День 4
гильдия Ежик в тумане 🦔

Софи лежала в ванной и представляла далекий тропический остров, шум прибоя, крики чаек вдали. Чемоданы были собраны, вылет завтра. Перед сном можно позволить себе понежиться в теплой ванне… Ласкавшие слух крики чаек стали слегка
напрягать. Чайки подлетали ближе, заглушая своими попрошайническими воплями звуки текущей из крана воды. И вот они буквально начали орать Софи в ухо :»Дай, дай, дай!». Она мотнула головой, пытаясь избавиться от навязчивых прилипал, но мысль уже подкрадывалась, пробегая нетерпеливыми мурашками по коже- это же мои фантазии, почему они так взбалмошно себя ведут, и не слишком ли они реалистичны? Софи открыла глаза в тот момент, когда какая-то вкрай обнаглевшая чайка(как ей показалось) села на плечо своими колючими, тяжелыми и неприятными лапами.
Открыв глаза, рот открылся сам по себе, и выдал вопль, заглушающийкрик чаек… на плече у Софи сидела жирная изумленная чайка и хохотала во весь свой чаячий клюв, а ее не менее офигевшая подружка нарезала на спине круги по ванной какимто неимоверным кролем и ржала во второе чаячье горло. Несколько их родственниц сидели на краю бельевой корзины, перебирали и раскидывали клювами грязное белье и просто угорали над своими находками. Комнату заполонили обезумевшие от хохота чайки, их количество прибывало и прибывало. Софи вылетела из  ванной, захлопнула двери, прищемив чей-то серый пернатый хвост, и….
Только сейчас Софи осознала, что имел в виду Чарльз, загадочным голосом поведавший ей перед уходом на работу, что либо он сходит с ума, либо у них в ванной завелся полтергейст…

Отредактировано Тигра (2025-11-25 19:52:06)

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Даже тигры любят игры!
Ррррррр! 🐅
f1ec22

DAY 5 – PLUMBER’S TOOLS
Guild: Double D’s

I find the plumber’s pliers dangling from the faucet like the bathroom grew a bad mustache. The House has clearly had enough of everyone’s nonsense. I grab the pliers, tighten one crusty bolt behind the toilet, and the wall sighs open like it’s been waiting a century for someone to finally listen. Inside the copper pipe I spot the missing half of the broken earring, still weeping tiny green tears, and one perfect pearl button from Elara’s apron.
I yank them free. The maid shoes freeze mid-click. The earrings go limp. The pipe seals itself with a polite little snick. Elara’s voice drifts out, soft and tired: “Thank you. I was never perfect. I just wanted to be wanted.” The lavender fog finally lifts, the mirror shows nothing but my own puffy morning face, and for the first time the Little House feels almost… peaceful.

Then Kevin the Poltergeist 👻 floats by, gives me finger-guns, and whispers, “Nice plumbing, bro. Ten out of ten, would haunt again.”

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Tara 🇺🇸 031cde
Guild: Double D’s

Guild: Double D’s

DAY 5 — PLUMBER'S TOOLS
The faucet exploded this morning. Not metaphorically; actual geyser, straight to the ceiling, while time stuttered like a scratched record. One second I was brushing my teeth, the next I was watching the same droplet hang in the air for five full minutes. Under the sink I found a rusted plumber's toolbox that definitely wasn't mine. The moment I opened it, the water stopped mid-spray and Marguerite, Dima, and Katya all popped into existence at once, looking guilty.

Turns out the bathroom isn't just a portal; it's a time pocket. Every lost minute people spend “quickly” washing their hands or staring at the mirror gets trapped here, building pressure. The poltergeists have been siphoning the extra minutes to relive their last summer forever, and Marguerite uses the slowdowns to dust places that don't exist in normal time. The mermaid vodka cracked the ruby curse, which weakened the pocket, and now the whole room was about to fold in on itself like a black hole made of bath bombs.

With the plumber's tools (which were apparently left by the original 1912 handyman who also shrank but that's another story), I tightened something labeled “Valve of Linear Regret,” turned the wrench exactly three and a half times counterclockwise, and whispered “Let it go.” Time snapped forward. The geyser became a polite trickle. Dima and Katya aged one second older for the first time since 1959 and looked at each other like they'd just grown up. Marguerite's uniform unfaded a little, the gold brighter than yesterday.

The bathroom exhaled. Somewhere in the pipes I heard decades of lost minutes drain away like water down a sink. The toolbox rusted shut and sank into the tiles, gone forever. Marguerite curtsied full-sized for the first time in a century, smiled at me with real eyes instead of steam, and faded softly. Dima and Katya waved, older now, almost ready to move on. The faucet drips normally. The mirror shows only me.

I'm going to miss the chaos. But tonight, for the first time, the bathroom feels peaceful'really peaceful. Like it finally finished cleaning itself.

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LaLa a3d26b

Guild Quest Day 5. The Bathroom's Secret revealed
Guild: Double D's

I walked into the bathroom this morning, the same bathroom that a poltergeist and a mischievous tooth fairy live in, the first thing I see is a pair of Plumbers Pliars sitting on the edge of the bath tub. Strange, I thought, for this to be Here so early. As I turned on the hot water for the shower there was no water…then All Hell broke loose as the walls and floor were shaking like an earthquake had hit us! Quickly I turned off the water and the shaking stopped.  I took the plumbers pliars and carefully started to unscrewed the shower head….
The steam should've curled from the open pipe, but instead the pipe groaned like a waking dragon. When the bathroom floor began to tremble beneath my feet, I froze—because in  this  bathroom, that could mean anything. The poltergeist and tooth fairy had been quiet for weeks, except for yesterday!  But earthquakes? That’s definitely New.

Suspicious, I again started to unscrewed the shower head. The metal came free with a reluctant  click —and something small and furious shot out, ricocheted off the tile, and landed in the sink with a ding the size of a doorbell.

Inside the bowl, wings buzzing and temper flaring, was the tooth fairy.

But not the sweet bedtime one from storybooks. This one wore a hardhat, a high‑visibility vest, and carried a tiny clipboard plastered with building‑code stickers.

“It's about time!” she squeaked. "Your shower pipes are a nightmare. I closed them for emergency renovations. You humans never schedule maintenance!"

The bathroom rumbled again, softer this time—like an annoyed stomach grumble echoing from the walls.

“The shaking?” I asked.

She pointed her tiny pencil at the tiles. “That's the poltergeist jackhammering the calcium deposits. He's unionized now.”

I blinked. “Are you fixed the plumbing?”

“WE fixed the plumbing,” she corrected. “And we would've left a note, but someone”—she shot a glare toward the mirror—“ate it.”

The mirror burped.

I exhaled in relief. “So the secret of the bathroom is...”
“That it's alive,” the fairy said matter‑of‑factly. "Alive, overworked, and severely under‑funded. Treat it kindly."

With that, she zipped back into the open shower pipe, leaving behind a faint glitter trail and the lingering smell of peppermint grout.

I screwed the shower head back on, turned the water… and this time, warm water cascaded out in a perfect, obedient stream.
The bathroom purred.  I decided I'd leave out a little extra toothpaste tonight for the tooth fairy…just in case!