embarrassing. The matriarch had been doing her best not to say anything. It hurt that despite her son's joy it seemed she still struggled to look past his quirks. At least she was trying.

“Bruno.” She commanded softly. Bruno dropped what he was doing to look up.

He hadn’t noticed his mother’s approach and scurried to his feet. He shook the beach sand from his hair and patted fur off his clothes

“Sí, Mamá.?” He asked nervously.

Abuela looked down at the stage where Mirabel finished untangling Carlos the rat. Her expression was pensive as she rubbed her palms together.

“You built this?” She asked.

Bruno looked down at the stage. “It was more of a team effort really. Luisa did most of the woodwork.” Bruno looked like he might say more but stopped himself so as not to overwhelm his mother with his usual rambling.

The stage wasn’t perfect. It was crude and a little uneven in places. It was, to its credit, more ambitious than originally planned. No doubt because Luisa wanted to stay involved with the production and kept looking for more work to do. She didn’t have to of course no one would have minded if she simply sat and watched and talked with the others once her part was finished.

“It's… interesting.” Abuela replied. “And you’re going to be performing, in the plaza tomorrow?” She asked. The way she said performing sounded probably more patronizing than intended.

Bruno pulled his ruana closed and shrunk in on himself. “Sí pues... We didn’t have a date set exactly but Dolores kind of forced our hands.” He chuckled nervously.

“Ya veo.”

Bruno rung the fabric in his hands. “We can always call it off. I know it’s silly and it really isn’t that important.”

It felt like she’d been stabbed. Seeing how quickly her Tío was willing to throw out all their hard work to appease his mother. She might have been angry if she didn’t know all too well how he felt. It still hurt.

“No, no.” Abuela replied and put a gentle hand on her son's shoulder. “I can see you’ve all been working very hard on this project. I’m just glad to hear you’ll be leaving the Casita for a bit.” Bruno seemed pleasantly surprised by her response but said nothing.

“As long as you make sure everyone is getting their chores done and this little hobby doesn’t get in the way.”

“Sí, sí, desde luego.” Bruno assured. He straightened up in an attempt to look more responsible.

He paused.

“Will you be stopping by to watch?” He asked sheepishly.

Alma looked a little surprised by the question and did her best to let him down gently. “Oh no. I have a prior engagement tomorrow, but you have fun.”

“Bueno.” Bruno looked down at the ground.

Alma left to go wash up for dinner and instructed Bruno and Mirabel to do the same.

“She’s embarrassed by me.” Bruno maligned once his mother was out of earshot.

Mirabel stood up and dusted off her dress. “She’s not… Look, we're all still figuring things out right now.”

She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Estará convencida. Baby steps.”

At dinner that night the crew couldn’t help but enthuse about the upcoming performance. Abuela said very little though Mamá, Papá, Pepa, and Félix all seemed to enjoy hearing about the project. Papa and Félix especially. They’d always been a bit less uptight than Abuela and her daughters and seemed to find the whole affair quite charming.

︵‿୨ - November 11 1950 - ୧‿︵

When Saturday rolled around people were in a hurry to get their chores done. Abuela made sure no one cut any corners. The plaza was busier than usual and some folks milled about. Curious to see what the mystery surprise they’d heard about would be. Bruno shuffled anxiously with the box of equipment in his hands.

“I didn’t expect there to be so many people.”

Mirabel could tell he wanted to back out. She had promised he could at any time. Mirabel was about to say something when Dolores beat her to it.

“You’ll do wonderful.” she insisted as she hooked her arm around his.

Bruno smiled nervously back at her. He held his breath and shifted the weight of the box so he could cross his fingers. People were starting to stare as the crowd of Madrigals flooded the space and began setting up in the middle of the plaza. Bruno sat behind the stage placing props down for the first scene while Dolores and Luisa found a comfortable place to sit. Antonio seemed to be talking with one of the actors though Mirabel knew the rest were hiding under Bruno’s ruana.

Bruno seemed to be muttering neuroticly to himself as he started setting up. Yet again Mirabel was about to take action but Antonio seemed to have it handled. He whispered something to the rat in his hands who scurried off back to their papá. Juanita, the romantic lead of their comedy of errors, scurried onto Bruno’s shoulder and nibbled at his face. This made him laugh as he cupped her in his hands and held her close to his face. The rat's affection seemed to calm him down considerably and Mirabel started to think maybe she could just sit back and enjoy the show.

She hadn’t realized just how much responsibility she’d taken on when it came to Bruno. He was the adult, she knew it wasn’t her job to take care of him. She couldn’t help it. He gave up ten years of his life to protect her. On some level, she felt maybe a bit… responsible? Guilty?

“You sleep alright?” Isabela’s voice broke through her trailing thoughts. Her hermana mayor sat down on the cobblestone beside her. Her hair was green today. A deliberate strip had been colored in the front. No doubt as a show of support though she’d never say as much out loud.

Mirabel took her glasses off to clean them with her dress. “Oh fine, I was just up late last night finishing the costumes. Everyone’s worked so hard on this. I couldn’t just leave you all hanging on opening night.” She replied.

Isabela nudged her playfully. “Don’t kill yourself over some dumb tablas de ratas.” Her sister teased. “You’re not usually so uptight.”

“Since when did you start paying so much attention to me?” Mirabel rolled her eyes.

“Since you're mi hermanita.” Isabela replied sweetly. She looked down at the ground a bit ashamed. She could tell her sister wasn’t proud of the way she’d treated her growing up. Unfortunately apologies didn’t come easy to her. She got that from Abuela.

She had to hand it to Isabela. She didn’t know her sister could be so much fun to hang out with. It had been so long since they really acted like proper hermanas. “Even if this is a flop I’m glad we got to spend time together.”

“Me too.” Isabela rested her head on her shoulder.

Camilo apparently decided the crowd wasn’t big enough. He shape shifted into a larger man with a booming voice and flashy suit. Cane in hand to wave around for emphasis he drew in the stragglers.

“Habitantes de El Encanto! Amigos! Vecinos! Come one, come all, to witness the debut performance of Los increíbles Madrigals en La Rata y la Hija del Quesero.”

Bruno’s eyes looked like they’d pop out of their sockets. He glared up at his nephew with puffed cheeks. Camilo simply winked playfully at him. Bruno’s eyes darted about the gathered crowd before his head ducked back down behind the curtains.

Mirabel started to stand up but felt a hand on her arm. “Where are you going? The show's about to start.” Isabela asked.

Mirabel looked at her sister then back towards her uncle who’d sufficiently hidden himself behind the stage. She took a deep breath and sat back down. He’d be ok. Everything was going to be fine. Children began to huddle around on the ground in front of the stage and adults found places to sit, stand, or lean within view. Camilo settled out of his announcer persona and took a seat behind the stage with their tío.

Mirabel’s breath caught in her throat and she found herself crossing her fingers in her lap.

The curtain rose and a low mumble could be heard from behind the stage. The townspeople murmured amongst themselves. She could faintly make out Camilo whispering to Bruno.

“Tu habla mas alto, they can’t hear you.”

Bruno’s opening narration came out shaky and stiff at first. He fumbled a line or two as he pushed props onto the stage with a little wood hook that had been designed for that purpose. When the lead actors stepped out onto the stage Mirabel could hear a few disgusted sounds make their way through the crowd.

Bruno’s narration paused for a moment and she heard Camilo give him his line.

The narration resumed. Mirabel had to resist the urge to run back there and make sure everything was ok. But then...? The first joke of the play landed. To her surprise the crowd was sent into shocked raucous laughter. The air seemed to clear.

︵‿୨ -❇- ୧‿︵

Bruno’s voice became clearer, more confident. He sounded like he did at their rehearsals. Once the story began proper Bruno and Camilo both would stick their heads out from either side of the stage. Accompanying their dialogue with wild faces and other comedic flourishes. Camilo would shape-shift for each character he played. He played all the female roles. Bruno voiced the narrator, the romantic lead, and the love interest's stern father.

The story was of a pair of star-crossed lovers. Carlos in this story was a rat who’d lost his nose in a terrible fire and couldn’t smell. The rest of rat society shunned him, save for the lovely Juanita who was charmed by his many antics. Her father however was a world-famous cheese maker and would never approve of their love. Bruno preferred not to change his rat's names in his stories as it just confused them most of the time. Carlos and Juanita were obviously his favorites at the moment, though he claimed not to have favorites. As the play wore on and Bruno got more laughs from the crowd he grew louder, bolder. Camilo was a natural fit for his role being probably the only Madrigal who could keep pace with Brunos’ theatrics.

The whole performance was very cheesy.

Despite her worry, Mirabel had a blast along with the rest of the crowd. Mamá, Papá, Pepa, and Félix shuffled in and struggled to find room to sit as they arrived late. The play wasn’t terribly long and in the grand scheme of it, the crowd wasn’t enormous by any means. It was about as big as could be managed for such a small stage. When the story concluded there was a round of applause and Bruno and Camilo stepped out from behind the stage to take a bow. Pepa cheered the loudest. Her vibrant rainbows lighting up the growing twilight.

Their little show had been a bigger success than anyone expected. It took no time at all however for parents to start collecting up their children and the crowd to disperse. Pepa went over to plant a kiss on her son's cheek.

“Mis chicos.” She cooed and her brother blushed and wrung his hands together.

Pepa gave him a sly grin. “You did good hermanito.”

“Good, they did fantastico!” Félix cheered as he lifted up Antonio and praised the performance of the furry actors.

“I’m amazed you kids built all this.” Papá remarked as he inspected the stage and its various moving parts. Luisa beamed as she explained to their father how she built it.

Mamá patted a hand on Mirabel's cheek. “This was a wonderful idea mija.”

That night marked a noticeable shift in the town and in her Tío Bruno. While Isabela and Luisa more or less went back to their own hobbies. Antonio lost interest having already taught Bruno’s rat’s more than enough stage commands. Camilo continued to write and perform with their Tío every Saturday. It began to blend into the ebb and flow of local life. The crowds were never as big as that first night, but local children would gather excitedly to settle in every Saturday evening to the playful antics of the tables de ratas. Parents would laugh as they caught passing jokes, sometimes more than the kids. People started asking about Bruno’s visions less and less. Parents would thank him as they carried off sleepy little ones who’d worn themselves out laughing. Rocco, the owner of the bar with the only working television in town, invited him over for drinks. People spoke more kindly of the man who had lived behind Casita’s walls.

For once people were talking about Bruno, and that wasn’t a bad thing.

[bennydwight]

And Baby Makes Five (A Ghost and Molly McGee Oneshot)

Summary: Settling in for the first night in their Forever Home, Pete and Sharon talk about the elephant in the room.

Or, rather, the ghost in the attic.

(AO3 format here!)

Draughty windows, peeling paint, that squeaky third stair, get wiring checked and call a plumber for the downstairs bathroom. The routine was so familiar to Pete that he found himself taking stock of all potential expenses automatically, dividing them by matter of importance. The same habit in every house, instinctive and methodical. Hopefully, this would be the last time he had to perform this little song and dance.

Not even a single night into their Forever Home and already the expenses were piling up. He knew they’d gotten the house on a bargain, but they’d probably be paying the difference in repairs alone.

Something to think about another day. For now, all their things safely inside (they’d learned their lesson after the first time their car had been broken into), the McGees had settled for the evening, enthusiasm growing with every item that found a place on a shelf or on a wall or in a corner. Their new house, their last new house, claimed by knickknacks and reminders.

The sound of socked feet pulled Pete from his reverie. Molly made her way down from the attic, taking the ladder facing forward in a display of agility that he himself had long lost to age. Had he ever been that young? “Brushed your teeth already? I think the toiletries are hidden somewhere under mom’s decorative pillows.

She smiled widely, showing off a gleaming grin. “Nope, already done! I’m just going down to make Scratch some tacos.”

Ah, yes, the other unexpected expense. Pete had thus far put ‘exorcist’ into the ‘possible’ category. While the ghost (an actual ghost!) had made himself a nuisance during the move-in, tossing items around and doing his best to make things as inconvenient as possible, an uncertain feeling stilled Pete’s hand whenever he thought to reach for the phone. Scratch had never actually made any threats against his family, much less followed through, and Pete remained cautiously hopeful. “Ah, bribery! It’s always worked for me!”

“Also I think he just hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time.”

None of them knew how long, despite Molly’s persistent questioning during the day, and Pete sobered at the thought. He held out a hand to pause her descent down the stairs. “Molly, I know you’re excited at having a ghost friend, I would be too.” He set a hand on her shoulder, oddly aware of the way his brow furrowed as he held his daughter’s searching stare. “But remember, if he ever invades your space, or makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, I want you to come tell me or mom, okay?”

He was being a diligent father, taking necessary precautions with a stranger around his children, but something unpleasant curled in his chest as the words left his mouth. For some reason, irrational and naïve as it was, he felt this conversation was unneeded. The impression he’d gotten from Scratch, while surly and churlish, was not one of malice. His head said you’re being too trusting while his gut said Scratch would never harm them.

Molly seemed to agree, expression growing increasingly scandalized with every word, and by the end of the sentence she was shaking her head vehemently. “No, no, dad, he would never hurt me, we’re best friends!” (Something about that sat oddly too.) “And besides, we barged into his house. If anyone’s feeling uncomfortable, it’s him! He says we can stay on a trial basis, but we have to be good neighbours if we’ll be sharing our Forever Home.”

Parenting on the whole was a mixed bag of anxiety and mistakes and panic, but moments like these soothed Pete’s fearful heart. With a kid like Molly, he and Sharon must be doing something right. “Well, if anyone can get through to him, it’s you. Still, I’ll be here if you ever need me. And tell him thank you, for giving us a chance.”

Molly clicked her tongue, shooting him a fingerguns before continuing her happy skip down the stairs. What had he done to deserve such amazing kids?

And of course, an amazing wife. As Pete entered into their room, Sharon knelt on the floor by the mattress, folding the last of the day’s laundry into the loose dresser drawers stacked against the wall. Right, first thing on the docket tomorrow was reassembling the dresser. Who wanted centipedes in their shirts?

Sharon glanced up at his entry. “That was Molly? How’s she doing?”

Pete hooked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating through the closed door. “Just passed her, she seemed chipper as ever. Was going to make our phantasmic friend some tacos.”

Sharon sighed. “I’ll go clean up the kitchen when she’s done.” Her eyes strayed up to the ceiling even as her hands occupied themselves with pulling a pant leg rightside out. “At least he’s stopped screaming.”

At the tail end of the day, after it became clear he couldn’t scare them out, Scratch had retreated to the attic and taken to creating the most horrible, hair-raising noises without pause, moans rattling through the support beams like the whole house was coming alive beneath them. Pete just hoped he hadn’t shifted the supports too much, the foundation was sketchy enough as is.

“I know that look,” Sharon interjected as Pete lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, knees clicking in complaint. “You did the checklist, didn’t you. How bad is it?”

Any other house, Pete would’ve gone through the list of expenses, and the first night would be spent with Sharon, huddling over their monthly budget and prioritizing bills until the wee hours of the morning. But this was their Forever Home. They could go one night without worrying about money.

He tried a reassuring smile. “It’s not awful. Look, I know it’s not exactly what we were expecting, but it won’t be all bad.” His grin widened to something realer, cheeky. “And the neighbours are definitely a spectre-cle—”

Sharon beaned him in the face with a balled up shirt, but even though the folds of soft, laundry scented cotton Pete could hear her stifled snort. He folded the shirt, working alongside his wife in neat, even movements before speaking again, this time more serious. “If he’s really a problem though, honey, we can—”

She turned on him, eyes blazing, brandishing a sock like a sword. “Peter McGee, we are not kicking that boy out of his own house!”

His hands shot up in defense. “That’s not what I was suggesting!” He backtracked, erasing ‘exorcist’ off the expenses list. (Definite pros there, apparently they weren’t cheap.) “Besides, have you seen how protective he is of this place? It would be like having a bodyguard.”

Sharon hummed in agreement, settling back on her haunches again. “Molly seems to like him.”

There was more there. Pete gave a pointed pause. “And what do you think of our new houseguest?”

“I think he’s here to stay, and we won’t get anywhere near a peaceful place with him if we consider him a houseguest. He’s a resident, just as much as we are.”

Pete recognized the purse of her lips, and sat quietly and patiently as she gathered her more complicated thoughts. She blew a deep sigh out through her nose. “Please don’t think I’m crazy.”

He put a hand over his heart, serious as the grave (ha ha). “I would never!”

She rewarded him with another shirt to the face. “Hardy-har har. In Thai culture, ghosts usually stick around either because they’re protecting something, or they’ve met an ugly end.” Her hands stilled, a cardigan unfolded over her knees. “Whatever Scratch’s reason is, something about him strikes me as… incredibly sad.”

Pete rested his cheek on a fist. “You too, huh?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Sharon resumed her folding with more force than strictly necessary. “But he’s here, and so are we. As long as he doesn’t hurt the kids—and I don’t think he will—” she interrupted at Pete’s opening mouth, “then Scratch is just as home as we are.”

A thump above them indicated Molly had closed the attic hatch, followed closely by her energetic speech. While too muffled to make out whole words, Pete heard Scratch’s excited answer, much more diluted than his previous screaming.

“She soothed the savage beast,” Sharon commented amusedly, apparently having noted the exchange too. She finished with the folding and joined him on the mattress, turning off the light on the way.

“Kitchen?”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. Maybe Scratch will want a midnight snack.”

They crawled under the covers, still musty smelling from the moving van, listening to the conversation above their heads for a moment. Nice as it was now, they’d probably need to soundproof the attic somehow. Add that to the expenses list.

“She sounds so much happier,” said Sharon in a tone so caring that Pete’s eyes welled up.

Beneath the blankets, he reached for Sharon’s hand. “Maybe this’ll be a blessing. Molly’s been without a steady friend for so long.”

She snorted again, the sound made quieter by onset drowsiness. “Maybe her perspective will start to rub off on him.”

Somehow, the acceptance eased a tightness in Pete’s heart he hadn’t before realized was there. “So it’s official. Whether he likes it or not, Scratch is a McGee now.”

“He’s under our roof, he takes our name.”

“Figuratively, if he likes his own surname better.”

“I was trying to be poetic and metaphorical, Pete.”

Despite the thumps and laughter from above, a sleepy fog settled over the two of them. Eyes drooping, already starting to succumb to the exhaustion of the day, Pete huffed a laugh. “You know, I always thought we’d planned to stop at two.”

Sharon matched his chuckle, curling up against his side. “Well, you know what they say: the third is always a happy accident.”

           END      

[alondradina]

The beginning of Domaystic 2023!

Day 1: Housewarming

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Rating: T

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46893625

-

Harry wasn't sure what he had expected of Hogwarts university, but the reality was better than he had dreamed. Hermione would have told him it was because he lacked imagination — which was rich considering how much effort she had to put into art and creative writing in high school — but he knew the real issue was that he'd had so few good experiences in life.

"What d'ye think?" Ron asked, shifting the box of Harry's belongings he was carrying.

Harry looked around the ground floor of the dorm he'd be living in for his Freshman year. It was comfortably worn in, but not threadbare or in poor repair. It just looked like what he thought a home should be. The carpets were a warm maroon with flattened trails where students walked. The wooden walls glowed dully in the subdued lighting.

He had grown up in the Dursley's house; white and beige with gray accents. There were no fingerprints, no squeaky steps, no muddy welcome mats. Harry himself had ensured that. He had spent years slaving away in that house. It was strange to think that someone else would be cleaning here.

"It's nice… real nice," Harry finally answered. He shrugged at Ron's incredulous look. "Kinda like your place."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "I don't know about your house, but most people don't think mine is great."

"It's a home. People live there. People who love each other. That's better than what I had."

Rolling his eyes, Ron gestured towards the line of people waiting for the elevator. "We doing that, or going up the stairs?"

"It's only one floor up. We can do that."

"You'd hope so," Ron grumbled, leading the way towards the door marked 'stairs,' "Mad eye keeping us running all summer and all."

"Coach Moody has a point, you know. Not going to win if we don't have any stamina."

Ron scoffed in response.

The carpet on the stairs was not nearly as worn as the lobby, and Harry had the feeling people avoided taking them. Their loss, he thought; only just now hearing the elevator head back downstairs.

"What's the apartment number?" Ron hollered over his shoulder, opening the stairwell door and stepping through without holding it for his friend.

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled it open — juggling the two boxes he was carrying — and followed after. "Two oh three."

"That's convenient. It's right here."

Harry shifted to look around his friend. His apartment was one over from the stairs, which was, indeed, convenient. "Guess I will take the stairs then."

"Your funeral."

The elevator dinged and a few people stepped out. One of them was Hermione. She was animatedly speaking with a dark haired boy, who was listening with cool politeness; face blankly staring until she glanced over at him. His dark eyes briefly met Harry's when Hermione pointed him out.

"Harry!" She called, grinning her familiar bucktoothed smile. Trotting down the hall, she quickly gestured between the boys. "The tall redhead is Ron, and the other is Harry. This is Tom"

"A pleasure," Tom intoned, tone as neutral as his smile.

"He's the other scholarship winner!" Hermione exclaimed.

"So another know-it-all?" Ron snarked, rolling his eyes at Hermione's glare. "Nice to meet you or whatever, but we're here to help Harry drop his shit off, remember?"

Hermione frowned. "You're being rude, Ronald. I'm not the late one."

"The apartment is right here, Hermione," Harry interrupted, pointing his shoulder at the door.

A flicker of something crossed Tom's face before he held up a key labeled 203. "That's my apartment."

"Oh. Guess you guys are roommates," Hermione smiled, stepping back so Tom could unlock the door.

Tom gave him a quick once over, and Harry fought the urge to flinch. He plastered a fake smile on his face, wishing he had bothered to wear more presentable clothes. He hadn't expected his roommate to be so standoffish and critical.

"Your stuff already in there?" Harry inquired as Tom politely held the door open for them.

"Yes."

"Didn't know they gave the keys out any earlier than noon."

"I had extenuating circumstances."

"Like what?" Ron demanded, thunking Harry's box onto the kitchen counter.

"None of your business," Tom answered calmly. He paused at a nearby door and locked eyes with Harry. "This is my room."

Harry shrugged. "Sounds good."

Tom nodded and gave Hermione a neutral smile again. "A pleasure to meet you, Hermione. I'm sure I will see you around."

"We have a lot of the same classes," Hermione agreed, ignoring Ron as he made faces. "We should study together sometime."

"Perhaps," Tom allowed. He shot Harry another inscrutable look before opening his door and stepping inside. "Have a good afternoon."

Ron snorted as the door closed. "Good afternoon? Who is this freak?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, crossing her arms and glaring.

"What? He's acting all hoity toity," Ron turned to face Harry. "Offer still stands for you to stay with us."

"Where's he going to sleep, Ron?" Hermione scoffed, "at the foot of your bed?"

He flushed a brilliant red and scowled. "We'll get one of those inflatable beds or something."

"If I wanted to live with someone else, I would have taken Sirius' offer," Harry pointed out, setting his boxes on the counter next to the one Ron had carried. "I want to do my own thing for a while."

"With someone like him?"

Hermione aimed a kick at Ron's shin, who easily dodged it. "There's nothing wrong with Tom. I'm sure he will be an excellent roommate."

"You would think that-"

Harry rolled his eyes and decided to ignore their argument in favor of examining his new home. Immediately to the left of the entrance was the kitchenette.

Against the wall there was a white countertop — a microwave and an electric kettle taking up most of the space — and a single sink. The cabinets underneath were medium brown with golden knobs. A mini fridge stood off to the side.

Past that was a small brown table with two matching chairs. The room then opened up into a medium sized living room with a maroon loveseat in the middle. A small TV stand with a 32' TV sat in front of it. There were two bookshelves on opposite sides. Directly across from Tom's room was another door.

"What's in there?" Ron asked.

Hermione snorted. "I assume it's Harry's room."

"She's right," Harry said, stepping in. The room was about the same size as Dudley's second bedroom, but much more open without all of his cousin's trash. There was a brown three drawer dresser to his right, and a bare twin sized bed to his left. A desk sat under the only window.

"Pretty bare," Ron commented, peering over Harry's shoulder.

"We'll have to go shopping," Hermione agreed.

"There's some stuff over here," Harry said, opening the closet that was right behind the bedroom door. Inside there were sheets, blankets, and pillows, sitting beside a laundry shoot.

"They clean your laundry here?" Hermione inquired.

Harry shrugged. "I think just the bedding and stuff. Not personal laundry."

"Better than me," Ron sighed. "The twins said I have to do their laundry and stuff, since they're letting me stay for free."

"That seems fair," Hermione said, moving out of the way so the boys could exit. "What next?"

"Unpack?" Harry suggested, glancing at Tom's closed door. "You think he's going to stay in there?"

"You wanted to do your own thing," Ron pointed out grumpily. "Easy to do if you never see the guy."

"I suppose…"

"He'll come out eventually," Hermione said decisively, already at the counter with Harry's boxes. "Is there any organization to this? What goes where?"

A few hours later — half an hour spent on dispersing Harry's sparse belongings and the remaining time spent going to various stores — the three of them leaned against the kitchen counter and surveyed their work.

"Well, it looks like someone lives here now," Ron said, staring at his phone.

Hermione smiled at Harry. "Think this will work for you?"

"Yeah," he smiled back, "better than it would have been without you guys."

"My brothers want to come over. They said they'll bring a pizza; have a little party."

"That's not such a good-"

"Not right now, Ron," Harry protested. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk to Tom yet."

"About what? Having friends over?" Ron scoffed. "He can't tell you no."

"That's not the point, Ronald," Hermione interrupted. She shushed him when he opened his mouth. "The point is that it's rude to just throw parties without checking. It's Tom's home as well."

"Well, he can have his friends over sometime. If he has friends."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Maybe another time, Ron. I'm not going to spring the twins on him with no warning. I have to live with this guy."

"Already said you don't HAVE to," Ron grumbled, shoving his phone in his back pocket. "You could still come live with us."

"I want to stay here. I like this dorm and I like being on campus."

"It'll be fine," Hermione said, with a special glower for Ron. Checking her phone, she raised her eyebrows at Harry. "You ok with us going, then? I want to get to my dorm, and I'm sure Ron has something he needs to do as well."

"I do? Shit!" Ron winced when Hermione kicked his shin. "I guess I do have to go; somewhere far from her."

"Ronald!"

Harry escorted the bickering pair to the elevator and waited with them until the door closed. Sighing, he returned to his dorm.

Tom leaned against the wall between his room and the bathroom. The electric kettle was on, and Harry could hear the water beginning to boil.

Tom raised an eyebrow at Harry. Gesturing towards the Hogwarts football banner on the wall, he inquired, "Are you a player, or just a fan?"

"A player," Harry cautiously answered. He had been leery of decorating their shared space, but even Hermione had thought having a school poster up would be alright. "For the Gryffindor team."

Tom's aristocratic face formed a sneer more naturally than it did a smile. The kettle's whistle distracted him from whatever he had been planning on saying. Striding across the room — brushing past Harry so closely that he stumbled back into the wall — Tom pulled a mug from one of the cabinets and filled it. He pulled a tea packet out of a white box, set it into the mug, and set a timer on his phone.

Harry stood still, warily watching his roommate. Tom seemingly ignored him, though, and Harry relaxed enough to step away from the wall. When that elicited no reaction, he took another step towards the kitchen. Tom didn't look up until his timer went off, and he'd pulled the teabag from the mug.

Harry cleared his throat as Tom took a pensive sip; eyeing him over the top of his mug. "So, Tom-"

Tom set his tea down and stepped into Harry's space, backing him into the counter. "You may keep your poster, but do not decorate anywhere else from now on."

"That's fair-" Harry began, pressing as far into the cabinets as he could.

Tom used the few inches of height he had over Harry to loom. "I appreciate that you sent your companions away. There will be no parties here."

Harry scoffed, meeting Tom's unblinking stare. "You can't say no to my friends coming over."

"There is a difference between having friends over and throwing a party," Tom pointed out calmly, before returning to his tea. Taking a slow sip, examining Harry the whole time, Tom swallowed and pushed away from the counter. "But I'm sure we will work it out."

"I guess…" Harry said, keeping his body turned to Tom's as the other boy returned to his room.

Pausing halfway through the doorway, Tom lifted his cup in a friendly salute. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight," Harry replied, but Tom's door was already closed.

[perigeedirect]

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[oru-kathai]

Cycle all the way!

Mr. Vasan and his wife Annapoorni lived in a peaceful locality in Chennai surrounded by canopies of trees and mild traffic plying even during busy times. The apartment was mostly occupied by senior citizens and one could hear a suprabhatam in the morning and Vishnu sahasranamam audio in the evening. The apartment was usually quiet and maintained a high level of orderliness. Occasional loud laughter of men with jokes from the 60s and some TMS songs could be heard on Sunday evenings when some of the apartment men meet at Mr. Vasan’s residence.

A loud jarring clinking of the cycle bell and a loud scream of a ten-year-old shook Mr. Vasan early one morning as he was having his hot cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. He almost dropped the newspaper. The strange sounds tintinnabulated the whole apartment. Mr. Vasan rushed to the gate to see where the noise came from. His eyes could not believe what he saw. He saw a 10 year old plonked on a cycle bigger than his size, hooting and cheering expressing excitement at his new cycle. As he saw Mr. Vasan freeze in a sense of trauma at the clangour, he raced forward almost standing and riding it.

A human touch set Mr. Vasan free from his frozen state, it was Mr. Krishnamurthy, his neighbour from the first floor. He introduced his grandson Vicky and declared that the little boy would stay with them. While Mr. Vasan was not very happy about it, he tried his best to show some excitement to Mr. Krishnamurthy to extend his camaraderie.

Vicky’s seemed thrilled about everything in the apartment, he enjoyed breaking the serene silence, as he ran down the stairs he rang the bell of the houses he passed by; he sat on the handle of the stairs holder and slided down; he cling clanged with his cycle bell even when there was no traffic. Mr. Vasan found the new normal of the apartment and the locality annoying. But he had to be nice to his neighbours, so he decided to keep quiet.

After about a month, Mr. Vasan was quite used to the hurly-burly in the morning. But suddenly one day, he waited and waited and almost longed for Vicky to disturb his routine, but there was silence and serenity reestablished. Mr. Vasan walked up to Mr. Krishnamurthy to find out what had happened. Vicky had an accident, he was thankfully safe, but the cycle was damaged. No one knew where to take the cycle to service it. Vicky turned to Mr. Vasan and asked in his squeaky voice, “thatha, can you please do something?” Mr. Vasan melted at the request.

He knew someone who could help, he called OK Boss to check if they can get the cycle services. A personal assistant was immediately deployed, he took the cycle to the nearest local service person, got the quote for repair, got it approved by the cycle owner and dropped the cycle back to Vicky in as soon as it was ready. Mr. Vasan and Vicky’s friendship began with that and has lasted for a long time now.

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[gloriabomfim]

Certainly, here's a description of the first part of your scenario where Dee Dee mistakes pig places for the house in 9 non-attempt montages:

Part 1: 1-9 Non-Attempts Montages

2. Locations:

Montage 1: Dee Dee wanders into a pigpen, thinking it's the entrance to the house.

Montage 2: Dee Dee tries to squeeze through a pigsty gate, mistaking it for the front door.

Montage 3: Dee Dee ends up inside a pigsty, expecting to find the living room.

Montage 4: Dee Dee gets stuck in a pig tunnel, thinking it leads to the kitchen.

Montage 5: Dee Dee climbs a haystack, believing it's the staircase to the bedroom.

Montage 6: Dee Dee tries to open a pig's shed, convinced it's the bathroom door.

Montage 7: Dee Dee explores a pig barn, hoping to find the dining room.

Montage 8: Dee Dee accidentally activates a pig feeder, thinking it's a light switch.

Montage 9: Dee Dee encounters a piglet in a pen, assuming it's a family member.

3. Thinking Mistakes: Dee Dee's thinking mistakes involve confusing elements of the pig's environment with those of a typical house. He misinterprets the pigpen as the house's entrance, the pigsty gate as the front door, and the pig tunnel as a path to the kitchen. These errors continue as he associates the haystack with a staircase, the pig's shed with the bathroom, and the pig barn with the dining room. In his confusion, he even tries to interact with objects like the pig feeder, believing it to be a light switch.

4. Titles with Actions and Dialogues Transcript:

Title: "Pigpen Puzzles"

Action: Dee Dee wanders into a pigpen and looks around, puzzled.

Dee Dee (confused): "Is this the way to our cozy home?"

Title: "Gate Gone Wrong"

Action: Dee Dee attempts to squeeze through the pigsty gate but gets stuck.

Dee Dee (struggling): "Why is our front door so narrow today?"

Title: "The Pigsty Paradox"

Action: Dee Dee finds himself inside a pigsty and explores, perplexed.

Dee Dee (muttering): "I don't remember our living room being this muddy."

Title: "Tunnel Trouble"

Action: Dee Dee crawls into a pig tunnel, thinking it leads to the kitchen.

Dee Dee (confidently): "Shortcut to the fridge, I hope!"

Title: "Haystack Hurdles"

Action: Dee Dee climbs a haystack, expecting to reach the bedroom.

Dee Dee (climbing): "Stairs to our cozy nest, here I come!"

Title: "Shed Confusion"

Action: Dee Dee tries to open a pig's shed, believing it's the bathroom.

Dee Dee (puzzled): "Why is our bathroom door so squeaky?"

Title: "Barn Blunder"

Action: Dee Dee explores a pig barn, hoping to find the dining room.

Dee Dee (confused): "I thought our dining room had better lighting."

Title: "Feeder Fiasco"

Action: Dee Dee accidentally activates a pig feeder, mistaking it for a light switch.

Dee Dee (surprised): "Oops, I didn't know our lights were automatic now!"

Title: "Piglet Problems"

Action: Dee Dee encounters a piglet in a pen, assuming it's a family member.

Dee Dee (friendly): "Hey there, cousin! You changed your appearance!"

Certainly, here's the continuation of Part 1 with the next set of 10 non-attempt montages where Dee Dee mistakes pig places for the house:

Part 1: 10-19 Non-Attempts Montages

2. Locations:

Montage 10: Dee Dee stumbles into a pig mud bath, thinking it's the swimming pool.

Montage 11: Dee Dee attempts to open a pig's pen, believing it's the garage.

Montage 12: Dee Dee explores a pig shelter, confusing it with the basement.

Montage 13: Dee Dee tries to use a pig trough as a bathtub.

Montage 14: Dee Dee mistakes a pig's cozy hay nest for his bed.

Montage 15: Dee Dee confuses a pig's food bin for a refrigerator.

Montage 16: Dee Dee thinks a pigsty is the backyard and tries to play there.

Montage 17: Dee Dee attempts to fix a broken pig fence, thinking it's a house repair.

Montage 18: Dee Dee finds himself in a pile of pig manure, believing it's a comfy sofa.

Montage 19: Dee Dee takes shelter under a pig's umbrella, mistaking it for a patio umbrella.

3. Thinking Mistakes: Dee Dee's thinking mistakes persist as he continues to misinterpret various elements of the pig's environment as parts of his own house. He mistakes a pig mud bath for a swimming pool, a pig's pen for the garage, and a pig shelter for the basement. His confusion extends to trying to use a pig trough as a bathtub, thinking a pig's hay nest is his bed, and confusing a pig's food bin for a refrigerator. He even attempts to play in what he believes is the backyard, fix a broken pig fence as if it's a house repair, and relax in a pile of pig manure, thinking it's a comfy sofa.

4. Titles with Actions and Dialogues Transcript:

Title: "Muddy Pool Mix-Up"

Action: Dee Dee stumbles into a pig mud bath and splashes around.

Dee Dee (enthusiastic): "Time for a refreshing dip in our pool!"

Title: "The Pen Predicament"

Action: Dee Dee tries to open a pig's pen, thinking it's the garage.

Dee Dee (determined): "Our garage door must be jammed today!"

Title: "Sheltered in Confusion"

Action: Dee Dee explores a pig shelter, mistaking it for the basement.

Dee Dee (curious): "Why is our basement so…snouty?"

Title: "Trough Troubles"

Action: Dee Dee tries to use a pig trough as a bathtub.

Dee Dee (splashing water): "Time for a nice, relaxing bath!"

Title: "Hay Nest Napping"

Action: Dee Dee mistakes a pig's hay nest for his bed and lies down.

Dee Dee (content): "Ah, home sweet…hay?"

Title: "Fridge or Food Bin?"

Action: Dee Dee confuses a pig's food bin for a refrigerator.

Dee Dee (searching): "What's for dinner in our high-tech fridge?"

Title: "Backyard Blunder"

Action: Dee Dee thinks a pigsty is the backyard and tries to play there.

Dee Dee (playful): "Time to enjoy some outdoor fun in our backyard!"

Title: "Fence Fixation"

Action: Dee Dee attempts to fix a broken pig fence, believing it's a house repair.

Dee Dee (determined): "We can't have a broken fence around our home!"

Title: "Comfy Manure Misstep"

Action: Dee Dee finds himself in a pile of pig manure, mistaking it for a comfy sofa.

Dee Dee (disgusted): "Our sofa is…oddly squishy today."

Title: "Umbrella Escape"

Action: Dee Dee takes shelter under a pig's umbrella, thinking it's a patio umbrella.

Dee Dee (dry and relaxed): "Rain or shine, our patio is the best!"

Of course, here's the final part of Part 1 with the last set of 11 non-attempt montages where Dee Dee mistakes pig places for the house:

Part 1: 20-30 Non-Attempts Montages

2. Locations:

Montage 20: Dee Dee attempts to enter a pigsty through a window, thinking it's his bedroom.

Montage 21: Dee Dee tries to turn a pig's water trough into a swimming pool.

Montage 22: Dee Dee hides inside a pig crate, mistaking it for a closet.

Montage 23: Dee Dee thinks a pile of pig feed sacks is a stack of books.

Montage 24: Dee Dee explores a pig's cozy straw bed, believing it's his own.

Montage 25: Dee Dee attempts to cook a pig's slop, mistaking it for a gourmet meal.

Montage 26: Dee Dee takes a "shower" under a pig's mud puddle.

Montage 27: Dee Dee tries to relax on a pig's wallow, thinking it's a hammock.

Montage 28: Dee Dee confuses a pig's hoofprints for a path to different rooms.

Montage 29: Dee Dee mistakes a pig's oinking for his own voice.

Montage 30: Dee Dee accidentally knocks over a pig's water trough, thinking it's a doorway.

3. Thinking Mistakes: Dee Dee's thinking mistakes continue as he persistently misinterprets elements of the pig's surroundings as parts of his own house. He attempts to enter a pigsty through a window, tries to turn a pig's water trough into a swimming pool, and hides inside a pig crate, thinking it's a closet. He even confuses a pile of pig feed sacks for books, explores a pig's cozy straw bed as if it's his own, and attempts to cook a pig's slop, believing it's a gourmet meal. His confusion extends to taking a "shower" under a pig's mud puddle, trying to relax on a pig's wallow like a hammock, and mistaking a pig's hoofprints for pathways to different rooms. In his ultimate mistake, he even confuses a pig's oinking for his own voice.

4. Titles with Actions and Dialogues Transcript:

Title: "Window to Wonder"

Action: Dee Dee attempts to enter a pigsty through a window.

Dee Dee (climbing): "I wonder what's happening in our bedroom today?"

Title: "Pool Transformation"

Action: Dee Dee tries to turn a pig's water trough into a swimming pool.

Dee Dee (excited): "Let's make a splash in our fancy pool!"

Title: "Crate Confusion"

Action: Dee Dee hides inside a pig crate, thinking it's a closet.

Dee Dee (whispering): "Time to organize our closet, quietly."

Title: "Bookish Sacks"

Action: Dee Dee thinks a pile of pig feed sacks is a stack of books.

Dee Dee (studious): "I need to catch up on some reading!"

Title: "Straw Bed Siesta"

Action: Dee Dee explores a pig's cozy straw bed, believing it's his own.

Dee Dee (comfy): "A quick nap in our comfy bed."

Title: "Slop Surprise"

Action: Dee Dee attempts to cook a pig's slop, thinking it's a gourmet meal.

Dee Dee (culinary enthusiasm): "I'm feeling like a gourmet chef today!"

Title: "Mud Shower Mix-Up"

Action: Dee Dee takes a "shower" under a pig's mud puddle.

Dee Dee (sputtering): "Time to freshen up in our luxurious shower!"

Title: "Hammock Dreaming"

Action: Dee Dee tries to relax on a pig's wallow, thinking it's a hammock.

Dee Dee (relaxed): "This hammock is perfect for an afternoon nap."

Title: "Hoofprint Hike"

Action: Dee Dee confuses a pig's hoofprints for pathways to different rooms.

Dee Dee (exploring): "Let's follow these paths to new adventures!"

Title: "Oinking Opera"

Action: Dee Dee mistakes a pig's oinking for his own voice.

Dee Dee (singing along): "I love a good sing-along in our home!"

Title: "Trough Tumble Trouble"

Action: Dee Dee accidentally knocks over a pig's water trough, thinking it's a doorway.

Dee Dee (apologetic): "Oops, wrong door. My bad!"

Certainly, let's continue with Part 2, where Marky mistakes fox places for the house in the first 9 non-attempt montages:

Part 2: Marky Mistakes Fox Places for the House

1. 1-9 Non-Attempts Montages:

2. Locations:

Montage 1: Marky approaches a fox den, thinking it's the front entrance of the house.

Montage 2: Marky attempts to use a fox's burrow as the door to the basement.

Montage 3: Marky climbs a tree with a fox's nest, mistaking it for the bedroom.

Montage 4: Marky tries to turn a fox's hunting den into the kitchen.

Montage 5: Marky confuses a fox trap for the garage.

Montage 6: Marky finds a fox's hiding spot under a rock and thinks it's a closet.

Montage 7: Marky explores a fox's tunnel system, believing it's the hallway.

Montage 8: Marky encounters a fox's stash of stolen goods and assumes it's his own belongings.

Montage 9: Marky tries to start a campfire in a fox's secret hideout, thinking it's the living room.

3. Thinking Mistakes: Marky's thinking mistakes involve consistently misinterpreting various elements of the fox's environment as parts of his own house. He mistakes a fox den for the front entrance, a fox's burrow as the basement door, a tree with a fox's nest as the bedroom, and a fox's hunting den as the kitchen. He also confuses a fox trap for the garage, a fox's hiding spot under a rock as a closet, and a complex system of fox tunnels as the hallway. His confusion even extends to thinking that a fox's stash of stolen goods belongs to him and trying to create a campfire in a fox's secret hideout, believing it's the living room.

4. Titles with Actions and Dialogues Transcript:

Title: "Den of Delusion"

Action: Marky approaches a fox den, thinking it's the front entrance of the house.

Marky (excited): "I'm home! Oh, wait, why is the door so furry?"

Title: "Burrow Basement Blues"

Action: Marky attempts to use a fox's burrow as the door to the basement.

Marky (confused): "Our basement feels more…burrow-y today."

Title: "Nest Nap Nonsense"

Action: Marky climbs a tree with a fox's nest, mistaking it for the bedroom.

Marky (settling in): "Time for a cozy nap in our treehouse!"

Title: "Cooking in the Den"

Action: Marky tries to turn a fox's hunting den into the kitchen.

Marky (chef's hat on): "Let's whip up something delicious in our hunting-themed kitchen!"

Title: "Trap Trouble"

Action: Marky confuses a fox trap for the garage.

Marky (puzzled): "Why is our garage so…tricky to get into?"

Title: "Closet in the Rocks"

Action: Marky finds a fox's hiding spot under a rock and thinks it's a closet.

Marky (organizing): "Time to tidy up our hidden rock closet!"

Title: "Tunnel Trouble"

Action: Marky explores a fox's tunnel system, believing it's the hallway.

Marky (adventurous): "Our hallway is quite the maze today!"

Title: "Stolen Goods Surprise"

Action: Marky encounters a fox's stash of stolen goods and assumes it's his own belongings.

Marky (proud): "I knew we had some valuable treasures!"

Title: "Living Room Firelight"

Action: Marky tries to start a campfire in a fox's secret hideout, thinking it's the living room.

Marky (campfire sing-along): "Gather 'round, everyone! It's time for stories by the fire!"

Certainly, here's the next set of 10 non-attempt montages where Marky continues to mistake fox places for the house in Part 2:

Part 2: Marky Mistakes Fox Places for the House

1. 10-19 Non-Attempts Montages:

2. Locations:

Montage 10: Marky attempts to use a fox's underground den as the bathroom.

Montage 11: Marky confuses a fox's rock hiding spot with a study or home office.

Montage 12: Marky thinks a fox's riverbank hangout is the backyard.

Montage 13: Marky tries to cook a meal over a fox's hidden campfire, believing it's the kitchen stove.

Montage 14: Marky explores a fox's tree trunk hideaway, thinking it's the attic.

Montage 15: Marky mistakes a fox's scratching post for a guitar.

Montage 16: Marky attempts to open a fox's secret door in a hollow log, thinking it's the front door.

Montage 17: Marky takes a nap in a fox's cozy pile of leaves, believing it's his own bed.

Montage 18: Marky tries to use a fox's food cache as a pantry.

Montage 19: Marky encounters a fox's underground tunnel, thinking it's a secret passage in the house.

3. Thinking Mistakes: Marky's thinking mistakes persist as he consistently confuses different aspects of the fox's habitat with parts of his own house. He attempts to use a fox's underground den as a bathroom, mistakes a rock hiding spot for a study or home office, and thinks a fox's riverbank hangout is the backyard. His confusion extends to trying to cook a meal over a fox's hidden campfire, believing it's the kitchen stove, and exploring a fox's tree trunk hideaway, thinking it's the attic. He even mistakes a fox's scratching post for a guitar, tries to open a fox's secret door in a hollow log as if it's the front door, and takes a nap in a fox's cozy pile of leaves, believing it's his own bed. In his ultimate mistake, he encounters a fox's underground tunnel and thinks it's a secret passage in the house.

4. Titles with Actions and Dialogues Transcript:

Title: "Den of Discomfort"

Action: Marky attempts to use a fox's underground den as the bathroom.

Marky (uncomfortable): "Our bathroom seems a bit…cozy today."

Title: "Rock Office Riddle"

Action: Marky confuses a fox's rock hiding spot with a study or home office.

Marky (working): "Time to get some serious work done in our rock office!"

Title: "Riverbank Backyard Blunder"

Action: Marky thinks a fox's riverbank hangout is the backyard.

Marky (outdoor fun): "Our backyard has a river now, how cool!"

Title: "Campfire Cooking"

Action: Marky tries to cook a meal over a fox's hidden campfire, believing it's the kitchen stove.

Marky (chef mode): "Let's whip up a feast on our trusty kitchen campfire!"

Title: "Attic Tree Adventures"

Action: Marky explores a fox's tree trunk hideaway, thinking it's the attic.

Marky (exploring): "Our attic hideaway is simply enchanting!"

Title: "Post-Scratch Serenade"

Action: Marky mistakes a fox's scratching post for a guitar.

Marky (strumming): "Time for a jam session with our special guitar!"

Title: "Log Door Illusion"

Action: Marky attempts to open a fox's secret door in a hollow log, thinking it's the front door.

Marky (welcoming): "Welcome to our humble abode!"

Title: "Leafy Nap Mix-Up"

Action: Marky takes a nap in a fox's cozy pile of leaves, believing it's his own bed.

Marky (sleepy): "Our bed has such a natural touch today."

Title: "Pantry Puzzles"

Action: Marky tries to use a fox's food cache as a pantry.

Marky (organizing): "Time to stock up our pantry with these tasty treasures!"

Title: "Secret Passage Surprise"

Action: Marky encounters a fox's underground tunnel, thinking it's a secret passage in the house.

Marky (adventurous): "Time to explore the hidden depths of our home!"

Certainly, here's the final set of 11 non-attempt montages where Marky continues to mistake fox places for the house in Part 2:

Part 2: Marky Mistakes Fox Places for the House

1. 20-30 Non-Attempts Montages:

2. Locations:

Montage 20: Marky believes a fox's garden burrow is the entrance to the backyard.

Montage 21: Marky thinks a fox's collection of rocks is a fancy display in the living room.

Montage 22: Marky tries to cook breakfast on a fox's large flat stone, mistaking it for the kitchen stove.

Montage 23: Marky confuses a fox's collection of feathers for a pillow.

Montage 24: Marky finds a fox's sunbathing spot and thinks it's the rooftop.

Montage 25: Marky mistakes a fox's stash of acorns for a snack cupboard.

Montage 26: Marky attempts to use a fox's fallen log as a bench.

Montage 27: Marky explores a fox's thicket hideout, believing it's a secret room.

Montage 28: Marky tries to play a game of cards with a fox's collection of leaves, thinking it's the game room.

Montage 29: Marky confuses a fox's underground tunnel as an escape route from the house.

Montage 30: Marky mistakes a fox's tree hollow as the entrance to the attic.

3. Thinking Mistakes: Marky's thinking mistakes persist as he consistently misinterprets various elements of the fox's environment as parts of his own house. He believes a fox's garden burrow is the entrance to the backyard, mistakes a collection of rocks for a fancy living room display, and tries to cook breakfast on a large flat stone, thinking it's the kitchen stove. His confusion extends to thinking a fox's collection of feathers is a pillow, finding a fox's sunbathing spot and believing it's the rooftop, and mistaking a stash of acorns for a snack cupboard. He even attempts to use a fallen log as a bench, explores a fox's thicket hideout as if it's a secret room, and tries to play cards with a collection of leaves, thinking it's the game room. In his ultimate mistake, he confuses a fox's underground tunnel as an escape route from the house and thinks a tree hollow is the entrance to the attic.

4. Titles with Actions and Dialogues Transcript:

Title: "Garden Entrance Guess"

Action: Marky believes a fox's garden burrow is the entrance to the backyard.

Marky (excited): "Time to enjoy our lovely garden entrance!"

Title: "Rocky Living Room Decor"

Action: Marky thinks a fox's collection of rocks is a fancy display in the living room.

Marky (appreciative): "Our living room decor is truly unique!"

Title: "Stone Stove Surprise"

Action: Marky tries to cook breakfast on a fox's large flat stone, mistaking it for the kitchen stove.

Marky (cooking): "I'll whip up some delicious breakfast on our trusty stone stove!"

Title: "Feathered Pillow Fantasy"

Action: Marky confuses a fox's collection of feathers for a pillow.

Marky (comfy): "Our feathered pillow is perfect for a cozy nap!"

Title: "Rooftop Relaxation"

Action: Marky finds a fox's sunbathing spot and thinks it's the rooftop.

Marky (relaxing): "Time to soak up some sun on our rooftop oasis!"

Title: "Acorn Snack Surprise"

Action: Marky mistakes a fox's stash of acorns for a snack cupboard.

Marky (snacking): "Let's see what delicious snacks we have in our cupboard!"

Title: "Log Bench Lounging"

Action: Marky attempts to use a fox's fallen log as a bench.

Marky (sitting down): "Our new log bench is surprisingly comfortable!"

Title: "Thicket Hideout Hunt"

Action: Marky explores a fox's thicket hideout, believing it's a secret room.

Marky (curious): "What secrets await in our mysterious hideout?"

Title: "Leafy Card Games"

Action: Marky tries to play a game of cards with a fox's collection of leaves, thinking it's the game room.

Marky (competitive): "Let's have a friendly card game in our game room!"

Title: "Tunnel Escape Trick"

Action: Marky confuses a fox's underground tunnel as an escape route from the house.

Marky (determined): "Time to make a grand escape through our secret tunnel!"

Title: "Attic Hollow Misstep"

Action: Marky mistakes a fox's tree hollow as the entrance to the attic.

Marky (climbing): "I'll explore the attic today from this convenient entrance!"

Certainly, let's begin with Part 3, where Joey mistakes wolf places for the house in the first 9 non-attempt montages:

Part 3: Joey Mistakes Wolf Places for the House

1. 1-9 Non-Attempts Montages:

2. Locations:

Montage 1: Joey tries to enter a wolf's cave, thinking it's the front door.

Montage 2: Joey mistakes a wolf's den for the basement entrance.

Montage 3: Joey explores a wolf's forest clearing, thinking it's the backyard.

Montage 4: Joey attempts to cook in a wolf's campfire, believing it's the kitchen.

Montage 5: Joey confuses a wolf's collection of bones for his own belongings.

Montage 6: Joey thinks a wolf's rock hideout is the attic.

Montage 7: Joey takes a nap in a wolf's snow-covered den, believing it's his own bed.

Montage 8: Joey tries to use a wolf's tree stump as a chair.

Montage 9: Joey explores a wolf's cave tunnel, thinking it's a secret passage in the house.

3. Thinking Mistakes: Joey consistently misinterprets various elements of the wolf's environment as parts of his own house. He attempts to enter a wolf's cave as if it's the front door, mistakes a wolf's den for the basement entrance, and explores a wolf's forest clearing, thinking it's the backyard. His confusion extends to trying to cook in a wolf's campfire, believing it's the kitchen, and confusing a wolf's collection of bones for his own belongings. He even thinks a wolf's rock hideout is the attic, takes a nap in a wolf's snow-covered den as if it's his own bed, tries to use a wolf's tree stump as a chair, and explores a wolf's cave tunnel, thinking it's a secret passage in the house.

4. Titles with Actions and Dialogues Transcript:

Title: "Cave Entrance Confusion"

Action: Joey tries to enter a wolf's cave, thinking it's the front door.

Joey (enthusiastic): "I'm home! What a unique front entrance we have!"

Title: "Den Basement Delusion"

Action: Joey mistakes a wolf's den for the basement entrance.

Joey (bewildered): "Our basement seems a bit…wild today."

Title: "Backyard in the Woods"

Action: Joey explores a wolf's forest clearing, thinking it's the backyard.

Joey (outdoor fun): "Time to enjoy our backyard wilderness adventure!"

Title: "Campfire Kitchen"

Action: Joey attempts to cook in a wolf's campfire, believing it's the kitchen.

Joey (culinary excitement): "Let's prepare a feast in our cozy kitchen campfire!"

Title: "Bone Collection Belief"

Action: Joey confuses a wolf's collection of bones for his own belongings.

Joey (proud): "I always knew we had an impressive bone collection!"

Title: "Rocky Attic Adventure"

Action: Joey thinks a wolf's rock hideout is the attic.

Joey (exploring): "Our attic hideout is simply rock-solid!"

Title: "Snowy Bedtime Mix-Up"

Action: Joey takes a nap in a wolf's snow-covered den, believing it's his own bed.

Joey (cozy): "Our bed is exceptionally chilly today!"

Title: "Stump Seat Surprise"

Action: Joey tries to use a wolf's tree stump as a chair.

Joey (sitting down): "Our new stump chair is surprisingly comfortable!"

Title: "Cave Tunnel Confusion"

Action: Joey explores a wolf's cave tunnel, thinking it's a secret passage in the house.

Joey (adventurous): "Let's follow this mysterious tunnel to new discoveries!"

Of course, here's the next set of 10 non-attempt montages where Joey continues to mistake wolf places for the house in Part 3:

Part 3: Joey Mistakes Wolf Places for the House

1. 10-19 Non-Attempts Montages:

2. Locations:

Montage 10: Joey believes a wolf's forest cave is the entrance to the backyard.

Montage 11: Joey mistakes a wolf's forest stream for the basement.

Montage 12: Joey tries to cook in a wolf's outdoor pit, thinking it's the kitchen.

Montage 13: Joey confuses a wolf's fur-lined den for his own bedroom.

Montage 14: Joey thinks a wolf's tree hollow is the attic.

Montage 15: Joey attempts to use a wolf's fallen log as a chair.

Montage 16: Joey explores a wolf's snow-covered thicket, believing it's a secret room.

Montage 17: Joey tries to play cards with a wolf's collection of leaves, thinking it's the game room.

Montage 18: Joey confuses a wolf's underground tunnel as an escape route from the house.

Montage 19: Joey mistakes a wolf's den entrance as the attic access.

3. Thinking Mistakes: Joey's thinking mistakes persist as he consistently confuses different aspects of the wolf's habitat with parts of his own house. He believes a wolf's forest cave is the entrance to the backyard, mistakes a wolf's forest stream for the basement, and tries to cook in a wolf's outdoor pit, thinking it's the kitchen. His confusion extends to thinking a wolf's fur-lined den is his own bedroom, a wolf's tree hollow is the attic, and a fallen log is a chair. He explores a wolf's snow-covered thicket, believing it's a secret room, tries to play cards with a wolf's collection of leaves, thinking it's the game room, and confuses a wolf's underground tunnel as an escape route from the house. In his ultimate mistake, he mistakes a wolf's den entrance as the attic access.

4. Titles with Actions and Dialogues Transcript:

Title: "Cave Backyard Charade"

Action: Joey believes a wolf's forest cave is the entrance to the backyard.

Joey (cheerful): "Time to explore our beautiful backyard cave entrance!"

Title: "Stream Basement Blunder"

Action: Joey mistakes a wolf's forest stream for the basement.

Joey (confused): "Our basement got quite…streamlined, it seems."

Title: "Pit Kitchen Pretense"

Action: Joey tries to cook in a wolf's outdoor pit, thinking it's the kitchen.

Joey (culinary enthusiasm): "Our outdoor kitchen pit is perfect for a barbecue!"

Title: "Fur-Lined Bedroom Bliss"

Action: Joey confuses a wolf's fur-lined den for his own bedroom.

Joey (comfy): "Our bedroom has never been cozier with all this fur!"

Title: "Hollow Attic Ambiguity"

Action: Joey thinks a wolf's tree hollow is the attic.

Joey (exploring): "Time to uncover the secrets of our tree hollow attic!"

Title: "Log Chair Lunacy"

Action: Joey attempts to use a wolf's fallen log as a chair.

Joey (sitting down): "Our log chair is surprisingly sturdy!"

Title: "Snowy Secret Search"

Action: Joey explores a wolf's snow-covered thicket, believing it's a secret room.

Joey (curious): "Our secret room is beautifully covered in snow today!"

Title: "Leafy Card Challenges"

Action: Joey tries to play cards with a wolf's collection of leaves, thinking it's the game room.

Joey (competitive): "Let's have a card tournament in our game room!"

Title: "Tunnel Escape Trickery"

Action: Joey confuses a wolf's underground tunnel as an escape route from the house.

Joey (determined): "Time to make a dramatic escape through our hidden tunnel!"

Title: "Den to Attic Illusion"

Action: Joey mistakes a wolf's den entrance as the attic access.

Joey (climbing): "I'll explore the attic from this unique entrance!"

Certainly, here's the final set of 11 non-attempt montages where Joey continues to mistake wolf places for the house in Part 3:

Part 3: Joey Mistakes Wolf Places for the House

1. 20-30 Non-Attempts Montages:

2. Locations:

Montage 20: Joey believes a wolf's forest clearing is the entrance to the backyard.

Montage 21: Joey mistakes a wolf's rocky streambed for the basement.

Montage 22: Joey tries to cook in a wolf's stone hearth, thinking it's the kitchen.

Montage 23: Joey confuses a wolf's moss-covered den for his own bedroom.

Montage 24: Joey thinks a wolf's hillside cave is the attic.

Montage 25: Joey attempts to use a wolf's fallen tree as a chair.

Montage 26: Joey explores a wolf's hidden snow cave, believing it's a secret room.

Montage 27: Joey tries to play cards with a wolf's collection of sticks, thinking it's the game room.

Montage 28: Joey confuses a wolf's underground tunnel as an escape route from the house.

Montage 29: Joey mistakes a wolf's thicket entrance as the attic access.

Montage 30: Joey believes a wolf's cliffside ledge is the entrance to the backyard.

3. Thinking Mistakes: Joey's thinking mistakes persist as he consistently misinterprets various elements of the wolf's environment as parts of his own house. He believes a wolf's forest clearing is the entrance to the backyard, mistakes a wolf's rocky streambed for the basement, and tries to cook in a wolf's stone hearth, thinking it's the kitchen. His confusion extends to thinking a wolf's moss-covered den is his own bedroom, a wolf's hillside cave is the attic, and a fallen tree is a chair. He explores a wolf's hidden snow cave, believing it's a secret room, tries to play cards with a wolf's collection of sticks, thinking it's the game room, and confuses a wolf's underground tunnel as an escape route from the house. In his ultimate mistake, he believes a wolf's cliffside ledge is the entrance to the backyard.

4. Titles with Actions and Dialogues Transcript:

Title: "Clearing Entrance Charade"

Action: Joey believes a wolf's forest clearing is the entrance to the backyard.

Joey (enthusiastic): "Welcome to our backyard clearing entrance!"

Title: "Streambed Basement Bluff"

Action: Joey mistakes a wolf's rocky streambed for the basement.

Joey (confused): "Our basement appears to be…rockier than usual."

Title: "Stone Hearth Cooking Craze"

Action: Joey tries to cook in a wolf's stone hearth, thinking it's the kitchen.

Joey (culinary excitement): "Let's whip up a feast in our cozy stone hearth!"

Title: "Mossy Bedroom Bliss"

Action: Joey confuses a wolf's moss-covered den for his own bedroom.

Joey (comfy): "Our bedroom has taken on a lovely mossy charm!"

Title: "Hillside Attic Adventure"

Action: Joey thinks a wolf's hillside cave is the attic.

Joey (exploring): "Time to uncover the mysteries of our hillside attic!"

Title: "Tree Chair Trick"

Action: Joey attempts to use a wolf's fallen tree as a chair.

Joey (sitting down): "Our tree chair is surprisingly comfortable!"

Title: "Snowy Secret Room Quest"

Action: Joey explores a wolf's hidden snow cave, believing it's a secret room.

Joey (curious): "Our secret room is beautifully covered in snow today!"

Title: "Sticks Card Tournament"

Action: Joey tries to play cards with a wolf's collection of sticks, thinking it's the game room.

Joey (competitive): "Let's have a card tournament in our stick-filled game room!"

Title: "Tunnel Escape Fancy"

Action: Joey confuses a wolf's underground tunnel as an escape route from the house.

Joey (determined): "Time to make a grand escape through our hidden tunnel!"

Title: "Thicket Attic Delusion"

Action: Joey mistakes a wolf's thicket entrance as the attic access.

Joey (climbing): "I'll explore the attic through this unique thicket entrance!"

Title: "Cliffside Backyard Bluff"

Action: Joey believes a wolf's cliffside ledge is the entrance to the backyard.

Joey (enthusiastic): "Our backyard entrance has quite the scenic view!"

[jeremy-durham]

Renovating Properties to Optimize ROI

Renovating Properties to Optimize ROI  Real estate investments can be highly lucrative, providing the potential for high return on investment (ROI). Various factors contribute to the value of a property, including its location, size, and physical condition. Thus, many investors opt to renovate their properties to boost their value and ROI. However, this requires a lot of planning and hard work, and making the wrong decisions or focusing on the wrong upgrades can result in losses. The first step is to buy the right property. You should review the property's location, taking into account factors such as the security of the neighborhood, access to amenities such as hospitals and schools, and the overall demand in the area. Once you have determined the best location, consider buying a property with minimal appeal as it is likely to have relatively low demand, which would reflect favorably on its price and provide you with a wide scope for value addition. However, it is also essential to examine the fundamental structure of the house, including foundation, roofing, electricity, and drainage system. Houses with a secure and robust foundation allow for various aesthetic changes while maintaining their structure. With a weak structure, renovations would be far more expensive and require more maintenance. When renovating, you should start with the fundamentals, such as the kitchen and bathroom. One of the most important rooms in the home, the kitchen goes through a lot of wear and tear. Upgrades in this area can go a long way in boosting ROI. Consider updating cabinets, either by renovating or replacing them. A marble countertop, new faucet, and glass tile backsplash can also add significant value. For the bathroom, you should invest in upgrades such as improved lighting, bathtub and shower refinishing, and new cabinets. Windows, another critical area for improvement, play a significant role in the insulation of the home and can make a substantial difference in electricity consumption. They also provide significant aesthetic value. Incorporating smart technologies into the home can boost competitive advantage in the modern market. Technologies like smoke detectors, smart thermostats, door locks, and smart lighting can improve property value. They also may enhance security and optimize efficient energy consumption. The exterior of the house is the first thing that draws buyers to the property. To enhance this area, you can add or renovate the front walkway and driveway. New or improved garage doors can enhance curb appeal and home value. A paint job on the exterior and interior of the home can be crucial in enhancing its appeal. Possible problems in the house, such as squeaky stairs and doors or loose tiles, should be resolved, as these defects can put off a buyer. Before carrying out any renovations, you should create a budget and a plan that includes the price of materials, fees charged by professionals, and the cost of making all of the necessary repairs. You should estimate your budget based on the potential profit you intend to make upon sale. Proper planning and execution can help you avoid costly mistakes and achieve a higher ROI. via Blogger https://ift.tt/HS7CWyw April 19, 2023 at 11:29PM

[verticalbrickcracks]

Vertical Brick Cracks

Vertical Brick Cracks : Vertical cracks are most often met in warmer climates. Their characteristic is that vertical bricks can appear in the mortar and brick, effectively splitting the brick in two. Almost always, vertical cracks are caused by thermal expansion, which leads to movement of the material, which results in vertical cracks. 

Replace Damaged Bricks

If only one or two bricks show cracks, it could simply be that the bricks were defective or deteriorated faster. You can remove the old grout and take out the split or cracked brick. Then place in new mortar and brick.

Vertical Cracks

Like stairstep cracks, vertical cracks can also be a sign that your foundation is settling. A brick wall that has a vertical crack that is wider at the bottom than it is at the top indicates a possible sag in the foundation and may need attention. Foundation settlement cracks come in all sizes. But some types of cracks in brick walls that are small and vertical may have only appeared due to the concrete curing process.

Also Read: Foundation Hose

What Causes a Brick Crack and How Can It Be Repaired?

Bricks are made of compressed baked clay with inflexible properties. As a result, they're more likely to crack when your house settles or due to external factors. Brick walls with small cracks are common and typically harmless. However, large brick cracks in the exterior of your house can indicate a foundation issue.

Vertical Crack In Brick Walls

Vertical brick splitting in mortar joints is sometimes caused by warmer weather when bricks expand and shrink.

However, if you see wall cracks in your indoor brick walls, this could also mean breaks in the foundation. Be sure to monitor any gaps you see in your brick wall and monitor if the cracks are getting bigger or if they're growing in number.

How to Repair Cracked Bricks or Masonry

It is entirely possible that the issues you’ve noticed don’t fall into any of these categories. We mentioned earlier that some small cracks in a brick veneer don’t indicate foundation repairs are needed. These are more like cosmetic cracks, where the cracked brick is incidental and limited only to the veneer. If this is the case, you should contact your local bricklayer or masonry company. They have the expertise you need for replacing the bricks themselves or repairing mortar in the joints.

Also Read: How to Fix Squeaky Stairs from Underneath

Vertical cracks

Vertical cracks are seen more frequently in warmer climates. In nearly all cases, they are caused by thermal expansion, which moves the material and causes cracking.

What do vertical cracks in brickwork mean?

Vertical cracks are most often met in warmer climates. Their characteristic is that vertical bricks can appear in the mortar and brick, effectively splitting the brick in two. Almost always, vertical cracks are caused by thermal expansion, which leads to movement of the material, which results in vertical cracks.

When should I worry about vertical cracks in walls?

Vertical cracks that are an eighth-of-an-inch wide or larger could be a sign of problems and may need a review from a pro. Some normal cracks in plaster walls get worse in time, so before grabbing your putty knife to repair cracks straight away, you should wait a while to see if they show any development.

Also Read: How Much to Relevel a House

Is vertical / zig-zag cracks around masonry / brick exterior wall means foundational problem?

ostly this is frost damage caused by footing & fndn not deep enough for frost protection. The other cause could be settlement of earth supporting structure. By law you must excavate below location frost depth but also to undisturbed soil.

This can happen when large scale home subdivisions are sometimes built over swampy or unstable valleys. Backfill is built up with heavy equipment & compacted to load bearing capacities. If your home was fairly new built by a single or small builder then maybe he excavated down to unstable soil.

But soil settlement would happen fairly suddenly. Like once the home is finished within 6 mths to a yr max.& he would not be that stupid. The building inspector has several stages that must be inspected. He must inspect the bearing soil before forming or any conc poured.

So soil settlement is unlikely.another cause could be no weeping tile inst. & excessive water going down along fndn wall & going under ftg & loosening soil. First do you have cold winters with frost. Do you have a normal height basement. And if you do is your basement wall a lot above ground outside. Also with frost under a driveway or walkway against the house frost goes deeper.

[khardwoodflooring-blog]

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K Hardwood Floors Fairfax, VA, 22032 (703) 988-3965 Stair Contractor, Stair Installation, Wood Stair Repair, Stair Railing Repair, Squeaky Stair Repair

http://khardwoodflooring.com

[grogusmum]

In Which, I Go On A Walk And Hear A Ghost Story, That Has Nothing to Do with Jedis (drabble)

As Told By Grogu Djarin 

for Cat's kitten!  @radiowallet

A note from Hazel: Grogu is sharing the sweet story of Georgie by Robert Bright

HI Kitten!

I wanted to send you a mail, because it is almost time to do my favorite holiday, and I was told it is your favorite too!

I bet we have a lot of things in common.

Are you thinking about what you will be? Last time I did not get to dress up for really real. I was myself. Which I know is a great choice. But I am me all the others days. So I am excited to be something else. I might be a frog… or maybe a chicken… OH or maybe a mandadalorian!! 

I already got my very own beskar shirt! 

Anyways, let me know what you are going to wear for tricks and treats!

Here is a story about the time I walked down a spooky trail that was not spooky at all.

Halloween is a fun dress-up and candy time, and a day to remember your people who have died. Plus also to try and scare yourself… 

I do not know. 

So one time, we went for a walk in the woods and it was supposed to scare us very much.

Okay so it was getting dark and we took this walk. The path was lighted with torches. I hear they are called tiki. And there were lots of other kids, some were in their costumes and some were just dressed as kids. I was dressed as a me.

So there was a person in the path they had little horns sticking up of their curly hairs and goat feets and furry legs, plus also no shirt but a scarf. I question their fashion sense. 

Okay, so Goat Guy was telling us to stay on the path, that nothing will touch us, and to have fun.

So far I do not know how we will have fun under these conditions. 

We did the creeping kind of walking. And friends held onto each other, so I put my hand on dad's boot. For safeness.

And then suddenly an owl person popped out from behind a tree!

Okay, I was surprised because of the jumping and “whoo- whooing” plus also it was a person owl, which is unusual. But I was not scared, I guess when you have been through all the stuff me and my dad have, an owl person just does not cut it.

But the owl person told us a story about a ghost, named Georgie. He was not a Jedi… I do not think…

ANYWAYS

Georgie was a little ghost that lived in the attic of a people called Whitakers house. 

And he used to do "ghost jobs" of creaking the steps and squeaking the door, I am doing quotes because what?? ANYWAYS then for reasons I do not understand the Whitaker people said to themselves let’s go to bed because the house making noise… I shruggle at this news. And then the people went to bed the cat with the name of Herman said lemme go outside and do prowling and then the owl called Miss Oliver, that lived in the tree outside the window knew it was time to wake up and ask nobody inparticuar “who” all night long… Well, apparently this works for everyone. Until one day the Whitaker guy got it into his head to do some repairs- he nailed down the creaky step and he put oil on the squeaky bit on the door and then those things did not make noises for Georgie! I think he must have did a dad sigh of, can I just do my job please, people?

Well because he could not do his work he got bored and moped just sitting up in the attic. And no one when to bed, or prowled or asked questions of who… and the owl guy telling the story said that,  that was fine how do you do! But Kitten, this is a thing which is called a sarcasm, and that means it was NOT a fine how do you do, it was a poor how do you do NOT! See how that works it is tricky.

So Georgie left!! He went running all around looking for a house but they all had ghosts already? This must be the spooky part- all these ghosts that are not Jedi all over the place.

Plus also the only house in the village without a ghost was Mr. Gloams' place… it made Georgie scared- when he stepped on the stair it groaned! And the doors moaned! And apparently, that Gloams was a crotchet! I do not know what a crotchet is but it must be bad because he scared Georgie half to death- and he is a ghost… so that is saying something…

So Georgie runned away again. He went to a barn and there was a cow there which is nice. But Georgie got bored again cuz the cow was not a conversationalist.

So while Georgie was there lots of time happened and there was lots of rain and then snow on snow on snow… Georgie was cold and uncomfortable… this is a mystery to me. Cuz he is a ghost.  

Meanwhile Herman the cat, remember Herman? He noticed that all that damp weather made the stair creak again and the door squeak again and he told Miss Oliver the owl and she flew right out to tell Georgie. 

Georgie thought that these were glad tidings. What is a tiding? I do not know, but Georgie knew and he ran home lickity-split! Which I hear is fast. I like going lickity-split. I think lickity split sounds like ice creams... hmmmm I am hungry.

Oh! Sorry

ANYWAYS, he started just doing his thing again. Creaking and squeaking and everyone knew what they were supposed to do again. 

This is the story an owl person told me on a scary walk in the woods… hmmm.

Okay, I like the story but I do not know if it was the proper tone for this Halloween spooky walk. But they gave us hot chocolate plus also candy so thank you Goat Guy and Owl Person! I was terrified! 

The End!

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚 You can find more of my work here and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form.

[trashyswitch]

Chris's Cuddly Mother

Chris has been fixing the animatronics for months and months now, and has been taking advantage of Chica's loving, cuddly nature throughout all of it. One day, Chris ends up working late and accidentally gets too comfy. This ends up changing up his night quite a bit.

Part 2 of The Repair Man's Reward.

This fanfic is dedicated to Chris: my great friend and long lost 'brother'! I hope you enjoy the sequel! You deserve it!

Chris walked into the pizzeria later in the night than usual. Truth be told, he was watching TV at his house when he realized how quickly the time went by. By the time he had driven up to work, it was 10:30 at night. He felt a little bad that he was late for work, because he would usually be cuddling Chica right about now. He wondered if Chica had enough of a concept of time to remind him that he was late. Probably not. And even if she did: late is better than never coming at all.

Chris headed up the stage with his toolbox. One of the downsides to being late, was that the stage stairs were put away already. He’d have to climb onto the stage instead of walk up the stairs like he usually did. Chris placed his toolbox onto the stage and hoisted himself onto the stage with only a little difficulty. Then, Chris stood up, grabbed his toolbox and walked up to the animatronics.

“Good evening everyone. Cool evening, but no complaints.” Chris greeted. The animatronics didn’t reply, like he predicted. So, he opened up his toolbox and started with Bonnie first like usual. Going through the usual cleaning and tuning routine, Bonnie proved to lose some of his tuning this time. He gave it a quick fix and smiled at the satisfying sound of a properly tuned guitar. Closing him back up, Chris moved onto Chica.

To Chris’s surprise, Chica didn’t have any pizza slices on her! So, Chris put on his dust mask and opened Chica up to check for infestations. Much to Chris’s surprise, there was still an infestation of cockroaches! And this time, he thought he saw some ants too. This place was slowly turning into the other pizzeria. Chris gave Chica a couple doses of the chemi-spray (the stuff that’ll burn your lungs from the inside out), and closed Chica up. “There. Feeling better now, Chicky choo?” Chris asked, placing his hand into hers. Chica looked down at him and widened her eyes a little more. Her pupils quickly displayed a pair of white hearts as she dropped her jaw and tilted her head to the side, to show she recognized him.

Chris’s smile grew bigger as he rubbed her arm. “I still have one more animatronic to do. Then we can cuddle.” Chris told her as he moved onto Freddy. Freddy was a quick one to do. Only 2 toys were found on Freddy this time, compared to yesterday. Yesterday there were around 7 separate toys hidden in Freddy’s body! How Freddy kept getting these toys, Chris will never understand. Chris removed the two toys and placed them into the lost and found bin. When the eye cleaner spit out Freddy’s eyes, Chris put Freddy’s eyes back and clicked the jaw buttons to close him up.

With Freddy all finished, Chris walked back to Chica again. “Hi Chica! I’m ready now.” Chris told her. Chica looked down at Chris with her heart eyes again, and put down the cupcake and the plate. With her hands completely free, Chica picked him up and gave him a big hug. Chris wrapped his arms around the yellow chicken as well and rested his head onto Chica’s shoulder. It felt nice. The coolness of Chica’s metal plates felt satisfying to him. Truth was, Chris is a naturally warm guy, so coolness felt quite comforting to the warm man.

Chica rubbed her pink cheek into the side of Chris’s face in a loving way, and let out a little happy whine sound. Chris widened his eyes and just about squealed from cuteness overload! Did Chica just coo?! Chris giggled and kissed her cheek. “You’re such an adorable creature.” Chris told her. “I wish I could take you home and make you my roommate.”

Chica removed one of her hands and patted his head. Chris smiled and closed his eyes, and let her play with his hair. Chris usually enjoyed the feeling of people playing with his hair, and especially loved it when people (and robots) he knew so well, played around with his hair. Chica could understand this to be enjoyable, thanks to his never ending smile and his leaning into the touch while his hair was weaved in between her big fat fingers.

Chica then moved her index finger towards his chin and started lightly scratching his chin and jawline. Chris’s reaction was immediate: He immediately started purring and showing off his toothy smile! Chica’s eyes dilated, making the hearts a size bigger and leaned in a little as he purred. Then, while she scratched and tickled his jawline: Chica placed the side of her head onto Chris’s chest to better feel and hear the purring sound. Chris stopped immediately, growing really confused. Chica continued to scratch his jawline despite stopping, and soon lifted her head up off his chest. She tilted her head in a way to ask him what’s wrong.

“I...Why are you laying your head on my chest?” Chris asked. “It’s just purring.” He added.

Chica moved her hand up to Chris’s ears and started scratching there. Chris immediately smiled and resumed purring all over again. Eager to feel it again, Chica laid the side of her head onto Chris’s chest and listened. It felt strange, and sounded a little like the running ventilator. Chica removed her head from his chest and looked at him. She tried to imitate the sound, but it sounded like autotuned gurgling water rather than purring.

Chris bursted out laughing at the attempt and clapped his hands. “Clohohose enough!”

Chica opened her jaw in an attempted smile and changed her pupil picture from hearts, to feathers. Chris gasped and shook his fists in front of his chest. Oh boy! He’s been waiting for this! Bring it on, Chica! Bring on the tickles!

Chica looked down and started tickling his covered up belly. Chris leaned over and instantly started giggling. “Hehehehehehehe! Yahahahahahay!” Chris cheered! Chica kept looking at Chris’s work uniform and continued gently squishing his belly. “Hahahahahaha! Ihihihit tihihihihicklehehes Chihihihicahaha!” Chris told her.

Chica didn’t really understand what Chris was saying due to the laughter obstructing his words. Chris knew this from the many times they’ve cuddled and had tickle fights. But if Chris seriously wanted her to stop, he would’ve worked extra hard to force it out of himself. But: he didn’t want her to stop. So: he didn’t need to worry about robot linguistics.

Chris allowed himself to laugh freely without any sort of resistance. Chica could easily tell he was enjoying this like he always did. So, Chica decided to move her fingers to his waist, lift him up and press her beak into his belly! Then, Chica started almost pecking and ‘nibbling’ her beak all over his belly.

Chris snorted and threw his head back at the same time! “OHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHO! *snort* GAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA- *snort* NOHOHOHOHOHO!” Chris laughed.

Chica looked up at Chris with the feathers in her eyes, and continued pecking her beak near his belly button. Chris was pressing his hands against Chica’s head, and shaking his head while laughing more and more hysterically than before. He was even swinging his feet between either side of Chica’s head and shoulders! He had never been pecked or nibbled like this before! and he’d especially never been nibbled by Chica the chicken! This was a completely new feeling! And the coldness of the beak didn’t exactly help either.

“CHIHIHIHIHICAHAHAHAHAHA! THIHIHIS IHIHIHIHIS EHEHEHEHEVIHIHIHIL!” Chris yelled out randomly.

To add on top of it, Chica started gently scratching Chris’s lower back. Chris squealed like a super squeaky door, and kicked his feet a little bit harder. “WAHAHAHAHAHAIT! NOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAHAWP!” Chris begged. Both his squishy belly and his vulnerable back were being tickled at the same time, and it was starting to drive him nuts. Which wasn’t a bad thing, but...it was doing something to him. Probably overwhelming him.

Chica soon had mercy on the guy and stopped tickling him for a bit. Chris leaned his head back and breathed heavily to make up for the oxygen lost in the tickle fight. Chica could tell he was tired, and decided to lay the front of his heating body onto her chest. Chris smiled nicely and snuggled his face into the bib. She was so cool compared to him, and it felt so relieving to be laying on something that’ll cool him down. Chica soon started petting Chris’s head again and playing with his hair like she usually did.

While Chica was distracted by something so simple, Chris began to wonder if Chica was capable of physically feeling his hair. And if not, then why was Chica so mesmerized by his hair? Was it the color? Was it the tiny pieces that fell out of the clumps? Was it the layers that flowed through his hair? Or was it something else entirely that was failing to come to his head? Chris had no idea.

Soon, Chris turned himself onto his back and laid his hot back onto Chica’s cool chest and belly. He leaned himself into the animatronic and started to get cozy in the comfort of her armor. Chris started to smile more as Chica wrapped her arms around him to somewhat ‘cocoon’ him while he started to sleep. Getting to the Pizzeria so late in the evening was starting to get to him. He could feel sleep growing harder to resist as it coated his brain and body. Chris was able to feel one last head pat on his head before he finally dozed off.

While Chris was softly sleeping, a door had opened several feet away. A person had walked themself in and was walking down the hallway near where Chris and Chica were laying. Not noticing Chris hidden within Chica’s arms, the person walked themself into the office room and closed the door. The person placed their stuff down, and started clicking through the different cameras. Soon, the sound of walking animatronics started to fill the building. Low, deep laughter could be heard once in a while in the distance, and the dented metal of the ventilators started to move and add noise.

Chica opened her black eyelids and looked around. It looked like an animatronic was getting closer and closer to her and Chris. Worst of all: It looked like it was an old animatronic. The old animatronics were known to be old fashioned and more creepy-looking. They also behaved more cruelly than the toy animatronics. This specific original animatronic was Freddy. If Freddy looked down and saw Chris in Chica’s arms, Freddy just might take him away from her and stuff him into something he can’t fit. Old Freddy, Old Bonnie and Old Chica always attempted this behaviour. Every night.

Chica simply looked at Freddy and the originals as old models with errors in them. Old machines that glitched and started to forget things long ago. So the best they could do is take over the doors to prevent them from finding the working humans. Thankfully, this seemed to help limit their entrance options to the hallway only. And thankfully, the security guards were required to have a flashlight. So they were all set. The unfortunate part about the door plan was that the new security guard was a fearful individual who was scared the toy animatronics would kill them too. If only she could tell them that’s not the case.

Chica looked near Old Freddy and covered up Chris’s face with her big hand. Their eyes were getting worse as well, which helped deter them from hurting a human if they covered up the suspicious evidence. Chica believed that simply covering the face was enough. But she would quickly learn that is not the case. Old Freddy looked down at the smaller extra legs that were in Chica’s lap, and immediately got suspicious. Freddy bent down, snatched up Chris’s legs and held Chris upside down!

If the sudden movement wasn’t enough to wake the repair man, Chica’s shriek out of fear and anger would certainly do it! Chris’s eyes flew right open and immediately, he did not like what was happening. Chica was upside down in his view, and was able to feel a pair of hands around his ankles! He yelped and turned himself around enough to notice the brown, fuzzy looking leg. Freddy!

“aaAAAH! FREDDY! WAIT- LET GO!” he begged.

Chica let out an angry screech and picked up Chris by his wrists to get him back. Chris yelped and looked up at Chica, who’s pupils had their hearts in them again. Chris let out a breath of relief as he quickly realized Chica still had his back. Chica picked up Chris by the ankles as well, and gave Freddy a quick shove with her leg. Freddy, in his tumbling, let go of Chris and let Chica have him. Chica grabbed up Chris’s legs, flipped him over and pulled him up onto her hip like she would a toddler. Chris gave Chica a thankful, loving hug and allowed Chica to rub her cheek against his head.

To try and keep Chris safe, Chica carried Chris over to the office and attempted to walk in to drop him off. But the door quickly slammed shut on them! Chris jumped at the sliding door, but chuckled as he shook his head. The security guard must believe all the animatronics are evil. Chris patted Chica’s shoulder, and felt himself get put down safely onto his feet again. Then, Chris knocked on the door. “Hello? Anyone in there?” Chris asked.

Whoever the security guard was, didn’t want to open the door right away. All Chris could hear was “This is just a trick, this is just a trick, this is just a trick…” Chris sighed and walked up to the window beside the door. He knocked on that as well. “Yoo hoo? Hello?” Chris called.

The light above the window turned on, partly blinding the guy. Ow… Then, the door finally opened. Chris ran into the office and ran into a guy with dirty blond hair and a goatee. “What the hell are you doing here?! It’s 2am!” The guy asked immediately.

Chris bit his lip and looked away awkwardly. “I...Fell asleep.” Chris admitted.

The guy let out a breath of relief and hugged him. “Thank heavens there’s another human being in this horror shit show.” the guy reacted thankfully.

Chris smiled a little and hugged him back. “I...Who are you?” He asked.

The guy quickly let go of him and looked at him awkwardly. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m Jeremy.” He offered his hand out to shake. “The new security guard.”

Chris nodded and shook his head. “Chris. Animatronic repair guy.”

Jeremy gasped and let out another big breath of relief. “Oh my goodness the world is on my side now! Can you fix these animatronics so they’re not trying to HUNT ME DOWN AND KILL ME?!” Jeremy begged, grabbing his arms and slightly shaking him.

Suddenly, one of the animatronics’ footsteps could be heard. Jeremy let go of Chris, zoomed right past him and turned on the light. “FAAAACK!” Jeremy punched the door button and watched as the door slid closed, trapping the animatronic outside. “WHY DID I TAKE THIS JOB?!”

Chris just bursted out laughing at the scene in front of him. Chris walked over to the lights, and turned it on: Toy Chica was standing on the other side of the window, pressing her hands on the glass. “Dude! It’s just Chica.” Chris told him.

“Can I just take a moment to mention that you have the greatest laugh, I have heard from a human being ever? Also, CHICA GET AWAY FROM THE GLASS!”

Chris’s face immediately flushed a bright pink color, before looking over at Chica. “Thanks...But you don’t need to worry about Chica. He’s just checking up on me.”

“He’s also threatening my life. And I would rather he...ya know...didn’t.” Jeremy added.

Chris just laughed at him and opened the door. “Hey Chica!” Chris greeted, waving at her. Chica gave a mostly still wave right back, while tilting her head to the side and opening her jaw. Chica then took Chris’s hand and pointed down the hall.

“Yeah...you’ve got a point. I need to get going.” Chris admitted. “Bye Jeremy! Try to survive your shift! And remember: Chica’s nice!” Chris told him.

Jeremy gave him a small, confused and nervous smile as he waved back. As Chris left out of view of the window, Chica looked through the window glass and shot him a stare with deep red skulls in her pupils. Jeremy’s slight anxiety suddenly skyrocketed as he realized something:

Either Chris doesn’t realize she’s secretly a robot killer, or Chris is walking away to his own doom…

...Which one will it be?

[bisexualalexclaremontdiaz]

A Very Hoovander Christmas (AKA Just Kill Me Now)

This is my Christmas gift to my wife @phobidawg​ and I hope you appreciate how I corrupted my soul beyond repair writing this. Like,

Anyways, don’t read this unless you’re part of the RCSFU, trust me. If you do read it, finish up your will first cuz ur not surviving this.

Hooty stared down a rat that scampered in front of the door of the owl house, its small toes making a tempting pitter-patter against the ground. He slowly moved closer and closer to it, his mouth watering at the sight of its plump body. It gave its ear a little scratch and Hooty could wait no longer. 

With one swift motion, Hooty scooped the rat into his mouth, swallowing it whole. However, the rat didn’t go down easy and for a moment Hooty began to choke. 

“Hoot, hoot,” he coughed shrilly, trying to get the rat down his throat. His eyes watered and his throat was sore but he managed to swallow the creature.

“Ahem,” a voice came from next to him. He whipped his elongated body toward the noise and found the source to be a red-haired man in a dark green suit.

A very handsome man.

“Hi,” Hooty attempted to say seductively but his throat was still scratchy from choking on the rat and he ended up just sounding strangled. He felt his cheeks warm in a blush but the man only raised a bushy, red eyebrow towards him. 

“Is this,” he pulled out a paper from his green briefcase and read something off of it, “the owl house residence?”

“It is, hoot,” he replied, leaning towards the beautiful man, “Are you looking for someone?”

The man leaned away from him and Hooty felt a small sting in his heart, “Yes, I booked a room here and it says here I need to see Edalyn Clawthorne?”

“I can get her,” Hooty looked into his light green eyes, trying not to swoon. He didn’t break this eye contact as he bellowed out in an unearthly shriek, “EDAAAAA!”

The man didn’t give a start or even break eye contact at the scream and only calmly moved his eyes to Eda when she walked out of the house.

“Are you Edalyn Clawthorne?” Hooty watched his red moustache move as he spoke.

“Are you a cop?” Eda answered, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“No,” The man said but then cocked his head, “Well, kind of. But I’m not here for that. I’m Evander Wade and I booked a room here.”

At this he looked the owl house up and down, pursing his soft, pink lips, “It looks different from the brochure.”

“That’s the magic of editing, kid,” Eda smirked and pushed open the door, “Come on in.”

“Does this place do refunds?”

“Of course not,” Eda scoffed and Hooty watched as she produced the key to the spare room, “What kind of amateur conwoman do you think I am?”

The man, Evander, took the key from her hand, stretched away from him like it was something dirty. He let Eda lead him to the spare room and Hooty watched as he walked away, up the stairs. 

“Who’s that?” King’s squeaky voice came from next to him.

“Evander Wade,” Hooty sighed the name, savouring the way it sounded, “He’s staying here, hoot.” 

“What? Why?” King whined, “I don’t want some leprechaun man staying here.”

Hooty took in King’s comment and realized, yes, Evander did kind of look like a leprechaun, didn’t he? A sexy one, for sure.

“You know Eda, hoot,” Hooty replied to King, “Always looking for ways to make money, hoot hoot.”

“Well, how long is he staying?” King prodded and Hooty opened his beak to tell him he didn’t know but instead Eda’s voice came from the stairs.

“A week,” Eda told them, “He’ll be working the whole time. You won’t even know the guy’s here.”

“He’s staying here on Christmas?”

As King whined and Eda argued, Hooty let their voices fade and looked upwards, to where he could imagine Evander was unpacking his things. A week with this strange, gorgeous man. Hooty couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

--

It had been three days. Three days of Evander staying there, in the owl house. And Hooty had yet to have another conversation with him.

Evander never left his room, not even to eat. Why did he come here if he wasn’t going to leave his room? Hooty eventually decided enough was enough and resolved to bring Evander some food. So he set a plate of fresh rats that he had hunted himself and headed up the stairs.

Evander’s door was right at the end of the hallway and suddenly Hooty began to become nervous. What if Evander laughed at him? Told him to go away?

Hooty pushed these feelings down and knocked on the door, “Evander? Mr. Wade? I thought you could use something to eat since you haven’t left your room in a while? Hoot?”

For a moment there was no answer and Hooty scolded himself for disturbing him. He turned to leave when he heard a creak.

“What’s that?” his voice was rough and Hooty’s breath caught in his lungs.

“Rats,” he managed to hoot, “I hunted them just for you.”

“Thanks,” he took the plate, picking up one of the rats. Hooty watched as Evander brought the rat to his mouth and opened it to reveal sharp, white fangs. The fangs pierced into the skin of the rats and slowly sucked the blood out of their lifeless bodies.

He must have noticed the look of intrigue on Hooty’s face because he clarified, “I’m half vampire. From my father’s side.”

“Your father is a vampire, hoot?” Hooty’s eyes widened, “And your mother?”

Evander shifted uncomfortably, “I’d rather not talk about my mother.”

“Hoot, is that why you aren’t spending Christmas with them?” Hooty asked, then cursed himself for being too forward. But Evander didn’t seem to mind.

“Partly, yes,” Evander replied, “But also because I have work.”

“You’re working?” Hooty hooted, “On, hoot, Christmas? You can’t work on Christmas!”

“I haven’t had a real Christmas in a long time,” Evander said and Hooty’s heart ached for him.

“Well, you can have Christmas with us!” Hooty brightened at the thought, “It will be fun, hoot!”

“I don’t know,” Evander looked hesitant but Hooty had made up his mind.

“You’re having Christmas with us,” Hooty announced, “And that’s final, hoot!”

Evander gave him a small amused smile and Hooty was sure his heart would burst.

“Okay.”

--

“I can’t hooting believe this!” 

“Hooty, it’s not that big of a deal,” Evander attempted to calm him down. But even someone as fucking hot as Evander couldn't calm him down right now.

Eda and King had decided, without telling Hooty, that they would be spending Christmas with Lilith. If it wasn't for Evander, he would have been left all alone.

"Your first Christmas," Hooty now turned to the vampire leprechaun, "And it's just you and me, hoot."

Evander took a step closer to him, "Maybe- Maybe that's how I want it."

Hooty's anger fell away at those words. He and Evander had grown closer over these past few days, with Evander opening up to Hooty about his family and Hooty in turn told him about what it was like to be an elongated owl house thing.

There had been instances, in their conversations, where Hooty was sure Evander would make a move. But the subject would change or they would be interrupted. Hooty was beginning to wonder if the universe was against them for some reason.

But now, with Evander's hesitant words, the way his green eyes held his own brown ones, how he leaned towards him, Hooty was sure that this was finally happening. 

The light streaming through the windows caught in Evander’s red hair and Hooty felt his owl heart speed up.

He opened his beak to speak, “Evander, hoo-”

He couldn’t even finish his hoot because suddenly Evander was kissing him. The lips of the vampire leprechaun felt soft against his beak. For a moment, Hooty couldn't breathe but then instinct took over.

When they finally pulled apart, Evander placed his hand on Hooty's face.

"Thank you," he said softly, "for teaching me the true meaning of Christmas."

"Hoot," Hooty hooted, "anytime. I just wished that you didn't have to leave tomorrow."

"Actually about that," Evander looked hopeful, "I have a surprise for you."

"What is it, hoot?"

"I left my job!" Evander revealed, "I'm no longer a fascist supercop. I have no job now!"

"Wow, Evander," Hooty swooned, "I can't believe you left your job for me, a person/elongated owl thing you've only known for a week. That's so romantic!"

"I know right," Evander grinned, "And to think my mother used to say I wasn't a romantic."

Hooty leaned onto Evander, burying his feathery head into his chest, breathing in the smell of four leaf clovers. He sighed happily as he thought to the days ahead, filled with hope.

This was the best Christmas ever.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Constants (9.5k Supernatural fic) (ao3 link)

Meeting with alternate versions of themselves makes Sam and Dean think about what the landscape of the former multiverse might have looked like - or, really, "If there can be multiple Deans and multiple Sams, can there be other versions of things they know. Like... Baby?"

Dean says no. There's only one Baby. She's got four wheels, black paint, and has been his from the beginning. Sam thinks otherwise.

Let's explore what the possibilities of Deans, Sams, and Babys in different universes might look like.

Earth-1

           Dean wanders in with two beers, lifting them high as he enters. “There are our last two,” he calls, “Gonna have t’go on a supply run tomorrow!” Sam barely responds, nodding, too focused on his phone. “Hey,” he continues, setting the beers down in front of Sam. Slamming his brother’s hard. Not even a flinch. “Who’s that? Eileen?”

           Sam rolls his eyes, grabbing for the beer. “It’s us.”

           “Come again?”

           “Us,” Sam tells him, flashing his phone screen, “Other us. Rich us.” Dean takes the phone, bringing it closer for a better look. There, on the screen, were them. Somewhat. Half of the other Sam’s face appeared, mouth cut off by the camera. His hair sat atop his hair in a messy bun. Behind him, dressed in a flowing, flowery kaftan and holding an empty cocktail glass, was Dean’s reflection. Dean’s doppelganger points out at a beautiful skyline from the balcony of whatever hotel they camped in.

           “God,” Dean winces, “they sure are living the life, aren’t they?”

           “Of course they are,” his brother snorts, stealing his phone back. “They don’t have God breathing down their necks.”

           Dean sighs, collapsing across from Sam. “True… you think it’s too late to switch places?”

           “They’d never,” he scoffs, sipping his beer, “not even for your entire porn collection and Baby –“

           “Don’t joke about that,” Dean splutters. “Wherever we’d go, Baby’d come with us.”

           “Seriously?”

           “Absolutely. She’s… she’s Baby. Our Baby.” Dean waves his bottle around, droplets of condensation flung in all directions. “They might look like us, but they ain’t us. That Dean wouldn’t know what to do with her… probably’d toss a wad at some mechanic to fix her up instead of getting his own hands dirty…” Dean scowls, glaring at his beer bottle’s mouth. “Like, did you see their hands? Hardly any callouses… and they were too smooth. Bet he never spent hours over a sink trying to wash motor oil outta his nailbeds.”

           Sam leans back in his seat, enjoying the spiral of his brother’s tirade. Although he’s not fully present watching him. Curiosity circling around a tiny thought. Like sharks homing in on discarded chum. Before he realizes it, Sam asks, “You don’t know. Maybe they had their own Baby?”

           Dean pauses mid-sentence, gaze drifting from the bottle to Sam. “What?”

           “Just saying…” Sam shrugs, stringing together his next few words carefully. Uncomfortable with the dangerous glint shining in Dean’s eye. “There are probably an infinite number of universes – sorry… were. And on them, their own Dean and Sam. Maybe they had their own Baby’s?”

           “That better be a joke, Sammy,” Dean growls, sloshing some of his drink out of the bottle’s tiny mouth with how forcefully he points it at him. The splash nearly wets Sam’s knuckles. “You cannot even compare Baby to that – that… that mint green disgrace those losers showed up in.”

           “I wasn’t trying to compare!”

           “Because there’s only one Baby.” Dean can sense he overreacts, the ferociousness twinging his voice surprising him alongside Sam. He cannot contain the fire raging inside. “She’s special, and she’s unique, and she’s ours. There might’ve been a million you’s, and there might’ve been a million me’s… but throughout all of existence, no matter what Earth, there’s only one Baby!”

Earth-16

           Dean tosses two Jack’s, face-down, “Two twos –“

           “Bullshit!”

           He glares at Sam, dimples like craters on his cheeks. “You sure about that?” Dean asks, fanning his cards out. “You think I couldn’t have two twos in my hand? Or,” he gestures at the pile, “do you want all these cards?”

           Sam levels his own stare at Dean, dialing up the contempt. “Dean, I played four two’s three rounds ago – if you were paying attention you’d’ve known that. So, pick… them… up!” He barks fake laughter on beat, although it quickly becomes genuine as Dean gathers the pile. They’d gone the entire game without calling each other out, practically the whole deck was in Dean’s grip.

           The last few cards were in Sam’s hand. But not for long.

           He slides three cards down, grinning. “Three sevens.”

           “Dammit!” The cards spill onto the table, a few falling over the edge. Dean’s body sags, head dangling between his legs. “I can’t believe I lost!”

           “Serves you right for trying to trick me. Twos… what were they anyway?”

           “Jacks.”

           “Why wouldn’t you just say that, then?”

           “Because the game’s boring when you tell the truth all the time!” Dean drags tired hands down his face, pulling at his skin. “Out of all the chances you had to call bullshit, just when I was so close…” He slaps the table, mood reversing immediately. “Let’s play again. Best three out of five!”

           Sam sighs in agreement, gathering the cards. Except, as he does, a shadow steps into view. Someone reaches forward and slaps his hands, forcing him to drop the cards. More falls onto the floor. Hissing, Sam glances up at the intruder.

           Rufus stands over them, brow arched wryly. “No more games, you two,” he orders, “you were supposed to start cleaning a half-hour ago.” He kicks the bucket filled with supplies near Dean’s chair, almost toppling it over. It wobbles, sound echoing around them. “Get to it,” Rufus says, walking away, “And when you’re done, do a full inventory check.”

           “Rufus!” Dean yells at his retreating figure, “You know I restock her after every call!”

           “You think that makes a difference? Full inventory check – and I want the report on my desk.” Rufus ends the conversation, bounding up the stairs towards the second floor. Undoubtedly hiding away until the alarms blare and spurs them all into action.

           Dean folds his arms across his chest, huffing. “Don’t know why we gotta wash her again,” he mutters, “I washed, dried, and detailed Baby this morning!”

           “Yeah,” Sam says, gathering the cards again, “but we were out earlier, at that apartment fire?”

           “We weren’t close enough for ash to get on her roof.”

           “Then maybe he’s doing this because he caught you fooling around in her body the other night,” Sam reminds Dean, standing. He throws the box of cards at his brother, snickering at how he fumbles the catch. He places it down with a grumble. “Why you thought you’d get away with it…”

           Dean rises, too, blush creeping up his neck past his blue, uniform collar. “I was making sure her vitals were okay, that’s all…”

           It’s a poor excuse; they both know it. He grabs for the bucket’s handle, hiding from Sam’s condemnation. “Sure.” They shuffle out the break room into the apparatus bay, passing by their fellow teammates enjoying down time. “But hopefully you’ll think twice before playing doctor.”

           “As if. I’m seeing her tonight. And,” Dean wiggles his fingers, grin wide on his face, “this time I’ll be helping her check for lumps on her breasts!”

           “Gross, what are you – fourteen?”

           “Dude, you’re just jealous…” Dean trails off as they pass the last fire truck and enter the ambulance territory. His face lights up in that special way when he catches sight of her, that eases the tension in his shoulders and injects more bounce in his step. No matter how much he might whine about caring for her, Sam knows Dean would gladly work overtime – has worked overtime – in keeping her in top shape. Their home away from home, where they travel the city helping those in need.

           Dean knew her longer. Told stories about his assigned truck over dinners, in his free time, and whenever Sam had free time when studying for his exams. Sam never truly understood how an ambulance could leave such an impact on one man. Why he’d give her a nickname, and say it so fondly. It was a car. A means to and end. Drives them where they need and nothing more. But then Rufus chose Sam for his squad, made him and Dean partners.

           Then it made sense. She wasn’t an ambulance. Baby – Dean’s affectionate nickname for her – was part of the team. The third member of their operation. Without her, they’d be ineffective. Once, after a gnarly crash that took Baby out of commission for a month while they repaired her, they drove another in the interim.

           It didn’t handle right. Dean found the clutch sticking every now and then, the pedals squeaky. Sam’s response time doubled because he couldn’t remember where the necessary instruments were. Working inside that replacement was hell, and there were too many close calls.

           When they saw Baby waiting, almost brand new, during their next shift, both he and Dean nearly broke down. Dean denies it, but he let a few tears slip free.

           Luckily, since then, they haven’t been separated. Through squad rotations, disasters, and aging, none of them felt ready for retirement.

           “Y’know,” Dean says, wiping at her front window. Sam on the other side, doing the same to her mirror. “I was wondering… how’d Baby look if she were painted black?”

           “Black?” Sam asks, “Why black?”

           “Dunno… it’d be cool, right?”

           “It’d be ominous as fuck, Dean.” Sam’s lips pinch, holding back laughter. “How’d you feel if you were bleeding out and a large, black truck came speeding at you?”

           Dean winces, picturing the image. “Yeah, okay… I get it.” He steps away from Baby, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “Still be cool, though.” Clapping, he looks at Sam. “So, do you want to do the inventory or should I?”

           “Rufus was clearly talking to you when he said that.”

           “But you’re the one who spends all his time back there. I should be calibrating the brakes, making sure her on-board systems are synced, y’know…”

           Sam glowers, slapping her hood with another rag. “Dean, I am not doing your work for you.”

           “But Sam –“!

           Ringringringringringringringringringringring

           The apparatus bay becomes awash in a flurry of activity. Firefighters scrambling from their posts, jumping into their uniforms. Both Dean and Sam scan the room as it seems like the entire building rushes for the exits.

           Dean brushes a gentle hand across Baby’s hood. “Guess Rufus’ll have to wait for that inventory report.”

           Sam agrees. The three of them have lives to save.

Earth-84b

           Dean closes his eyes as the wind hits his face, savoring its caress. His feet push off the pedals, legs stretched straight while they roll down the hill. He can hear Sam’s ragged breathing in front of him, still cycling. “Dean,” he growls, “stop fooling around and help. A bicycle built for two means it needs two people to work it.”

           “I know,” he says, “I’m the one who bought Baby. Not you.”

           The curve of the hill flattens out, and Dean blinks his eyes open. He resumes pedaling, chasing the high that only comes from riding Baby with his brother on a perfect, summer day.

Earth-1 A-corn

           Dean knows the human toy takes up space in his nest he could use for storing more nuts. The oblong piece of plastic serves no function and draws blank stares whenever other squirrels visit his nest. But he dares not throw it away.

           Seeing the toy brings him as much joy as it did when he first laid eyes on it one afternoon, spying on little humans. Captivated him, put Dean under its spell. When the two were called back by an even larger human, Dean scurried forward. Sniffed it. Laid a paw on its wheel and spun it. Hearing the click and whir made him giggle. As the wheel’s spinning petered out, Dean came to a decision.

           He carried the toy home, where it has become a part of his family. And every member of Dean’s family deserves a name.

           So, he calls her Baby.

Earth-R0ck

           “Where in the bloody hell can your brother be?”

           Sam shrugs, spinning his drumsticks in hand. “I saw him chatting up that reporter from Rolling Stones on our way out from the venue…”

           Crowley stops, pressing his phone against his shoulder. No doubt trying Dean’s number again. “Rolling Stone?” he hisses, “And why didn’t you stay with him?”

           “Wasn’t that kind of interview…” Sam saw the glint in Dean’s eye, shifting back into his stage persona as he strode over towards the blonde with the press pass. She didn’t look too impressed with his brother, but Dean charmed stiffer lips. He only hopes his brother doesn’t bring her back to the bus for a quickie. Sam would prefer not being locked out in the bitter cold.

           Like they are now.

           “Why your brother insists on keeping the keys…” Crowley mutters, rolling his eyes. He holds his phone up once more, flicking it off with a heavy scowl. “I’m going to go find him. And if I have to see his naked ass, balls deep in this reporter, then I’m dropping you two as my clients.”

           Sam calls to his departing figure. “No you won’t!” He chuckles at Crowley’s one-finger salute, watching the shorter British man enter the club.

           A beat passes, drumming the air. If needed, he could wait there until Dean finishes or Crowley brings him back with blue balls. But he feels something land on his head. And another. Then, on his nose.

           Snowflakes.

           “Damn…”

           The flurry shows no signs of stopping. Increasing with each passing minute. When white powder dusts his shoulders, Sam makes a decision. He rises, shaking snow off of him. “Sorry about this Baby,” Sam says, patting the section of their bus where her name was spray-painted, “but I’m gonna get a little handsy.”

           This was not the first time Sam said this. Nor did what he does now. When the brothers were first starting out in their band, and all they had were their instruments and Baby, Dean had an abandonment issue. Finding fans in the audience and following them home, keys still on him as he wouldn’t let anyone drive Baby but him. If Sam couldn’t find his own bed for the night, then it’d be him and the asphalt.

           Until he learned this neat little trick.

           Sam wedges the backdoor open, easing it. Making sure the hinges don’t break. Assured Baby is fine, Sam starts shoving their equipment through. “How many years,” he growls, rolling his drum, “and I haven’t made a duplicate key yet?”

           The drums were hard but loading Dean’s guitar takes seconds. Sam steps onto the bus, halfway in, when he hears his brother, “What did you do?”

           He looks behind him. Dean, ruffled and fuming, stands next to an equally displeased Crowley. Sam smirks, fully lifting himself into the bus. “I got tired of waiting.” Shutting the door on Dean’s yelling, Sam settles in for a drive filled with shouting, cursing, and more shouting. If he’s lucky, he’ll be asleep soon.

Earth-1969

           Dean’s grip on his wheel tightens, negativity surfacing despite the groovy music, chill vibes, and the sweet smell of grass that drifts about the cabin. “Seriously,” he mutters, watching another group of people traipse by from the driver’s seat, “we’ve been here for over an hour. How have we not moved yet?”

           “Dude relax…” Sam chuckles from the back, sprawled across the shag carpeting they installed weeks before, gutting most of the van’s interior for greater mobility. Joint dangling out of his loose grip, “We’ll get there when we get there.”

           “Easy for you to say…” He shifts his attention from behind to the traffic again. An inch of space opened, but Dean keeps their van stationary. Doesn’t expect a miracle like traffic clearing up any time soon. Dean sighs, dragging his legs up and onto the dashboard. Stretches out until his toes poke at the windshield. Reaching into the back, he curls his fingers. “Let me have some.”

           “What’s the magic word, Dean?”

           “Quit stallin’ – I bought the damn grass, Sammy!”

           Sam pokes his head up, dropping the joint in his waiting hand. “It was please. You knew that.” He rests his chin near the other headrest, sighing. “Do you think you’ll be this pissy when we get there? Or will you let yourself enjoy the concert?”

           Dean sucks down his hit, hissing a breath between clenched teeth. “I’m sure it’ll be a real gas, Sammy… if we ever get there.”

           They’d been looking forward to this the entire summer. This being Woodstock. Three days of peace, love, music… and people. Too many people. Probably half the country, Dean thinks, taking another hit. All the other kids like Sam and Dean who traversed great lengths for a taste of freedom. Escaping from under the oppressive thumb of the man.

           Their ‘man’ went by the name John Winchester. When he heard where the brothers were headed, he was anything but pleased; actually, he forbid them from leaving. Confiscated Dean’s keys and grounded them.

           He did not go far enough, given how he and Sam idled a few miles outside Bethel. Dean stole back his Baby’s keys and left a little special treat for John. One good trip deserves another, and maybe once they return their father will be in a better mood. Groovier. More attuned with a higher plane of existence.

           Although Dean wishes he kept some of that acid on him. Reaching a higher plane sounds pretty nice. Emptier, too.

           “Hey,” Sam shakes him from his reflection, “look at what they’re doing!” He points past Dean, finger bending against the windshield near his feet. A car drives off the road and onto a nearby shoulder. It rolls to a stop, doors flung open as an entire tribe pours free. They gather their bags and join the crowds pouring through the cracks between cars. Like fish swimming upstream. Swimming home. “Maybe we should do that, too?”

           Dean scowls, pushing Sam’s arm out of his way. “Like hell I’m abandoning Baby!”

           “She’ll be fine, Dean. There’s no way she can get hurt here…” Sam drops both his hands on Dean’s bare shoulders, kneading the skin there. After taking the joint back from him, though, and biting on the end. “How can anyone get hurt – feel bad or… or do harm – when we’re this close to paradise?”

           It’s a convincing argument. Dean resists being swayed easily, however.

           He cannot leave Baby on her own. Not after everything they’ve been through. Not the first real thing that is his.

           Dean spotted her on his twentieth birthday. Taking a break from work, bumming a joint from his co-worker Ash, they watched Bobby haul in a wrecked van with his rusty tow. She creaked and groaned, sparks trailing behind as her bumper scraped the ground. Ash nudged him, chuckling, “She’s a piece of work, ain’t she?”

           He agreed, for a different reason. Time stretched at that moment, seconds passing like days. Dean felt a powerful force shake the core of his very being, Bobby bringing her close enough that his gaze caught both her headlights. She called out.

           And he answered.

           “It’s not like she’ll be doing good, sitting out there – collecting dust with the other scrap,” he argued. Paced Bobby’s office, fingers twitching through his hair while detailing all the reasons he deserved the wrecked van. “And you can take out whatever parts I use in repairing her from my pay. Hell, I can work on her overtime and you don’t have to give me shit.”

           Bobby steepled his fingers together, slouching in his chair. Face impassive while he absorbed Dean’s rambling. His silence exacerbated his nerves, Dean tasting copper from how hard he bit his lips. Finally, Bobby sighed. “I was gonna use her for scrap,” he says, standing, “but if you can get the ol’ gal working… she’s yours. Besides, ‘bout time you had something other than that pansy ass bicycle you got.”

           “Thank you, Bobby, thanks…” Emotion swelled from within, Dean at a loss for words. Instead, he threw his arms around his boss, squeezing him tight. “Thank you.” Jumping off, he fled the room. “I promise, she’ll be perfect!”

           That began a beautiful, but maddening, relationship.

           She was on his mind all the time. If Dean were working on another car, he wondered if she would need the same maintenance. While eating dinner, he thought about the many joints he could swing by for a quick bite. A few times, while in the throes of LSD, he envisioned her appearing in front of him. Honking, revving an engine he hadn’t fixed – her ways of communicating. During one of these trips, she told him her name.

           “Baby?” Sam asked, sitting on the ground a few feet from where Dean worked. Pencil in hand, midway through a sketch. “She told you her name was Baby?”

           Dean poked his head out the hood, wiping at sweat camping above his brow. “Yeah. I mean… don’t know why I didn’t see it before. She looks like a Baby, y’know?”

           “Whatever.” Sam continued drawing, bangs falling over his face, “Hey, you think you can get her working by Sunday night? Heard there’s a party downtown, and the band they booked will be far out.”

           “Maybe if you lend a hand?”

           Sam ignored Dean’s pleas for help. Dean carried on, not expecting an answer. His brother never had the talent for cars like he did. Honed under Bobby’s gruff tutelage. He left his mark on Baby in his own way, painting a psychedelic landscape across her body after the mechanics and interior were finished.

           Together, they brought new life to a magnificent beauty. She repays them by delivering them where they need.

           Which, if they left her now, would be like a betrayal. Baby had already been cast aside once, on her deathbed. Dean cannot leave her. Even if the first day of Woodstock arrives and they were still in this same place.

           “Dean…”

           “I can’t, Sam,” Dean winces, fiddling with his pendant. Shifts, feet on the pedals again. “I just… yeah, nothing should happen. Can’t help think that…” He trails off, gazing out the window. Thoughts disappearing, burned up from the radiant light of an angel who deigned catch his stare.

           He’s gorgeous. Mussed, raven hair, blue eyes tinged red from grass, and a frumpy, suede jacket marked with scratches and scuff marks. The man briefly passes the door, one of the many walking. He smiles, then carries on conversing with his friend.

           Sam waves a hand in front of Dean, breaking the connection. “Dean?” he asks, “Hey, hey Dean? You okay there? …This was some weak shit, brother, shouldn’t hit you too bad.”

           “What? No… it wasn’t – wasn’t the grass, dude.”

           “Then what?”

           “I…” Dean tries finding his angel, sees him being swallowed by others. Soon he’ll be gone. And it’d be in fates hands whether they meet again. Unless…

           Suddenly the song on the radio fades, replaced by another. It’s one Dean doesn’t recognize; the station name is as unfamiliar. At some point the signals must have switched, a notorious problem Baby has. He listens as the melody begins, building to the chorus. The chorus plays, and Dean knows. And he smiles.

           Dean pulls over, shifting into park. Sam tumbles from the sudden jerk, “What are you doing?”

           “Parking, Sam. Don’t you know?” He takes the keys, shoving them in his pocket. “We’re gonna walk the rest of the way.”

           Sam blinks, smoke creeping past his lips. “Why the change of heart?”

           “It’s like the song, Sam… everything’s gonna be all right!” Dean hops out of Baby, Sam clambering alongside him through the side door. “Come on, let’s get going!”

           “What about our stuff?”

           “We’ll come back for it later – come on.” He drags his brother off the grassy patch and onto the hot pavement. The fleeting regret of not grabbing his shoes flits by, feet burning with every step, but he grows accustomed soon enough. They enter the meandering pack, Dean looking back at Baby one last time.

           She waits there, encouraging him forward. Always.

Earth-G00-g4

           Sammy rocks with the motion of this strange, red box he’s sat in, crawling along slowly. Older brother Dean grunting as he tugs on the handle. “We’re almoth there, Thammy,” he says, stopping, the bright red box rolling into his legs. Jostling Sammy as it stops. “Juth a few more blockth.” Dean looks behind at him, bright smile encouraging one on Sammy’s face. He gurgles and claps his hands together, bouncing. “That’s right! Get pumped! If we’re gonna take down those monthers, we’ll need t’be ready!”

           He has no concept of what Dean means when he talks about ‘monthers’. But from what he gleans, Sammy thinks it’s a game they’ll be playing. Reinforced as he notices the busted fire hydrant they always pass when visiting the park with Mommy.

           Vibrating now, Sammy shakes the red box. Babbling, going on about how excited he is for whatever game Dean thought up.

           Dean gnaws on his lip with the one front tooth still in his mouth. “Careful with Baby, Sammy… you’re gonna tip her over!”

Earth-10k

           “…with state-of-the-art tracking upgrades, undetectable weapons systems, and the most fuel-efficient engine the geniuses in R&D spent weeks agonizing over,” Dean slaps the roof of the pale teal smart car parked among rows of sleek, shiny, luxury vehicles, “Baby Number Twenty-Three is prepped and ready for our next hunt.”

           Sam snorts, raising his glass in celebration. “That’s all well and good, Dean… but can we still get NPR?”

           “Still get NPR?” Dean giggles, lips stretched in a tight, droll grin. “Samuel, the dashboard computer has an entire library filled with NPR’s back catalogue that we can listen to without a signal.”

           “Good. Then we won’t be stuck listening to classic rock like during our last stakeout.”

           “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m still trying to scrub my memory of the awful noise.”

           “Took me three hours with some freeform jazz. Why don’t we put that on while we finish up this bubbly?”

           Dean agrees, leaning through the window and hitting a button. Saxophones, trumpets, and an enchanting snare drum pour from the speakers. He sighs, leaning back out. “Now this… this is music.”

           Sam reaches across the roof, tipping his glass. “Here, here.” Dean brings his own glass close. Clink!

Earth-783

           Baby’s retired, but still loved. Hangs proudly on a wall between framed photographs of a young John Winchester, standing beside her on the beach with medals draped around his neck. Taken down whenever she loses her luster, and either Dean or Sam wax the shine back on her sleek, black wood.

           Years after John’s death, no one takes her on the waves. Out of respect: for her, their father, and the bond they shared. Nothing more sacred than the love of a surfer and his board. They own a variety of boards – collected them. Beautiful boards, expensive ones, and the special few that have earned the brothers trophies, medals, and titles.

           But there will only be one Baby.  

Earth-2390.45

           Sam waits by the open hangar doors, two beers in hand. Charlie stands nearby, binoculars held in shaky hands. “He’s cutting it a bit close, isn’t he?”

           “This is Dean we’re talking about,” he tells her, “you know how he gets when he’s up there.”

           “But he radioed in he was almost out of fuel! And that the left wing felt loose, and -”

           “He’ll be fine,” Sam says, nudging her. Charlie looks away from the skies, glaring at him. He offers her one of the beers. “You know it. How many times has he flown her?”

           She sighs, taking the drink. “Practically all his life…” Sipping at it, she frowns. Gestures wildly with her binoculars. “Still, I feel like recently he’s been taking too many risks. Making things more difficult than he needs!”

           “Maybe he has,” Sam shrugs, “maybe it’s gotten boring, doing the same thing day in and out. So what if he bends the rules a little.”

           “It matters when he could crash!”

           “No, Dean wouldn’t go that way.” Sam smiles, Baby’s shape growing as she descends. Silhouette sharpening, engine growing louder. “He might be pushing his limits. Seeing how he can handle different situations… but we both know how much he loves that plane. Dean’d never do anything that puts her in jeopardy.”

           Charlie hums. “I… guess your right.”

           “Although,” he amends, grinning at her. Baby skidding to a stop on the runway, advancing towards them, “you can definitely chew him out for all that, too.”

Earth-200

           Day after day, it’s the same routine. Sam and Dean return to their trailers at around four o’clock. They strip out of plaid shirts and denim, leaving their boxers and – if they were wearing them before – tanks on. For the next two hours, the brothers drift throughout the trailer while getting ready. Still undressed, powdering and painting their faces. Sometimes interrupted, like when one of their friends stops by for some quick gossip. Or Cas the fire swallower stops by, flirting with Dean as Sam perfects the curve of his eyebrow. If that runs long Sam will shoo him away with his wig, dragging Dean from the door.

           It’s one of those nights.

           “I don’t know why you won’t do anything,” Sam chuckles, fitting the rainbow curls over his head, “You two’ve been in love since we were kids.”

           Dean’s glare shines through his reflection, although the massive red make-up smeared across his lips and fake tears under his eyes reduce the effect. “Shut up,” he says, applying more rouge, “it’s not… he wouldn’t be interested in me like that. ‘Sides, his dad is our boss. Wouldn’t that be awkward?”

           “I think it’d be awkward if you didn’t,” he says, “if he’s anything like our folks, Bobby’s already planning your wedding.”

           “Shut up…”

           Sam adds the last touch, adhering his bulbous red nose with some glue. He studies his face in the vanity mirror, checking for any mistakes. There’s none. Years of practice meant his mind could wander aimlessly but his hand will ensure a clean, finished mask every time. A mask for the people. A mask of his heritage. A mask that transforms Sam Winchester into Sammy the Angry Clown, straight man of the Campbell Duo.

           Odd how, when he was younger, Sam never imagined a life like this. Like the one his parents’ imagined for him. Fought them at every turn, even applying for college. To become a lawyer. “A clown without the joy,” his dad called it.

           But that’s the past. Now, he’s climbing into his multi-colored pantsuit and stuffing his large feet into even larger shoes. Dean does the same, handing Sam some ruffles while he searches the trailer for his shoes. “Do you know where I put them?”

           “Check the chest,” Sam says, “I might’ve thrown them in there while cleaning.”

           “Why were you cleaning?”

           “To practice my unicycle.” Sam grabs some bowling pins stacked beside their sofa. “I didn’t want to trip over them and crash through the window… again.”

           Dean snorts, digging through the chest per Sam’s instructions. “That was your own fault. Wasn’t my magazine left splayed open on – found ‘em!” He pulls the floppy shoes free, waving them around. His accomplishment doesn’t last. Dean notices that the sole peels around the toe box, and by poking at the tear he rips it further. “Dammit… I’m gonna look like one of those hobo clowns.”

           “Why don’t you wrap some duct tape around your shoe,” Sam tells him, rising. “You’d still look like a hobo, but you won’t scare any kids with your funky feet.”

           “Funny. What are you… a clown?”

           “Takes one to know one, Dean!” Sam opens their trailer door, stepping outside, “I’m gonna go make sure our act’s ready. Why don’t you find me when you’re done getting ready?” Dean yells at him, Sam missing it as he lets the door slam behind him – cutting his brother off.

           He traipses through the field towards the main tent, nodding along whenever someone passed. Never staying for a conversation. The other acts and crew could see he was busy, juggling the bowling pins. Always practicing, always perfecting. Dedication to the craft both embedded in his DNA and taught early on. Gifts his parents gave.

           Like this. A small, yellow bug splattered with multi-colored spots and with multiple dents along her body. Her name messily scrawled on the driver’s side door – Baby. His father’s car, that he and his mom would perform in when they still clowned. The only thing John had of his father, that he passed on after hanging up the big, red shoes.

           Sam slows his juggling, catching the third pin on its last arc. He shuffles the trio into one hand while he lifts the trunk with his other. The rest of their supplies lie in wait, left in usual chaotic dysfunction. Dropping the pins, Sam mentally checks off each part of the routine as he inspects the props.

           Dean arrives halfway through, Sam handing off the giant, flake flower. He accepts it, pinning it on his tie. “Is it full?”

           “Yep,” Sam helps feed the tube through his collar, watching Dean tug it down until the pump sits at his wrist. Dean’s fingers twitch. “Don’t even think about it. Save it for the act.”

           “You’re no fun.”

           “That’s the act, isn’t it?” Sam chuckles, closing Baby’s trunk. “Or is your memory getting spotty in your age?”

           Dean rolls his eyes, shoving lightly at Sam. Sam responds in kind, nearly knocking Dean into some elephant dung no one cleaned up. He leans on Baby while he cackles, fighting the tears threatening to spill over. A nice distraction comes from Dean, who rams into his side. They streak over Baby, rolling off her and onto the hay-covered floor. Struggling, drawing the attention of everyone dawdling backstage.

           They dirty their outfits some, but there’s enough time before the show starts. Sam expected some mishap, schedule built-in with extra time for unforeseen accidents or brotherly spats.

           Day after day, it’s the same. He and Dean will cram into this tiny car, shoulders aching from how they press against each other. Packed in like sardines. Waiting for the musical cut that will send them into the ring. They’ll circle and circle while the audience claps, stopping when the tiny amount of gas in Baby’s tank runs dry. Then their long legs will unfold, stepping out under the spotlight.

           The act begins, and Sam cannot fathom a life without the roar of the crowd, his brother by his side, and their family’s chariot. Without laughter.

Earth-4499

           Providence seems more a dream than an actual destination. Especially after they sacrificed one of their oxen for meat, their reserves dangerously low.

           “Don’t worry, Sam,” Dean says, rubbing his shoulder, “we still got the other. And Baby. We’ll be in Oregon by November!”

           Sam doubts that, the fall chill cutting through their thin button-downs. His temperament was not aided by an earlier stumble in some mud, robbing him of dry shoes. Right now, he bundles another blanket around his bare feet; shuddering a ghostly breath while Dean whips the ox forward.

           Baby, their large Conestoga, might look sturdy. But her wheels creak more with each passing day. From an outsider’s perspective, she looks safe. They would be shocked hearing how, when fording a river, she tipped. Brothers nearly drowning under her weight. She might appear warm. But Sam’s frostbitten fingers and red nose prove its faults.

           Dean wouldn’t part with her for a better model, however. “She’s family, Sam,” Dean says, “When ma and pa set forth, all they had was her. We’ll do the same.”

           Sentimentality might be their downfall. Soon, Baby won’t be a wagon. Nor will she be a reminder of their home. Baby will be their coffins.

           Sam sneezes, and hopes it’s the only one for the day. His rumbling stomach already offers its own worries.

Earth-92

           Days like these Dean wishes he kept working. Jack kept kicking his seat, an arrhythmic pattern that forces his lips into a stern frown. And between his crying and Claire’s complaining, Dean misses most of what his husband says. “Can you please repeat that?” he asks, spinning the dial towards its highest setting.

           “I said,” Cas’s voice booms, Dean wincing from the sound, “That the doctor called my cell. He was able to fit me in Saturday at four. You’re not using the car, then, right?”

           “No, I –“

           “Jack! Stop it, you can’t have my phone while I’m using it!”

           “I wanna turn! I wanna turn!”

           “One moment…” He eases the brake pedal, slowing before the red light. Then, Dean whips around to face his children. “Jack, Claire, can you please keep the volume down while your pop and I are talking?”

           Claire huffs, leaning forward. Out of Jack’s reach, his youngest straining in the car seat for her phone. She types on it, not looking at him. “Tell that to Jack. I’m talking with Alex.”

           “Won’t you be seeing her in five minutes anway?”

           “It’s important –“

           Someone honks from behind them. Dean checks the traffic light, seeing green instead of red. “Shi-shoot.” He switches pedals, watching the road again. “Claire, give Jack one of his toys and put your phone away.”

           Claire groans, stomping her foot. “Why should I?”

           “If he can’t see it, he won’t want it.” After a moment’s silence, Dean checks the rearview mirror. She disobeys him, still using it. “Claire, I swear if you don’t put that away I’m driving us home.”

           “But dad –“

           “Don’t ‘but dad’ me, baby girl. Away.” Tone stern, he glimpses her shove the phone in her gym bag. Then grabs a dropped toy nearby. Dean sighs, focusing ahead of him – and on his husband. “Sorry about that.”

           “No need,” Cas chuckles, papers shuffling in the background, “I enjoy it when you’re the bad cop. It doesn’t happen every day…”

           “Because I hate it,” he grumbles, checking his blind spot while switching lanes, “so when you get home, ground Claire.”

           “Why?”

           “I don’t know. Make one up, and then I can talk you out of punishing her and be the good cop again.”

           “Dads, you know I can hear you, right?”

           “Quiet sweetie, adults are talking!” Dean hits his blinkers, making the left turn when appropriate. “So, the doc’s got you coming in that late? Is it important?” Nerves make his voice crack on the last word, and Dean hates how it does.

           Cas hums from the other end, Dean imagining his husband’s pinched expression while he chooses his words carefully. To not worry him. “She mentioned something cholesterol. I think she wants to see me about my diet.”

           “If that’s all,” Dean says, drumming his fingers along the wheel, “you better not sell me down the river.”

           “I’ll try not to, but if she asks why I eat an abnormal amount of sweets I’ll have to be honest.” Cas laughs, Dean’s chest warming from the volume. At this volume, it feels like the soundwaves wrap him in a warm blanket. “Oh, I have to go. Your brother’s pointing at his watch from outside my office. I think we’re supposed to have a meeting?”

           “Then what are you still doing on the phone?”

           “Telling you and Jack and Claire that I love you. All of you. And Claire, good luck at practice today!”

           “Thanks, dad!”

           He hangs up, Dean lowering the volume before the radio comes back and deafens them. Unfortunately, he wishes it would. Because as Cas disappeared, his children’s bickering started up again. Jack upset that Cas didn’t wish him ‘good luck’. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t taking a karate class, nor comprehended what the concept of luck was. Claire received well wishes, he didn’t, and that is what he took away from the call.

           They worked Dean’s last nerve. His vision blurred from the stress, Jack’s tantrum doubling in its fury. He drove on autopilot, too busy keeping calm. Finally, after Jack’s figure was thrown and hit the front windshield, Dean felt the straw rip. At the next red light, Dean acted.

           “That’s it,” he turned, leaning into the second row. Claire and Jack stopped fighting immediately, staring at him with wide eyes. Dean must look crazed, but he cannot care enough to soften his features. Their fighting ripped off the warm blanket Cas’s voice provided, and he was chilled from the sudden exposure. “You two will sit quietly for the rest of the ride, otherwise when we get home it’s dinner and nothing else. Got it?” Claire nods sullenly, Jack fighting tears welling under his eyes. Dean’s heart seizes seeing his son upset, and that helps break frenzy fogging his senses. “I’m sorry for blowing up like that,” Dean says, calmer, “but when daddy’s behind the wheel he needs to concentrate. Otherwise people can get hurt. We could get hurt. And nothing would make me feel worse than if either of you kids were hurt because of me. I love you both too much to let that happen, okay? So please… be good?”

           “Okay, daddy…” Jack sniffles, wiping at his eyes, “sorry…”

           “Thank you, Jack.”

           Dean retakes the wheel as the light turns green. It’s a block from Claire’s dojo, Dean readying his blinker. When he hits the gas, however, the car stays still.

           By the time he realizes that, a semi-truck speeds through the intersection. Blowing its red light. Dean chokes back his curse, cars honking around him.

           “Dad?” Claire asks, pitching forward in her seat, “Dad, what happened?”

           “The uh… the car…” Dean steps on the gas pedal again, working now. He slowly inches through, drifting towards the first open space he finds. When parked, Dean’s composure fractures completely. Shattering into dust that piles in the footwell.

           They were almost… that truck – it’s idiot driver – almost totaled their car. Did the very thing he warned Jack and Claire about. Images of bent metal, crumpled bodies, and blood cause the bile in his stomach to threateningly react. He squeezes his eyes, breathing deep until those pictures are replaced with soothing blankness. Counting, using the tricks his therapist imparted after his last big crash all those years ago. Getting his mind off the what could have happened and onto what did.

           He’s safe. His kids, Claire and Jack, they’re safe. The car is –

           The car. Dean hit the gas pedal but it didn’t budge.

           At the dealer, when Dean searched for a new car after his old lease was up, the salesman hyped up all the new features. Sam listened with a skeptical ear, always asking questions. The right ones. Ones that made Dean feel smarter about his choices. He was in the car, too, with Dean and John. That fateful night.

           “And this new safety feature?” Sam asked, dragging his hand along the black hood, “how exactly does it work?”

           The salesman pointed at the front bumper. “It’s got built in sensors that are connected to the dashboard system. If it detects any danger, it can react faster than a human could. So if you and your husband –“

           “Brother.”

           “Right, brother, sorry, were driving –“

           “This is his car. Not mine.”

           “Well… if he’s driving, and he’s distracted because of something. And doesn’t see a pedestrian coming. Maybe a kid chasing a ball into the street… the car would stop for him.”

           Dean knew which car he was leasing, then. Waiting for the sales pitch to wrap up so he can sign the three-year contract. A year in, though, Dean might screw the lease and buy the car fully. Make her the last Baby they ever get.

           The Baby that survived.

Earth-32

           Sam slams on the wheel, cursing as their car sputters off the road and onto untouched gravel. “No! No no no…”

           “Sam!” Dean turns in his seat, gun still smoking. “Why’d you stop?”

           “I didn’t,” he tells his brother, punching the wheel. It honks, rolling somewhat. Inching forward. “Damn car’s broken.”

           Dean scowls, gun tilting dangerously towards him. “Don’t you talk about Baby like that.”

           If there were time, Sam would calmly tiptoe through an apology while explaining what he meant in a manner Dean’s sensitive ego would appreciate. Unfortunately, Sam can hear the sirens approaching. And dust from the barren plains rides the gust, stinging his eyes. Compound his irritation from Baby’s fit. Meaning he accepts Dean’s twitching trigger finger without worry. “I don’t think we’re getting out of this.”

           “Yes we are,” Dean says. He shoves the gun at Sam, jerking a thumb behind him. “Switch with me. She just needs a more practiced hand s’all.” While rounding the dark grey Ford, Sam stares into the distance. Red and blue flash, appearing over the curve. Dean ignores them, whispering for only his Baby. “I knew I should’ve been at the wheel. Even if it meant we were cutting it close.” Sam enters as Dean tries the ignition again.

           Baby coughs, struggles, and then falls silent.

           “No,” Dean groans, anger heavying his tone, “don’t be mad at me, girl. It’s me. Ol’ Dean…”

           Sam thinks up a silent prayer. Sends it off in case there were angels listening. “Dean,” he says, laying a hand on his brother.

           “We’ll be okay,” he lies, grin laughable despite how hard he tries. “We’ve been in worse scrapes before… always got out. Just another story for the news to run s’all. Winchester Brothers escape once more with their spoils, baffling pig cops and the king of sows himself, Ness…” Dean keeps up turning the keys. She doesn’t even feign a response at this point.

           “Dean.” Sam tears Dean’s hands away. They’re shaking. Or maybe he is. Both of them are, knowing what waits them in the next few minutes. “It’s okay.”

           Dean stares at his lap, tears threatening to spill. Like all his life, Dean reels them back before they can fall. “You think this was how we were gonna go out?”

           “Always feared it might happen,” Sam admits, checking the ammunition in Dean’s tommy. Half-spent. “But I guess it’s par for the course when you do what we do. Did you?”

           “No,” he shrugs, “even know it doesn’t feel… real, y’know? How could this happen to us? Dean and Sam – they called us the Untouchables. We’re fucking legends.”

           “Maybe we weren’t the legends we thought, then.” A depressing thought that makes Dean slump further into his seat. Sam can see the sirens without turning his head, cars skidding in their approach surrounding them. He reaches for his gun, past the bags of money, and tosses it. Dean catches the heavier weapon. “But if we are… let’s hope there’s truth in that saying. About legends never dying.”

           “Winchesters!” a deep, gravelly voice shouts from outside. Eliot Ness no doubt. “Come out with your hands up! If you make this easy on yourselves, I promise we can put you up in a nice pad behind bars where you belong!”

           Dean looks past Sam out the window. Probably at Ness, himself. Meeting his stare. A tension existed there that went far beneath their professions and duties. He glances at Sam, “At least we’re going together.”

           “Let’s give ‘em hell.”

           Sam fires two shots as he exits the car. Dean barely opened the driver’s side door. Bullets rained upon them like a maelstrom, piercing them. Turning them into dust like that which they came from.

           It comes in moments. Sam being held in Dean’s arms as their farmhouse burnt in front of them, mother lost. A drunk father who could barely raise a decent crop when America thrived. Days and days spent with a nose buried in books. When he took breaks from those, Dean made sure he lived life. Swimming in creeks, riding horses. Asking girls on dates after his brother talked him up.

           Loans on the family property eating away at his father, more than the booze ever did. Burying him in a shallow plot near their mother. Losing the farm, thumbing across the country alongside every other victim of this Depression.

           The hunger, the sleeplessness – the bank manager with poor temperament and slippery fingers. Their first robbery. So unpracticed, he and Dean only found their getaway car after committing the crime. Stealing her, too.

           She was more than a car, though. She was home when the heat was scalding, and getting a room risked their lives. She was a symbol, of Dean and Sam, of their notoriety. She was their friend, helping them sort through issues.

           Fitting, that when she died, so did they.

           He blinks, feeling lightheaded. Body sluggish from blood loss. A shadow steps forward, bending, revealing Ness’s tanned face. Ness removes his hat, scanning Sam’s limp figure.

           “Seemed a lot taller in the reports…”

Earth-81a

           Dean polishes Baby’s handles one last time, loving how she glints in the sunlight. He rocks on his heels until gravity tips him over, forcing him onto his ass. Leans back, hands resting on asphalt as he pulls his knees towards his chest.

           “Hey,” Sam calls, “who said you were done?”

           He ignores his brother, staring at his beautiful Baby. “I am done, Sammy,” he drawls, “look at her… she can’t get any more perfect.”

           Sam scowls, rag draped over Baby’s sidecar window. “Why don’t you help with this, then?”

           “No way,” Dean chuckles, “not how it works. Y’know the rules: whoever rode Baby last cleans Baby, and sidecar…”

           “Cleans sidecar…” Sam finishes, dunking the rag in a nearby bucket. Water sloshes and spills from the force of it. “Dumb rule though,” he mumbles, “especially when you purposefully drove through that mud pit.”

           He grins, “There was no avoiding it!”

           It’s not the truth, but neither feel the need to expose it.

           Dean spotted the mud while idling at a red light, Sam busy scrolling through his tablet. Reading about a possible case in Texas, where hikers were washing ashore with holes in their chests. Construction went on nearby, piling the mud as they excavated a water-logged field.

           He took a detour. Drove particularly close, waving at the construction workers while doing so. Sam yelped, frozen, mud sloshing against the sidecar. Some spilling into his lap and coating his sleeve. Then Dean sped past, hiding his laughter with Baby’s engine. Gaze pulled from the road every few seconds as Sam’s disgust proved too distracting.

           Served him right, though. Dean balanced the scales, retribution for when Sam glued a suggestive sign on his helmet when he sat in the sidecar. Only realizing when they stopped for lunch three states deep.

           “Why’d you do that,” he hissed, crumpling the notecard in his shaking fist; ‘I DO ANAL’ unintelligible from his strangling.

           “What?” Sam poorly hid his pride behind a milkshake, shoulders shaking, “It’s not wrong.”

           Dean spent longer than expected sifting through memories. Wading out of his mind, he sees Sam standing. “You done?”

           “No,” he says, picking up the bucket, “but I’m tired. Think I’m gonna take a nap.”

           Nodding, Dean focuses on Baby again. Drawing him from her was hard, especially after cleanings. “Dump that then, since you’re done.”

           “Okay…”

           Splash! Cold water races down his shirt, fabric sticking. He shudders a harsh breath, gasping from the shock of both the water and Sam’s action. His jaw hangs open, Dean slowly turning his head. Sam above with a terrible smile on his face. Innocent in name only. “You…”

           “Have fun with that, Dean!” He drops the bucket, scurrying for the motel room. Dean jumps, sliding somewhat from the suds. A tiny obstacle that impacts him greatly, Dean reaching Sam when the motel door closes. Slamming against it, Dean bangs and bangs.

           “Sammy! You open that up!”

           “Sorry, Dean, I can’t hear you! I’m sleeping!”

           Minutes seem like hours, Dean pounding the door until he gives up. Slinks back, defeated. Seeking comfort in a familiar shape.

           He stretches across Baby’s seat, careful of his still-dripping clothes. Dean caresses her front light, sight, “Sam’s a big ol’ meanie… leaving him high and wet out in the cold… what are we gonna do to him next?”

Earth-406

           It’s simple work, but it’s good work. It’s their work.

           “Help me with this,” Dean says, motioning Sam over. His brother adjusts his cap, tucking flyaway back under while he crosses the deck. Dean, bent, fingers slipping on the heavy net, breathes a sigh of relief when Sam latches on. “Three, okay? One… two… three.”

           They haul their catch over the edge, fish fighting the entire time. Their hands were whacked with tails and bit by snapping jaws, but they stayed firm. Pulling the rest of their haul up until all the fish flopped and died.

           “Whoa…” Sam wipes his brow, picking up one of the fish, “these are huge. You sure Cas didn’t find this place near a toxic waste dump?”

           Dean huffs, “Maybe they’re on whatever diet’s made you so big and strong?” Sam shoves at him, nearly forcing him off the boat as his foot slips. The fish underneath him taking revenge. He grabs Baby’s edge, catching himself. “Keep laughing, Sammy,” Dean drawls, glaring at his brother, “but how funny would it’ve been if I fell overboard and you had to do this all by yourself?”

           “You’d’ve just gotten wet, drama queen.” Sam clears fish away with his feet, pushing them into piles they can easily manage. “Now quit playing around. We’ve got to get these packed away before they spoil. Otherwise this whole trip’d been a waste.”

           He rolls his eyes but does as instructed.

           Packing fish into Baby’s large cooler went by fast, Dean’s autopilot guiding him. Dean and Sam could do this while sleeping, so comfortable with these tasks. Having been on the sea since they were little, helping their father work on his boat. They did their homework on Baby, played on Baby, and when John took her far beyond usual paths, slept in Baby.

           When he grew too old, he passed her onto those he knew would treat her right. Those who can uphold the family business. Men who have been fishing for all their lives.

           It’s simple work, but it’s good work. It’s their work.

Earth-0

           Sal finds his irritation fading when he sees his brother, Dean, stride towards a familiar car. “Dude,” he says, eyes widening in shock, “is that -?”

           “Yep,” Dean answers, stroking his hand lovingly across her hood, “I’m glad you didn’t forget Baby.”

           How could he? They both grew up in her, the blue 1965 Mustang the only home Sal ever knew. Staring at her, a million questions sprout like weeds in his mind. What’s she doing here? Why does she look this good? Is the army man he lost years ago still stuck in her ashtray? Of all those thoughts, Sal voices only one. “Dad lets you drive her?”

           “He gave her to me,” he tells Sal, opening the driver’s side door. “Now come on, we can talk more about her while we’re on the road. Longer we drag our feet, the more likely dad’s in danger…”

           It’s not great motivation for Sal, but he slides in without a fight. Brushing his thumbs on the leather seating, he pushes thoughts of his father to the back of his mind. Instead thinking about all the good memories; those he has of Baby, and coincidentally, of Dean.

Earth-1

           Sam winces, Dean advancing too close in his tirade. “Okay, okay… sheesh. It was only a question. I didn’t mean to threaten the weird relationship you have with your car.”

           Dean relaxes somewhat, shoulders still tense. He drains his beer in a single gulp, fingers flexing against the glass bottle. Given enough time, left alone, he can unwind once more. Although a thought strikes Sam that makes him risk his brother’s temper. Teasing too tempting.

           “Y’know,” he chuckles, sliding his beer across the table. Back and forth. “Maybe in one universe, Baby isn’t a car. Maybe Baby’s a person. And that Dean and that Baby are finally fucking –“

           “Sammy…” The slight edge of warning underlying his voice should give Sam a good idea as to the line he treads. “Don’t you…”

           “Or does Baby being human even matter to you?”

           “That’s it!”

           Sam jumps out of his seat, avoiding Dean’s flailing hand. Flees while his brother climbs over the table, spilling what little remained of his beer. He hears his pounding footsteps after him, audible even though his own cackling bounces off the walls.

           “Sam! Dean –“ They pass Cas and Jack, having hurried when hearing the commotion. Sam keeps moving, the distance between him and Dean lessening with each breath. How, Sam doesn’t know. Of the two, Dean’s only form of exercising aside from fighting monsters was running his mouth. But that’s definitely his hand brushing his shoulder. Dean urged on by pride, and the need to defend his Baby’s armor.

           He makes a sharp left, skidding. Dean slams into the wall. Sam looks behind, briefly, spotting his brother’s fierce glare and tempered smile. “I’m gonna get you, Sammy!” he shouts, barreling towards him, “And when I do…”

           They shoot out into the garage. Sam runs for safety, finding Baby. Dean follows.

           Circling her, they take turns gasping for breath. They feel young – younger than ever. Decades worth of trauma shaved off, wrinkles smoothening, and souls lighter like when they were children. Hell, Heaven… Lucifer, Michael, and Chuck… all distant, fading dreams too impossible for reality.

           Soon, Dean’s irritation fades. He forgets why he chased Sam into the garage. Sam notices the brighter mood of his brother but doesn’t needle him further.

           Why spoil such a rare moment? Another good memory for Sam, Dean, and Baby.

           Our Baby.

[stevmarie]

So how ‘bout that haunted house au??? Because I may have had an idea...

A groan echoed through the bowels of the house, rumbling from deep in its gut, and everyone simultaneously froze in what they were doing. Eyes darted to and from faces, a strange silence settling in where previously there had been light-hearted banter. Natsu was the first the break the fragile quiet.

“What the hell was that?”

“Sounded like it was coming from the basement.” Grey muttered

“Sub-basement,” Laxus said.

“There’s a sub-basement?”

“That’s where the boilers are,” Lucy explained.

“This place has boilers?” Natsu asked with a grin spreading across his face.

“How else would you heat over two million square feet of space, genius?” Grey snapped.

Another groan shivered through the walls, this time followed by an alarmed squeak from the blonde heiress. Laxus, not in the mind to endure any more jumping and fidgeting, clicked his teeth and turned towards the servants stairwell.

“Where are you going?”

“To get some damn work done around here,” he snapped back, “Boilers don’t start themselves, do they?”

He slammed the door behind him as he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and started making his way down the too-narrow stairs. The steps turned at odd angles beneath his feet with small ruts worn in the stone from countless trips up and down. A sort of grey-ish grime coated the walls up to his shoulder as he spiraled down, down, down, probably from hands that ran themselves, dirt-covered and sweaty, across the off-white brick.

“Boilers don’t start themselves.”

He hadn’t put a lot of thought into that phrase when he’d said it, but now he was starting to dwell on it. He hadn’t asked who Lucy had hired to try the fix the inner-workings of the mansion other than himself. As far as he was aware, he, Mirajane, Lucy, Natsu, and Grey were the only ones here. Mirajane certainly wouldn’t have gone down here alone. So that begged the question who was down here...

He finally found himself at the bottom landing, staring at black pipes that snaked from just above the door and disappeared into darkness. He peered inside, shocked at the deep encroaching shadows unbroken by lamplight. Was whoever down here completely in the dark?

It was cold and damp, feeling more like standing in the middle of a cave than a basement. Black pipes were strung up to the ceiling, strapped to the sides of the walls, and disappearing up and in like worms writhing their way through the mansion. A deep rumble started from far down in the darkness ahead, growing in intensity and thundering towards him. His body braced instinctively as it rushed by, shaking the pipes around him and bellowing up into the foundation. He didn’t realize he’d been clenching his teeth until he forced himself to pull another drag from his cigarette.

He was definitely headed in the right direction.

Stepping into the hall felt like being swallowed. As he walked through the cold damp, he glanced around the tops of the walls, looking for spiderwebs. He’d heard spiders like places like this, dark and dank and quiet. He would have thought he’d be ducking under them in a place like this, untouched for so many years, but there wasn’t a single one to be found. But then, as much as spiders loved a place to hide, it took quite the disillusioned arachnid to attempt to make its home in a sleeping, open mouth. And that’s exactly what this place felt like, like walking right down into a throat. Rattling and breathing around him, resting, waiting for him to make one incorrect step to trigger an automatic response and be swallowed.

Laxus didn’t like it down here, he decided. Not because of some silly thing like the thought of being swallowed, of course. That was kid stuff.

A noise echoed faintly down the chamber at him, something that sounded very much like one thing striking against another. A crunch and rattle, the clang of metal against metal, and then the crunch sounded again. Laxus stood in the hall for a moment, trying to figure out what it was. The initial response of calling to the source of the noise died in the back of his throat because the thought of braking the darkness around him suddenly seemed terrifying.

There’s a mansion in San Jose, California called the Winchester Mystery House and - no matter if you believed ghost stories or preferred the more believable tales about predatory mediums working on the grief-stricken minds of rich widows - most people tend to agree that it’s haunted. Amid stories of doors leading to nothing, rooms left unfinished, and the sprawling design of a labrithine building that directly mirrored the decaying sanity of an elderly woman, there were tales of workers that still hammered away at metaphysical walls and threw around the tools of unsuspecting contractors who tried to make routine repairs. The idea snuck up in the back of his mind that this was exactly what was happening, the ghosts of long-dead servants were now toiling away in darkened corridors, their labors never finished. It made his skin prickle.

Laxus had never worked in a haunted house before, mind you. He’d worked in old houses, yes, and ones more ruined than they were salvageable. He’d been in places frequented by odd noises and knockings. He’d laid wires in walls with tragic histories. Most times he’d find that a good corbonmonoxide detector would destroy a longstanding haunted house. But something about the Heartfilia mansion just didn’t say you’re breathing too much poisonous gas to him. The place had been unsettling since the moment he’d stepped from his car; dark in places that didn’t make sense, and oozing unfamiliarity and patient malice. An open window couldn’t banish the strange, sticking dread that clung to the raftors of this place. And the noise echoing down the hallway sounded very much like something that didn’t belong, eerie and broken as it was, like a minor’s dredging through the heart of a cold mountain.

Laxus’s stomach dropped as he stepped forward into the darkness. He saw something dim reflecting off the pipes down at the end of the hall, like the slightest glimpse of light through a mist. It wasn’t warm like the lamps upstairs. It was cold and distant, ghostly and blue in the way snow is, or fog. It wavered slightly and then, quite suddenly, dashed away. And then Laxus heard it again, louder now as he drew closer, a crunch and then a rattle, followed by a metallic clang. It reminded him of walking by the railroad tracks as a kid and climbing the mountain of gravel heaped for use later, the sound of rocks gliding off one another as they were dislodged by his feet and tumbled in a miniature avalanche down the slope. The metal clang, and now Laxus could hear a high-pitched squeal of hinges.

A low noise started, slow and eerie. A voice hummed distantly a hollow tune, slightly off-key. Laxus’s heart thumped it’s way up his throat as he approached the bend in the hall. The sound of rocks tumbling was incredibly close, made loud either by his fear or by whatever had made it coming near to him. He stood still, staring at the corner as he tried to find the will to turn and see who was on the other side. The humming stopped, the sound of stone ended, and the groan of hinges filled the space until a metal door clanged shut.

He felt incredibly loud and bumbling as his foot scuffed against the floor. He turned and his eyes meandered their way across a flashlight laying on its side, light cutting through unnaturally dark haze into the gaping mouth of a boiler. Two more stood beside it, doors shut tight with something black oozing from their closed maws. Laxus felt a little dizzy as he stood there staring at the empty boiler room. His breath was coming in fast, his eyes landing on abandoned work.

“What in the hell do ya think yer doin’?” a voice demanded and Laxus nearly jumped from his skin. He snapped his head around to a darkened doorway past the bench that held the light. A stark shadow stood there, hunched over some long shape. Laxus nearly swallowed his cigarette at the sound of metal hitting concrete ground, “I just shoveled coal!”

“I’m... uhh...” Laxus stuttered as the shadow stepped out of the darkness and into the limited light of the flashlight.

“Don’t ya know shit about workin’ with coal? Get rid of the fucking cigarette, unless ya wanna send us both up,” he growled, crossing his arms and glaring over at him.

“Oh!” Laxus responded eloquently, fumbling to find something to put his cigarette out on. He settled on the wall, not figuring Miss Heartifila would be giving much of a fuck about the walls down here being dirty, and somewhat awkwardly cleared his throat, “I’m Laxus.”

The man raised a brow at him, giving him a hard look over before something sparked in his eyes, “The electrition?”

Laxus smiled more out of courtesy than actually wanting to, “Yep.”

“Th’names Gajeel,” he replied, placing his hands on his hips, “Sorta a handyman. Would be a mechanic, except I never got around to passin’ the test.”

“Not certified but still fixing the boilers?” Laxus asked in good humor.

“I was the only person they could find who’d worked with steamship boilers before... course, those were oil, not coal.”

“Semantics,” Laxus said.

He shrugged and then slouched back into the dark room. Laxus stepped farther in, eyeing the massive machines and their many strange gauges and knobs. The black stuff on the ground, Laxus realized, was coal dust and the two closed boilers had been filled with the stuff. Laxus had no idea how long it must have taken to do, especially alone, but he could only assume Gajeel had to have gotten here long before the rest of them.

“You do all this yourself?” Laxus asked. He heard the deary complaint of a squeaky wheel and turned to see Gajeel pushing a wheelbarrow heaping with coal. He grunted as he heaved it into the open boiler, clapping his hands and sending darkened plumes of rock dust into the air.

“It ain’t so bad once you get started,” he muttered, slamming the door shut and turning a knob to seal it. He turned and headed off in a direction deeper into the room, and Laxus followed closely behind, not wanting to be left alone in the dark. There was a workbench, or Laxus thought it was, with long metal poles wrapped in cloth. There was a bucket of water colored pitched, and it was clear why when Gajeel stuck his arms deep into it, wetting down his hands and running them across his face. The water cut streaks into the soot covering him, staining his shirt. He grabbed one of the poles.

“What’s that?”

“Hopefully, it’s what gets everythin’ running,” he said, dunking it in oil.

“If it doesn’t?”

“It’ll probably blow us up... hell if I know. I’m just hoping none of the pipes corroded. That’ll be a hell of a mess...”

They returned to the boilers where Gajeel checked valves and gauges, griping the entire time about pressure and how the whole place is probably a death trap, before plunging the pole down into the bowels of the boiler, waiting a few beats while slowly turning it, and then pulling it out again. There was a flicker in the observation window that grew steadily brighter.

“Give ‘er a look,” Gajeel’s voice sounded amused, but he’d turned around before Laxus could glance at his face. As he toiled down the line, Laxus peeked into the belly of the thing. White brick lined the sides of the boiler, charred from use, and the fire danced its way across the rock, turning from a fighting scarlet to livid white and tipping in blue. It was mystifying to watch it flicker and taunt its way through the monsterous pit, and for the first time since Laxus had gotten to this godforsaken place, he started to feel warm.

A deep vibration started at his feet, rumbling the pipes like an earthquake and setting the whole house into a vicious buzz. Smoke belched from one of the vents before shuttering and and stopping. There was a dreadful moment when the entire boiler shivered and groaned, sending that same egregious moan echoing loudly through the house, and then it lolled to a comfortable hum. Gajeel crosses his arms, watching his work completed with a smug set to his features, as the room filled with the reddish glow of coal fire.

“Well, I’ll be damn. We might get this place livable after all,” Laxus sighed, “How long d’you think it’ll take to get the house warm?”

“A place as big as this? At least five hours.”

“I don’t think I can go five hours listening to the heiress complain about the cold.”

“Bit of a princess, ain’t she?”

Laxus rolled his eyes and Gajeel snorted, the noise as alien to the place as the heat now filling the room. With more light, Laxus could see piercings catching the red glow on his eyebrows.

“She seems one of those damsel-in-distress types, always gettin’ into trouble. Can’t wait ‘til she finds a mouse. Bet she’ll be climing right up into those strong arms of yours.”

Laxus laughed and it felt like a relief. The trepidation that had been clinging to him for so long, the inherit off-ness that had been sinking its cold fingers into him, his uneasiness at being in this massive, unknown place, it all disappeared in the midst of simply being able to laugh. A sheepish grin broke out across Gajeel’s face. Laxus wasn’t sure if it was the black dust peppering his face, the way the warm, comforting light of the boilers bounced across his eyes, or maybe just having another warm presense in the otherwise suffocating basement, but Laxus was sure the entire place had just gotten a bit brighter.

[thistweetcalledmyback]

Prior to remodeling...

...it is essential to examine your house effectively or have a qualified specialist do this for you. You will be searching for any significant hidden issues with your house that need to be addressed prior to or throughout your planned restoration project. This will assist get rid of any extra costs and surprises that may occur when renovating your house.

Some factors that individuals choose to undergo home renovations are:

Upgrade or enhance outdated or deteriorated products

Changing windows, the out-of-date heater, and old floor covering, and siding prevail home improvements. Maintain and repair numerous weather condition beaten structure materials

New roofing shingles, repairing a splitting foundation and repairing a driveway are all typical weather beaten materials that can be fixed with a renovation. Address your way of life desires and requires

Converting an unused attic area into a new living space, constructing a sunroom, and adding an office are all typical house renovations that can increase your present home.

Getting house renovation ideas and assessing your house with a comprehensive home evaluation will help you to examine the condition of your house. The best place to begin your assessment is the basement. A lot of your home's issues begin in the basement and it can be a good indicator of issues that originate in other locations of your house.

If your house does not have a basement, you can start with the structure that your house is built on. Depending on the size of your home restoration task, you might wish to work with a qualified home inspector or professional general contractor to assist you evaluate your building and develop a plan of action.

Structures

Any cracks or damage to the concrete walls or floorings?

Are there any damp areas, spots, efflorescence, or bubbling paint on the concrete walls?

Does anybody notification bad smells or experience queasiness or headaches when in the basement?

Is there a lot of humidity, any condensation or visible mold?

Possible problems if you do not attend to these concerns can be minor to extreme:

Severe structural issues could trigger further damage to your structure and potentially collapse the structure

Water pressure on the outside of the foundation can trigger structural issues and leakages in your foundation. An indication of this could be standing water on your driveway or excessive standing water on your yard after a rain

Smells will continue to be unpleasant and can posture serious health issue when related to unsafe kinds of molds

Unsolved water concerns can cause any future renovations to deteriorate rapidly, whether the water originates from constructing leaks, pipes leakages or high humidity

Mold can grow on almost anything and give severe indoor air quality problems

Basement ceiling or primary floor structure:

Is there sufficient head room?

Is there rotten material, sagging floor joists, or twisted beams?

Are there any signs of water spots on the main flooring structure or finished basement ceiling?

Possible issues if you do not resolve these concerns can be:

Unsolved structural issues or badly planned structure changes might trigger future settling or possible collapse of your existing structure

Mechanical and Electrical systems

Are your heating & cooling expenses unusually high?

Are your current mechanical systems capable of providing your needs after your planned renovations?

Is your house too dry or too humid? Exist cold or locations in your home?

Do you ever smell smoke or fuel?

Is the electrical service and electrical wiring capable of providing your current and future needs?

Do merges keep blowing or breaker keep turning off?

Do lights ever dim or outlets spark?

Are there any dripping pipelines, taps, or toilets? Does the hot water heater operate well?

Completed basement ideas to think about:

Without routine service to your heating and cooling systems, they might gradually deteriorate, resulting in serious health and wellness issues

Issues can arise if HVAC system cannot maintain to your requirements. The heating supply should be enough for convenience. Correct ventilation is required to control excess humidity

Electrical service, electrical wiring and outlets may be unsafe or insufficient if you pick to increase loads on the electrical system

Plumbing leaks will continue to harm the foundation and structure around the leakages. These leaks will likewise add to mold development and IAQ problems

General living areas, floorings, and stairs

Are floorings or stairs springy, drooping, deformed or squeaky?

Are flooring surfaces harmed or carpets musty or weakened?

Are handrails or guardrails loose?

What could take place if I do not begin to fix these problems?

Damaged or uneven floorings and stairs may be hazardous

Moldy carpets are normally a source of mold

Loose handrails or guardrails can be a serious security hazard in your home

Bathroom and kitchens

Is there any water seepage around cooking area fixtures, condensation on the windows, or constant dripping taps?

Are the floors damaged or soft around the bathtub or showers?

These can be indicators of some underlying issues that need to be looked at throughout a cooking area renovation:

The leaks will continue to cause damage and will just become worse in time, costing you more in the future

Excess humidity will continue to cause damage and may cause mold development that might result in major health concerns

Walls and ceilings

Do your walls or ceiling have any cracks, holes, bulges, water spots or peeling finishes?

Are any of your doors or windows hard to open and close?

Are any of your windows drafty or broken?

Is there moisture between the panes of glass?

Are there any water spots or rot in the windows or walls?

Merely replacing doors and windows may not solve the issue and you might need to find the source:

If the problem sources are not fixed, the cracks and binding doors or windows will continue to occur even with new materials. You must fix the source prior to changing any binding doors or annoying cracks

Concealing wetness damage with new paint or wall surfaces will only trigger continuing deterioration and mold growth

Malfunctioning windows will ultimately lead to more damage to the walls surrounding the window location, If the windows are dripping down the wall, the problem could result in an overall gutting of your house to get rid of moldy insulation and drywall

Attics

Are there water spots on your ceilings or excessive moisture in any locations?

Do you see black mold on any of the roofing system frames or sheeting?

Does the attic have adequate ventilation?

Are there any air leakages in the ceilings of the rooms below the attic? Is the attic hatch sealed?

A well taken care of attic can save other areas of your home from problems and increase the performance of your home

Water damage will continue to deteriorate your home; without proper ventilation your attic will permit moisture to build up and cause serious damage.

Air leaks in the ceilings will reduce heating efficiency and can be sources of foul odors and toxins.

Roofs

Does the roofing have any broken or curling shingles, bare spots, leakages, moss, or damaged flashing?

Do your eaves troughs and downspouts direct water away from the structure or do you have excessive standing water around your house after a rain?

Roofing products need to be kept track of for decay; here are some things to consider:

The majority of roof product will degrade gradually and requires to be changed when this takes place. Failure to change your roof product when it is needed can and frequently will lead to more pricey damage throughout your house

Surface area water near your house and foundation will put excessive tension on the structure material and cause water entry issues

Exterior walls Something to think about when walking the exterior of your house:

Does your home have any blistered paint, decayed wood, buckling siding, stained or deteriorated brick, or damaged stucco on the exterior walls?

Keep the outside secured to conserve your home from avoidable repairs:

Water penetration may lead to more major siding, structural and interior finishing issues

Weakening exterior walls will also reduce the effectiveness of your mechanical systems in addition to the physical appearance of your house

Keep your house approximately date and well maintained and you will feel the rewards Carrying out routine repair and maintenance projects such as fixing structure defects, leaks, and making certain that all services are safe and appropriate will make your house safe and more resilient for many years to come. After you have made sure the security of the people living in your house, other restorations can be done to make your home a more pleasant place to live and enjoy your way of life. Always remember to have a contract in place prior to you start any work when using a professional.

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Things To Look At When Remodeling a House

Prior to remodeling, it is necessary to assess your house appropriately or have actually a qualified expert do this for you. You will be searching for any major underlying issues with your house that need to be resolved prior to or throughout your prepared restoration project. This will help eliminate any extra expenses and surprises that may emerge when refurbishing your home.

Some factors that people decide to go through house restorations are:

--> Upgrade or enhance outdated or scrubby products --> Changing windows, the out-of-date heater, and old floor covering and siding prevail house enhancements. Keep and fix numerous weather beaten structure materials --> New roof shingles, fixing a splitting structure and repairing a driveway are all typical weather beaten products that can be repaired with a remodeling. Address your lifestyle desires and requires --> Transforming an unused attic area into a new living space, building a sun parlor, and including an office are all typical home renovations that can increase your existing living spaces.

Getting home remodeling concepts and assessing your home with a comprehensive home examination will assist you to assess the condition of your house. The best place to begin your examination is the basement. Much of your house's problems start in the basement and it can be an excellent indicator of problems that come from other areas of your home.

If your house doesn't have a basement, you can begin with the foundation that your home is built on. Depending on the size of your home renovation task, you may wish to work with a certified house inspector or professional general contractor to help you evaluate your building and establish a plan of action.

Structures

--> Exist any cracks or damage to the concrete walls or floorings? --> Exist any moist spots, discolorations, efflorescence, or bubbling paint on the concrete walls? --> Does anybody notice bad smells or experience queasiness or headaches when in the basement? --> Exists a great deal of humidity, any condensation or noticeable mold?

Possible problems if you do not resolve these issues can be minor to serious:

--> Severe structural issues could cause more damage to your foundation and perhaps collapse the structure --> Water pressure on the outside of the foundation can cause structural problems and leakages in your foundation. A sign of this could be standing water on your driveway or extreme standing water on your yard after a rain --> Smells will continue to be uncomfortable and can pose serious illness when connected with dangerous types of molds --> Unresolved water concerns can trigger any future renovations to deteriorate rapidly, whether the water comes from developing leakages, plumbing leaks or high humidity --> Mold can grow on almost anything and be a source of severe indoor air quality issues

Basement ceiling or primary flooring structure:

- Exists enough head room?

- Exists rotten material, sagging flooring joists, or twisted beams?

- Exist any indications of water spots on the main floor structure or ended up basement ceiling?

Possible issues if you do not attend to these concerns can be:

--> Unsolved structural problems or badly prepared structure modifications might cause future settling or possible collapse of your existing structure

Mechanical and Electrical systems

--> Are your cooling and heating expenses abnormally high? --> Are your current mechanical systems capable of supplying your needs after your planned remodelings? --> Is your house too dry or too damp? Exist cold or locations in your house? --> Do you ever smell smoke or fuel? --> Is the electrical service and wiring efficient in providing your present and future needs? --> Do fuses keep blowing or circuit breakers keep shutting down? --> Do lights ever dim or outlets stimulate? --> Exist any dripping pipelines, taps, or toilets? Does the water heater operate well?

Completed basement concepts to think about:

--> Without routine service to your heating and cooling systems, they may gradually degrade, causing major health and safety issues --> Issues can arise if A/C system can not maintain to your needs. The heating supply need to suffice for comfort. Correct ventilation is required to manage excess humidity --> Electrical service, wiring and outlets might be hazardous or insufficient if you select to increase loads on the electrical system --> Pipes leaks will continue to harm the foundation and structure around the leakages. These leakages will also contribute to mold development and IAQ problems

General living areas, flooring, and stairs

--> Are floors or stairs springy, sagging, deformed or squeaky? --> Are flooring surfaces harmed or carpets musty or weakened? --> Are handrails or guardrails loose?

What could happen if I don't begin to repair these issues?

--> Harmed or unequal floorings and stairs may be unsafe --> Musty carpets are normally a source of mold --> Loose handrails or guardrails can be a serious safety risk in your house

Kitchens and bathrooms

--> Is there any water seepage around cooking area fixtures, condensation on the windows, or constant leaking taps? --> Are the floors harmed or soft around the bath tub or showers?

These can be indicators of some hidden issues that need to be taken a look at throughout a kitchen area remodeling:

--> The leaks will continue to trigger damage and will just become worse in time, costing you more in the future --> Excess humidity will continue to cause damage and may trigger mold growth that could lead to major health issues

Walls and ceilings

--> Do your walls or ceiling have any fractures, holes, bulges, water spots or peeling finishes? --> Are any of your doors or windows hard to open and close? --> Are any of your windows drafty or broken? --> Exists wetness in between the panes of glass? --> Are there any water stains or rot in the windows or walls?

Merely replacing windows and doors may not resolve the problem and you may require to find the source:

--> If the problem sources are not fixed, the fractures and binding doors or windows will continue to happen even with brand-new materials. You need to repair the source prior to replacing any binding doors or irritating fractures --> Concealing wetness damage with brand-new paint or wall finishes will just cause continuing deterioration and mold development --> Faulty windows will ultimately lead to more damage to the walls surrounding the window location, If the windows are dripping down the wall, the problem could lead to an overall gutting of your home to get rid of musty insulation and drywall

Attics

--> Are there water discolorations on your ceilings or extreme moisture in any locations? --> Do you see black mold on any of the roofing frames or sheeting? --> Does the attic have sufficient ventilation? --> Are there air leakages in the ceilings of the spaces below the attic? Is the attic hatch sealed?

A well cared for attic can conserve other locations of your house from issues and increase the effectiveness of your home

--> Moisture damage will continue to degrade your home, without correct ventilation your attic will enable moisture to develop and trigger severe damage. --> Air leakages in the ceilings will minimize heating effectiveness and can be sources of foul odors and toxins.

Roofing systems

--> Does the roofing system have any broken or curling shingles, bare patches, leakages, moss or harmed flashing? --> Do your eaves troughs and downspouts direct water away from the structure or do you have excessive standing water around your home after a rain?

Roof products need to be kept track of for decay; here are some things to consider:

--> A lot of roofing product will weaken in time and requires to be replaced when this occurs. Failure to replace your roof product when it's required can and typically will lead to more expensive damage throughout your home --> Surface area water near your home and structure will put undue tension on the building structure material and cause water entry problems

Exterior walls

Something to consider when walking around the exterior of your house:

--> Does your home have any blistered paint, rotted wood, buckling siding, stained or weakened brick, or harmed stucco on the outside walls?

Keep the outdoors safeguarded to save your house from preventable repair work:

--> Water penetration might lead to more severe siding, structural and interior finishing issues --> Weakening outside walls will also minimize the performance of your mechanical systems as well as the physical look of your home

Keep your house approximately date and well maintained and you will feel the rewards Performing routine maintenance and repair tasks such as remedying structure defects, leakages, and making sure that all services are safe and adequate will make your house safe and more long lasting for several years to come. After you have actually guaranteed the safety of individuals living in your home, other renovations can be done to make your house a more pleasant place to live and enjoy your lifestyle. Always keep in mind to have an agreement in place prior to you start any work when using a specialist.