#gutter cleaning systems

[pleasantkingtiger]

been watching solar opposites and made myself a wall sona but with a lot of finagaling so im not super disabled and have my meds tho i dont carry all of them when i go places but i already have a lof of irl survival tools in my bag i carry places

[tightpipes]

Tight Pipes Plumbing & Drainage

Get unparalleled service and high-quality solutions for your plumbing and drainage issues from Tight Pipes in Queensland, Australia. We commit to providing excellence in our service with our meticulous planning and efficient execution. Our skilled team can handle all problems, from massive renovations to minor repairs. Tight Pipes Plumbing & Drainage offers numerous services, including but not limited to renovations, sewer drainage, pre-purchase inspection, and much more. You can rest assured as our staff is equipped with cutting-edge technology and extensive knowledge. We provide customisable solutions relating to your specific situation. Contact us today to experience unmatched service at Tight Pipes Plumbing & Draining.

Phone Number: +61 438 231 807

Business Email: info@tightpipes.com.au

Website: https://tightpipes.com.au/

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/tightpipesplumbinganddrainage

Instagram URL: https://www.instagram.com/tightpipesplumbing/

Working Hours: Mon-Wed - 05:00 AM to 08:00 PM Thu-Fri - 04:00 AM to 10:00 PM Sat - Sun - Open 24 Hours

Address: Gold Coast, QLD, Australia

[gutterhelmetmn]

Prevent Clogs and Water Damage with Quality Gutter Covers

Most folks forget about gutters, but they're a huge deal for your house. If they get plugged, it's a disaster, you'll get water damage and critters moving in. If you want your place in Greenfield or Orono to handle the weather, good gutter covers are a must. Think about never having to get up on that shaky ladder again, or wondering if the rain's gonna mess up your foundation. Let's talk about why you need to keep those gutters clear, and how picking the right covers makes a massive difference for your home.

Problems caused by clogged gutters and inadequate covers

Homeowners face a bunch of headaches when gutters get clogged up. Leaves, twigs, and junk pile up, stopping water from flowing. This means gutters overflow when it rains hard.

That extra water does a number on your house's foundation. It can cause cracks and settling, which cost a fortune to fix.

Cheap or bad gutter covers make it worse, because they don't keep stuff out. Then you're stuck cleaning gutters all the time, which nobody likes.

Plus, standing water in those clogged gutters? They're basically a luxury resort for mosquitoes and rats. Seriously, a breeding ground. And yeah, they're not exactly healthy roommates, plus they cause all sorts of extra headaches around your place.

If you just ignore this stuff, you're gonna be looking at some seriously expensive repairs down the line. So, dealing with it now? That's the smart move for keeping your house from falling apart.

Benefits of investing in quality gutter protection

You know, getting those good gutter covers? It's like a real win for anyone with a house. First off, you can basically say goodbye to that whole ladder-climbing, gross-stuff-scooping business. Seriously, you'll be cleaning gutters way less.

And get this – they actually make the rainwater flow way smoother. All that leaf and twig junk? Stay out. Water just runs right through, no problem. That means no more overflowing gutters messing with your foundation or your flowerbeds

Durability is another key benefit. High-quality gutter covers are built to withstand harsh weather conditions in Orono MN. This resilience means fewer replacements over time and more savings in the long run. Additionally, good gutter covers can improve the lifespan of your roofing system.They stop water from sitting on your roof tiles, which, trust me, is a big deal. That standing water? It rots those shingles, and then you've got leaks.

And listen, getting the fancy, high-quality covers? That actually makes your house worth more. People see a clean, well-kept exterior, and they know you're not going to have water problems. It's like, instant peace of mind.

Now, how do you pick the right covers for your house? It's not as hard as it sounds."

Yeah, it can be a headache, but it doesn't have to be. First thing, look at the weather around Greenfield. We get a lot of rain and leaves, so you want covers that can handle both, no problem.

Then, check out your roof. How steep is it? What's the shape? Some covers work great on steep roofs, others are better for flatter ones. You need something that fits your house's quirks.

Material is a big deal too. Stainless steel mesh? That stuff lasts and won't rust. Plastic? It's light, but it might not hold up as long.

And don't forget about how much work they need. Some covers are basically set-it-and-forget-it, which is awesome if you hate chores.

Lastly, think about putting them in yourself, or getting pros to do it. If you're not a fan of heights or climbing on your roof, getting someone else to do it makes sure they're put on right and work like they should.

If you think about all these things, you'll find the perfect gutter covers in Greenfield MN to keep your gutters clear, your house dry, and looking good.

[timberleaf]

Why Choose Five-Inch Seamless Gutters for Your Home in Chicago?

At Timber Leaf Gutters, we take pride in offering expert five-inch seamless gutter installation for homeowners in Roselle, IL, and across the Chicago area. Our seamless gutters are custom-made to fit your home perfectly, eliminating the risk of leaks and ensuring long-lasting protection. With our precise installation process, you can rest assured that your gutters will provide optimal water flow and protect your property from water damage. When you choose Timber Leaf Gutters, you’re choosing quality craftsmanship that stands the test of time.

For homes that experience heavy rainfall or need additional capacity, Timber Leaf Gutters also specializes in six-inch oversized gutter installation. These larger gutters are perfect for managing higher volumes of water, preventing overflow, and reducing the need for frequent maintenance. Our oversized gutters provide an enhanced solution to keep your home dry and safe, even during the heaviest storms. We customize each installation to ensure your gutters are the right size and fit for your property’s needs.

Keep your gutters functioning flawlessly with Timber Leaf Gutters’ high-quality gutter guards. These protective covers prevent debris such as leaves, twigs, and dirt from clogging your gutters, allowing rainwater to flow freely and efficiently. Our gutter guards are designed to save you time and money by reducing the need for frequent gutter cleaning and minimizing the risk of water damage. With Timber Leaf Gutters, you can enjoy hassle-free, maintenance-free gutters that work for you year-round.

Looking for an extra layer of protection for your gutters? Our gutter protectors provide an additional safeguard against blockages and damage, ensuring your gutter system operates at peak performance. Designed to withstand the toughest elements, these protectors prevent debris build-up and reduce the risk of leaks, giving you peace of mind. Whether you need a simple solution or a comprehensive gutter protection system, Timber Leaf Gutters is here to offer the best service and products in the Chicago area.

[skylightroof123]

What Are the Common Challenges in Residential Solar Panel Installation?

As homeowners increasingly look to renewable energy solutions, solar panel installations have become more popular. However, embarking on this journey is not without its challenges. Below, we’ll explore some common obstacles you may encounter during the installation process and how to address them effectively.

Read More: https://skylight123.com/what-are-the-common-challenges-in-residential-solar-panel-installation/

[mlleshopping]

Maintaining Your Home's Bliss: Annual Maintenance Tips for Happy Homeowners

Image via Freepik Homeownership is a significant achievement, but it comes with the responsibility of regular maintenance to keep your haven in pristine condition. From the foundation to the roof, every part of your home requires a certain level of attention and care. Prioritizing annual maintenance tasks is not just about aesthetics; it’s about maintaining and even enhancing the value of your…

[premiergutterprotection]

Website : https://www.premiergutterprotection.com

Address : 18 Media Ln, Stony Brook, NY 11790

Phone : +1 631-707-0663

At Premier Gutter Protection, we specialize in the installation, repair, replacement, and maintenance of gutters. The Premier Team has expertise and experience in working with various types of gutter systems, materials, and architectural designs. Premier Gutter Protection also understands the importance of proper water drainage and protection from the exterior elements while taking measures to ensure that all systems are installed correctly and functioning effectively. The Premier Team offers a variety of installation options and services that are guaranteed to fit into your budget. While Premier does offer a workmanship guarantee, they also assure their customers that nothing is out of reach for the professionals at Premier.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Being Sick but Dean Winchester’s your BF Headcanons ✨

✨ Dean Winchester x Reader ✨

Minors! Go away! Don’t interact! I don’t have a witty joke but I still don’t want you here! ¡Adios!

A/N: okay now that they’re gone… I’m sick! Some sort of nasty cold shit. Also I have the fucking la la land piano riff stuck in my head. So, more headcanons!!! (As opposed to a “proper” fic. For Dean ofc. It’s okay, it’ll come eventually)

Icons by me, all notes-especially commentary- are extremely appreciated!!

Content Warnings: if you’ve read the others it’s along the same vein, cute but still spicy enough to warrant that 18+ rating. Reader’s GN but AFAB.

Enjoy!

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

-okay so first of all, being sick sucks. Whether it’s a runny nose, a headache, throat pain (get your mind out of the gutter), stomach aches, whatever- it fucking sucks.

-but it sucks a little less when you have Dean Winchester taking care of you

-this man knows how to take care of any common virus or cold. Years of taking care of his little brother meant that he could never be sick and that if he was it had to go fast, because he believed he always needed to be able to take care of Sammy first and foremost.

-once he sees you sniffling he’ll bench you from whatever job you guys are working. Immediately. No ifs, ors, ands, buts or coconuts about it.

-once the job is over he’ll come home. If you’re up and moving he’ll sling you over his shoulder or pick you up bridal style, and throw you (in a loving way) down on the couch or bed, depending on where you want to lay.

-he’ll snuggle you a little, and then take a quick shower so as not to get whatever it is you have. He’ll give you whatever blankets and drinks you want, and then head off to the kitchen

-his go-to is to make a vat of chicken noodle soup, extra lemony for vitamin c. He’ll usually either add some chilis to the soup or put some in a salad for you to help clean your system out. And it will always be better than fine dining.

-of course he cooks shirtless, and he’ll come back into the room with a big bowl of soup and your salad ready, cookies still in the oven. He’ll be wearing sweatpants and a ‘kiss the cook’ apron with nothing under it. And if you weren’t sick, you’d definitely do what the apron asked.

-he’ll help you sit up so you can eat it, putting a pillow on your lap so that the bowl doesn’t burn you and wiping your hair out of your face. If your hot he brings a bandana that he dunked in ice water and ties it around your head, if your cold he brings more blankets

-he hates that he can’t touch you or hug you when your miserable like this, but he does his best.

-while you’re eating he’ll talk about the hunt, keeping it as light and funny as possible- probably whatever he and Sam bickered about, the sights he saw, the food, etc

-and he’ll put on whatever you’d like him to. Preferably Gilmore Girls, but he ain’t gonna influence you

-when you’re done he’ll take the empty bowls to the kitchen, leaving them in the sink for Sammy to do them when he gets back to the bunker.

-he’ll grab the cookies, and bring a little plate of them over, and then sit on the sofa in the Dean cave so that your calves are draped over his thighs. If you’re in bed he’ll just lay on the opposite side, occasionally stroking your back comfortingly

-he checks your temperature from time to time, and always adapts according to your sickness. If it’s stomach bug he’s got a trash can beside the bed/couch and is ready to hold your hair. If it’s strep throat he’s gone honey. If it’s literally anything he’s probably got some kind of temporary remedy

-now (you know what time it is 🌶️)

-if you get a little hot n bothered while your sick

-and no I don’t mean hot from the fever

-but like the other kind

-and he can tell

-well, there’s a home remedy for that too 😏

-and you’ll warn him against it, not wanting to get him sick, but he’ll shush you, kissing your belly and pulling your sleep shorts and underwear down in one go

-he’ll kiss all up your legs, making you wish so, so much that you could make out with him

-but he won’t tease. Not when his sweetheart isn’t feeling well.

-so he’ll get as close to your dripping heat as he can, not making you move at all, because he knows you’re comfy on your little bed of pillows and his blankets

-and then he’ll nudge his nose against your clit, the only teasing he’ll do before diving in

-he’s gentle though. Not dissimilar to how he is in the mornings (Shameless plug, sorry not sorry haha)

-he’ll go nice and slow, adding his fingers as he goes, one at a time

-he uses one to gather your wetness and spread it over your poor bud

-and then adds another to scissor into your heat, massaging your spongey walls

-and by the third finger slowly yet deliberately filling you up, along with his mouth on your clit, he’ll have you coming, feeling so much better in one regard

-he’ll lap it all up, careful not to overstimulate you before pressing a sweet kiss to your belly, just as he did before he went down

-he’ll then get up and draw you a bath, helping you pee and then get into the tub

-he’ll dry your hair and then help you into a fresher set of pjs, and lay with you until you fall asleep, then turn off the tv and any lights before getting back in bed.

-and even though he has to sleep a little away from you he can’t help but hold you hand while you sleep, even if it means risking getting sick too

-and if you wake up in the middle of the night, he will too, ready to do whatever you need him to

-he loves you, and it’s he loves knowing that you love him too and would also take care of him if he were in your shoes

-so yeah

-sweet cutie pie caretaker ass with the greener-than-pines eyes gah

-I rest my case

If you have any ideas for headcanons and/or fics my ask box is always open!!

Xx!

[gutterhelmetmn]

Premium Gutter Covers Corcoran MN | Gutter Helmet of Minnesota

Looking for durable gutter covers in Corcoran, MN? Protect your home from clogged gutters with our top-quality gutter protection solutions. Our gutter covers are designed to keep out leaves, debris, and more, ensuring your gutters function efficiently year-round. Say goodbye to frequent cleaning and costly water damage. Contact Gutter Helmet of Minnesota today!

[timberleaf]

Looking for the Best Five-Inch Seamless Gutter Installation in Roselle, IL?

Protecting Homes, One Gutter at a Time: The Timberleaf Gutters Story

In the heart of Roselle, IL, Timberleaf Gutters started with a simple mission: to keep homes in the Chicago area safe and dry. Their solution? Five-inch seamless gutter installation, a custom, durable system that provides homeowners with a perfect fit and reliable protection against the unpredictable Chicago weather.

Timberleaf Gutters didn’t stop at just installation. They quickly realized that a great gutter system needs to be protected from the elements. That's why they offer premium gutter guards. These guards prevent leaves, twigs, and debris from clogging your gutters, allowing water to flow freely while reducing the need for frequent cleaning.

As time passed, Timberleaf Gutters expanded their services to include gutter protectors. These additional protections work in tandem with their guards, ensuring that your gutters remain clear and functioning properly, no matter the season. Timberleaf's gutter protectors are designed to prevent buildup, improving the overall longevity of your gutter system.

Of course, gutters can wear out over time. Timberleaf became a trusted name for gutter repair in the Chicago area. Whether it’s repairing leaks, fixing sagging gutters, or addressing damage from storms, Timberleaf's team is committed to restoring gutters to their best condition, protecting your home from water damage.

Timberleaf Gutters is proud to serve Roselle, IL, and the greater Chicago area, offering expert services that keep gutters clean, safe, and effective. Protect your home with Timberleaf – your trusted partner in maintaining a safe, dry, and secure home.

[vermilionsun]

We always thought we were alone out there. Not in the galaxy—no, that dream died fast. I mean alone… in ourselves. Human.

Centuries ago, we broke Earth’s gravity with nothing but desperation and data. We were running—from ruin, from rot, from each other. But we didn’t stop at the stars. We colonized them, carved cities into comets, hung solar farms between moons, called it home.

But it wasn’t just our bodies that changed out here. It was our minds.

Pluto was the furthest reach—the quiet end of a dying signal. They built Eridia there: a haven for thinkers, neuralists, soul-engineers. They studied what space does to the human psyche. And they found something.

They called it "The Hunger" A psychic sickness. A rupture in the way we connect. It spread like a system glitch—slow, silent, and deep within humanity. Affection became dangerous. Touch became lethal.

So they rewrote humanity—dampeners, inhibitors, neural locks. No more empathy spikes, no more entanglement, no more touching. It worked for a while. The Hunger hasn’t gone away; it has evolved. And those who feel too much… burn out.

You shouldn’t be alive. And yet—here you are. You weren’t born with the Hunger. With your own motivations in mind, you travel to Eridia, seeking answers about the one thing only you have.

Your hopes are to The Pantheon Circuit; A religious-techno body worshipping the ancient pre-human code—fragments of consciousness scattered through the galaxy.

Chose your backstory;

✩ The Conduit

You were wired to a forgotten AI-god, left floating in the void. They asked questions no one else could hear. You gave answers the system feared. People treated you as a seer, a signal booster, a danger to system control. You escaped before they could erase you.

✩ The Drifted

They found you in a half-dead cryo-pod, memory fogged. You wore a military tag that doesn’t exist in any records. As you traveled with your saviours, someone redirected your ship, causing you to crash into a nearby moon. Every crew member, and every record of their findings died. All but you.

✩ The Vessel

Biotech-enhanced and artificially immune to “the hunger” by design. Someone tried to build a cure into you, and you killed them getting out. Your "mother" found and took you in, but she's colapsing under the Hunger, and you leave to find help

You crash-land on Pluto with a celestial train, and are discovered by a rogue AI that was smuggled into Eridia.

Chose your Love Interest;

✩ Ais

Code Shaman — repairs forbidden AIs, speaks with machines, implants psychic firewalls.

Talks about Ȩ̴̻͚̟̳̬̣̮̿̀̈́̋̑̿̀̐̅̂̈́̄ȑ̷̡̢̢̝̬͔͚͔̲̯͖̜͊͊́͛̑̔̑̓͐̄͂̅͝͝o̵͈̙̩̍̓͐͋̅̉̊̔c̸͕̖͕͛̐͂̉̏͗̀̓͑͂̽͘

✩ Leander

Sensory Dealer — runs simulated emotion dens, trades stolen memories, fakes affection until yours feels real.

✩ Kuras

Ex-Pantheon Ascendant — a spiritual anchor turned apostate, carries forbidden relics from the Core

✩ Mhin

Scavver — builds illegal augment limbs, hides in The Drift’s ghost tunnels, allergic to vulnerability.

✩ Vere

Phantom-Operative — genetically altered for silence and cruelty, works for The Pantheon Circuit

Other; The Spire & The Drift

"Up there, they breathe clean air. Down here, we survive."

✩ The Spire: A tower city scraping the dome’s edge, flooded with reflective chrome and corporate cults. Rich in synthetic light, dead in soul.

✩ The Drift: Underground, near the reactor slums. Neon gutters, rusted platforms, mod markets. People here splice their DNA for coin or survival.

[angelbaby-172]

part 0 - glimpse

w.c - 895

Goldenvale Bay. your paradise. your home away from home. you practically grew up in goldenvale, spending every summer here since before you can remember. every single year, without fail, your family rents the holiday house by the beach. you all travel down to goldenvale, you and all of your siblings crammed in the backseat of your mom's little Kia like a tin of irritable, annoying sardines. half-drowing in piles of luggage, you'll endure three and a half hours of complaining, numb limbs, endless amounts of  'are-we-there-yet's, until you pull up at the cute little beach house sitting proudly at the end of the cul-de-sac. and your summer begins. 

the house never changes. the person who said 'nothing stays the same' clearly hadn't seen number 148 Beach Road. the wooden panels of the outside bleached white by the sun and salt air. the glass sliding door, old and slightly grimy, and requires a rather forceful shove to get it closed properly. the sage green roof tiles and the matching gutters. the house is like a snapshot in time, a dog-eared polaroid of the 1980s. you love it.

the outdated floral wallpaper inside the house is infused with almost two decades of your memories. the sound of laughter, the smell of bonfire smoke, the feeling of a new sunburn. late nights staying up stargazing. walks along the beach as the sun sets. baking in the hot air lingering inside the house. years and years and years of fears and hopes and dreams pile up, permeating the walls, integrating into the house's pipes and heating system, into the floors and the walls and the ceiling, until the house felt like home. it wasn't yours, technically, but it might as well be.  

after dinner on your third day of summer vacation, (greasy burger and half-burnt fries from the local diner; your father couldn't be bothered scrounging something up tonight) you continue your nightly tradition of going on a walk. you flow through the motions mindlessly; shut the door with the necessary force required, amble down the front steps, habitually skip the second and fifth stair (they tend to make a creaking sound that more closely resembles a scream). your sandals hit the hot tarmac with a quiet smack, and you smack your way across the empty road toward the beach. you don't bother checking for cars. 

Goldenvale is unbelievably quiet. you've always lived in on the outskirts of a major city, but even the suburb you hail from is bustling. sure, it'll quiet down later in the night, but it never really sleeps. goldenvale, on the other hand, was never awake to begin with. no loud traffic, no screaming neighbours, no blaring sirens. just the screeching of sea gulls and the quiet, ever-present lull of the ocean. in a way, you're thankful for the quiet. it's a relief to leave the never-silent city sometimes.  

the dull pull of the sea drags you closer, scattering the gulls gathered on the sunbaked sand of the low tide. the squawking echoes through the street, their indistinct bird conversations lost to the gentle breeze. you take a deep breath, letting the clean ocean air into your lungs, and your head instantly clears. you shield your eyes against the bright sun reflected off the water. your sandals sink into the hot sand as you cross the border between half-dead grass and the beach.

you eventually grow bored of meandering, and you trudge up off the beach, wet sand sticking to the bottom of your shoes. it unsticks from the soles as you step onto the road, scattering it onto the concrete in abstract patterns. you look back over your shoulder to the glorious sun, and you catch eyes with the sweet older lady who owns the diner. she smiles, waving at you from through the large window. you're smiling and twisting towards her to wave back before you can even register you're doing it. 

your gaze shifts left, onto the swinging door of the diner, and the people exiting. two boys who look...shockingly similar. oh, wait, nope, there's three. the third, who also looks almost exactly the same, pushes out of the door behind the other two. you watch them from across the road, silently processing this strange sight.  

they're laughing as they make their way down the short staircase, three pairs of feet landing on the tarmac one after the other. you manage to get a clearer look at the one furthest at the back as he turns in your direction. 

huh. you've never seen anyone like him before. his face is unfamiliar; his pretty features are ones you've never seen. as he steps out onto the road, his angular face is lit up as it catches the light. the golden hour is reflected in his eyes as they meet yours. the sun warms your cheeks, and your breathing catches. for a second, everything else fades away. 

then his attention is drawn elsewhere, and the glow of the sunlight is redirected as it sinks below the sea. a cold chill, the haunting feeling of something slithers down your spine like a snake, settling and making itself at home in the darkest pits of your gut. you haven't had this feeling before. the golden clouds turn pink as the sun sets, and you watch as he walks away, leaving you alone with the chill.

a/n alrightttyyyyy what do we think!! this is js the intro so thats why its part 0 xoxo

[gav-san]

A Vintage Bouquet Chapter 4

Main Masterlist Here

One Piece Masterlist

A Vintage Bouquet Masterlist

Chapter Title: How to Win Friends and Influence Mandrills Length: 2 K+

Previous/Next

You found the fertilizer first.

Or rather, it found you.

It started with a shriek from the tree line, sharp and guttural, like nature had decided to file a complaint. You barely had time to blink before something steaming and horrifying thudded at your feet in a splat so wet, so immediate, that your soul briefly tried to leave your body.

You stared at it.

Another came.

Then another.

As the barrage intensified, you dove behind a half-shattered wheelbarrow, clutching your compost bucket like a shield. You’d seen war zones with better air quality. And then you saw them.

Looming in the trees—massive, moss-colored mandrills. Bigger than any primate you’d seen in the Blue. Muscles like stone. Faces like judgmental grandmothers. And expressions that made it very clear you were not welcome.

Your first thought was, “That bastard husband didn’t mention this.”

Your second was: “I swear if I survive this, I’m making wine so strong it’ll kill joy.”

They didn’t attack. Just jeered, hooted, and flung more steaming insults through the air like wild performance art. One even seemed to shrug at you. Or wink. Which, frankly, was worse.

That’s when it clicked: Mihawk had told them.

Not much. But just enough.

You weren’t prey.

You were just… unfortunate.

Honestly, this was the most affection he’d shown since handing you the servant’s room and vanishing like a cryptid.

By the end of the week, you were collecting their “gifts” into barrels, mixing them with ash and whatever compost you could scrounge. It smelled like death’s armpit. Your eyes watered daily. Your boots had to be burned. But your seeds needed it. The earth needed it. And you needed something to fight.

You rigged a rain catchment system out of snapped gutters, shattered wine casks, and an overturned stone basin you yanked from the ruins of the chapel. It took two days, a pulled shoulder, and a yelling match with a squirrel, but when the first storm came, you stood in the garden, soaking wet, watching brown water swirl into barrels like salvation.

You raised your arms to the heavens and hissed, “Victory,” through a mouthful of hair.

But the real triumph came later.

You were digging behind the old stables, wrist-deep in ash and hope, when your trowel struck warmth. Not heat. Not light.

Warmth.

You clawed into it barehanded, heart hammering, and sank your fingers into something you hadn’t dared to believe was real—rich, black, living soil. Volcanic.

You froze.

Then brought it to your nose. Inhaled.

And laughed.

And cried.

And nearly kissed it.

Because this cursed island—the same one that threw poop at you, hissed at night, and possibly hated joy—had volcanic bedrock.

You collapsed to your knees, stained in rot, spite, and old hope, and wept soft, stunned tears—not out of sadness, not from defeat.

But because you’d found it.

Life.

This place could grow vines.

Good ones.

Wine-worthy ones.

The kind that would ruin a sommelier’s day and make Mihawk choke on his regret.

You laughed again—sharp and cracked, the sound of a woman on the verge of reinvention or arson. Possibly both.

You’d clawed through haunted halls, fungal walls, mandrill diplomacy, and a haunted toilet room. You’d slept with a knife, cleaned with vinegar, and used broken altar pieces as shelving. You didn’t need lace. You didn’t need vows.

You had soil.

And vengeance.

It takes six months.

Six long, bloody-knuckled, wind-scoured, fungus-bitten, near-starved months.

The kind that chew you up and spit you back out with worse posture and an attitude problem. The kind where you stop wondering if Mihawk abandoned you and start hoping he did—because if he walks through that gate now, you’ll need bail money.

But the vineyard grows.

It starts like most miracles do: pitiful and unimpressive. Three green shoots barely clinging to volcanic soil, fed on composted insults and sheer, undiluted rage. But they live. They thrive. The ash works. The janky rain catchment groans like a dying beast but does its job. The monsters keep their distance—likely due to your signature scent: “Rotting Hope.”

And you?

You don’t just survive. You build.

Trellises rise again. Lopsided. A little cursed. One’s held together with wire and an old spoon. But they stand. The vines follow your hands like they know who you are. Like they’re choosing you.

The garden stops hating you. Mostly. It even gives up a few squat tomatoes, resentful beans, and bitter greens so angry they bite back unless you boil them into submission. You eat them anyway. Victory has a flavor, and it’s aggressive.

But the real breakthrough comes at dusk.

You’re mid-harvest, covered in dirt and dried mandrill piss, holding a bucket of radishes and muttering death threats to a slug, when you feel it—a presence.

You look up.

And see it.

A creature. Massive. Fur like waterlogged hay. Teeth, like some god gave up halfway through making them. It doesn’t growl. Doesn’t charge. It stares at you from the edge of the vineyard, glowing eyes fixed like it’s deciding whether you’re worth the trouble.

You stare back, because what the hell else are you going to do?

Then, without ceremony, you toss it a carrot.

It catches it midair. Crunches twice. Spits out the greens. Then turns and leaves without fanfare, like a bad date.

It returns the next day.

You offer turnips.

It accepts.

No screaming. No hurling.

A win.

You name it Rude Bastard, because frankly, it earns it. By the third visit, it comes when you whistle. You don’t pet him. You’re not suicidal. But the fact that he doesn’t try to end you? That’s basically love around here.

And when some other abomination—something with too many legs and teeth in deeply incorrect places—slithers near your compost, Rude Bastard obliterates it. No warning. Just violence. Efficient. Beautiful.

You give him a squash that night. A big one. No questions asked.

By now, your vines reach your hips. The garden feeds you. The wine ferments in the cellar, each barrel cataloged, cleaned, blessed with the salt of your labor and the judgment of your ancestors.

You are sunburned. Bruised. Your knuckles bleed weekly. You talk to walls. You sing to radishes. You haven’t screamed at a ghost in three days. Progress.

And when Mihawk returns—if he returns—you’ll be ready.

Not grateful. Not humbled. Not interested in praise.

You’ll be waiting with a bottle marked yours, poured into the finest dusty cup you can find. You won’t say a word. You’ll just sit by the hearth you rebuilt, in the castle you tamed, and hand that man a glass.

Because if he’s stupid enough to ask how you’ve fared?

The wine will answer.

And it will say:

“You left a wife.

You came back to a problem.”

By the end of the first year, you had stopped screaming when something growled behind you.

You were crouched low in the dirt, whispering threats and compliments to a struggling vine like a deranged horticulturalist, when a deep snort puffed warm air across the back of your neck. You froze mid-pep-talk.

Rude Bastard had returned.

With company.

Three of them—two larger, one smaller, all bristling, fanged, and far too intelligent. Their eyes tracked you the way a bored noblewoman tracked gossip—sharp, hungry, and waiting to be offended. They didn’t charge, but they didn’t leave either.

Still crouched, you slid your eyes toward your bucket of produce and whispered, very gently:

“I’ll share. Just don’t fling anything this time.”

They didn’t. The largest female took the bucket and dumped it out like a toddler with opinions. It was, by monstrous jungle-creature etiquette, a declaration of truce.

By the end of the week, you had four unwilling gardening assistants.

They didn’t know what spacing was. They didn’t prune. They did, however, chase crows, throw rocks at shrieking bats, and carry full barrels like gravity had personally insulted them.

They weren’t obedient, but they responded to tone—and more importantly, bribes.

Sweet potatoes? Worship.

Boiled pumpkin? Vanished.

Rotten vegetables? Hurled directly at your face, with disturbing accuracy.

Rude Bastard—your original tormentor, now the unofficial foreman—took up position near the south trellis like an angry lawn ornament. He occasionally helped by ripping out invasive roots with the same tenderness one might use on an enemy’s spine.

You gave up trying to understand their boundaries. Instead, you made a system:

Offer food at dawn.

Never interrupt their sunbathing.

If they hiss at a shadow, you hiss too. Don’t ask questions.

Don’t garden without permission. Ever.

One time, you forgot to feed them first? They unionized. Refused to move the compost barrel. Made a show of lying down dramatically in the mud until you apologized with parsnips.

They weren’t pets. They weren’t servants.

They were colleagues.

Ill-tempered, unsanitary, terrifying colleagues.

But when the vines finally began to climb—when the leaves turned that impossibly decadent green, full of volcanic promise and stubborn will, you stand at the edge of your patch of miracle and rot and beam.

This is working.

You.

The mandrills.

The shit and ash and bribes and broken bones of your pride—

It was working.

Two weeks later, another crate of insult rations crashed onto the dock.

Before you could sigh, one of the younger mandrills ambled over, picked through the beans, and chucked a fistful of dried lentils at the skiff with a guttural screech of disapproval.

You didn’t stop him.

You folded your arms. Smiled. And said, “Good boy.”

That night, you made a stew.

With your own onions. Your own herbs. Your own bitter little carrots that had survived locusts, salt winds, and your wrath.

You fed yourself.

You fed Rude Bastard.

You fed his judgmental crew.

You took a bite. Swallowed and closed your eyes.

And whispered:

“Come home, Mihawk.”

“Come see what your not-quite-wife did with your haunted little death trap.”

“Come and see what happens when you don’t kill something—”

You stirred the pot.

Smiled.

“—and it refuses to be forgotten.”

The duel was nearing its third hour. Salt wind stung their coats, and the sea below roared its applause. Their blades clashed and sparked, steel on steel, skill on skill—until Shanks pulled back just long enough to smirk.

“So,” He said, feigning lazily, “how’s the murder mansion?”

Mihawk didn’t answer. Parry. Slash. Silence.

Shanks tilted his head. “Still brooding on your scenic little death island? Lotta ghosts, not much conversation?”

Mihawk’s eye twitched. “Peaceful.”

“Right, right. Peaceful.” Shanks grinned. “Y’know, someone at port mentioned your region’s been really lively lately. Said the monsters on your island have stopped attacking passing boats. Even heard talk of a garden.”

Mihawk struck harder. Just once. Shanks danced back, laughing.

“I’m serious! Garden beds, new trellises, and some scarecrow thing that bites. Thought maybe you got a dog.”

“I didn’t.”

Shanks grinned wider. “Maybe I should stop by. Check it out myself.”

“No.”

The word came too fast.

Shanks raised a brow. “That so?”

“You’re not invited.”

Mihawk’s brutal next swing only makes Shanks smile more.

“Oh, I’m never invited. Doesn’t stop me. Besides, that's not the only thing I’ve heard.”

Mihawk exhaled slowly through his nose. His parries got sharper.

“I mean,” Shanks continued, casually circling, “I did hear a funny little rumor. Some Celestial asshole losing their powdered wig over a missing bride. Vanished right around the time a pirate with a bad attitude was spotted near a certain convent.”

No response.

Shanks doubled down.

“And word is she didn’t vanish alone. Something about a pirate. Dangerous. Miserable. Bit of a recluse. Carries a really big sword.”

Mihawk didn’t look up. “Rumors are untrustworthy.”

Shanks let the silence hang a beat longer. “Yeah, but they’re fun.”

Another clash. Mihawk nearly took his ear off. Shanks only grinned harder.

“Tell you what,” Shanks said. “If I swing by and find some barefoot nun, I’ll just assume I’m trespassing, yeah?”

“You are trespassing regardless.”

“Oh, I know,” Shanks said brightly, “But at least I didn’t abandon a wife in a haunted house full of cryptids and bad kitchenware.”

Mihawk lunged with lethal intent.

“Hit a nerve, did I?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I am. And yet you keep sparring with me,” Shanks said, fending off a particularly vicious blow. “Almost like you missed me.”

Mihawk’s blade rang against his with a force that would’ve snapped lesser steel. “I didn’t.”

“Sure. Just like you didn’t accidentally marry a woman and forget to mention it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Uh-huh.” Shanks snorted. “Guess I’ll go find out for myself. Bring wine.”

“If you set foot on that island—”

“You’ll what? Scowl at me harder? Send your little wife after me?”

There was a pause.

Mihawk said nothing.

“So it’s true!” Shanks cried, delighted.

[roofsnpaves]

Keeping Your Home's Exterior in Top Shape: A Guide to Chimney Repair, UPVC, Gutters, Fascias, and Soffits

Hey roofers peeps! Let's talk about the often-overlooked, yet super important, elements of your home's exterior: chimneys, UPVC, gutters, fascias, and soffits. These components play a vital role in protecting your home from the elements and maintaining its curb appeal. Neglecting their upkeep can lead to costly repairs down the line.

Chimney Repair: Your chimney is your home's primary ventilation system. Regular inspections are crucial to identify cracks, leaks, or blockages that could lead to chimney fires or water damage. Look for signs of crumbling mortar, missing bricks, or staining on the interior walls. Professional chimney repair can prevent these issues from becoming major problems.

UPVC (Unplasticized Polyvinyl Chloride): UPVC is a popular choice for fascias, soffits, and guttering due to its durability, low maintenance, and weather resistance. However, even UPVC needs occasional attention. Check for cracks, loose fittings, or discoloration. Repairing or replacing damaged UPVC components can prevent water damage and maintain the aesthetic appeal of your home.

Gutters, Fascias, and Soffits: These three work together to protect your home's exterior walls from water damage. Gutters collect rainwater, directing it away from your foundation. Fascias and soffits provide support for the roof and protect the eaves from the elements. Regular cleaning and maintenance are essential to prevent blockages and ensure proper water drainage. Look for signs of rot, damage, or leaks.

Why Regular Maintenance Matters:

Ignoring these areas can lead to:

Water damage: Leading to costly repairs to walls, ceilings, and even the structure of your home.

Pest infestations: Damaged areas can attract pests like rodents and insects.

Reduced curb appeal: A neglected exterior can significantly impact your home's aesthetic value.

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