#garage roof hook bolts

[jensownzoo]

I have a functional chicken coop!

It’s completely shaded and tightly enclosed in its location, so the pictures aren’t ideal, but here we go with part one:

I started building the new coop/run in January 2023 because my hens were all older and I knew that I wanted both to add “new blood” in the spring to keep the eggs coming as well as provide more space in general for my flock. There were some limitations and design flaws with the old coop/run such that it made more sense to build a better, second one than just add on to existing. The initial goal was to build it utilizing only materials leftover from other projects or scavenged during my weekly alley walks home from library/grocery store runs. The only things I ended up having to buy was a quart of flooring adhesive, two tubes of silicone caulk, and one can of spray foam insulation—less than $40 spent specifically for this project.

I cleared out the lumber and other miscellany stored in a protected area by the garage and shed. Then leveled the ground as best I could given that there are 8 silver maple trees running down the property line next to the garage. The garage protects the north side, the shed the west, the maples and neighbor’s privacy fence the east, and a large eonymous bush the south. This pic was taken in late afternoon and you can see that the spot is entirely shaded. To the point that I haven’t even put in a “chicken fan” for them this summer because the temps are staying quite reasonable.

A secondary goal was to make this run as rodent proof as possible. As fun as it is to see chickens catch mice, the mice tend to hide during the day in spots the chickens don’t disturb. They actually ate through my garage and into the run (the original coop is in a similar position but on the other side of the shed), which is very much not cool. So not only are the walls of the run encased in hardware cloth, but it’s also on the bottom underneath the wood chips and beneath the roof. If they find a way in, it wasn’t because I didn’t try.

The corrugated portion of the roof is two sheets of Ondura (the edges partially melted in last summer’s heat and a few sheets of plastic decking underlayment.

I made a kind of bi-folding nesting box access on the side.

The first part folds down to allow for egg collection. It’s secured with a spring-locking hook-and-eye hardware set. I use high-sided litterboxes for my nesting boxes and took the height of them into account when figuring out where to put this access.

Then I made the bottom piece also able to fold down so I can slide the nesting boxes out to change out shavings/clean. It’s secured with two barrel bolt latches on the sides. This setup also allows coop cleanout and I can slide my whole body into the coop from here in an emergency. You can see the sheet vinyl flooring I installed this week in this pic too.

Two bags of shavings fills things about halfway when still new and fluffy. I do the deep litter method, so this will be added to later as needed. In the other coop I then scoop the dirty broken down bedding directly into the run to finish composting, but I won’t be using this new, completely roofed run for composting. The used bedding will have to be transferred over to the original run (which allows rain into a small portion).

So here’s the front of the coop in the run. The pop door (open) is on the left. There is a window made of plexiglass along the top to let in light. And the rest of the front is another bi-fold situation, but different—the top folds up and the bottom folds down. The upper portion is screened with hardware cloth for ventilation—it will be covered by a plexiglass panel in the winter that I still have to build. I probably will also cover a bit of the right side with something opaque once nesting boxes are needed so they are appropriately dark and private, but that won’t be a problem until spring.

I’ve reached the post limit for pics, so will continue this post in a reply—Stay tuned.

[fixdex-fastening-technology]

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[dimensionhoppinghybrids]

Plans... Part 2.

Bellum watched as he saw his brother and his two mates, Zane and Morello and the rest go on a ship. He made sure that it was well off into the horizon before he started to act on his plan.

Waiting had taken a good amount of patience, but it had been worth it. So when they were gone, he was eager to start.

He began first to go home and get into his garage. There he picked up a few things that he had made and had asked his sister Aestas to help make.

He picked up the armor set that he had shown Levi, the one with the whole facemask. Oh it probably wouldn’t do anything to hide his identity, but it would filter out tear gas or whatever they used. He was probably well enough known due to the fact he was a bipedal Umbreon. But this time he had added a few editions to the helmet. It fit for his horns perfect. There were holes in the helmet that would allow his horns to jut out once he transformed, which he did. And he had adjusted it, as well as some pouches for his tail and waist.

The reason why he had transformed was because he wanted them to know who it was. That there was someone in this team that they had pissed off and that he wouldn’t stand for it. He didn’t want to hide. He hated hiding. So he would make sure that this bastard knew who was coming after him.

He also hooked a large hammer onto his back, and fitted in gauntlets that would help in punching. The metal that was between the knuckles clang loudly as he punched his fists together. The noise satisfying to his ears. The design was so that the gauntlets had flexibility for his fingers, allowing him full mobility without being held back, but also allowing him full use of the weapons. The hammer itself was for different purposes. That was to help tear down a few walls.

Next he grabbed a bandoleer of grenades. Smoke bombs, stun bombs and his own brand that he called bomb-flamers. They held inside them a destructive spell that was kept in a core. Pull the pin to activate the core, chuck it, wait seven seconds and boom. They would light anything up.

Oh sure he could throw fireballs and whatnot. But this was to give his enemies that extra surprise.

With his gear on, he made sure everything was locked and that the security spells that had been put on the house worked. No one would be able to get through now, unless they wanted to bomb the place. And even then it was a bad idea.

He was geared off for a fight, so he headed off. A grin under his helmet as he used his full on dragon strength to go up buildings and leap where he could. He would need to stay on the roofs to get where he was going.

And his first target was one of the banks.

Oh he had to gather a lot of information, and all of that money he had earned by selling gear finally paid off. He had used it to bribe those he could and get information. He had even gotten Origami to help in this.

Oh she had wanted to help more. She was honorbound to help him, but he didn’t want her in this. He had explained firmly that this was his fight and that if she wanted to help, to simply get him information and advice on where to strike.

She had done what she could to help, and had left him to do what he set out to do. But from the shadows of course. She would only step in if it got truly dire and if he was in danger. That was her job, and she would do what she could.

Still though. Bellum felt free.

There was something so damn exhilarating about this. About knowing that he was going to give some bastard that had his head up his own ass and thought he knew everything. Something about going to the bastard his dues felt good.

He cackled, and the tinny voice that came out made it sound artificial and eerie. Not that anyone else heard it.

So on he moved as fast as he could. Leaping from building to building. The gear that should have weighed him down somehow lighter for him then it would be for a normal ‘mon.

He could see some things starting to get worse by the minute. The police tried to keep things in check, but they were being mobbed, and they were growing restless, scared and he could see on some even horrified. They were still people after all. And people could only handle so much. They would break somehow. Maybe someone would make a mistake. It wouldn’t be today perhaps, or tomorrow, unless provoked. But morale was low, and people were getting more and more angry. It would all cascade somehow.

With a grunt, Bellum moved on, jumping one last building to an opulent one that looked to be a high scaled and wealthy building. Top notch security and whatnot. A bank. A very high prestige bank that was local and from what he remembered, financed by some of the highest in the government to keep its money flowing. This was where he would strike.

Giving a wider grin under his helmet, the demon took the hammer from his back and looked around. The street was empty. Perfect. And he struck down on the wall and the hammer gave a roaring explosion as Bellum poured mana into it. The hammer had made a concussive explosion that blew apart the wall. He had gotten in the hard way, and not directly into the vault. He wasn’t aiming for the vault directly. He just wanted to cause damage.

Sirens started to ring in the bank and Bellum cackled. With the police tied and busy, there would be a scramble to get over here since the riots and everything were still so sudden and on everyone’s mind, so Bellum had maybe a few extra seconds. Rushing off, Bellum went through the empty, or at least reasonably assumed empty Bank and he scrambled up to the offices. He hadn’t been able to get a full detail on what was inside the vault, but he had been told that there was a manifesto of certain accounts and details that the manager kept in his office in a safe.

Bellum had to get up there fast and get the manifesto. He rushed inside, broke the door in his hurry and he looked around He had to tear away paintings and whatnot until he found the thing. It was behind a damned cabinet and Bellum had ripped it off and thrown it aside. Using his strength, he simply wrenched the door off, and well, half the safe. Whoops. But he had gotten what he needed in his hurry.

Flipping through it in a hurry, he found what he was looking for and he ripped the page and hurried back downstairs and towards the vault.

The heavy vault door would be hard for anyone normal to get through, but Bellum was a demon, so he had a more simple solution to the issue as he came towards the large door. He hurled a large fireball against the metal door, and it started to melt and buckle against the heat and blast. He threw another one, and one more, and the door finally caved in.

“Booya!” He howled in victory and he rushed in with a bag and using the page he had grabbed, he got the accounts that the governor and his upper city lackies owned and used. He tore away the safety boxes and he dumped whatever was inside. Not caring what it was, money or otherwise, he just dumped it in and made sure he grabbed either everything or as much as he could.

Hearing commotion outside, he hurried it up and finished. He wasn’t sure if he had grabbed everything, but he had taken what he could. Using the hammer again, he made another hole to the outside, and he bolted

Dust, debris and a lot of fire were the only things that were left in his wake. Oh and a lot of trash and stunned policemen.

Lets see if that didn’t teach the bastard!

[ohgoddard]

Fist of Fire.7.

The sky was a crisp and light blue that day. Children laughed and ran alongside the national mall, with their parents shortly behind them. The crowds were filled and packed along the streets, as the President was soon expected to come down to them in his motorcade. The city of Washington D.C. was as tranquil as it could possibly be.

“SHS Check in, perimeter callouts.” Stationed along the street and in their work uniforms were the 12 members of Laurens SHS. Dressed in simple three piece suits, all the members were hidden in plain sight. This was an important mission, the most important in their running as the Laurens SHS. Victor had gone to many meetings and contract bidding competitions to get this position, and if successful, the company and all involved would be set for life. “Eldritch, all clear.” Victor himself was not in the crowd, but with the President himself. The image of Helios was often enough to deter any wannabe villain or criminal. “Scythe, all clear.” “Huntsman and Meteor, clear.” The crowds were roaring as their President turned the corner and began the last stretch of his return home. Inside the car, no one was for certain what was being discussed. But no doubt it was about the “Quirk Ethics and Governance” conference he just came from, which Helios also attended. “Snowthrone, all clear.” “Breakerx2, all clear.” All was going smoothly. The Job was going off without a hitch. But a thought rested in the back of every member’s head. The crowd was cheering and throwing streamers. The President had been away for months from his own country, and had been championing the rights of those with quirks on the international stage. Those with quirks were still being classified as outlaws, so they were outside the protections of the government. The President helped fix that. “Inside team reports are all good. Missing two reports.”  Inside the car, Victor was dressed in his Hero uniform. A powerful white and gold color scheme ran up and down his button up jacket and pants, being capped off with brilliant red hair. He adjusted his reading glasses as he played with the President’s young daughter who was also in the car. “Mr.President, I do hope your stay with us was enjoyable.” The President looked over at Helios and chuckled. “The best I've had yet. I might even permanently hire you. Not a single thing has happened.” Helios gave a small laugh. He turned back to the President’s daughter. “I do hope you also liked hanging out with these heroes!” The little girl looked up at Helios and gave a toothy grin, with some teeth missing. “You guyses are so cool!!! I wanna be like you when I grow up!”  Helios grinned, but was stopped from continuing his conversation any further. A static buzz in his ear, followed up by dangerous words.

“Reverse, Tapout, problem.”

The sky of D.C. were bright and blue. The parking garage four miles away, however, was not.

Tapout flew forty feet into a concrete pillar, cracking it. Reverse was not too far in front of him. His hands were raised, and he had many cuts on his arms already. In front of him was a man dressed in a wife beater and welding goggles with a purple mohawk. “I’m tired of all this. You really think you could attack me? THE San Andreas?” He let out a maniacal laugh. Reverse straightened his back. He put his hand through his hair, and let out a small laugh.”oh please. Don’t think we were anything but more than you. We just had to report something in before we ripped you to shreds. You wanna take this one Tapout?” Reverse looked behind him and saw a hand raise from the pile of rubble where Tapout was. “You go on ahead, I'm a bit occupied.” Reverse turned back to San Andreas, and cracked his knuckles. After the last snap, he was already touching noses with him. San Andreas ducked his first punch, then punched the ground. Spikes shot up from the concrete and caught Reverse’s hand, cutting a gnarly gash into it. Reverse wind-stepped through the spikes, and threw a left hook. Even though San Andreas slid to the right, the force behind the punch broke the sound barrier. San Andreas weaved behind Reverse and dropped a huge block of stone from the ceiling onto Reverse. As the dust cleared, he saw that Reverse was not there. “I got you! You weakling I got you! Now nothing can stop us! The New World Order! The Nation of those with Quirks and nothing more!” Reverse came flying out of nowhere and delivered a double kick into San Andreas’s chest. He went flying out of the parking garage and into another building. The force of his impact left a huge crater, with a pair of arms and legs dangling out. “This is Reverse,” he said as he touched his ear, “The Villain we encountered was named San Andreas. He implied there might be more, be advised.”

Helios started to talk back, but Reverse was distracted. He heard clapping come from around the corner. Out from it came The Planeteer. “Planeteer? What are you doing here? You change your mind.” The Planeteer was dressed in a similar Three Piece suit , but different from the ones the Laurens SHS was wearing. His was green and grey all over, and he had a cane for some reason. “Reverse, you did it again. You stopped a villain from disrupting the peace. Bravo, really.” The Planeteer then raised his wrist to his face and spoke, “First step complete, initiating phase 2.” At the end of that, The Planeteer tapped his cane twice against the ground, and the sky turned orange. Instantly. “You two will be the first victims of my Vision.” And then suddenly the parking garage was gone, replaced with air as Tapout and Reverse were now free falling, the Planeteer gone.

Elsewhere, the city was on fire. “Huntsman and Meteor, fighting Guang He.” “Eldritch, fighting Warcross.” “Breaker here, helping evac alongside the inside team.” “Snowthrone, putting out fires. Scratch that, fighting Molten.” Helios watched silently as he saw Scythe get thrown onto the hood of the Presidential car, before dodign the punch of what looked like a huge werewolf. He calmly turned to the President and spoke, “Sir I think it is our best interest to leave.” Helios pointed to the roof and it disintegrated into the light. 

Reverse and Tapout were beginning to see what the city was turning into. Still miles above the ground, they saw the fires starting to rise from the buildings and chaos in the streets. Explosions were going off around the capitol building, and numerous figures in black suits ran out and suddenly disappeared. “TAPOUT,” Reverse yelled through the wind, “SOMETHING IS GOING ON HERE!” “NO SHIT IDIOT! HOW ARE WE GOING TO STOP FALLING?!” Reverse struggled against the wind and pulled his hand to his ear. “THIS IS REVERSE AND TAPOUT WE ARE ABOUT 1100 FEET ABOVE THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT AND WE NEED HELP!” At the end of that broadcast, a beam of gold shot up from the streets and grabbed them mid air, and brought them to the ground. The caster of said beam was Ribbon, another Laurens SHS hero. “Reverse, Tapout what's going on?!” “Planeteer betrayed us, this is all his doing.” “What?! How?!” “HOW INDEED.” A voice echoed from above.

Helios was sprinting in the streets, shooting beams of light from his arms. The President and his service were not too far behind, moving him out of the way when explosions and debris fall or go off near him. But they all stopped and looked up when they heard that voice. “No..” Helios uttered. The ground shook and a crack opened up, consuming most of the National Mall. The President and his Service were caught on a piece of falling rock, and were taken too quickly for Helios to act. In his hands, the President’s daughter screamed as her father fell into a molten lava mass pushing itself up from the tear. Helios scanned the horizon and saw Reverse, Tapout, and Ribbon pulling people from the rubble. He flew over there, dodging bolts of lightning firing from the newly appeared dark clouds in the sky.

“Reverse,’ Helios said as he landed down near him, ‘take this girl and run. Go now! NOW!” Helios yelled as he thrust the girl into Reverse’s arms. He nodded then sprinted off. Reverse left D.C. within minutes. “Tapout, I need you to - “ “HALT, VICTOR. YOUR HEROISM WILL NOT SAVE YOU TODAY!” The heroes turned to see a figure floating in the air, staying in one space as if standing on nothing. The Planeteer stood above the gaping maw of the tear, with molten lava pouring out. “TODAY I INACT MY REVENGE. YOU WILL PAY FOR NEVER LISTENING TO ME,MY IDEAS, MY VISION!” As he spoke, the lava began to rise, and started to swirl. Soon, a tornado of molten rock began to envelop the air around him. Helios took to the sky and began firing beams of pure light at him, disintegrating pockets here and there of rock,but they quickly filled again. The lava tornado began to move, tearing up the buildings of the Smithsonian. The winds began to pick up, and they were drawing everything around into it. People caught up in them flew into the burning inferno, along with piles of rubble. Helios flew around, trying to catch as many as he could while still shooting at the tornado. Tapout was catching them in midair and pulling others behind cover while Ribbon snatched those in danger’s way. “YOU WILL LOATHE THE DAY YOU DENIED ME!” The ground shook, and more and more lava came gushing out.

Helios stopped flying for a moment, to stare down the inferno. He put his arms up to the sky and beams of sunlight began to poke through the orange sky and dark clouds. They began collecting in his hands and then..

Bolts of sunlight ,akin to lightning, began striking the tornado, tearing chunks of it off. Faster than any attack ever seen before, and devastating. “Fool.” Helios did not notice in time, turning around only to see it. A wave of molten lava the size of a tsunami, overtook Helios in one giant swoop. When the wave lowered from the sky, Helios was no longer there. The cuts in the sky where he pulled sunlight from now closed. And not a sign he was there to begin with existed anymore.

“Finally. Finally! MY VISION WILL BE REALIZED! I WILL RULE WITH ALL-” “YOU BASTARD!” Tapout shouted from the ground, loud enough and with fury to break the enhanced thunderous voice of the Planeteer. Tapout began to sprint towards him, screaming. Tears were falling off his face and evaporating, the heat boiling. Planeteer pointed down at Tapout running at him, and two giant hands of rock flew from the ground and narrowly missed the hero. Planeteer raised his hand and the ground itself began to rise, creating boulders that Tapout hopped to and from. 

“YOU KILLED HIM!” Tapout threw a right punch, and around the Planeteer one thousand punches appeared. The Planeteer was expecting this though, and had formed a barrier of clear quartz around him. “You thought I'd be easy to kill? You always underestimated me.” He made a backhand motion and the wind itself slapped Tapout away. “Looking down on me.” Tapout, on the ground and bleeding, looked up with pure vitriol. “NOW IT'S MY TURN TO LOOK DOWN ON YOU!” Planeteer raised his hand and moved to slam it down. In the air, debris rose and started to melt, turning into molten lava. As he threw it down, Tapout came from the ground with the mightiest punch ever thrown in American History.

Tapout bounced from the ground with an uppercut, and put forward all energy he had left.

The debris in the air cooled and disintegrated, the clouds and sky were cleared. The fires were all put out. Any and all people who were not behind cover were blown away. And The Planeteer was seen flying away at 100 miles per hour. What happened is still discussed when the question of “can x hero beat y hero in a fight”. Tapout came from the ground, and delivered one million punches at once to the body of The Planeteer, with enough force to cause biblical events.

Tapout then looked up, spit on the ground, then passed out.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“That,” Reverse spoke with finality, “was what really happened in D.C.” He got up and stretched his back, and looked out the window. The sun had long set, and the city of Atlanta was no less busy. “Tapout delivered what is still called “the end all punch” and defeated the Planeteer. But not before he got to your father. After that, and numerous court visits, the Laurens SHS was dissolved and we all went our separate ways. Tapout said he was going to go out of his way to end all those who had a connection to Planeteer and his New World Order.” He turned around and looked Jade in the eyes.”I think the Planeteer is still out there. And he just killed Tapout. And he will likely come after you, the last connection to the man who was better than him.”

Jade sat in her desk shocked, and Reverse walked out the door, turning off the light.

“I’d get some rest for tomorrow. You know what you’re up against.”

But will I be ready?

[backonthemainland]

Moving day two

Wild winds blew us across the mountains and almost off bridges - a nice little stop to walk the dog at Cullen.

it was going so well, though, until bolts holding one of the caravan wheels on sheared off and the wheel shot over a hedge! We called the RAC and the caravan wasn’t covered. Quote for £663 to be recovered just twenty miles even though we are members!!!

So the local garage came out with a handful of bolts and put the wheel back on. No idea how much that will cost but nothing like the RAC quote!

We arrived at the cottage at around 2pm and took the dog for his first walk around the grounds. He seems to like it.

I sorted out the living space in the caravan while he unloaded the van. I found us a potential estate car to look at tonight. Just a little Peugeot but it will carry a few tip runs and the dog will be comfortable in the back.

The electric hook up in to the caravan works fine. I bought an electric oil filled radiator to keep it warm and dry.

Tomorrow is all about taking the van back to the ferry, six or seven hours of driving round trip but that’s the last time pressure for a while.

The main problem with the house since arriving is that the membrane has come away but it will go back on, it hasn’t shredded. It is wet in the kitchen too but that’s to be expected with no roof. It will dry out once the roof is on.

I should be able to start on the gardens next week. I have an elderflower tree to plant and the tomatoes are already cropping. Blackberries are flourishing too.

It will be a race against time to cover the roof and get the doors on to dry it out before winter.

[pftones3482]

Clearer

Commission for @kyoshira7. Under a cut for a very long commission lol. It didn’t quite end how I wanted, but I was reaching the end of what I could do. 

~

Sometimes Sam wondered what his life might have been like if he had been born as a woman.  

He knew that he didn't want to become one; he had thought about that for a while, considered the idea that he might be transgender, and had dismissed it early on. It was always an option, in the back of his mind, but it wasn't really what he wanted.  

He just wondered, sometimes. When he caught women crossing the streets at night to avoid him, when women shielded their daughters from him as they walked past one another on the sidewalk. He wondered what it might be like to not be the center of fear for some of the women in the world.  

It angered him, a bit. He'd admit that. He had done nothing to warrant the fear of these women but be born a male. It wasn't fair for him. But it wasn't fair for them to feel that way either, and Sam recognized this.  

He did his best to appear non-threatening, to smile politely, keep his hands down when he spoke, going against his natural instinct to gesture and speak at the same time. It seemed to work, but there was always the stiffness in the shoulders of the women he spoke to, the protective hands on their children's shoulders when they asked, most times begrudgingly, for directions.  

He didn't think living as a woman would be easier. Sam knew that. He had a few female coworkers at his software firm, some higher up than him, and even the ones who knew more and had worked for the firm longer got belittled by coworkers and customers alike.  

Sam wanted the experience, though. Wanted the chance to live as a woman, to see what they went through, in the hopes that maybe he could make it easier for some of them. He wanted to have a kid, not possible without a partner of his own, wanted to feel the connection to someone he had carried himself.  

Okay, so maybe he had considered the idea of being transgender more than once. But it still didn't feel right to him.  

Sam sighed and unlocked the door to his house, stepping into the air-conditioned entryway and kicking his shoes off onto the rug. The door clicked behind him, locking automatically, and he set his keys on the hook that was nailed to the wall before trudging to the kitchen.  

His housekeeper, Moira, had left him a note on the fridge to let him know that the plumber was coming in the morning for the downstairs powder room. There was a smiley face drawn next to her name, and Sam let out a chuckle at the sight of it. Moira was too adorable for her own good, and a great housekeeper to boot.  

He tossed the note into the trash under the seat and pulled open the fridge, leaning in and grabbing a beer and sandwich fixings. He kicked the door shut and settled everything onto the marble countertops, popping open the mayo and mustard and reaching into the bread box, where Moira had stored a fresh loaf of Italian bread.  

It crunched under the knife as he sliced it, slow, methodical, setting two thick slices down on a plate before returning the loaf to the box and shutting it. Making a sandwich was probably the most mechanical set of movements in the universe, Sam mused as he slathered the bread in the dressings and then topped it with turkey and American cheese. It was the same action every time, the back and forth of the knife, the setting of the meat and the cheese to get the perfect amount in every bite. Nothing was different about it, except perhaps the type of meat on it.  

He put the ingredients back in the fridge and took his snack to the back deck, settling onto his reclining chair and kicking back to look at the fading sun.  

It had been a long day at work, and Sam was honestly ready to give up. He didn't feel as if his life was going anywhere, didn't feel as if he was succeeding in the ways he was meant to. He sighed and took a forlorn bite from his sandwich, munching thoughtfully as the sky darkened.  

If anything, he wanted some kind of experience that just...made him appreciate the other side a bit more. Nothing extreme. A day in the life of a different gender.  

He puffed his cheeks out and leaned back in his seat, setting his food down on the side table and staring up at the heavens. He wasn't sure how long he stared, watching as the sky darkened from blue to deep orange and red to navy to full, inky black, but eventually instead of clouds he was star gazing, picking out the pin-pricks of light as they jumped to life.  

Sam's eyes caught sight of one-star drifting across the sky, not as fast as he might have thought a shooting star would move, and he sat up in excitement, tracking it's path across the sky.  

He hadn't seen a shooting star since he was a kid, sitting on the roof of his parent's garage with binoculars in hand. He had made a wish to get the new Batman comics for his birthday. Oddly, he had. He had brushed it off years later as his parents overhearing his eager wish, but now Sam stood up and leaned against his porch railing, clutching his drink in his hand and staring up at the star. It was nearly on the horizon, and Sam remembered the myth he had been told that, if he didn't wish before the star was out of sight, it wouldn't come true.  

"What the hell," he muttered to himself.  

He shut his eyes and wished silently. For something different in his life, for understanding about what it was like to have been born differently, if only for a bit.  

When nothing happened after a minute had ticked by, he opened his eyes with a small chuckle, shaking his head. Foolish, really, to believe in childish things. It never got anyone anywhere in any real-life situation.  

Sam let out a huff, downed the remainder of his beer, and then took the empty can and the remains of his sandwich inside, tossing them into their respective recycling and garbage cans before setting the plate into the dishwasher and closing the door with his foot.  

He went through the monotony of bed preparation with his wish in the back of his mind, brushing his teeth and then spitting into the sink and staring at his reflection for several long minutes, noting the weary bags under his eyes, the stubble on his face, the way his hair was starting to grow out from its buzz cut.  

If he was in a movie, Sam supposed that he would have some intellectual, revolutionary inner monologue, but all he could think about was how wonderful bed sounded.  

He pushed off of the sink and left the bathroom, collapsing into bed without bothering to remove his clothes. For some reason, he was suddenly exhausted. Sure, he had been tired when he got home from work, but it hadn't been nearly this bad.  

Must have been the stargazing, Sam reasoned with himself as he curled up into the blankets and snuggled into the silk sheets under him. That always made him sleepy when he was a kid. That plus the beer...totally the reason.  

He fell asleep clinging to his pillow.  

~~

"Mommy?"

Sam groaned and rubbed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands into the sockets as hard as he could muster. Where was the tiny voice coming from? And what was that blaring noise?  

"Mommy, th'alarms goin' off."  

"What?" Sam managed to croak.  

His voice was...way higher than it usually was in the morning, like if Pat Benetar and Ariana Grande had a baby. That weird combination between alto and soprano. And why was Moira calling him "Mommy?"  

"Th'alarm," the voice said again, and Sam realized slowly that it was not a woman's voice, but a child's. "It's been going off for like, a whole hour. Are you late?"

Work.  

Sam bolted upright in bed, flinging the blankets off and faintly registering that the blankets were not the soft silk he had fallen asleep on, but rather a soft lavender cotton. He frowned down at the sheets and....why were they blurry?  

Why was everything blurry, actually?

"Mommy?"

Sam turned slowly to the child next to him – and yes, they were indeed a child – and squinted down at the form. "I can't...see," he said slowly, his voice still too high for his own comfort. Was this some weird dream?

"Oh!" the child said gleefully.  

They leaned over to the table at Sam's right – he didn't have a bedside table there – and plucked something off the top, handing it over with a bright smile that Sam could only make out because of the number of teeth being used. "Here you go! I'll make breakfast!"

The kid bolted before Sam could say otherwise, leaving him to open up what were definitely glasses and slide them onto his face. Sam had never needed glasses in his life, and he blinked rapidly when he put them on, everything suddenly becoming crystal clear.  

His bed was no longer a king, but rather a full. The blankets were older and purple and cotton, but clean. They smelled like flowers. The room was small, more of a closet than a room, and a dresser sat tucked into a corner, overflowing with folded clothes on top – the clear time of someone with no time on their hands to put things away.  

As Sam slid out of bed, his gaze still sliding around the room, he stumbled, his feet hitting the ground sooner than he was prepared for. He yelped, catching himself on the bed, and looked down to see if perhaps he had tripped on something.  

Oh.  

Oh.  

He was wearing a baggy t-shirt and boxers, but even he could see (and feel, now that it was registering in his head) the presence of weight on his upper chest.  

Her upper chest.  

Sam bolted to the bedroom door, furiously looking down the small, carpeted hallway and spotting what was definitely a bathroom at the head of the staircase. Sam was in the space in two seconds flat, gripping to the mirror and staring with wide eyes at the image presented.  

Disheveled blonde hair, hints of brown at the roots that suggested dye, tangled into a sloppy bun at the nape of the neck and falling out from a night of restless sleeping. Clear cleavage under the t-shirt, a mess of tie-dyed colors that could only be the work of a toddler. The eyes were rimmed with a soft darkness, the only part of the body Sam could say was the same, and they glinted a dark brown color.  

"What the fuck?" Sam muttered. Then, louder: "What the FUCK?"

Before he – she – could process anything further, a piercing beeping sound registered from down the stairs, and Sam spun to the door, staring down the steps and then pattering down them quickly, trying to ignore the tugging of the excess weight on her chest.  

When Sam skidded into the kitchen, he – she – found it filling with smoke, the small child that had woken her up frantically blowing on the burning toaster.  

Like, literally burning. The toaster was on fire.  

Sam's eyes flickered around the kitchen, some instinct dragging her to the cupboards under the sink, and she pulled out the fire extinguisher that was there, aiming it at the toaster and squeezing the handle.  

Foam shot out from the nozzle, dousing the toaster and the child next to it, and for a moment the pair stood in silence, the screeching fire alarm still going off. Sam put down the extinguisher slowly and then glanced up, finding the alarm mounted over a door that appeared to lead into a backyard.  

On habit, Sam stretched up to turn it off, finding with irritation that she was now several inches too short to just hit the button. Instead, she had to drag a chair over from a table in the corner, clamber up, and smack her thumb into the button.  

When she climbed back down and turned around, the child was in tears. "I'm sorry, M-Mommy," he whimpered, clutching to the front of his shirt and wringing the hem with his fists. "I didn't m-mean to. I j-just w-wanted-"

Something about the look of the kid broke Sam's heart, and she knelt to the floor in front of him, reaching out and awkwardly squeezing a shoulder. "It's okay," she found herself saying. "Everything is fine now."

The child sniffled pathetically and then bolted from the kitchen, leaving Sam to wobble into a sitting position on the floor.  

Okay, so he...she. He was a she. Right? That seemed to be the consensus, between the new body and the child calling him – her – Mommy. Sam was a woman, and a woman with a child to boot.  

The next question Sam had was why.  

Why was he a woman? How did he turn back? What had happened?  

The phone was ringing.  

Sam pulled him-herself off the ground, clinging to the wall, and rounded the corner into what was obviously the living room to find a land line (who the fuck still had land lines?) going nuts in the corner.  

The caller ID rang up as some law firm that Sam had never heard of before, and she answered with trepidation, gnawing on a thumbnail as she dragged the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"CHARLOTTE. Where the HELL are you?" demanded an angry male voice on the other end of the line. "You're an hour late, and we need to go over this case!"

"I...there was a fire at home," Sam (was he Charlotte now?) managed, eyeing the foamy mess in the kitchen. "Sorry."  

There was a long pause, and then a deep sigh. "You and Blake all right, at least?"

"Who's-?" The kid. "Yeah, we're all right. He's a little freaked out, though. Don't know if I'll be able to make it in today."  

Yet another long pause echoed in Sam's ear and she gnawed on her lower lip, lifting her gaze to the ceiling and crossing her fingers. Finally, the man gave a long groan. "Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll give the case to Johnson. See you Monday."  

That's right, Sam mused as she hung up the phone. It was Friday, meaning that she had the whole weekend to figure out what the hell was going on.  

"You did wish for this, you dunce," Sam muttered under her breath.  

A small thud came from upstairs and she glanced at the ceiling again, shoulders slumping. The kid – Blake, she recalled – had seemed pretty freaked out.  

"Parental instincts, don't fail me now," Sam muttered, huffing and moving back to the stairs. She climbed slowly, eyeing the family photos on the wall.  

The very first one was the girl whose body Sam was inhabiting, Charlotte, at what seemed to be a rather young age. She was holding onto a baby in the picture, Blake, Sam assumed, and two older people were on either side of her, most likely her mother and father. No sign of a husband or wife, and the bed Sam had woken up in was pretty small, so Charlotte didn't appear to have any kind of permanent partner.  

The rest of the photos were pictures of Blake throughout the years, in the bathtub, holding onto Grandma's fingers and toddling towards the camera, eyes squinted up in delight. His hair was a dark brown, eyes darker, and his skin tone was a lightly tanned color, the same tone as Charlotte's. He had a freckle under his nose, Sam noted.  

It was easy to find Blake's room; aside from Charlotte's room and the bathroom, it was the only other door in the hallway, and it was decorated with superheroes.  

Sam knocked with two knuckles, feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Uhh...Blake? You okay bud?"

"Go 'way."

His voice was muffled, and Sam pushed open the door slowly, squinting into the dark room. Blake was flopped face down onto a car shaped bed, pudgy fingers curled into his pillow. Sam stepped into the room slowly, shutting the door behind him, and hesitated before stepping over to the bed and squatting. "You okay?"  

"You're mad at me."  

Sam blinked in surprise. "What? No I'm not."  

"Yes you are. I did a bad thing."

Sam settled onto her knees and reached a tentative hand out, setting it on Blake's back. "I'm not mad. Promise. I was just...a little scared."  

Blake peeked up at that, brown eyes watery and lower lip puffed out. "Why?"  

"Well," Sam said slowly, lifting his gaze up to avoid the probing eyes of the toddler. "There was a fire. So that's scary. But you were next to the fire, and that was scarier, because you could have gotten hurt."  

"But I'm a big boy, you said so," Blake protested.  

"Yes," Sam admitted, sitting back on her haunches. "But fire is still pretty dangerous. So we shouldn't touch it or play with it."  

Blake nodded sagely and then sat up, shoving a fist against his eye and rubbing furiously. "Kay. Do you have to go to work now?"  

"Nah, I'm taking the day off," Sam declared, giving the kid a warm smile. "Thought it would be more fun to hang out here."

"So Miss Patsy isn't coming over to watch me?" Blake inquired.  

"Who?"

Blake frowned, his eyes glittering. "Miss Patsy. The neighbor."

Shit.  

"Where's my cell phone, Blake? Do you remember seeing it? I can't seem to find it."  

Blake bobbed his head and slid from the mattress, hopping to the floor in his socked feet and pattering out of the room. Sam rose and followed him back to the bedroom she had woken up in, watching as he trotted to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer, dragging out a phone. "Here it is!"  

It was a flip phone. An honest to god flip phone. With the size of the house and the way Blake's room was furnished, Sam thought that Charlotte would have at least a basic smartphone, even if not a great one. Sam hadn't used a flip phone since 2007.  

She took it gingerly and opened the cover, eyeing the lit screen on the inside. There was one missed call, sure enough, from a "Patsy Bennet" that Sam assumed was the neighbor in question.  

She pressed the green phone button to call back, lifting the device to her ear and listening as it rang once, twice, and then -  

"Charlotte, thank goodness. We saw smoke from the kitchen, are you and Blake all right?"  

Sam blinked at the chipper voice and glanced down at Blake, who was staring intently at his fingers like he was in the midst of an epiphany. "Uh...yeah. Are you still able to watch Blake for an hour or two? I need to uh...I need to run to work, sort a few things out, and then they're giving me the rest of the day off."  

"Really? Wow. You must really have freaked them out if they're doing that. Yeah, bring him over. Patrick is waiting for him to come play. See you in five?"

"Sure."

"Okie doke!"

The dial tone rang in Sam's ear and she turned to Blake, who was staring up at her in amazement. "D'you know we have ten fingers AND ten toes, Mommy?"

Sam managed a grin. "I sure did, buddy. Come on. We need to get ready to go see Miss Patsy."  

~~  

Wrangling a toddler was much more of a challenge than Sam had anticipated. Sam was able to get dressed in thirty seconds flat, though that might have had something to do with how much she was trying to avoid looking at Charlotte's body while changing. But Blake was another challenge all together.  

For one thing, Blake had a surprisingly short attention span and, just when Sam would be getting ready to tie a shoe or help put on a shirt, he would bolt for something in the room and start to play with it.  

For another, Blake seemed intent on learning how to do everything step-by-step. Which in and of itself wasn't a bad thing, it was good for him to learn how to tie his own shoes, but Sam was kind of having an internal crisis.  

"Blake, seriously, I told Miss Patsy I'd be over in five minutes almost fifteen minutes ago, you can show me that stuff when you get back," Sam finally groaned in exasperation when Blake had come bounding over with yet another art project.  

Blake didn't seem to take offense, merely beamed and said, "Okay Mommy!" and then bounced to put away the item before heading for the stairs.  

"Finally," Sam muttered.  

They got out the door, Sam finding a set of keys next to it, and Sam let Blake lead the way over the small stepping stones in the tiny front yard that led to the neighbor's yard, blocked off by a short fence.  

A woman was sitting on her front porch step holding a mug of what smelled like coffee, watching with a grin as who Sam assumed was her son Patrick went bouncing across the yard after a ball. A tee was set up in the corner, and he was holding a plastic bat.  

"Mommy can I go play?" Blake pleaded.  

"That's what we're here for," Sam said, voice monotone.  

Blake stared at her for a long moment, his lip puffing out after a lapse of silence. "Mommy, you have to say goodbye."  

"What?"  

"Our special goodbye!" Blake whined, tugging on Sam's hand. "Pleeeeaasssse?"  

Sam was at a loss. She had no idea what Blake wanted, or where to even begin, and she knelt in the grass slowly, dew seeping into her jeans. "Uh...how about you start?"  

"That's not how it goes though!" Blake whimpered.  

His eyes were getting glassy again, and Sam was about to panic, when the woman – Patsy – called out, her voice tinged with a sickly sweet Southern accent. "Hey! Charlotte! Come here for a second!"

"Sorry sweetie, I gotta go."  

Sam bolted, feeling a coil of guilt in her stomach, but she moved rapidly towards Patsy, plastering a smile on her face. "What's up?"

"You sure the house and everything is all right from the fire?" Patsy asked, her eyes filled with concern.  

Sam nodded. "Oh yeah. Fire extinguisher worked, and I unplugged the toaster."

"All that smoke was from the toaster?" Patsy yelped in disbelief.  

"It sort of caught on fire," Sam admitted.  

"How?"

Sam shifted on her feet, suddenly aware of how the next part would sound. "Um...I wasn't fully awake and Blake was trying to make breakfast for me."

"Jesus."

Patsy looked disappointed, and Sam winced. Apparently, Charlotte was not nearly as clumsy as he was. She was.

It was getting easier to think in feminine terms for himself, but Sam was struggling. He had to keep correcting his own brain, because if he started referring to himself as "he" while he was trapped in a woman's body, he was going to go insane.

Ah, fuck, he – she – was doing it again.  

"Yeah, well...thanks again for watching him while I run in to work," Sam managed.  

Patsy looked up from where she had been watching the boys play. "Of course, dear. I'll keep an eye out for Scott, too."  

Sam had no idea who Scott was, but she played it safe, giving a weak smile and an, "Okay, thanks."  

Sam left the yard before Patsy could answer back, booking it to the old Impala sitting in the driveway and sinking into the worn driver's seat.  

What the fuck was going on? Who was she? Where was she?

Sam hadn't seen any kind of computer in the house, but Charlotte had to have one. Though even if she did, Sam wouldn't know the password to turn it on.

There had to be a library nearby, so Sam put the keys into the ignition, turned, cringed when the car spluttered, and then backed slowly out of the driveway.  

She went left down the road, staying cautious until she saw a speed limit sign. Eventually she came to the end of the road, hesitating before making another left on a whim.  

It took nearly eight minutes, but Sam finally maneuvered out of the neighborhood and onto a set of busier roads, one named Elm street (so helpful) and the other Winchester avenue (slightly better). She found herself maneuvering the streets, circling the district until she spotted the familiar sign that featured a person holding a book, directing her towards the right.  

The library was easy to find after that, and she parked and went in with light trepidation, the doors whooshing open in her face and guiding her into a relatively small lobby.  

Stairs led upwards to the right, and slightly behind her was an elevator. A sign on the wall listed each level, the first as the lobby, the second as the adult floor, the third the children's, and the fourth the city archives.  

After a moment of thought, Sam shifted her shoulders, cringing under the feeling of bra straps digging into her skin, and started climbing the stairs.  

They were steep, and it didn't help that the summer heat made them muggy as well, leading her to have to pause at the top of the landing and take a breath, heart racing. Sam nearly put a hand over her heart until she remembered that she probably should be keeping her hands down at all times.  

The second-floor door creaked as she pressed it open, and Sam winced, poking her head in. Seeing that it was totally dead – everyone was probably at work, now that she thought about it – Sam stepped inside, shoving her hands awkwardly into her jeans pockets and glancing around.  

It was split up on the floor, the left-half filled to the brim with books and the other half with books lining the walls and plush chairs scattered along. Sam headed in that direction, breathing out a sigh of relief when she found the computers lining the other parts of the walls, dividers between them. Only one person was there, at the far end, an older man who looked like he'd rather be doing anything other than be there.  

There was a librarian sitting behind the desk, jotting something down on paper, and Sam opted not to bother him, instead sinking down into the closest swivel chair and toggling the mouse on the screen.  

A box popped up, asking for her library card number, and Sam cursed in her head, moving to dig through the purse that she had grabbed on the way out the door.  

It was cluttered with a million different things – crayons, tissues, a small first aid kit, a checkbook, a paperback novel, and, way at the bottom, a fuchsia wallet.  

Sam pulled it out and unzipped it, flipping open the sides and beginning to thumb through the card holders, bypassing the million store discount cards and finding the library card tucked away behind a Starbuck's gift card.  

She typed in the number as it appeared on the card and breathed a soft sigh of relief when the screen lit up with the pre-programmed internet browser, leading her to Google.  

From that point, Sam didn't really know where to go. What did she look for first? Body switching stories? Nearby spell casters?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for just another moment before she did the only thing that made sense.  

Where am I?

She clicked Enter, and the tiny button in the top of the screen asked to know her location. She hit yes instantly and the browser flickered, pulling up the library address moments later.  

Montana. She was in Montana.

That certainly explained the Southern-ish accent Patsy had, but it didn't explain why Charlotte herself didn't.  

Montana was...how far was Montana from Philadelphia, actually? She typed it in carefully, making sure to get the town name right, and clicked search again.  

2,000 miles. 32 hours by car. 195 by bike.  

Sam cussed softly and thumped her head into her hand, staring at the screen. Her job was going to be wondering where she was, what she was doing, she was going to be fired. Unless...

Sam sat straight up and logged off the computer, bolting from her chair and back into the stairwell, flying down the steps and stopping in the lobby, whipping out her phone and dialing her own cellphone number from memory.  

The line rang several times and Sam paced the entry, gnawing on a thumb. Finally, after four rings, there was a confused, "Hello?"  

That was her – his – voice speaking to her. "Um...is this...is this Charlotte, by any chance?" Sam squeaked.  

A long pause, and then a whispered, "Holy shit," came through the line.  

Sam managed a weak chuckle. "Hi."  

Charlotte, who was in his – her? - body, laughed, though it sounded forced. "Hi, Sam. That's...that's your name, right? Jesus Christ, I got yelled at by a strange woman this morning for not being up in time to go to work and – oh my god is Blake okay, is he-?"

"Blake is fine," Sam got out, sinking down onto a random chair in the lobby and leaning her head into her hand. Her heart was pounding. "He's with uh...with Patsy. I hope that's okay."  

"Yeah," Charlotte breathed. It was weird to hear Sam's voice coming out of the speaker. "Yeah, that's the normal arrangement. Looks like you have more figured out than I do."  

"My housekeeper's name is Moira," Sam found herself saying, shoulders relaxing from their tensed position as she talked about the less confusing parts of life. "She's really great. She probably won't look at you weird if you ask odd questions."  

"Noted. Um...Patsy is a bit nosier? But Blake is really smart, if you need help with something just ask him."  

"He seems like a smart kid," Sam said, realizing that she was already very fond of the kid.  

She could hear Charlotte's smile in his next words. "Yeah, he is. He...he'll be okay with you, right?"

Sam frowned, the nervousness coming through the line loud and clear. "Of course. Seriously, I love kids. They're great. I actually..."

She huffed and glanced away, eyebrows furrowing. "I actually made a stupid wish last night, that I wanted to...you know, have kids, see what it was like to...to be a mom. As dumb as that sounds."  

There was hesitation in her voice, but also a challenge, like Sam expected Charlotte to fight her. Instead, Charlotte seemed to gasp. "That's...pretty much what I wished for last night. Except I wanted...I wanted to be able to just exist, be seen as me, not just...a female lawyer."

Sam frowned, gears twisting in her head. "So...we both made wishes last night. Mine was on a shooting star-"

"Same. Sam, you're not really suggesting...?"

"What other explanation is there, Charlotte?"  

There was a long silence, and then Charlotte breathed out. "So what do we do then? I don't know about you, but I made that wish in the moment. I...as good looking as you are, Sam, I do not want to spend the rest of my life in a man's body."  

"Fair point. Ditto goes for you," Sam admitted, shifting her weight in the chair. "Like, you're beautiful, and Blake is great, but this is...not very comfortable for me. Plus I'm sure you want your son back."  

"Of course," Charlotte murmured.  

Sam frowned, tapping her fingers on her knees. "Well...if we changed by wishing on a shooting star, what if we do it the same way?"

"How do you mean?"  

"What if we find another shooting star and just...wish to be back to normal?"

Charlotte hummed, and there was a clattering sound in the background. Sam winced, and Charlotte chuckled nervously. "Sorry," she grumbled. "Your hair dryer is...really confusing."  

"Green button for cold air, red for hot," Sam said instantly, before freezing. "Wait, did you...shower?"  

"...yes?"

Sam squawked and Charlotte stammered in her ear. "I'm sorry, but you just...damn, Sam, when was the last time you really showered? You did not smell good. Jesus, I didn't look or touch anything if that's what you're freaking about. Hell, I'm sure you've taken a fair gander at me."  

There was bitterness in his voice, and Sam instantly got defensive. "Excuse you, I didn't fucking look at anything. I saw that I had boobs and freaked. I'm not an asshole, Charlotte. I got dressed without looking – by the way, bras fucking suck – and I haven't even taken a piss yet. Jesus."  

She scowled and almost considered hanging up the phone, but Charlotte spoke before she could. "Sorry. I'm sorry, I'm just really used to..."

"Guys being douchebags, right?" Sam muttered.  

"Yeah," Charlotte admitted, his voice apologetic. "My ex is...not a good guy. Watch out for him."  

Sam frowned, eyebrows crinkling, and she sat up in her seat. "Scott?"  

"Yeah, how did you-?"

"Patsy mentioned him, when I dropped Blake off. I...you don't want him near him?"  

"No. He's not abusive," Charlotte explained slowly. "At least, not physically. But...I won a settlement a while back, a pretty large amount, and 90 percent of it went into Blake's college fund. The rest of it is in my savings, but he feels like he's entitled to it, for being Blake's father."

"So you don't have to have this shitty flip phone?"  

"Seriously, that's all you got out of this?"

"No," Sam said with a roll of his eyes. "I'll keep him away from Blake, promise."  

"Thank you," Charlotte said, voice filled with relief. "Um...so back to this shooting star business...what if it only works because we wish at the same time? Like what if you see a star and I don't, or vice versa?"

"Good point," Sam muttered. Her nails dug into her jeans, and she paused while the older male patron from upstairs passed her, giving her a brief once over before leaving the building. "Well...fly out here."

"What?"

"I've got plenty of extra funds that you could easily take a flight out here. Plus, then you could see Blake."

Charlotte hesitated, and Sam could almost hear him thinking. "Are...are you sure?"  

"Yeah. Have Moira take off work for you."  

"Oh...okay. Speaking of work...I'm assuming you didn't go in today."  

"Yeah," Sam said, nodding. Her legs were starting to cramp, so she stood and walked towards the door, holding the phone to her ear.  

"The case...went to Johnson?"  

"Yeah."  

"Fuck."

Sam froze, guilt coiling in his stomach. "That's not a good thing, is it?"

"No, no, it's not your fault, you would have been useless anyway, it's just...we're both up for the same promotion. Ugh. Okay, here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna get Moira to call off for you for a week, buy a plane ticket, and fly out there. You call in, say that you're sick or that Blake is sick, and offer to take all the cases home in order to work on them. I'll do the cases for you, and we can...figure this out."  

Sam nodded. It was the first solid plan she'd heard since waking up that morning. "Okay. Okay, that works."

The doors whooshed open, letting her out, and Sam glanced up in time to catch the old guy from inside leering at her. He caught her eye, winked, made a lude gesture with his closed fist and tongue, and Sam quickened her pace, rage filling her core. "I'm gonna fucking murder him."

"Who?"

She had forgotten that Charlotte was still on the line. "Uh...I'm at the library. This gross old guy. I'm going to deck him."

"No."

"What?"

"You can't," Charlotte said, his voice filled with regret. "Being an attorney means that if you get into legal trouble, I could lose credibility. Or my job. Or my license. Being a woman means that if you punch him, he punches back, and it doesn't end well for you. Ignore him and walk away."

"Walk away? He just made like...a sucking gesture at me!"

"It happens. Walk away, Sam."

Sam did as Charlotte asked, sliding into her seat and slamming the door shut. "Jesus fuck."

"Sucks, doesn't it?"  

Sam took a deep breath and her shoulders slumped. She leaned back against the seat. "Yeah. Yeah, it does. Okay. Um, I don't know how charged your phone is, so I’m...hopefully I can find my way back to your house."

"All of my login codes are taped to the inside of the bedside drawer," Charlotte informed her.

Sam found himself smiling. "Mine are taped under my desk."  

"Thanks. Give...give Blake a hug for me, okay? I'll text when I'm about to fly out."  

"Will do. Bye, Charlotte."

"Bye, Sam."  

~~

She found the house again after only a few mishaps, pulling into the driveway and shutting the car off, taking a deep breath and dragging her hands down her face. Jesus fucking Christ, what had she gotten herself into? It was just a wish, how was she supposed to know that it would actually come true?  

Sam kept trying to tell herself that it was all a dream, but when she got out of the car, the sun burned the car under her touch, the gravel under her feet got in her shoes and stung, the rose bushes at the edge of Patsy's yard prickled her skin. She would have woken up now if she was in a dream, would have had some kind of weird addition to everything, like the sky turning purple or Benedict Cumberbatch crawling out of the house windows.  

It wasn't a dream.  

She had to keep telling herself that as she climbed Patsy's porch steps, shifting from foot to foot as she pressed the doorbell.  

The door opened a moment later and Patsy looked at her, befuddled. "Since when do you ring the doorbell?" she demanded incredulously.  

"Uh...sorry. Was a little lost in thought, not thinking," Sam fumbled, shooting her a sheepish smile.  

Patsy tilted her head, and now that Sam wasn't quite so confused about who she was or what the hell was going on, she could better appreciate Charlotte's next-door neighbor.  

She was plump around the middle, and yet she was tall, which Sam found an endearing combination. Her hair, an ashy blonde color, was drawn back into a loose braid that fell over her shoulder. She was wearing jeans and a floral blouse, and there was paint covering her hands. Her feet were bare, and her eyes glittered a deep green color in the sun. There was a pair of glasses resting on top of her head, which Sam also found kind of cute, and a smattering of light freckles along her nose and cheeks.  

“Are you coming in?” Patsy asked. “The boys are finger painting.”

That explained the hands. Sam shifted. “Um...sure.”  

Sam followed Patsy inside, taking in the interior of the house. It was laid out much the same way as Charlotte’s, with low ceilings and wide rooms. The front door led into the living room, with a staircase off to the left. Patsy crossed through the living room, picking her way over scattered toys, and Sam took her time following, eyeing the pictures on the wall.  

Similar to Charlotte, there were a lot of photos of her son on the walls. But unlike Charlotte, Patsy clearly had good relationships with Patrick’s father, given that he was in the majority of the photos.  

That thought made Sam a little sad, though she couldn’t quite place why.  

Her train of thought was lost when her foot caught on a toy train and she squawked, flailing to the floor with a thud and a groan. Patsy was at her side in moments, eyes wide. “Oh gosh, are you okay?” she breathed.  

“Fine, fine,” Sam grumbled, allowing Patsy to grab her by the hand. “I just...trip when I get distracted.”

“What distracted you?”

Sam frowned and nodded to the family photo as they stood up, twisting her lips up. “Just that picture,” she explained.  

Patsy’s face slumped a bit, and Sam lifted an eyebrow in confusion. She didn’t notice. “Oh. Yeah. It’s...coming up on a year now. Patrick’s been kinda sad lately. Blake helps a lot, so it’s nice to have him over.”  

Sam really didn’t have a good response to that, seeing as she had no idea what Patsy was talking about. She settled for wrapping a hesitant arm around her shoulders and giving her a side hug. Women did side hugs, right?

Patsy leaned into it and sighed, so at the very least Sam had gotten that right. She found herself speaking again. “Let’s go see the boys, mm?”

Patsy nodded and Sam let her lead the way through the living room and into the dining room, where the boys were sitting around the table. It was covered in newspapers, and they were absolutely covered in paint. Blake was in the midst of flinging a glob of paint onto his piece of paper, which was dripping with reds and blues, when he saw the adults in the doorway.  

“Mommy!” he squealed, flinging his hands up.  

Sam watched in mild horror as the paint left his fingers and splattered into the ceiling, leaving a dripping blue mass on the otherwise pristine white paint. Sam looked at Patsy slowly, who had a hand over her mouth, and breathed out a weak, “Sorry.”  

“It’s okay,” Patsy said after a moment, tearing her eyes away from the ceiling and turning to look at Sam. “Uh...I shouldn’t have left them alone.”  

“Blake, apologize to Miss Patsy please,” Sam said, making her voice stern.  

Blake at least had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, Miss Patsy.”  

“It’s okay, buddy,” Patsy said, her voice warm. “Your mommy is here to pick you up, do you need help out of your smock?”

His smock was merely a large white t-shirt, or at least, what had once been a white t-shirt, and Blake squirmed out of it easily, handing it back to Patsy and then waving a cheerful goodbye to Patrick, who was eyeing the paint with a look in his eye that was too hungry for Sam’s comfort. She ushered Blake out of the house, eyeing the photos again on the way out but making sure not to trip again, and across the lawn to Charlotte’s house.  

As she approached the porch, she caught sight of a larger man peeking through the windows of the house, one hand shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun and the other hand knocking on the panes. “Charlotte! I know you’re home, your car is here!”

Blake had stopped when Sam did, and his hand tightened. “Mommy, is that-?”

Charlotte’s warning rang in Sam’s ears and she scooped Blake up onto her hip without thinking, immediately turning around and quick stepping to Patsy’s house.  

She had only made it several steps before there was a gleeful yell and footsteps behind her. Sam’s heart rate spiked and her forehead beaded with sweat, and she suddenly realized -  

She was terrified.  

Sam had never been scared of another man in her life. Well, maybe except for her father, but it was a healthy fear, the kind of fear that kept her from doing pot and drinking before it was legal.  

This, though.  

The palm sweating, finger trembling fear that coursed through her, the terror that she wouldn’t get out of this encounter alive, the absolute dread at the fact that Blake was in her arms and wasn’t fighting, wasn’t speaking, was instead burying his nose into her neck.  

It was a terror that Sam had never felt in her existence.  

She suddenly understood why women crossed the street at night.  

“You taking the day off work?” the raspy voice behind her droned.  

Sam took a breath and turned around, her grip tightening on Blake. “None of your business,” she snapped, but her voice shook.  

The guy, who Sam just knew was Scott, smirked at the sound. “Playing hooky, eh?”

He was lean but tall, with clear build to his upper body. A pack of cigarettes poked from his shirt pocket, and he had a ragged beard and mustache. His hair was unkempt and greasy, slicked back into a weak bun on top of his head. The jeans he wore were tattered, the shoes more so, and he smelled like tobacco and body odor. Sam could practically taste it on her tongue.  

“Just leave,” Sam bit off.  

Her grip was almost too tight on Blake, but she refused to let him go, to let him look up. Scott scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets. That didn’t reassure her.  

“Look, ‘m just here to ask if you could loan me like...fifty bucks. Y’know I don’t want more than that.”  

“Except if I give it to you you’ll keep coming back,” Sam spat, her entire body trembling with rage. “That money is for Blake’s college fund.”  

“Hell, the boy is four years old! He ain’t going to college for more than a decade. What’s fifty bucks gonna hurt?”

“She said no.”  

Sam almost groaned in relief at the sound of Patsy’s voice. The woman stood on her porch, phone in hand, and her eyes were narrowed. “Don’t make me call my sister again.”  

Sam had no idea who her sister was, but it seemed to piss Scott off. His eyes glinted with anger and he took a step back. “Y’all are bitches. Can’t even help a boy’s father out.”  

“You are not his father,” Patsy spat. “You’re a fucking dick is what you are.”  

Sam winced, clinging closer to Blake and lifting a hand to cover his ears. He didn’t seem to be listening much, though. Sam could feel the dampness on her shirt where the tears were leaking in, and it pissed her off.

“Get off my property, Scott,” Patsy threatened. “Or my sister and the whole fucking police department will be on your ass the rest of your life.”

“Fuck both of you,” Scott snapped.  

He flipped them off and left the yard, and Sam heard a vague sound that reminded her of someone kicking a car. That explained the beat-up appearance of the Impala, at least.  

Footsteps behind her, and then Patsy was at her side, a gentle hand on her elbow and the other hand running it’s fingers through Blake’s hair. “Want me to call my sister?”

“It’s okay,” Sam stammered out. She loosened her grip on Blake just enough that he could shift in her grasp. “Thank you.”  

“Of course, love. Call me if he comes back, mm’k?”

“I will.”  

Sam crossed the yard again and went up the porch to Charlotte’s house, unlocking the door and then shutting and re-locking it behind her. She sat down on the couch, let go of Blake fully, and suddenly realized just how badly she was shaking. “You okay?” she found herself asking Blake.

Blake bobbed his head, looking up at her with wide, teary eyes. “You said the bad guy wouldn’t come back.”

Sam winced at the crack in his words and she brushed his hair from his face in what she hoped was a soothing manner. “I’m sorry. Sometimes bad people don’t know when to stay away. Here. How about you go change into something without paint all over it, and then we can spend the day...watching cartoons and eating popcorn?”  

Blake stared at her. “Popcorn for lunch?”

“Yes sir.”

“Okay!”  

All worries gone, he bolted up the stairs and Sam sighed, pulling out her cell and lifting Charlotte’s - or rather, her – contact from the recent calls history. She put it into a text and for a moment couldn’t remember how to type on a flip phone.  

The habit came back pretty quickly though, and she managed to send out a somewhat coherent text.  

Saw Scott. Blake is fine. When r u coming?

The phone buzzed in her hand a moment later and Sam answered the phone, glancing to the stairs. “Hi, Charlotte.”  

“Blake’s okay?” was his immediate question.  

“Yes,” Sam said, nodding even though Charlotte couldn’t see it. “Patsy got rid of him by threatening to call...her sister?”  

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. “Her sister is the chief of police. Good. To answer your question, I’ve booked the soonest flight. I’ll actually be out there tonight. If you could...pick me up? Is that weird?”

“Maybe a little,” Sam admitted with a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll look up how to get to the airport and everything. You doing okay?”

“Yeah. Moira seems...suspicious. And your boss was surprisingly chill with you taking like a week off.”  

“He’s a chill guy.”  

“Seems like.”

They lapsed into awkward silence, until a small thump from upstairs brought Sam back into focus. “What happened with Patsy’s husband?”  

“What?” That clearly hadn’t been what Charlotte was expecting.  

“Her husband. She got all teary eyed, said Patrick was upset and stuff.”

“Oh. He uh...he was in the military, and he got killed in combat around this time last year. It’s been pretty hard for them.”

Sam wilted a bit at that declaration. “That’s awful.”  

“She doesn’t like to be reminded of it.”  

“Mommy, I’m reeeeaadddddyyyyyy!”

Sam snorted and shook her head. “All right. When does the flight get in tonight?”

“It said around 8. So...I guess I’ll see you then?” Charlotte asked.  

“You’ll see yourself then,” Sam teased.  

“Right. Jesus Christ, this is so weird.”

“Preaching to the choir.”

~~

The directions to the airport fluttered on Sam’s lap. It had taken her almost ten minutes to figure out how to do up Blake’s car seat, and now she was sitting in the pickup lane at the airport, scouring the crowds for – well, her own face.  

It was a trippy experience to say the least, and Sam already had whiplash. In less than 24 hours she had gone from a simple man to a single mother of a toddler who was a fucking lawyer across the country.  

Some warbled voice filtered across the loudspeaker outside, one that Sam couldn’t understand, and she glanced up in time to see herself – himself? -  step out of the exit, her old duffle bag clutched in hand.  

He was looking around, a bit anxious, and Sam had to cringe at the outfit Charlotte had elected to put on. Khakis and plaid? Really?  

Sam hesitated and then beeped twice, watching as he turned towards the sound and slumped in relief. He rushed forwards, pulled open the passenger side door, and froze.  

“Sorry,” he breathed after a minute, managing a weak smile. He tossed the duffle onto the floor and slid into the car. “That was...just a little freaky.”  

Sam hadn’t taken her eyes off him. “Trust me, I know.”  

Charlotte glanced back at Blake, who had drifted off in his car seat, and visibly relaxed. ”He’s okay.”  

“I told you he would be,” Sam grumbled, pulling into traffic.  

Charlotte huffed and looked forward. “I know. Sorry.”  

“S’okay.”  

They lapsed into silence for a moment, until finally Charlotte squirmed. “It’s faster to take Mapleton.”  

“Okay.”  

Sam switched lanes and turned left, easing the car onto the smaller road and then sighing. “Look, this won’t end well if we’re awkward with each other. Especially because Blake will probably pick up on it and ask us five thousand questions. So...how should we go about the next few days?”  

Charlotte hummed, pulling out Sam’s smart phone and squinting at it. “I don’t know how you use this thing,” he admitted. “But...when we get back, we could look up the star patterns, see how that goes.”

“Works for me,” Sam decided.  

“Right here.”  

They got back with minimal effort, Sam unbuckling Blake while Charlotte shifted behind her. When Sam lifted him into her arms, Charlotte frowned. “Why can’t-?”

“How would he feel if he woke up in the arms of a stranger?”

Charlotte sighed and shook his head. “Right, you’re right. I’m sorry.”  

“Stop apologizing,” Sam said quietly as she opened the door and stepped aside, letting Charlotte pass. “He’s your kid, you’re allowed to be worried about him. You have a lot more to be worried about than I do.”

“Moira seems to care about you a lot, though,” Charlotte whispered, dropping his bag at the edge of the couch. “She’s a good person.”  

“Yeah, she is,” Sam said, her voice fond.  

Blake shifted in her grasp, blinking blearily at Charlotte. “Mommy, who’s’at?” he grumbled, rubbing at his eye with a fist.  

“That’s...Sam,” Sam said, eyes shooting to Charlotte with a weak grin. “He’s gonna be staying with us for a little while. He’s working on some stuff here.”  

“Mm’k,” Blake yawned. “Can I go to bed now?”

Charlotte chuckled, voice low. “You must be really tuckered out if you’re asking to go to bed.”

“Me n Mommy watched a whole buncha movies today.”

“Did you now?” Charlotte said, his tone indicating that he didn’t like that.  

Sam winced. “Yup. Let’s get you to bed, buddy.”  

~~

When she returned to the main floor, she found Charlotte in the kitchen, holding the burned toaster in hand. “What the hell happened?” he demanded. “I wasn’t even gone for 24 hours!”

Sam scowled. “To be fair, it’s been a pretty fucked up day. If it wasn’t for Patsy I would have decked your ex.”  

Charlotte slumped, putting the toaster down. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. He thinks that because he’s Blake’s father he’s entitled to everything that I have. Patsy is a real blessing sometimes.”

“Yeah. She’s pretty great.”  

Sam hadn’t realized that her voice was fond when she said it, but when Charlotte leaned over, an eyebrow quirked on his face, she froze. “What?”  

“Don’t you go getting a crush on my friend. All I know about you is that you respond to catcalling with violence and that you somehow caught my toaster on fire.”

Sam spluttered out a protest, but Charlotte wasn’t listening. “I’ll take the couch, so that way-”

“It’s your bed.”  

Charlotte glanced up, an eyebrow raised, and Sam gave a weak smile. “I’ll...I’ll take the couch. It’s okay.”  

“What about Blake?”  

“It’ll be okay. Seriously, go ahead.”  

Charlotte eyed her slowly and then tilted his head. “All right. Keep an eye out on your weather app for any potential meteor showers or anything, though.”

“Will do.”  

~~

Over the next week, Charlotte and Sam put their full efforts into researching falling and shooting stars. Sam went into the law firm dressed in a scarf and fake sneezing into her hand, picked up the cases that Charlotte asked for, and brought them back. He worked on those during the day while Sam ran errands, dropped Blake off at Patsy’s, and researched.  

The more Sam got to know Patsy, the more she had to admit that Charlotte might be right.  

The first clue was when Patsy “met” Charlotte for the first time. Sam saw the once over she gave him, saw the quirk in her lips, and envy settled low in her gut.  

Envy. That this woman was ogling HERSELF.  

The second clue was when Sam caught herself smiling as the woman giggled at a joke she had made, her stomach fluttering a bit as Patsy covered her mouth to cover her laughter. It was a shame, really; she had such a lovely laugh.  

The revelation that she genuinely found Patsy attractive and funny and wonderful came almost five days after Charlotte had gotten back.

Blake had become very attached to him, calling him “Uncle Sam” whenever they were together. Sam could tell that it hurt Charlotte a little, that he was struggling not to do the cutesy things with Blake that he’d like to be doing, and that made her work harder to find the right time to switch back.  

To hopefully switch back.  

Because really, they didn’t know if their plan would work. Didn’t know if it was all a fluke, if they would ever truly be themselves again.  

Hell, sometimes Sam still expected to wake up from a dream.  

The sixth night after Charlotte had gotten back, after they had put Blake to sleep, they were researching once more. Sam had convinced Charlotte to dip into the savings just a little bit and buy a smartphone to replace the old flip phone, and he had consented upon realizing that it wasn’t actually as expensive as he thought it was.  

At least, when he stayed away from Apple it wasn’t.  

Around 9:30, Charlotte sat up and slapped Sam on the shoulder. “There’s a meteor shower around 3 am tonight.”  

“What?”  

Charlotte looked up, eyes glinting, and Sam started grinning. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!”

They both whooped and high fived.  

They had gotten much closer over the last few days. Charlotte had stopped worrying that Sam would be a bad influence on or hurt Blake in any way. He had seen how good she was with him, and slowly his fears had dissipated. Sam had confided in Charlotte about the fear that she had felt when Scott had confronted her and Blake, and Charlotte had guided her through that fear, made her feel better about the whole situation.  

Packing up their equipment, Sam suddenly realized how much she was going to miss both of them. Charlotte and Blake had become like family she never really had.  

Sure, her parents were still alive. But she never saw them, and she was an only child. Charlotte had become what she suspected a sister was like, Blake like a nephew, and Sam wasn’t sure she was really ready to give that all up.  

Not to mention, Patsy and Patrick.

Though she hadn’t gotten to know Patrick quite as well, he was a great, empathetic kid. And Patsy herself was an amazing, tough woman. Leaving them would be almost as hard, if not harder, than leaving Charlotte and Blake. 

“Sam?”  

She looked at Charlotte, eyes wide, and blinked. “Yeah?”  

Charlotte frowned, his fingers tightening on the back of his chair. “You okay? You seem a bit lost there.”  

“I...was just thinking about how I don’t really want to leave.”  

Charlotte looked taken aback, and then slowly he smiled. “I don’t think Blake really wants you to go either. He really likes you. Or at least, my version of you. Plus Patsy has been eyeing you all over the place.”  

“She has?”  

“Geez, have you not been wearing my glasses? Hell yeah she has.”  

Sam flushed and looked at the floor, eyebrows furrowing. Charlotte took the silence as invitation to keep speaking. “I mean...there is a house for sale down the street. It’s certainly not as fancy as yours, but you definitely have the money to drop on it. And I’m sure Moira would love to get out of Philly.”  

Sam whipped her head up. “Really?”  

“Oh yeah. I can tell she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t seem like a city girl.”  

Sam hummed, a smile twitching on her lips, and Charlotte put a hand on her shoulder. “Just think about it, eh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

~~  

3 am came too quickly. They were outside at 2:30, just in case, sitting on the front porch steps and staring out into the skyline.  

Living in a big city her whole life, Sam had never really had the chance to truly appreciate the stars. Now, out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, Montana, the city pollution was low, and the town that Charlotte lived in didn’t have much light pollution.  

The sky was littered with stars, glittering and flickering along the skyline. Sam had seen the usual constellations of course; the Big Dipper, Ursa Major, Orions Belt. But out here, she couldn’t see those, could see constellations that she had never seen before, ones that she couldn’t even name.  

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured out loud, flushing after she realized she had spoken.  

Charlotte, who was cupping a mug of coffee in his hands, tossed her a small smile. “Isn’t it? I was only in Philly one day, but...damn, how do you stand the noise?”  

“I just...grew up with it,” Sam said with a shrug. “It’s never really something I realized I could live without.”  

“Mmm.”  

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, staring up at the stars.  

“Why did you make the wish?” Charlotte asked suddenly. “To be a woman, I mean. A mother, specifically.”  

Sam fidgeted, taping her fingers against her arms. “I...I thought it might be better. Mentally, somehow. I wanted a kid of my own, but I didn’t have that opportunity. I just wanted to know...how you felt, I guess.”

Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, and Sam shot him a look. “What about you?”  

“Truthfully?”  

Sam nodded.

“I wanted to stop being treated like a pair of tits and more like the lawyer I actually am. And I...raising Blake is tough. He’s an amazing kid, but sometimes there’s only so much you can handle.”  

“I get that,” Sam said softly.  

“I miss him, though,” Charlotte murmured, taking a sip of his coffee. “My boy. I also...dicks are really uncomfortable.”

Sam chuckled, clapping a hand over her mouth. “I could say the same about boobs,” she said with a laugh.

Charlotte grinned and shook his head. “All women agree with you on that, trust me.”  

Silence again, eyes turning back to the sky, and Sam’s breath hitched. “There,” she whispered, pointing.  

A single star, or more likely, a comet, streaked across the sky, and the duo looked at one another.  

They closed their eyes, wishes unspoken, and after a long minute, opened them ago, still the same.  

“It didn’t work,” Charlotte said sadly.  

“Not yet,” Sam remembered. “We fell asleep the first time, right?”

“Right.”  

They stood, regarded each other, and then went inside to go to bed.  

~~

Sam passed out on the couch and woke up in bed, staring at the ceiling with perfectly clear vision. For a moment, he thought he had fallen asleep with Charlotte’s glasses.  

And then he felt the soothing comfort of his old flannel pajama pants, the lack of awkward weight on his chest, and he sat up, lifting a hand to his face to find morning stubble scratching at his fingers.

“Shit,” he muttered, and it was his terrible, stinky morning voice he was speaking with.  

He whooped and leapt out of bed, sprinting down the hall and flying down the stairs to find Charlotte sitting up on the couch, staring at her hands with a small smile on her face. She looked up at him and gave him a thumbs up and he tilted his head, running for the door.  

“Where are you going?” Charlotte demanded, voice baffled.  

“I’m a dude and Patsy is straight!” he shouted back at her.  

Her laughter followed him out the door and he darted across the yard, cursing at the cold dew on his bare feet and pattering up Patsy’s front stoop quickly.  

He was breathless as he hit the doorbell, and she answered a moment later, eyes tired, a robe on, and a coffee mug in hand. Her eyes glazed over him once, twice, and she lifted a brow.  

Sam was suddenly very aware that he was only wearing a tank top. “Uh...morning.”

“You’re not wearing shoes,” Patsy noted, a hint of laughter in her voice.  

Sam smiled sheepishly. “I uh...I know. I just...had the urge to come over here.”

“Why’s that?”  

“Would you maybe...like to go to dinner? I know we don’t know each other really well, but I feel like I’ve gotten to know you this week, and you’re an amazing woman.”  

Patsy’s lips quirked upwards. “Aren’t you going back home, soon?”  

“Maybe. I don’t know. It depends on your answer,” Sam said. He still hadn’t quite caught his breath.  

Patsy leaned against the doorjamb and lifted her coffee to her lips. “Yeah,” she decided finally. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”  

Sam whooped, kissed her on the cheek without hesitating, and sprinted back to Charlotte’s house.  

He had to call Moira. They were buying a house in Montana.  

[itsworn]

Homebuilt Pro Street 1968 Camaro

There’s a first time for everything, like riding a bike or diving into the deep end. But just as you might skin a knee from a fall or cough up some pool water, it wasn’t all easy-peasy for Bren Manke working on his ’68 Camaro.

“This was the first car build I had ever done,” he admits. “I built the entire thing, including all the engine assembly, rollcage fabrication, suspension work, wiring, and just about everything else, in my two-car garage.”

Fortunately, Bren is mechanically inclined and had some previous experience working on snowmobiles with his dad, Bill. And he had one big motivation: to build this car with the sole intent of making it go really fast.

That’s a familiar line to Chevy High Performance readers. Making it happen is a whole ’nuther story, though. Fortunately, when he found the car on a Craigslist ad as a rolling chassis, it had very little rust. “But it was pretty much just a shell,” he admits.

While his idea initially was to build a Pro Touring car, his focus shifted after attending the NHRA Sonoma Nationals and watching some cool old drag cars tearing up the track. So he switched horses in midstream and went the Pro Street route instead.

“The only problem was that I had already mini-tubbed the car,” he notes. “So I got the absolute biggest tires I could fit into the wheelwells without doing fullsize tubs.” He also welded in some subframe connectors and bolted on Competition Engineering Slide-A-Link traction bars, secured to a 3.70 Ford 9-inch with Moser 33-spline forged axles. To further minimize axlewrap, Detroit Speed supplied 3-inch drop-leaf springs and shocks.

This setup was for putting some serious power to the pavement—about 750 horses at 15 psi from a 383 small-block topped with a Weiand 6-71 blower. All good in theory, but he encountered a few bumps in the road along the way. The first one happened while testing the engine right after he had gotten the Weiand blower installed.

“I went to my favorite testing spot and floored it,” he relates. “Well, the throttle linkage that hooked to the carburetor wasn’t adjusted right and got stuck against the side of the blower, keeping it at full throttle. I was getting really close to 140 mph when I shut the ignition off.” As a result, the engine backfired super hard, which in turn bent the crankshaft. He was able to limp it home and ended up pulling the engine and installing a new crank.

The next challenge was a more involved technical issue, as the engine ran too hot. After months of fighting overheating issues he determined the problem was caused by the blower being over-driven too much.

“I was achieving the boost levels I wanted, but the extra load during idle and cruising caused it to overheat.” And that was after trying all sorts of fixes, such as installing a huge radiator that barely fit between the framerails, adding water wetter, a high-flow 55-gpm electric water pump, and dual shrouded electric fans, plus adjusting the timing, changing the jetting—everything.

He eventually went with a Whipple W200R twin-screw supercharger instead, which has a bypass valve to bleed off boost at slow speeds. Even so, he replaced the plastic butterfly-style valve with a turbo blow-off unit. Why the switch? “Because of the aesthetics and the fact I can calibrate the amount of vacuum needed to open it by using different tension springs,” Bren explains.

Drawing on his snowmobile experience, he also designed a water-to-air intercooler to adapt it to his existing 6-71 intake. That involved drawing up several designs and fine-tuning through trial and error (just as he did on the rest of the project).

Assembled by Bren, with some help from his father, the innards of the engine provided by CNC Motorsports include Eagle forged rods and a crank with a 3.750-inch stroke in a 0.030-overbore of 4.030 inches, slinging JE forged pistons with an 8.8:1 compression ratio. AFR 220 heads run Scorpion 1.5:1 rockers. Filtering the air into a Pro Systems SV1 carb is a K&N element with a custom scoop.

Downstream from the block are Schoenfeld headers (1 7/8 to 1 3/4-inches), dumping into a 3-inch custom X-pipe and dual mufflers. Backing up the mill is a TCI Auto Turbo 350, actuated by a B&M shifter and fitted with a trans brake.

Another scary surprise came when Bren was trying out a new electric fuel pump. He had it operating for a while without having the car running. So how did things get a little weird?

“Well, unknown to me when I had installed the fittings on the pump, a small metal shaving made its way into the carburetor and kept the needle and seat open, flooding the motor extremely bad (like, hydraulic the motor bad),” he relates. Bren decided to pull the spark plugs and crank the motor to clear the gas out but forgot to unhook the coil.

“When I hit the key something sparked and ignited the gas that came out of the cylinders, and before I knew it I had three-foot flames shooting out of the engine bay,” he recalls with wince. Fortunately, he grabbed a fire extinguisher and put it out pretty fast—but not before it burned up the majority of the wiring around the engine.

“We also had a heck of a time getting the matte finish to come out right,” Bren admits. “We ended up spraying, sanding, and respraying the entire car because when the matte finish would begin to dry, random striping would appear, the worst of which were on the flat surfaces such as the roof and decklid.” That’s when he decided to go with the two-tone flat/matte finish.

Despite all the hurdles and hiccups, this build had a good ending, as he and his bride, Aggie, did a smoky burnout at their wedding reception. All told, after three years of overcoming various challenges, “This car was an absolute blast to build and one heck of a learning curve.”

And they lived happily ever after. CHP

Tech Check Owner: Bren Manke, Sparks, Nevada Vehicle: 1968 Camaro

Engine Type: Chevy small-block V-8 Displacement: 383 ci Compression Ratio: 8.8:1 Bore: 4.030 inches Stroke: 3.750 inches Cylinder Heads: Aluminum AFR 220, 65cc combustion chambers, 220cc intake ports, 80cc exhaust ports, 2.10/1.60-inch valves Rotating Assembly: Eagle forged rods and crank, JE forged pistons Valvetrain: Scorpion rocker arms 1.5:1, Isky EZ-Roll solid roller lifters, Comp Cams pushrods Camshaft: Comp Cams solid roller (0.609-inch lift; 256/264-deg. duration) Induction: Whipple W200R supercharger, Pro Systems SV1 carburetor, Weiand intake manifold with custom water-to-air intercooler Ignition: MSD BTM 6 Exhaust: Schoenfeld headers (1 7/8 to 1 3/4 inches), 3-inch custom X-pipe, Super 44 dual mufflers Ancillaries: Painless Performance wiring Output (est.): 750 hp Machine Work: CNC Motorsports (Brookings, SD) Built By: Bren and Bill Manke

Drivetrain Transmission: TCI Auto Turbo 350, B&M shifter, trans brake, custom aluminum driveshaft Rear Axle: Quick Performance Ford 9-inch, 3.70:1 gears, Truetrac differential, Moser 33-spline axles

Chassis Front Suspension: Detroit Speed 3-inch drop coil springs Rear Suspension: Competition Engineering subframe connectors and Slide-A-Link traction bars, Detroit Speed 3-inch drop-leaf springs and shocks Brakes: Classic Performance Products 13-inch rotors, two-piston calipers, front; 12-inch rotors, single-piston calipers, rear

Wheels & Tires Wheels: Racestar 17×4.5 front, Champion Wheels 15×12 rear Tires: MH Racemaster 4.5/26-17 front, Hoosier Quick Time Pro 29/13.50-15 rear

Interior Upholstery: Bren Manke Material: Vinyl Seats: Kirkey aluminum race buckets, Simpson seat belts Ancillaries: Custom eight-point rollcage installed and built by Bren Manke Steering: Custom with Grant wheel Shifter: B&M Dash: Custom aluminum center console Instrumentation: Dakota Digital VTX Audio: Pioneer HVAC: None

Exterior Bodywork: Bill and Bren Manke Paint By: Bill Manke Paint: Flat and matte black; graphics by Auto Color Studios Hood: Harwood fiberglass Grille: Polished aluminum custom Bumpers: Stock

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[springdayismyaesthetic]

Luck or Just Cliche?

Genre: THE PERCY JACKSON AU THAT I REALLY NEEDED

Pairings: Hoseok x oc

Warnings: swearing, fighting, idk this is light

Word count: 4511

Author’s note: sorry if this is confusing but it’s more of a drabble and I really needed to put this into words today lol

Dark skies, that’s what greeted me this wonderful morning. Am I sarcastic? Yes, how nice of you to notice. My name is Serenity Gilmore, and yes, I am a fan of the show. I’m seventeen years old and almost out of high school, my senior year had not been easy. New schools have always been a nuisance to me, especially since I keep moving around foster homes. My eighteenth birthday is in may, just after I’m supposed to graduate and I cross my fingers that I can graduate without problems. I live in the wonderfully dull state of Ohio at the moment, the public school down the street full of snotty farm children. Seriously, I don’t understand what’s the big deal about driving a tractor to school. Anyways, the sky is dark today, dark with storm clouds and the pit of anxiety in my stomach continues to grow as I make my way into the brick school. I feel like Goob in that Disney movie, what was it called? Oh, Meet The Robinsons, I have been convincing myself that everyone secretly hates me, even though most everyone knows me by name. I don’t know why I’ve been on edge lately; maybe it’s that nagging feeling that I’m being watched. I can’t find the words to explain it.

Class drags on for what seems like hours, and the teacher keeps on glancing at my tapping pencil. The hallway is crowded, and a tall man stands in front of my locker. Instead of stopping and staring, I push my way down the hall and right past the man. Warning sirens are going off in my head, and I crush the books I’m holding to my chest. “Serenity?” Someone says, and I freeze, it’s a deep voice, someone way older than I am, I turn the man in the trench coat smiles, grey hair curled down his neck. “Do you have a moment?” The warning sirens are blaring in my head, but I nod and head towards the cafeteria after the man. My fingers shake as I sit across from the smiling stranger. “You’re in danger,” he begins, and that’s when I start to laugh. Confusion covers his face, and his hands are clenching into fists on the table. “This is not a laughing matter.” He says again, and the sternness in his voice has me gritting my teeth. “How should I trust you, I don’t even know you.” He sighs, dragging a hand through his grey hair, “Take this, it will help you, use it wisely and wait for a boy named Hoseok.” I frown, who does this man think he is? When he pulls a dagger from his coat, I bolt from my seat. I raise my hands in surrender, and it’s his turn to laugh. “Relax, child; this is for your protection.” He says and lays the sheathed dagger on the table, “Luck will be on your side, just wait for Hoseok.”

I shove the dagger in my hoodie pocket before the man takes it back. He is fooling me, playing a cruel joke on me. I try to think of people that would want to hurt me or scare me. No one comes to mind, and I frown yet again, bringing my gaze back to the man in front of me. “Good luck.” He smiles and vanishes into thin air. I gasp at the small poof of smoke that sits where the stranger just had. I’m definitely hallucinating.

A week later I found out that I was not hallucinating.

Today’s Monday is a real winner, my stomach bubbling with nerves. School had given me more anxiety, not the homework and classes, but the thought of someone hurting me. I wear a simple blue hoodie, black hair pulled back into a ponytail, and ripped jeans. Last night I looked through the school records, and no one named Hoseok goes here or ever went here for that matter. I end up staying up late most nights google searching for anyone named Hoseok, but the only thing that comes up is this weird website for a camp. Camp Half-Blood. I frowned looking at the blue website and the smiling campers. What throws me off is the descriptions. Sword training? Monster fighting class? Learn Ancient Greek? A camp where you can stay all year? I click out of the site and turn my laptop off; the internet is a weird place.

Later that night I hear dogs barking outside, I groan, slamming a pillow over my ears and wish for them to be quiet. My wishes are not heard, and I get up to look out my window. The street lights are shining right down on the creature below. My eyes widen at the two-headed dog barking on the concrete. I back away from my window and press my back against the cool wallpaper. I glance at the digital clock by my bed, eleven o’clock, the foster parents were out tonight which meant I was in the house alone. I make my way back to the window and press my fingers against the glass. The monster continues to bark and turns its heads towards my window. My room is on the third floor of the house, so when the dog crouches and leaps towards the side of the house, I let out a scream and lunge for my dresser. I pull out the sheathed dagger and grip it in my hands as I run out of my room. The loud shattering sound of glass is heard behind me, and I let out another scream, tearing my way down the stairs. My hands are shaking, and I turn to look at me, bad idea because the dog is leaping out of my bedroom and heading down the stairs towards me. Pictures fly off of the walls, and I rush into the garage shutting the door behind me and pushing a metal shelf in front of the door, this should buy me a few seconds. I rip the car keys from the hook and jump into the family van, I wasn’t allowed to drive, but I make an exception for this situation. When I start the car the monster manages to push his way into the garage. His eyes are a dull red and drool drips from his mouth, and the growl that he makes sends the hair rising on my neck. I start the van and put it in reverse, sending it right through the garage door.

I don’t even look at me as I pull out of the driveway and I scream as the van shakes, the monster must have jumped on top of the van. What do I do next? I hit the gas pedal; maybe someone will see me with a giant dog on top of the car and help me. Help does come, but it’s a red-headed boy standing in the middle of the street. He holds a bow and arrow, aiming it right at the van. So, I let out another scream and swerve out of the way as he lets the arrow fly. At this point, the dog has sent his claws through the roof of the van and ripped a giant chunk of the metal off. The wind is now sending my long hair into a flurry in front of my eyes. I duck as a giant paw is flying in front of my face, and that’s when I hit the telephone pole. Thanks to the hole in the roof, I am flying right into the sidewalk. Everything is in slow motion as I fly through the air, my hands waving wildly as I tuck my head and roll onto the grass. How I managed to do that, I have no idea, but it was pretty awesome.

A loud angry growl pierces the air and I’m shaken from my prideful thoughts. My fingers grip the short grass as I look back towards the van. I reach for the dagger inside my hoodie and pull it out, dropping the empty sheath to the side. My hand shakes as I hold it out in front of me and the dog crouches, getting ready to pounce. All of a sudden, a golden arrow shaft is protruding from its shoulder. The right head looks down confused at the stick and the left head keeps its eyes on me as it crumbles to dust. Yes, the monster crumbles to dust right in front of my eyes and the arrow hits the top of the van with a dull thud. My heart is pounding in my ears and all I can think of is if it’s going to come back. “Hey! Are you okay?” A voice yells at me from across the street. Under the streetlight the tall red-haired boy stands waving his bow in the air. I take deep breaths into my lungs, still trying to calm my racing heart down. The boy jogs over to me, crouching down on the pavement and looking me over. “Are you hurt? That was a pretty nasty crash.” He smiles, teeth white under the yellow light. “You’re worried about the car?” I ask, placing a hand over my heart and gripping the dagger in my other hand. “What about the dog, will he come back? Why did he turn into dust? Why was it chasing me?” I ramble and the boy places a hand under my chin, forcing me to look into his dark eyes. “You saw Orthrus?” He asks, concern washing over his face as his eyebrows furrow. “You mean the dog? You would have to be blind not to see that two-headed freak on top of my van!” I yell and he shoves a hand over my mouth, looking around. “She saw Orthrus, that means she saw through the mist.” He trails off into a mumble and I frown behind his hand, pulling it off of my mouth. “That thing almost killed me! You stood in the middle of the road for crying out loud!” I push the dagger back into its sheath as the redhead pushes a hand through his hair. “Who are your parents.” He asks, grabbing my shoulder with his hand. I flinch, jerking my shoulder away from him. “Who’s asking?” I frown, hugging the dagger to my chest. “My name is Jung Hoseok, and why on earth do you have a Celestial bronze dagger.”

I stare at Hoseok with wide eyes, and the grass grows colder beneath me. “Your name is Hoseok?” I whimper and his eyes soften as he stands. “Yes, My name is Hoseok, son of Apollo. I believe I asked you who your parents are.” He offers me a hand, and I take it, standing on my shaky feet in the middle of a deserted street with the smoking van behind me.

It turns out Camp Half-Blood is a real place, and it turns out the Greek gods from history class are real, which explains why the two-headed dog was real. The dog was named Orthrus, brother to Cerberus who guards the Underworld. Hoseok had been hunting the dog for a couple of weeks now, following it all the way into Ohio. He said it had been tracking someone, from what it looked like, I don’t know much about hunting, and I got distracted by his explanation. Hoseok took me to a small diner on third and ordered us cheeseburgers. “You’re a foster kid, right? That means you don’t know who your parents are?” He asks in between bites of his food. “I knew my mom, but she left a couple of years ago. I never met my dad.” I stuff a few fries in my mouth and look out the dark window. My foster parents are probably getting home about now and wondering why their house is in shambles and the van missing. “That’s normal for half-bloods. Usually the nonexistent parent is a Greek god.” I don’t know why I believe him; maybe it’s because he’s cute? Or maybe it’s because I’ve been traumatized and his answer is the one I’m willing to believe. I choose the first option; he’s cute. “There was a man who came to me last week at school, told me that I was supposed to meet someone. He said your name, Hoseok; I was supposed to meet you. What does this mean? What am I supposed to do now?” A smile crosses his cheeks, wide and bright. “I guess you can come with me to Camp Half-Blood, you’ll be safe there.” And so I decided to go with him, and we disappear in the dead of night. Never to be seen again in that small town.

Hoseok drives much better than I do, but then again he doesn’t have a manic two-headed dog on the roof of his truck. I didn’t expect him to be driving the small green truck, but here we are, sitting in the two-seater truck and a trunk full of hunting weapons. Hoseok tells me all about the camp, how there are different cabins for different gods and goddesses, that way I wouldn’t be alone. The thought of having siblings excited me, I had always been alone in my life so having more people around sounded fun. Hoseok smiles knowingly at my remark, he must have other siblings, I think. “Do you wanna stop by your foster family’s home?” He asks his right hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out the window as he drives. “No,” I say simply and look out the window at my freckled complexion as we drive.

It takes about a day to get to camp half-blood and Hoseok drives straight through. I ask him if he wanted me to take a turn driving, which ended up with him making fun of my driving. “I had a monster on top of my car!” I protest, and he simply shakes his head, smiling brightly and small dimples creasing in his cheeks. I feel my face heat up, and I look out the windshield again, he really is cute.

Four months have passed, and I still haven’t been claimed yet. Chiron, the centaur activities director, told me that since I got into the camp that I must be a demigod and then he let me stay in the big house. My room is small, a bed in the corner and a desk against the wall. The walls are a light yellow with a white trim that I soon grow tired of seeing. Hoseok showed me around the huge camp, the cabins fascinating to see. Hoseok’s sibling, Yoongi, followed us around a lot and I soon become good friends with him too. Yoongi writes music and Hoseok choreographs them, it really is fun to watch him dance. The way he moves with the music, he gives it life and meaning, and it is truly beautiful to watch. I find myself thinking about Hoseok more and more, it helps that we do a lot of the same things here too. We take ancient greek together and archery, those two things really take up a lot of our time. Although the thing I don’t like about camp is training, it goes all day and sometimes into the night. Namjoon, who is eighteen, teaches me everything he knows and soon I’m wielding a broadsword with ease. What no one knows is who my father is and why I haven’t been claimed yet.

Luck is on my side yet again, and within the week I am claimed by my father.

It happens in a dream, the man with grey hair and a trenchcoat comes to see me again. “You.” I groan, and he smiles, “I see you’ve found Hoseok, I told you luck was on your side.” A bell goes off, and I take in my surroundings, I’m in a casino. Trenchcoat guy sits on a barstool, shifting coins through his fingers with a knowing smirk on his lips. “Who are you?” I ask, curious as to who this person is. “My name is Caerus, child, and much to your luck I am your father.” I look away, of course, he is, this is so cliche. “Not cliche, luck, my dear.” He tosses me a coin, which I catch in my palm out of instinct. “I am the minor god of opportunity and luck, which is why you have been so lucky.” I frown, turning the coin over in my hand, “There’s no cabin for you at camp.” He chuckles, “of course not, most people say that I am a daemon, mainly because I like to drink blood every once in a while.” I curl my lip in disgust, “so now my father is a gambling vampire too?” This has him laughing, and I take in his appearance. He wears runner shoes, and his hair is more of a quicksilver color, he must like running because he looks like a runner. He stands, putting a hand over my head and messing up my hair. “Don’t be surprised there’s no cabin, you are unique, my only child.” I turn my head away; this is a lot to take in. “So you’re claiming me?” I ask, and he smiles, cupping my cheek in his thin hand, “Yes, you are my prodigy.” My dream fades to black and my eyes open to a moonlit ceiling; I know who my father is.

“Caerus?” Chiron asks me, his beard is trimmed short today. “Yes, he gave me my dagger, and he’s helped me.” I nod, and give a strained smile, Chiron must not believe me. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard his name, the opportunity is swift and silent sometimes.” I turn to look out the window, “he said that he is referred to as a daemon, would I have to leave here?” I had already enrolled in the local high school where a few of the Hermes kids go, and I would hate to leave. “No! No, of course not my dear, you are welcome to stay here.” I breathe a sigh of relief and push a hand through my loose hair, the hard part will be explaining this to Hoseok.

The dock is quiet, the fresh air blowing against my freckled face and I let my bare toes brush against the water. I hear soft steps on the dock, and someone sits down beside me, Hoseok. I smile, glancing at his dimpled cheeks. I decide to start right to the point; it’s better to just throw it out instead of finding the right words. “I know who my father is,” I begin, fingers twiddling in my lap, “Caerus, the god of opportunity and luck,” I let out a small laugh, “I guess that explains how I haven’t died yet.” He sits quietly beside me, and I begin to worry, does he know what Caerus has done? “I’m happy for you.” He says, and I look at him, that’s when I realize just how close he is to me. My eyes drift up his nose and to his dark eyes. His lips are parted, and he swipes his tongue across them. “I was worried your dad would be Apollo.” He whispers and a small smile crosses my lips. “Why is that?” I ask as his hand reaches up to cup my cheek, “Cause then I wouldn’t be able to do this.” He presses his lips to mine in a heated kiss, and I melt into him, hands clenched in his t-shirt. He laughs against my lips and pulls away, I smile, and then the dinner bell rings. “Time to eat.” He laughs jumping to his feet, “I’ll catch up with you.” I smile as he runs off to the pavilion and I turn my gaze back to the sunset.

He doesn’t talk about the kiss after that.

Drama is stupid and so are boys. That’s the conclusion I’ve come to from the past month. Hoseok pretends the kiss never happened and his smiles have become more strained and fake. That’s when we start to drift away from each other, and I find myself hanging out with Yoongi more. The dyed blonde boy isn’t as talkative as Hoseok, but I still enjoy his company. Caerus visits me in my dreams more often now, and I’ve come to ask him for advice, not just on boys but with homework and just life in general. Even with his gambling habits, he gives excellent advice for teenage girls, I tell him to write a book, and he laughs. I enjoy spending time with my father.

The weekly trip to the mall is the most exciting thing to me, I get to go with Yoongi and Hoseok to get new clothes this time around. Hoseok sits in the back of the small white car and Yoongi drives. I’m practically bouncing in my seat, I’ll have something other than an orange camp shirt to wear for once. The first stop is Macy’s, and I try on maybe fifteen different dresses, although none of them strike me as “the one.”  Next is Forever 21, something more up my alley. I find a pair of jeans in my size and a cute sweater. I buy a baseball cap with them and call it quits.

Yoongi buys me a pretzel and finds us a table in the food court. Hoseok is quiet the entire time, and this makes for very awkward conversation. That’s when a tall, nicely dressed woman catches my eye. Long black hair and a freckled nose like my own make my eyes widen in surprise. Yoongi notices and turns to look at her, his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and his words get lost in my frantic brain. Mom. “I’ll be right back.” I stammer and set my pretzel down on the table.

She sits at a table by herself, her Chinese smells good from here, and I can’t bring myself to say anything. So I begin with a simple word, “Mom?” She turns her head and drops her fork on the floor, “Fuck.” Are all she says and her bright green eyes meet my own. She sighs, “you’ll want an explanation, go ahead and sit.” My heart pounds in my ears as I sit across from her, my hands shake under the table. “Where have you been?” I ask, and she smiles, it reminds me of a snake for some reason, and I find myself cowering in my seat. “I’ve been with my boyfriend, John, he takes outstanding care of me.” I look away from her; she didn’t want me. I’ve spent my whole life being called useless and here I am, wanting her to open her arms wide for me. “Why did you leave me?” My heart races in my chest as she opens her mouth. “John doesn’t like children.” Are all she says and I sit there stunned. Opportunity doesn’t wait for anyone, we weren’t rich, and if sugar daddy John doesn’t like children then he won’t have children around. That must have been why Caerus liked her, she doesn’t wait for the opportunity to pass, she lunges at it with claws out and teeth bared. I see her face light up, and a tall man stands over her, “Who’s this?” he asks, voice dripping like honey. “Someone from the local school paper wanted to ask me some questions; we were just finishing up.” My face heats up in shame, and I stand from my seat. “Fuck you,” I tell her and turn, looking for a way out. I head towards the front entrance and push my way through the doors, my breath coming out in short gasps. I hold my stomach as the world spins around me, there’s no way that this is happening. “Hey!” John yells, and I turn to see his suit coat trailing back in the wind. “You need to come back and apologize to my girlfriend, that is no way to treat your elder.” I see Yoongi and Hoseok rushing out of the mall, and they stop a couple of feet away from us.

“I don’t need to apologize,” I say, “when the next best thing comes around you can be sure she’ll leave.” A harsh slap fills the air and my head jerks to the side, pain erupting in my cheek. A strong arm pushes me away, and I grip the back of a t-shirt, my head spinning. “That’s enough,” Hoseok growls in front of me, and I turn my head to look up at John. “Fuck you too.” I grip Hoseok’s wrist and drag him away from him, “he’s not worth it.” I mutter and reach up to touch my cheek, wincing at the red pain flaming from it. “It doesn’t look too bad,” he says, concern washing over his face. “Am I a bad kisser?” I blurt out, and Hoseok’s face turns as red as his hair, “Let’s just worry about your cheek for now.” he stammers as Yoongi makes his way over to us. They don’t ask me about who the woman or the man was, and the ride back to camp is silent.

The ice pack on my cheek is freezing cold, and Hoseok stands over me, checking for any other injuries. I protest, telling him that I’m okay and that my cheek doesn’t even hurt. We settle into an uncomfortable silence, “you’re not a bad kisser.” Hoseok says, breaking the silence and I feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “Then why haven’t you talked about it?” I ask him, fidgeting with my hands. “Well,” He laughs nervously and reaches a hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, “Yoongi told me that girls like when you play hard to get or ignore them.” I yell when he finishes, slapping a hand on his shoulder, “Yoongi is stupid!” I yell, and he begins to laugh, curling a hand around my waist and dragging me into his arms. His breath hits my cheeks, and the icepack falls to the floor, useless. “You better apologize for confusing me, Hoseok,” I tell him, and his eyes light up, and he pulls me into a kiss. “Is that a good apology?” He laughs, and I grin, “Maybe you should apologize again.” He presses his lips to mine in another kiss, for now, I forget about what happened today and focus on him.

[larkwinters-a]

How To Fuck Up Your Life Completely And Irreversibly, A Self Help Book, Written by Lark Winters.

Step 1) Be born. 

He’d almost failed step one. He was born a month early, in October. He’d been told, a long time ago, that it had been an unusually hot the day he had been born. He had also been told that he was an impatient little bastard, who only managed to make it to thirty two weeks before he knocked on his mother’s pelvis and said alright mama, it’s time I get out of here. He’d been okay, obviously, and he grew up without any other medical complications.

Step 2) Have your parents leave, in any way possible. 

In his - their - case, it was walking out of the door one day and never coming back. He never found out what happened to them, only that he had been twelve (almost thirteen, he would have reminded anyone who would have cared enough to listen), Nico had been seven months, and they had simply not been there in the morning.

Step 3) Go to live with your uncle; who may or may not run a gang and who may or may not get a kick out of kicking you around.

He’d packed their bags for them, while some lady in a suit watched his every move. He had two bags; one for their clothes and whatever else he could get in there and the other for Nico’s baby things, such as nappies and bottles. Then they’d been driven to downtown LA where they’d been dropped on a doorstep and left. When the door opened, a tall tall man looked down at them, muttered something about that bitch leaving her kids to me and then he brought them inside. There had been a poker game or something on. The air smelled of alcohol and something else Lark would later learn to be weed (and that he would smoke at some point too.)

They’d been there for two days when Lark realised he’d run out of milk for Nico and he made the mistake of asking for some money to go get some. The fridge had been packed with beer and cocktails and everything but milk. It wasn’t a home for two children, so Lark had asked his uncle for a couple of dollars for milk. When he’d been given a resounding no, he’d asked again, almost begging while Nico cried in his arms. Someone told him to shut that fucking baby up and Lark had tried, he’d tried so hard but Nico was hungry (he was hungry too but this was just the first in a long line of him sacrificing food for his brother) and he asked his uncle again, a dollar fifty would get him enough milk and he told him that and he asked again, saying please, please, please, please ple -

The hand that struck him was harsh. It was painful and all Lark could hear was a loud ringing in his left ear, the entire left side of his world was silent for a few moments. Hot tears burned his eyes. An adult had never hit him before. 

He fed Nico water and cried once he had gotten Nico down to sleep.

Step 4) Avoid joining your uncle’s gang. Instead, take part in reckless drag racing.

He was sixteen the first time he took part in a drag race. He took a car from his uncle’s garage and raced and won. He would do it whatever chance he got, no matter how little the race was worth. He would, mostly, do it to get away from their dreaded home life and he might have done that one too many times.

(Nico’s cast was bigger than his two arms put together. It was big and clunky and it was a glaring reminder of what happened when he wasn’t there. That and the black eye, large and round and almost taking up his entire face. Lark usually was the one who got the black eyes, stepping in the same path time and time again. He was the punch bag, not a twelve year old boy.)

He almost had enough money to get away when it all went wrong.

Step 5) Die.

Blunt? Well, yeah, because any medical doctor and anyone with eyes would have known that he had died. Three bullets in his chest, five more spread across his torso and back. He had died but something had decided that he was worthy of living again. It called itself Eli, it was a part of the car he had stolen for the race, the one that had gotten him killed in the first place. It gave him unimaginable power, the ability to finally get away, but it came with a steep price. And for once in his short life, he'd allowed himself to be selfish; even if the consequences weren't worth it.

(At least he got a cool new orange eye as a result)

Step 6) Give In.

Lark had thought it was a nightmare, thought it had been nothing but some wild dream his tired brain had conjured up but he wasn’t that lucky. He had fought with himself the entire day, trying to make sense of it all, only to keep running into walls and plot holes and too many questions with not enough answers. He had no idea what had happened to him.

It was when the demon, the devil even, sneaked his way  in that Lark realised that it wasn’t a dream after all. He struggled; there was no two ways about it. He couldn’t juggle work, looking after Nico, and fighting for his own body. It was exhaustive, he was exhausted.

It was around midnight when it happened. He had been looking over the car, an attempt to fight off everything he felt that day, when the voice in his head rang clear, like it was the only sound in the world.

“You know you can’t do this alone.”

“Shut up.”

“Look at yourself, think about your baby brother, do you really think you are capable of doing this alone?”

“Fuck off.”

There was a brief lapse, Lark breathed for maybe half a second.

“I want to help you, kid. I want to give you the power to fight back.” Eli said and he almost sounded... enticing. “I can give you power against them all; your uncle, his gang, the parents that left you to raise your baby brother all on your own.”

Lark hesitated for a moment. “How are you going to do that?”

“You just have to trust me.”

“How can I know to trust you?” Lark asked.

“You just have to trust me. Who else do you have in this world?”

Lark’s heart had pounded in his chest. “Okay. I trust you.”

There had been a swelling of heart, loud and roaring, and after that, Lark couldn’t remember a thing.

Step 7) Lose control and break your little brother’s back.

Eli demanded control from the start. He wanted it and Lark knew he couldn't give him it. He had a hard enough time juggling his thin time between working at the garage and trying to make ends meet, so that they could keep their crappy little home that he'd managed to secure. It was small and cramped and never clean but it was theirs. They deserved their own place where they didn’t have to walk on egg shells constantly. They had a roof and their own rooms and it was nice.

So, naturally it all came crashing (ha ha) to an end. It’d been a particularly hard day for him (excuses, excuses) where several customers had yelled at him for seemingly no reason and they only had ten dollars to last them for two weeks, with his only option for more funds was begging the man they had fled from for it, the same man he was already in debt with. So, all he really wanted to do was get home, get some rest; and Eli took advantage of that.

He snaked his fiery fingers in, scorching Lark’s soul and he attempted to - to do god knows what and Lark had to fight for control, he’d allowed his resolve to slip and -

Well, to drive you need to pay attention to the road. 

And Lark woke up in the hospital, body covered in cuts and bruises but that was it. That was it for him. The doctor told him what had happened to Nico and he’d been scarily calm. He’d nodded and asked for updates as frequently as possible and then walked away. He remained calm until they told him the extent of the irreversible damage he had caused. He was calm until he was asked if he wanted to go in. He refused. He ran all the way to the nearest bathroom.

It was in there that he had a nervous breakdown.

Step 8) Live with your guilt.

So, Lark had to deal with it because he had no choice. He borrowed money from his uncle to pay off medical bills and fit Nico with the best wheelchair they could afford. He pretended not to be wracked with guilt every time he looked at his little brother and they attempted to move on with their lives. It was hard but they could handle hard.

Or so he thought. Eli came back time and time again, his voice rattling around in Lark’s head until he could no longer take it. Eli promised him that, when he was in control, he didn’t have to feel the guilt or the pain and all of those other other emotions he kept so far buried within him. Lark couldn’t help but want that; he felt selfish for it but he was sure it would be the only way to keep him alive a second time.

Except, Lark knew he had to lay down ground rules, or something bad could happen. Again.

“On one condition.” he had said.

“Anything.”

“We don’t hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Step 9) The people who deserve it are the only victims.

To put it lightly, he was now a serial killer. Eli told him whose soul was tainted, whose soul was nothing but rotten and together, they purged them out of the world. Lark would have been lying if he said he enjoyed it, he would have been lying if he said that it was something that made it easier to sleep at night - he didn’t sleep at night.

Lark would also have been lying if he had known that it would bring her into his life.

Step 10) You're now the Ghost Rider. Congratulations.

With the conclusion of our ten step guide, we come right to where we need to be: Canelo’s Auto and Body. 

Lark was under the hood of a car, another bland job of adding spare parts and coating himself in grease, when he heard the slaps on the car’s roof. He didn’t ignore them, he simply just finished twisting the wrench he was holding, fixing a bolt into place, before he pulled himself out of his work, setting the wrench aside. He began to wipe his hands on a dirty cloth when he saw who had brought him out of his haze; Canelo himself.

“How’s she coming along, kid?” he asked.

“Nearly fixed.” Lark shoved the cloth into his pocket, admitting defeat. “I suppose there’s a reason as to why you’ve come over?”

Canelo nodded and then hooked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the front of the shop. “There’s a tiny girl here, she wants to know about a car. I told her you were the one who knew about some of the cars in here. Care to talk to her?”

Lark shrugged. He didn’t see a problem with it. “Sure, no problem. Send her over.”

Canelo walked away then, with a parting right and Lark turned back to the car he was working on. He was going over his mental checklist of things to fix and change to see if the engine finally got around to working again and there was not a single notion, not in his mind, that the events from last night would smack him straight in the face in broad daylight, in his place of work. He heard the footsteps approach him and he shut the hood over, so that he could be undisturbed while they spoke. When he turned to see the girl Canelo had spoken about, he hadn’t expected her. He did his best to hide his shock, because that would have given him away.

They’d met before, last night, except she had been hell bent (ha) on bringing him to justice or something because he was a serial killer and he had been a flaming skull, essentially. He knew who she was but she didn’t know who he was. They’d fought, essentially, and now here they were. She would have no way of knowing who he was unless he showed her and he didn’t plan on that; not when she had an agenda against him. 

He just had to play the part of Lark Winters and he’d be fine - figuratively speaking, of course.

“So, you’re looking for a car?” He crossed his arms, leaned his hip against the one he’d been working on. “What does she look like?”

[agilenano]

Agilenano - News: Best Concept Rubbermaid Shed Accessories

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Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) https://agilenano.com/blogs/news/best-concept-rubbermaid-shed-accessories-1

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[arplis]

Arplis - News: Your garage is very likely home to more than just your car – it’s your workspace and your storage locker all in one

That means that it can fill up with stuff and become cluttered quickly, making it hard to find anything in your garage and leaving you with a sinking feeling every time you look at the mess. That can all change, though, by installing a garage storage system – freeing up your garage not only for a car again, but also for working on home improvement and DIY projects. The best garage storage system is sleek, functional, and organized. It should take up as little space as possible while also enabling you to expand and contract as the content of stuff in your garage changes, as well as make it easy to find whatever you’re looking for. To make finding the right garage storage system for your needs easier, we researched the top products on the market by poring through technical specifications and customer reviews. After hours of work, we narrowed down to a list of the eight best garage cabinets and storage systems – and whether you're looking for a full-fledged storage system with a workplace or just a couple of racks, there are great options on our list! Top 8 Garage Storage System Reviews 2019 The table below summarizes our eight picks and highlights the best use of each system. Keep reading for detailed reviews of each of the garage storage systems, complete with the pros and cons of each system. Our buying guide then covers everything you need to know in order to choose the storage system that is right for your situation. Finally, we review the overall best garage storage system in our roundup. 32. NewAge Products 50404 Bold 3.0 Garage Storage Cabinet Set Best Cabinet Storage System Features Cabinet set 2 multi-use lockers, 3 wall cabinets, 1 base cabinet, 1 rolling tool cabinet 72’’ stainless steel worktop Total dimensions: 108’’ W x 18’’ D x 77.25’’ H Weight capacities: multi-use lockers – 800lbs, wall cabinets – 100lbs, rolling tool cabinet – 600lbs, base cabinet – 600lbs 24-gauge steel frames and doors Fully lockable doors Limited lifetime warranty VIEW ON AMAZON 10 This cabinet set from NewAge Products – our best-rated garage cabinet on the list – is the ultimate in garage storage systems, but it comes at an extremely high cost premium. The cabinet system includes 2 large lockers on either end, a set of 3 wall cabinets suspended about six feet in the air with opening doors, a tool cabinet, and a floor cabinet. The two lockers each have four large shelves with plenty of vertical space between them for storing large volume items and are lockable in case you want to keep anyone else out. The rolling tool cabinet is particularly useful since it can be brought out from under the garage cabinets and over to whatever project you’re currently working on. Also useful is the six-foot-long stainless steel worktop, which can serve as a full bench and the epicenter of your projects. The availability of multiple cabinets, each with multiple shelves, allows for a huge variety of organizational schemes. For those who don’t have enough tools to fill the cabinets initially, this is a cabinet system that you can grow into and will keep organized as you go. The quality of the cabinet system is evident in its appearance – it makes a statement about your garage. The cabinets are all made of 24-gauge steel and come with a limited lifetime warranty because the manufacturer is so certain of the cabinet’s durability. Pros High-volume cabinet system with lots of distinct cabinets and shelves 24-gauge steel for lifetime durability Includes six-foot-long stainless steel worktop Cons Very expensive compared to other storage systems 33. Wall Control 30-WGL-200GVB Pegboard Tool Organizer Best for Organizing Tools Features Pegboard with slotted, stable, secure hooks, brackets, and shelves (included) Accepts wall control slotted accessories Accepts magnets Mounted directly into studs or sheet rock Mounting hardware included 1-year limited warranty; 30-day money back guarantee VIEW ON AMAZON 9.7 If you don’t need to reorganize your entire garage and probably looking for the best rail garage storage system since it’s easy to install, take a look at this pegboard from Wall Control which is a great organizational tool. The pegboard is constructed from galvanized steel, making it significantly stronger and capable of bearing more weight than traditional pegboards. Plus, mounting it onto the wall is simple, straightforward, and fast with the included hardware. The pegboard itself comes with an array of shelving, bins, and hooks that allow you to begin the organization process, and it’s easy to purchase additional organizers later. The pegboard is designed with slots for both traditional ¼-inch peg hole devices as well as slotted openings to fit accessories sold by Wall Control. Users noted that the included accessories were not particularly helpful for complex organizational schemes and encouraged purchasing the boards alone and only the accessories you need afterwards. Since the pegboard is made of steel, you can also attach magnets to it to customize beyond the peg holes themselves. Note that the pegboard is sold as two individual panels that are each about 16 inches by 32 inches, meaning that they can be placed side-by-side to form a single large pegboard or placed in different parts of your garage. However, they must be placed vertically given the orientation of the slots. Pros Lightweight, durable, strong, and easy to install Two boards can be placed together or separately Works with a wide range of accessories and magnets Cons Many of the included accessories are not helpful for complex organization 34. FLEXIMOUNTS 4×8 Overhead Garage Storage Rack Best Overhead Storage System Features Adjustable ceiling rack Heavy duty cold-rolled steel construction Dimensions: 96’’ L x 48’’ W x 22’’ to 40’’ H Weight capacity of up to 550lbs Screws and bolts included Suitable for securing to ceiling studs or a solid concrete ceiling VIEW ON AMAZON 9.5 If you keep a lot of items in your garage that you rarely need to access, this overhead storage rack from Fleximounts is one of the best ways to use the space between your head and the ceiling that it otherwise wasted. The mount is constructed of heavy-duty steel and can hold up to 550 pounds, so you won’t have to worry that the system will come crashing down. Although the system takes some work to install since it requires a ladder – and ideally a helping hand – once it is up it virtually never needs to be adjusted. One rack is eight feet long and four feet wide, which leaves a huge footprint for holding boxes. Plus, the rack hangs down up to 40 inches from the ceiling, which offers enough clearance to load tall boxes or multiple boxes stacked on top of one another. If you were looking for the best bike garage storage system, there is another advantage to the Fleximounts system: hooks can be added on around the edges of the wire platform after-market, allowing you to hang things like bikes, skis, and yard tools from the rack. The rack comes with a 10-year warranty for peace of mind, but can last much longer without issues. The only downside to this system is that you need to be cognizant of driving your car under the rack if you load something onto the roof rack of your car. Also, if you have a massive garage lighting system installed, you might want to check the product dimensions beforehand. Pros Uses overhead space and leaves garage floor open Large footprint and plenty of clearance for stacking boxes Inexpensive Cons Difficult to install Difficult to carry stuff onto the rack and difficult to access it afterwards 35. Seville Classics 5-Tier UltraZinc Steel Wire Shelving Budget Pick Features 14″ D x 30″ W x 60″ H Industrial-strength steel construction UltraZinc plated protection Weight capacity: 300lbs per shelf No-tool assembly Includes 1.5″ casters (2 locking) VIEW ON AMAZON 9.0 When you are looking for the best cheap garage cabinets and cabinet systems, shelf units are also worth considering. This unit from Seville Classics is a traditional wire shelving unit with few special features, but just having shelves alone to work with can make a big difference in your organizational capacity. All five shelves are adjustable in height in one-inch increments, making it easy to diversify the height between shelves to fit in large volume items as well as smaller things. Plus, the shelving unit is on wheels for easy movement around the garage if you decide to change up the garage’s layout. Two locking brakes keep it from moving when you don’t want it to go anywhere. If you were looking for the best metal garage cabinets, this pick is right for you. The shelving is very durable thanks to the high-grade steel construction and UltraZinc plating that prevents signs of wear and rust.  Each shelf is rated to hold 300 pounds – putting the total weight capacity of the unit at an enormous 1500 pounds. Better yet, there are no tools required to assemble or disassemble the shelving. The shelving comes with a one-year warranty, but it is unlikely that anything will happen to the shelves for years to come. Pros Huge 300-pound weight capacity per shelf No-tools assembly Durable and resists signs of wear Cons Few organizational tools or schemes beyond the shelves 36. FLEXIMOUNTS 2-Pack Floating Shelves Best Garage Shelving Features Heavy gauge steel construction Weight capacity: up to 400lbs total High-quality screws and installation hardware included Secure to wall studs or solid concrete wall Come in five different sizes 10-year limited warranty VIEW ON AMAZON 9.0 This set of shelving combines Fleximount’s ingenuity with the usefulness of traditional wall shelving. What sets these shelves apart is the whopping 400-pound weight capacity, which means that you’ll be able to stack extremely heavy objects onto these shelves without worrying. Whether it’s a toolbox, an air compressor, or a garage fan, this storage system will handle it all. The shelves only jut out from the wall by two feet, however, which may limit the size of objects that you can put on these shelves. Because the shelves are sold as a two-pack rather than as a single long shelf, it is possible to place these shelves either side-by-side, stacked above one another, or around completely different parts of the garage. This flexibility also means that you can customize how high off the ground you want to place the shelves, and how much clearance you want to leave between the shelves and the ceiling. The shelves are relatively easy to install and come with all needed hardware. Thanks to the heavy-duty steel construction, they are extremely durable and will last for years to come. Plus, they come with a 10-year warranty to guarantee the product. Pros 400-pound weight capacity Two-pack allows versatility in placing shelving Cons Expensive compared to other wall shelving units 37. Racor PHL-1R Pro HeavyLift Cable-Lifted Storage Rack Best Cable-Lifted Rack Features 4’ x 4’ cable-lifted platform Heavy-duty steel support beams Weight capacity of up to 250lbs Lowers 8’ from the ceiling Support beams, vinyl coated steel cable, and mounting hardware included 1-year limited warranty VIEW ON AMAZON 8.7 This overhead system from Racor attempts to alleviate the fundamental issue with ceiling-mounted garage storage systems – it is difficult to get items onto and off of the rack. This system solves that by incorporating a puller system into the rack, such that the ceiling-mounted arms can lift and lower the wire rack from the arm tips to up to eight feet below the ceiling. The system is rated for up to 250 pounds, which is impressive given that your stuff will be held in place by four steel cables. However, the platform itself is only four feet by four feet, which does not leave much space to work with. Thus, you will either need to buy multiple racks, which quickly becomes expensive, or you will be limited in the amount of stuff you can store with this system. The raising and lowering system on this rack is also not ideal, since there is no easy drop-down cord you can pull on or button to press that raises and lowers the platform. Instead, you need to turn a metal hook with an included metal rod, which can be slow even when turning the rod with a drill. Despite these limitations, the rack is relatively easy to install into the ceiling with a ladder. Although it is well-constructed, it only comes with a one-year warranty. Pros Alleviates issues with moving items on and off overhead storage systems Rated for 250 pounds Quality safety lock Works as a cargo box lift Cons Platform is relatively small footprint Expensive if buying multiple for added storage Pulley system requires turning a metal hook Only one-year warranty 38. Seville Classics Commercial 7-Tier Storage System Best Rack Storage System Features Rack storage system with wheels 7 shelves (14’’ deep by 36’’ wide); 56’’ total height Platinum epoxy finish 22 polypropylene bins in three different sizes Up to 150lbs per shelf NSF/ANSI Standard 2 certified Limited 10-year warranty VIEW ON AMAZON 8.5 When it comes to versatility, it doesn’t get much better than this wire rack shelving system from Seville Classics. The racks come loaded with 22 heavy-duty polypropylene bins, which can be locked to the shelving or easily pull out for access to the items inside. The bins are in three distinct size classes for loading them with different items in a variety of sizes. In addition, the bins come with a set of dividers to create even more organization and a set of labels to help you remember where you put everything. The shelving unit itself is on four heavy-duty wheels that hold up well over years of use and can be locked down to prevent the rack from sliding when you don’t want it to move. The shelves can each hold up to 150 pounds, although the distance between the shelves is too small to place many large volume boxes. The shelving is easy to assemble – and, if you ever need to, disassemble – so you can get started organizing quickly. The shelving is extremely durable thanks to the platinum epoxy finish that prevents against wear and rust, and the unit comes with a limited 10-year warranty against manufacturing defects. Pros Easy to move thanks to wheels 22 storage bins of varying sizes with dividers and labels Extremely durable Cons Distance between shelves does not allow for large volume boxes 150-pound weight limit 39. Prepac’s Elite Storage Cabinet Features 2-door cabinet Dimensions: 32’’ wide x 16’’ deep x 65’’ high 1 fixed and 2 adjustable shelves Laminate composite wood with white melamine doors All-metal hinges and handles VIEW ON AMAZON 8.5 Although it is one of the simpler and more traditional garage storage systems in our roundup, don’t underestimate this storage cabinet from Prepac. The cabinet is a whopping 32 inches wide and 65 inches tall, so it leaves plenty of space to store items. The cabinet only has three shelves, but a nice feature is that two of them can be adjusted in height so that you can customize how you stack items on the shelves. The cabinet itself is made of composite wood, while all of the hinges and handles are made of metal. The cabinet is relatively stylish, and so would fit in well with a furnished garage or even a basement. Since the design is relatively simple and the construction strong, this cabinet is also very durable and requires very little assembly. For peace of mind, it comes with a five-year warranty which makes it one of the best garage cabinets for the money. Pros Simple, strong, and stylish cabinet Large and comes with two adjustable shelves Cons Relatively expensive compared to more useful storage systems Buying Guide A garage storage system is a big purchase, not because of the cost involved, but because the entire organizational scheme of your garage will hinge on your choice. De-cluttering is a significant effort, so you want to be sure that the organization system you choose will work for what you need and last for years to come before undertaking the project. Here, we’ll introduce some of the most important features to look for in determining which garage storage system is right for you. Type Garage storage takes a lot of different forms. Of course, you can store your appliances in your house, basement, or even a separate portable garage. However, it's much more convenient to install a handy storage system right inside of your garage. The most common solutions are traditional shelving, wall-mounted pegboards, overhead hanging shelves, and cabinets. Traditional shelving typically comes in the form of a wire shelving rack, and these systems have several advantages. They come in a number of different sizes – both in width and in height – and it is typically possible to customize the number of shelves or rearrange their heights to accommodate tall items. In addition, many shelves are on wheels, so they can be moved around the garage as needed. Wall-mounted pegboards are a great organizational method for smaller items like tools. The advantage to pegboards is that since they lie flat against a wall, they take up virtually no space in your garage. In addition, unless you cover your pegboard in bins, it is usually easy to spot whatever you’re looking for from across the garage. Just make sure you've taken all of the existing wall-mounted objects into consideration. If you have a garage fan, or a wall-mounted garage vacuum, it might be tricky to find a spot for a considerable pegboard. The downside of pegboards is that they won’t help with organizing your large boxes and things that need to sit on a solid surface. Overhead hanging shelves are a great storage option because they utilize the dead space between your head and the ceiling. Essentially, these create storage that frees up floor space in the garage. The downside to hanging shelves, however, is that you’ll typically need a ladder to lift things onto or off of the shelving and often even to spot whatever it is you’re looking for. Cabinets are among the most popular storage systems and offer a ton of versatility since they typically have many drawers of varying sizes, as well as shelves and sit-on-top or underneath storage space. Cabinets can be tricky, though, since they are typically very large and heavy and typically cannot be expanded to meet growing storage needs. Size How much stuff do you have? Once you’ve settled on a type of storage system, determining how big that system needs to be is the next big decision you’ll need to make. This is especially important for cabinet systems, which cannot be expanded without buying another whole system later. For shelving systems, typically you can start by buying a few units and adding more as you need them. Weight capacity If you plan to be placing heavy tools or loaded-down boxes on your storage racks, weight capacity is an important concern. While many systems are designed to hold up to hundreds of pounds, it is always better to err on the side of caution and opt for a system that is too burly rather than too lightweight and could break under the strain. Materials and construction What materials your storage system is made out of directly affect its weight capacity, durability, and the weight of the system itself. Steel is a typical material for garage storage systems because it is extremely strong and durable without being excessively heavy, although it is possible to find cabinets or shelving that are made from wood or other materials as well. Ease of assembly The last thing you want is to bring a new storage system home only to find that it takes you an entire weekend to assemble. Good storage systems should have clear instructions and tool-free or simple assembly processes so that you can move on to organizing your stuff quickly. Durability and warranty The things in your garage likely aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, so neither should your storage system. Having a storage system that can withstand the beating of loading and unloading stuff onto it and around it is critical. In addition, multi-year warranties guaranteeing that your storage system will last not only through the initial organization, but for years to come, can provide peace of mind for your purchase. Conclusion A garage storage system is an essential tool for clearing out the clutter in your garage, freeing up much-needed space for your car and your projects and making it easy to find the stuff you’re looking for. The best garage cabinets and storage systems are easy to use and keep organized while also being durable and large enough to accommodate everything you need to store. Also, don't forget to get a WiFi garage door opener and an alarm to keep your belongings safe. Our roundup highlights eight garage storage cabinets and other systems that are sure to meet the needs of your garage reorganization. The post 8 Best Garage Storage Solutions – Reviews and Buying Guide appeared first on WisePick.org. #Garage

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/your-garage-is-very-likely-home-to-more-than-just-your-car-it-s-your-workspace-and-your-storage-locker-all-in-one

[eddyandale]

The mounts are effortless to mount

The mounts are effortless to mount, can be glued to the surface, no drill holes. Nonetheless, for bigger solar arrays that will not match on roofs, ground-mounts tend to be the preferred alternative, usually on poles but sometimes on distinct types of mounting frames. SunRack wall mount is an economical mounting sort for panel installation with no rail. In mounting a PV program on any of these varieties of roofs, it is essential to make sure that no gaps are left in the roof that might later result in leakage. If you need to have to adjust the tilt angle of your array because the tilt angle of the roof is significantly less than perfect, it is possible to do this with a universal mount by growing the height of the rail greater up on the roof. China Asbestos Roof Solar Pv Mounting Program L Foot Factory, hook, threaded rod,,solar pv panel pole mounting bracket - TIANFON NEW Power Technology CO., LTD. In terms of guidelines for locations where extreme winds are an situation, the panels must be installed 600mm beneath the roof peak, any closer and the windflow could result in the panels getting blown off the roof. Positive aspects: Your domestic solar panels are effortless to wire up due to the simple access to them. Usually speaking in between your roof and the solar panels and there ought to be two ‘rails' and these are what the L-shaped brackets you mentioned are bolted onto metal stamping parts supplier. Security Camera Systems in this method contain 1 or a lot more safety cameras, safety monitors, cable, power supply, motion sensors, a bracket to for camera to spot on wall or ceiling and monitor for a individual to view the video feed from the camera. Solar panel(s) have to be pre-wired before installing. Walmart Protection Plans cover the total expense of repair, or replacement, for products, as effectively as covering delivery charges for the exchange. Item Introduction SunRack wall mount is an economical mounting sort for panel installation without having rail support. The solar panel pole mounts are made for pole mounting but can also be wall mounted. They offer fast tilt adjustment for positioning the panel to appropriate sun angles for summer and winter sun. The four-piece Z-shaped aluminum brackets are compatible with most 190W or less solar panels and are also ideal for use on RVs, boats, or other household applications on flat roofs. Conergy's hook-based technique for mounting solar panels on slate or plain tile roofs. We carry a wide variety of mounting systems and custom design and style every mounting method to order.

Excellent - made mounting panels easy. Ordinarily, if you have decided to set up a solar power program, it will most most likely be mounted on your roof unless you have perhaps turn into a solar farmer , in which case your technique may possibly be ground-mounted In such a case, deciding exactly where to find and how to arrange your solar panels is a bit less difficult (provided you have the space, which is probably the case if you have got the option for a ground-mounted technique) than working around the inherent limitations of your roof's orientation, tilt angle, material, and obtainable space. Prior to placing in the panels, install the inverter in the designated position. If you like, you can buy panel mounts that automatically track the sun in the course of the day. Can fit any panel that has a frame with a flange and mounting holes. This enables you to change the angle your solar panel is pitched at. This enables you to optimize their vertical orientation for greatest amount of solar exposure throughout the day. Solar panel pole mounting systems with a high-efficiency solar panel. It can be very easily installed on wall in customized angle. If you plan to replace your old roof anyhow, or if you are developing a new house, you might want to consider photovoltaic roof tiles or shingles, which, as we discussed in our earlier weblog entry covering building-integrated photovoltaics (BIPV) These can be a cost successful option if you intend to replace your roof and set up solar panels around the identical time. Thankfully the manufactures kept this in thoughts when designing the lights due to the fact most come with long cords, generally ten feet or more, to connect the solar panel to the light. This method tends to make the installation of modest solar systems simple, affordable and fast. You should start by deciding what variety of solar panel installation job you want to do. One particular can install the panels flush on the roof, set up them at an angle or install a adjustable roof mount device very first and then install the panels on this device. OEM 20kw Solar System Producers.Customized Metal Roof Solar Panel Mounting Brackets - TIANFON NEW Energy Technologies CO., LTD. Solar powered street lighting choices are provided to bespoke styles. This supplies, and keeps the merchandise inside your buying cart. This Conergy solar panel mounting method consists of: brackets, rails, and panels. Aluminium brackets for wall, roof and floor mounting of framed solar modules. Mounting brackets perform fantastic for an easy set up on a steep roof. Most folks just make panel mounting frames out of decking lumber or angle-iron. These innovations mount simply to walls via an adjustable aluminum arm and function a track so that you can adjust the height of the umbrella as effectively. With innovativ Ground screw solar mounting program Sunforson has created different series ground screws to meet varied applications. 3 sizes to match any solar panel with rear mounting holes. As in the above where you have a large rooftop and completely extend your sidings and yard for additional panel mounts, you may possibly just be in a position to produce significantly a lot more excess power and earn a continuous income for your residential solar power method. These panel mounting rails are Universal and very easily adaptable for a varying quantity of any module that has a mounting flange with mounting holes. They make the installation of your Unisun panels less difficult and ensure an optimum fixing. Mount sturdy aluminum frame solar panels with these heavy-duty mounting brackets. If you want a bit of additional peace of mind, nevertheless, you could invest in higher-end panels such as SunPower , which are built to be practically indestructible. Panels are screwed prime+bottom and I fairly very easily mounted them by balancing and resteing them on the bottom element of the frame. These thick aluminum Z-brackets come with stainless steel hardware and mount a variety of size solar panels to flat surfaces. The panels ought to be straightforward adequate to set up right after this. Primary production regions: computer systems, electronics, toys, high-precision screw shafts, lathe, springs,Solar mounting rails and clamp for solar panel installation - TIANFON NEW Power Technologies CO., LTD. Superb Adaptability:SFS-WM-01 wall mount can suit for any size solar panel, in a customized PV array. Generally solar motion lights give off significantly more light than a battery powered light so they have a lot larger variety of makes use of. Once we knew exactly where those pieces went, it was pretty simple to set up the solar panel onto the arm.

Used in remote locations and houseboat's, or other buildings like farmhouses, cabins or area's that can not acquire power through standard routes, can provide an abundance of natural light coupled to domestic resources by way of our range of quality renewable merchandise. These mounts clamp onto the side steel poles and suit regular panels. Ground mounts will have to built in such a way that the panels will be in a position to tilt at a forty 5 degree angle. In the kit you get four higher-top quality folded stainless steel laser-reduce brackets and all the linked mounting hardware required to easily repair the solar panel to any flat surface. The mounts are developed to support the solar panel at the optimum height to allow air to flow and preserve it cool, making sure the solar panel functions as efficiently as feasible. The column of this sola panel pole mount kit is C shape with a variety of of specs. If you live in Portland (Oregon), with latitude of about 45 degrees, your domestic solar panel need to be set at an angle of 45 degrees from the horizontal. The last choice is the best, as it enables a homeowner to adjust the angle so that the panels will constantly get as a lot sun as possible. This is the least expensive and easiest way to mount your domestic solar panels. You are just generating a rectangular frame to bolt the panels on with an axle-bolt at the bottom so you can adjust the angle of the panel. Suitable for ground, roof or wall mounting. Utility companies on their element are offering substantial rebates on the buy of these products to encourage consumers to buy energy saving goods. It is best for mounting small solar panels. All the electrical appliances in your property draw little amounts of energy even when they are not switched on, so when they are not in use unplug them from the wall. Excellent addition for use on Roof and vertical wall, RV, Motorhome, Shed, Garage, RV, etc to title solar panel. A set of 4 aluminum alloy Z brackets utilised to mount solar panels. Side pole mount for little solar module. The mounts are straightforward to mount, can be glued to the surface, no drill holes.

[rentahomeinmalaysia]

How to do a garage door repair

If you have a vehicle, it is important that you have a secure garage with properly functioning garage doors and garage door openers. At the same time, it is equally important that you know how to repair a garage door in case something goes wrong with your system. Roof garage door openers are spring loaded and repair is fairly easy. Some of the steps you can take are:

o If the metal tracks on the openers are loose, tighten the bolts or screws on the brackets. However, while performing the repair, if you find that the tracks are badly damaged, replace them. o Make sure that the tracks on the openers are properly aligned. Both tracks must be at the same height on the garage walls. While performing the repair, if you find that the tracks are not aligned correctly, loosen the bolts and carefully knock the track into position. Be sure to tighten the screws once you're done. o While performing a garage door repair, be sure to clean the tracks with a concentrated household cleaner to remove dirt and hard grease. Clean the rollers thoroughly, and then dry the tracks and rollers. o Lubricate the tracks and rollers with lubricating spray or with graphite powder on the tracks and with silicone spray and domestic oil on the rollers. o During repair, be sure to check for loose hardware and tighten as necessary. For garage door openers that have a swing system, check the plates where the spring is mounted to make sure the screws are tight. In other cases, check the hinges and replace the damaged ones. If openers show signs of sagging on one side, correct it by repairing the hinges. Make sure the wood on which the hinge is placed is not cracked or garage door installation . o Next, check the door opener springs and make sure it is hooked into the holes or notches on either side of the door. If you have any difficulties while performing the garage door repair, try adjusting the tension on the garage doors by removing the spring hook to the next hole or notch. In cases where garage door openers are controlled by a spring cable on a pulley, you should try to adjust the tension by pulling the cable further through the plate over the door, and re-hooking the end to keep the tension. o It is extremely important for your safety that you pay attention if the garage door openers with roll-up installation have only one tension spring in the center of the door. If such is the brand, be sure to never attempt repair yourself. The tension on this type of spring is excellent, and you could be seriously injured if you try to repair the door yourself. Call a professional garage door repair service in such cases.

Typical garage door openers will consist of a reversible motor that drives a cart along a rail above the door. The cart is attached to a drawbar that works to limit the travel of the door. Most garage door openers today also have a radio reception system. Therefore, when you are trying to perform garage door repair yourself, make sure you have an idea of ​​the garage door type mechanism.

[georgew-illustration]

Bolt

Hi I’m Bolt.

A city cycle scheme bike based in London. I’ve always been a bit different from the other bikes. I don’t know why? There must have been a mistake at the factory. My front wheel is bigger than the back, and my frame is crooked and bit smaller than the others. This is why I am the last one left on the cycle-rack.

Bikes come and go; shiny, bold, fast, sometimes slow, sometimes nimble, elegant and powerful. If i had it my way, I Would be the speediest of them all. But I am actually quite the opposite. I can’t even beat a squirrel in a race. The other bikes say that my “frame is to blame.” But i believe that I haven’t found the right rider. Who will take me down the steepest hills, backstreets and short cuts. 

I have a bright yellow paint job with a couple... I mean several nicks and chips. Plus a few rust patches here and there, and a chain that needs to be oiled.

It is frustrating because I know with a little practice and with someone to push my pedals and turn my wheels. I could zoom in and out of the cars and busses of London. I also need a little maintenance...

I’ll take you back to last winter, the last time I went out for a spin. A young boy, Huxley as I recall. 11, maybe 12 years old. It was all going smooth, I could feel the wind through my brakes and tar-mac on my wheels. Until... Huxley decided to take a left turn and go off road through a stoney and lumpy bridal way. Never have I felt so scared. I am made for roads not mud-trails. A big jump and sketchy landing lead to a loud clank as my front wheel crashed between a huge silver rock and a wooden stomp. Once I had recovered from this episode of naivety, I found myself laid down separated from Huxley by a few metres. I looked down and saw that my front wheel had departed from the rest of me. My chain was tangled and I was covered in dirt. This was just my luck. Huxley then got up, brushed down his shorts and tried his best to repair the damage that he had inflicted onto me. He wheeled me back to my city rack, and left me in an awful state. That evening snow fell extremely hard.

I was shivering away.Mangled and dis-jointed, expecting the worst. This was when I saw a father with his son. The boy came over to me and he could tell that I was in pain. Out of the kindness of his hear he wrapped his scarf around my frame and put his gloves on my handle bars. He then ran off to join with his dad. In that moment I felt a feeling of comfort that I had known before. 

As I stand here now, contemplating whether a new rider will ever come over the horizon... a sudden brisk chill runs in throughout my wires and up under my sear, making me quiver and rattle a little. A noise in the distance soon approaches. Getting closer and closer.

I notice from the corner of my left grip exactly what it is... My bike companies’ removal van!

This is it, i say, this is the end.

A harsh and un-needed yank, hooks me up from my spot, and an ungrateful throw lands me in the back of the removal van in complete darkness. I feel so alone. I Don’t know exactly where these 2 are taking me but I know it cant be good.

30 minutes, but what felt like an eternity, and we have arrived. I heard from the Sat-Nav. A burst of light comes through as the flies up and smashes the roof of the van, “The Dump?!” I read as I glance over my new location. This truly is the end. I utter quietly.

“Up and Out we go.” one of the removal men natters. A quick toss and her I am, on top of old tv’s, computers and radiators from the last millennial. Rain starts to pour down on me. The afternoon has passed and I think back on my goals and dreams and accept that they will never come true. just as I am about to let all the air out of my tires. An excited shout “DAD, Dad, look!” draws my attention. It’s the father and son from last winter. My chain clicks into place. The boy rushes over to me yelling “Can we PLEASE take this bike home?” 

What a turn of events, my brakes are pumping. The dad reaches up, grabs me, and settles me down on the floor. “This bike will need some restoring, a lot in-fact!”  

“We will make this bike the best bike ever” Says the boy.

A quick trip home and I am in the garage. Gears are greased, frames are polished, tires are pumped, seats and handle bars replaced, brakes tightened.

“I FEEL ALIVE”

The father with passion yells “Mo,It’s finished”

Mo, runs in, eyes as wide and bright as the sun. “Can I use it now?” he says. 

“Of course!” The dad let out.

“This bike is going to be the speediest of them all...!”

[eddiejpoplar]

1932 Ford Roadster Was Hidden in a Barn for Over 60 Years

Crusty.

You would think with all the car collectors and automotive prospectors out there scouring the world’s barns, garages, storage sheds, fields, and the like for hidden automotive treasure, that the supply of “barn find” cars would, at some point, dry up.

Maybe so, but as this car proves, they are still out there.

The known history of this roadster starts with a 1946 California pink slip, the year a Eureka, California, rancher bought it. Mike guesses that, like a lot of young men in those days, he bought it right after returning to civilian life after the war.

And unlike some of the “barn finds” we hear about these days that really aren’t—Mom’s old Mustang that’s been in the garage since the 1980s doesn’t count—this ’32 standard roadster was found in an actual barn, parked since 1955.

“It’s amazing to find a ’32 roadster at all, but to find one like this…,” said Mike McGrath, who with his father, Bill, are the car’s current caretakers.

If you’re into old Fords, you likely know the McGraths as the proprietors of the Early Ford Store in Southern California’s picturesque San Dimas. They live and breathe FoMoCo products from the 1920s to the late 1950s and knew exactly what they were looking at when they first laid eyes on the roadster.

When its black paint still shined, the roadster was powered by a Model B four-banger with two twos. Note that the ’33 Ford pickup radiator cap seen on the car in these photos is still on it. “It’s amazing it wasn’t stolen over all those years,” Mike says.

Mike’s “like this” comment describes the old Ford on several levels. That it’s a Deuce roadster makes it the Holy Grail for many hot rodders. It’s also an early ’32 roadster, with details that “real sickos,” as Mike described himself, will just geek out over. It has the early single-finger-hold hood hooks, for example, very desirable pieces for period-correct rod builders. “We just sold a set like them for $700,” Mike says. It also has early doors, with extra holes to attach the side curtains.

The curtains and the top are original. “They’ve never been off, I’m sure,” Mike states. “They’re bolted to the doors, and you couldn’t get them off if you wanted to.”

Shot from remarkably similar angles, these two photos illustrate the roadster in its late-1940s/early-1950s heyday, and as it was pulled from its 60-year slumber.

The leather upholstery, or what’s left of it, is original, too. The car’s hot rod roots show in the old Stewart-Warner gauges in the dash. It also has a gasoline-fueled Southwind heater under the dash, and a Firestone aftermarket radio, something Mike says he’s never seen before.

“Like this” also describes what is a largely intact car. Though it was a hot rod back in the 1940s, it was a mild one. Its fenders are still on; and though the cowl vent is filled, the grille shell is not. The grille is still topped by the ’33 Ford pickup radiator cap visible in old photos of the car. The front axle and rearend are “bone stock,” Bill says. The windshield stanchions are unchopped, though they have been rotated to allow the windshield to lay back some. That change, plus the laidback top bows, gives the roof line a chopped look.

It took a full day’s work, and a forklift, to free the roadster from its tomb-like barn.

The photos of the hot rod “when it still shined,” as Bill describes it, show the car with a four-banger under the hood, topped by a pair of two-barrel carbs. At some point in its life, the roadster was upgraded with a bunch of parts from a ’39 Ford, including its hydraulic brakes, transmission, pedals, taillights, and even the horns underhood. The engine in it now is a 59A flathead, too new to have come out of the donor ’39 but probably transplanted at the same time.

“It’s free, it turns, the oil in it is clean, and it’ll likely start, though we haven’t tried to yet,” Mike says about the flathead.

So much for the storied “dry” California climate, right? Eureka sits right on the Pacific Ocean, and the salt air did the car’s sheetmetal no favors over the years. Yet the car is remarkably intact, still wearing its ’32 big-truck front bumper, ’33 truck radiator cap, and even the original headlights. “That’s probably the strangest thing about the car,” Mike says. “Everyone updated their lights to sealed beams.”

The roadster also exhibits some clues to its use prior to going into Rip Van Winkle mode. It lived on a ranch in Eureka, a rural town along Northern California’s coast. A crude angle-iron bumper hitch is fixed to the back, likely used to tow a trailer hauling wood, dirt, or other ranch debris. The tailpanel below the rumble seat lid was cut out of the body, and the rumble seat removed, making more room to haul some sort of payload.

The McGraths have the 1946 pink slip the Eureka rancher got when he bought the car. The roadster still wears its license plates, the rear one showing a 1955 tag—the last time it was registered.

The one-finger hood hooks are among the details that indicate this was an early-build ’32 Ford. It also has more holes in the doors to secure the side curtains than later ’32 doors.

That the car had outlived its usefulness to the rancher is evident on a note written on the bill of sale he gave to the man who took possession from him: “Vehicle given to new owner for disposal.”

That new owner was Ron Cochran, a Central California collector who had heard of the car and became its new owner in 2015. As it turned out, he was a customer of the McGraths, “and he knew we’d be really into it,” Mike says. “We’re appreciative that he called us. He knew it’s junk we like.”

The front axle and rearend are bone stock but wear upgrades that include ’39 hydraulic brakes and tube shocks. Those tires are not the ones found on the car but an ancient set of rollers from the McGrath’s inventory that hold air—sort of.

Freeing the car from its 60-year hibernation was quite a chore. “Took us all day,” Bill remembers. The tires were a ruin and the brake shoes locked solid, so there was no rolling it. “We used a forklift with 10-foot forks,” Bill says. Once they got the car to their shop, they took the wheels off and found the brake drums so full of mud they had to use hammers to knock the gunk out. Remarkably, though, “the brake shoes were brand new,” Mike says. “You wouldn’t even need to reline them.”

The roadster now sits on wheels the McGraths had in the shop “with tires good enough to roll,” Bill says.

The top and side curtains are the originals seen in the vintage photos. As to why the condition of the curtains is so different side to side, we can only speculate from the photos of the car in the barn that the passenger side was more protected from the elements.

Is a restoration in the car’s future? No. “I wouldn’t want to restore it,” Bill says. “I want to enjoy it as it is.” Mike even joked—we think it was a joke, anyway—about misting the car with hairspray before they displayed it at the Grand National Roadster Show—where we first saw it, in the Suede Palace—so passersby wouldn’t rub off the dirt accumulated on the sheetmetal’s crusty surface.

As luck would have it, within two weeks of buying the roadster, the McGraths bought another survivor Deuce, this one an unchopped three-window that was last registered in 1954 and has been garage-bound since 1961. “It’s a perfect body, the nicest I’ve ever seen,” Bill says. Evidence of its hot rod past shows up in a white Naugahyde roof insert and chromed window frames. Mike believes it was parked during the middle of an OHV conversion that was never finished.

That car is currently blown apart, and the father-son team hopes to display it at next year’s GNRS. It paired with the roadster in arrested decay would make quite the showstopper.

This survivor ’32 Ford standard roadster looks right at home in the McGrath’s Early Ford Store, surrounded by the vintage parts and memorabilia Bill and Mike have collected over the years.

This high-angle view of the roadster’s interior shows off its original leather upholstery, steering wheel, and dashboard. We didn’t want to look too close to the detritus on the floor; Mike says they’re still finding rodent carcasses in tiny spaces in the car.

On either side of the steering column are these early (and now much-sought-after) Stewart-Warner gauges and the controls for the 1930s-vintage Firestone radio, an aftermarket accessory Mike admits he’s never seen before. The radio receiver is mounted under the dash and wired to the controller and an antenna, the remains of which are visible mounted on the left side of the cowl.

The instrument panel didn’t survive the elements as well as the painted dashboard. Peeking out beneath the right side of the dash is the Southwind heater.

Mike figures around the same time the car was upgraded with its ’39 equipment (note the ’39 horns and ’39 voltage regulator on the firewall), it also received this 59A flathead. It’s basically a stock engine, though it is fitted with headers. The hardline running from the firewall to the carburetor is the fuel source for the Southwind heater.

Note how the taillight panel from Performance Junk Blogger 6 https://ift.tt/2x0Sv5H via IFTTT