#Forest Hills Garage Doors company

[trashmouth-richie]

master list

Eddie x fem! reader

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️

Absolutely no minors, gtfo. Hopefully everyone has read the warning post from earlier this week regarding this chapter. it is extremely dark themed.

Heavy violence

References to past rape/ assault

Blood, gore

Domestic violence

Somnaphilia

Character death etc

A/N: please know your limits. I love you and let’s get into this chapter so we can move on.

The brown popcorn bag spun lazily in the microwave like an oily inflating balloon. The steady hum of the appliance kept you company as the countdown to the sad supper ticked to an end. The cheerful ding springing you from the staring contest you were having with the counter top. 

  The small radio you had purchased was sitting on the counter, the soft belt of Linger by The Cranberries was playing for what seemed like the tenth time today and you couldn’t help but feel the lyrics in your blood. 

  Unaware of anything out of the ordinary. A typical night after working at the bar. Showering and throwing on a pair of pajama shorts, tucked next to the pair of Eddie’s boxer briefs you had found last week. 

  After investigating why the washer banged all to hell when even the smallest of loads were in it, wedged tight under the plastic agitator were his underwear. 

  And you’d be a fool to say you hadn’t broken down and sobbed in the basement on the discovery. 

  You dried them and folded them neatly next to your delicates. The same drawer that held the worn and tarnished pig ring he gave you as a Christmas gift, and the envelope full of cash. 

  The water works started again. 

  Hot tears flooding your eyes, the simple act made you feel like he was home with you. But the nightmare always continued.

  You missed him so much. 

  “But you always really knew

I just want to be with you

  If you were a tiny bit more awake you might have caught that the door to the garage was locked even though you had no memory of locking it yourself. 

  ..And I'm in so deep

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

  Rustling the steaming bag from the microwave with burnt finger tips, you toss it on the counter hastily. Sucking your fingers into your mouth to dull the stinging redness away.

  Do you have to let it linger?

  And maybe it was then that if you weren’t busy nursing the premature burns, you would have noticed the odd set of keys on the counter next to the mail, pushed to the side by the buttery bag of popcorn. 

  Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?

  Bending at the waist to the lower cabinet you reach around for the smooth plastic of the yellow popcorn bowl. Upon standing you feel dizzy. You hear it before you feel it, the loud thwap of something heavy against the back of your head. The pain is searing and turns your vision to black. You’re passed out before your head even hits the floor. 

  (1987)

  The November air whipped into reddened skin, striking out any heat you had left in the confinements of the peach sweater you borrowed from Nancy on your frozen walk to Forest Hills Trailer Park. 

  It happened again. 

  And this time it wasn’t an accident, no matter how much he begged, no matter how many times he said he was sorry. 

  He hit you with a closed fist. 

  You weren’t flirting with Dustin. He was your friend. Way before Chad had taken any interest in you. Most of your friends were guys, besides El and Max, and even though Nancy Wheeler was older and more popular— you considered her a friend too. 

  When she left for college this past fall, she insisted on making her room more stylish to your liking. And she never once minded the twin beds you both slept in, a night stand between them. 

  But when Mike sat next to you at lunch and was going over notes from Kensington’s class, Chad’s mind twisted it into Mike hitting on you. Which led to Chad hitting on you, but instead of compliments and doting behavior— he drug you out to his car, a bony grip on the back of your neck.

  He screamed at you with every vein protruding from his tan skin. Voice hoarse and throat stretched tight. 

  Apparently you were fucking people behind his back. Even though you were a virgin. The town whore! He had yelled loud for even some of the teachers to hear, all turning a blind eye to the obvious domestic abuse happening on school grounds. 

  Explaining yourself only made it worse. 

  He slapped your face hard when you opened your mouth to interrupt him. And when you stood your ground and raised your chin to him, calm and steadily telling him to go fuck himself, he swung a fist into your eye. 

  And that’s when you left. 

  His apologies trailing behind you and caught in the gut of wind to travel far away from your ears. He wouldn’t follow you, he had appearances at school to keep up. 

  Much easier to tell Aaron and Sean that you got your period and were being crazy then explain why he had left school.

  The gravel crunched beneath your feet, frozen from the last winter storm and holding pockets of ice amongst the rocks. 

  Pale blue and still holding the old television lawn ornament, you sighed audible when Eddie’s van was parked outside of the aluminum sided trailer. 

  You hadn’t seen him since graduation last May. The night Chrissy’s extra curricular activities with Rick finally came out when they were caught fucking in the shower upstairs, at Steve’s house. Both sporting pricked arms with needle marks. 

  A broken hearted Eddie drank all night long and puked into the hot tub.

  Your quickened steps up to the concrete stairs and a shaky broken knock on the screen door have you stepping back waiting for the door to open, awaiting Eddie’s stupid grin waiting on the other side. 

-

  Living with Eddie you had no reason to be afraid. Many nights the front door was left unlocked. And maybe it was out of habit. Maybe you had left it unlatched tonight too. 

  It would explain how he was there now. 

  Hovering over you, his blond hair coined perfectly slicked to the side, slightly feathered back with thick styling gel. A Ralph Lauren polo with the logo on the left chest. His cologne reeked of some designer brand, making your stomach queasy.

  The only difference between those years ago and now was that he had a small dusting of a flesh colored mustache wiggled on his sweaty lip. Same maniacal inky blacks to his blown pupils, laced with the piercing blue. 

  The realization ices your veins and stings your eyes with angry tears. 

  Chad Cunningham was in your home, his body over yours as you're pinned beneath him, the smell of iron invading your nose. Looking around with wild eyes you see the crimson streaks from the linoleum in the kitchen to the carpet where you are laying. Your head thumping with the rhythm of bloody drops against the fibers of the worm carpet.

  “Been a long time hasn’t it, honey bun?” 

  An eternity wouldn’t have been enough. 

  Pressing his body into yours, you can feel the stiffness of his starched shirt as you try to will your arms to fight him away. He chuckles at your feeble attempts to push him off.

  His weight presses deeper into you as he lowers his mouth to your lips, squeezing your face he almost sings,  “Told you I’d see you soon.” 

  His lips are harshly planted into yours, feeling like jagged rocks against your soft waters.

  “Fuck,” he groans, hard against your thigh. “just like I remember. I’ve missed you.” 

  The clink of his belt unthreading from the loops of his khakis finally renders your senses. But you wait with calculated timing. 

  Leaning back, he stares into your face with a quizzical expression burrowed deep on his brow. “What’s the frown for? Don’t you miss me? Aren’t you happy to see me?” 

  Evident that his delusions still ran deep, it’s showtime. You would survive this. One good hit, that's all it would take. 

  Pushing yourself up gently, your head is swimming with nausea and the steady dripping tick of blood down the back of your neck. 

  Placing a shaky hand to his cheek he moves into your hand, the same way Eddie had that night, your stomach somersaults at the memory. 

  When his eyes shut, you turn your fingers into a clawed position, and scrape the flesh from the corner of his eye down to his lip. 

  It happens quickly and with your blurred vision and pounding head it feels like it’s all in slow motion. He wasn’t expecting it. 

  A kick to his ribs hurt your bare feet probably more than it injured him but you needed the extra time to escape into your room. 

  The phone feels cool against your cheek, and weighs heavy on your shoulder when you realize it’s dead. The plan of you running in here, dialing 9-1-1 and holding him off until they came was foiled. 

  “BITCH! You can’t hide from me!” 

  Knowing you only have seconds before he finds you, you 

frantically look around for something to defend yourself with. Searching eyes land on the window. 

  Just need to get out and run to Mr. Griffin’s house. 

  Fingers on the frame you yank upwards, palms digging into the wired screen, pushing it out.

  Throwing your leg out into the darkness of the night, you’re one step closer to being safe. One step closer to ending this night of horrors before it could begin. 

  The noise of splintering wood and the crack of a door being snapped from its hinges join your erratic breath and piercing screams— a monstrous reel of symphonic sound. 

  Chad twists a thick fist into your scalp, freeing the hair from its follicles in a sickening pop as you scratch your nails into the window sill, trying to hold on.

  He’s stronger than you, no different than years before. And when your body crumbles onto the floor with a squelching thud, splinters of lacquered wood and nails that once held the door in place, pierce into your exposed skin. 

  But that is minor league compared to the shattering pain delivered from his fist into your face as he straddles you.

  “Think you can hide away with that freak from me?!” He rocks his closed hand into your other cheek, this time clipping your eye with a gold wedding band.  

  Your cries fall on deaf ears. Tears stinging and trying to drip from your swelling eyelids. 

  “Honey bun,” he purrs into your ear, “don’t tell me you’re that fucking stupid to think I wouldn’t find you.”

  His fingers move to brush your hair from your face, and he holds your head in place when you try to bite at his fingers. 

  His wicked smile could make the devil’s scaly skin crawl. 

  “Such a dumb whore, forgetting I have eyes and ears all over this town.” Placing his grabby fingers on his breasts, he continues, “Aaron and Sean may not be the brightest candles on the cake but they are loyal.” 

  Aaron…Sean. 

  You rack your brain for any recollection of those names.  and it finally clicks. Chad’s friends in high school, following him around like he was the King. A snap of his fingers and they’d move like henchmen. Fighting anyone who got in his way, putting themselves at risk just to say they had a friend from a rich family. 

  The realization swims in your eyes and scares your tears dry. 

  “No.”

  “Pieced it together huh?” Chad laughs wildly. “They work..” he grunts, hips rutting against you, pinching your perked nipples in his tight grasp, his fingernails digging through your shirt around the delicate skin, making you squeal, “..with the freak!” 

  His deranged cackle doubles when you yell out in pain. 

  “Small town bosses don’t lock their offices, and it was too easy for Aaron to find your address, even easier to find out that Eddie had left your ass here, unguarded, alone, waiting for someone to save you, and honey bun here I am!” 

  His sick twisted smile oozes fear further into your gut, brooding and feeding on any small amount of joy you had left. 

  “You need a fucking psychiatrist.”

  “Such harsh words for that sweet mouth, but don’t worry!” he reassures, eyes wide with delight and a psychotic expression on his face as he brings his voice low and secret-like, “I won’t kill you yet, the boys are looking for Munson and when they find him…” he lowers himself to kiss your lips, sliding his tongue against the split flesh. 

  “Fuck!” He bellows, licking his lips savoring your taste on his tongue, “when they find him they’re gonna bring him here, and it’ll be arranged to look like the freak killed you and then himself.. a lover’s quarrel gone bad.” 

  He rubs his face and grunts again at the warbled wails you let out, squeezing your breasts and bucking into your clothed crotch. “Goddamn,” he groans, his eyes rolling into his head at the sound of your cries, getting off on your distorted face, “I just couldn’t help myself, had to come here and do this first. One last goodbye.”

  You’d rather be dead at this point. You wish he’d kill you now and get it over with. But the thought of Eddie seeing your lifeless body haunted you. And you stop crying when his hands close around the hollow of your throat. 

  “Gonna be mine, one last time honeybun?”

  “Fuck you,” you croak beneath his hands on your throat.

  You’re weak and running out of time. Rolling your tongue against your teeth and cheeks, harboring a mixture of saliva and blood you wait until Chad is leaning over you, and when he’s close enough you spit the concoction into his face.

  Chad bellers out, letting go of your throat and standing abruptly to wipe his face. The split second he’s distracted you try to crawl away, but he kicks you down. 

  Delivering several soccer styled strikes into your stomach, his voice spewing insults with every jab of his white Nikes into your body.

  A raging shock of fury paints his face.

  “What did I tell you hmm? If I can’t have you— no one can!” You scream loud when his shoe propels into your crotch, shocking your pelvis with burning heat. 

  All noise is void when he rolls you over and crashes down on your beaten body, clobbering your tear and blood streaked face, blow after blow.  Your eyes are swelling shut and you’re surprised when you see Eddie’s face, before your eyes shut. 

  It feels like home. 

  -1987-

  The warm smile you missed so much was not there to greet you. A cold calloused “what?” finds you instead. 

  “Eddie?” you ask with a scratchy throat, clearing it once, twice, to answer him against the wind. 

  Grumbling and stomping in the trailer is heard. Along with two separate giggles. 

  The door is yanked hard inward revealing a version of Eddie Munson you’d never seen before. His skin was sunken in on his cheeks, dark circles rimmed his eyes. His once soft features were sharp and lackluster, brooding with ashy shadows and skin that looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in months. 

  He looked gaunt and hallowed out, his ribs poking against the cindery color of his skin. The warm whiskey eyes that once danced when he laughed were now gaping blacked marbled, polar and dull. 

  He speaks but you are too busy holding your breath from the stench of rotting clothes and unwashed bodies. 

  Stumbling over an apology for not hearing him, you are startled when he barks back,  “I said, what the fuck are you doing here, Tooty?” 

  You look to the floor and notice he’s wearing a heavily stained sock with a hole in the toe, the other foot bare, next to a pair of work boots are three pairs of women’s shoes:, heels, keds, and pink reeboks. Your toes wiggle in your worn converse. 

  “I’m.. I uh..” 

  Eddie rolls his eyes, “oh for fucks sake spit it out! You selling raffle tickets or something for school? Pep team need new Pom-poms? Or maybe the chess club is looking for a new board?” 

  Shock stealing your speech you stand on frigid feet digging your fingers into the yarn on the Nancy’s sweater. Tears bite your lashes and fall on cold cheeks. 

  Eddie! Where’s your lighter? A sultry voice coos, padding feet getting closer to the threshold. 

  “Listen kid, I’m fucking busy, I don’t have time to haul you around because twiddle dick and dum forgot you at the gas station again.” 

  He has barely looked at you since you got there. The guy who held more merit to you than your own brother was gone. 

  When you wipe your eyes on the sleeve of your sweater  he lets out an exaggerated groan. 

  He thrusts dirty fingers into his sweatpants pockets. Pulling out a perfectly rolled twenty dollar bill, he flattens it smooth. He smears his finger along the length of the bill, collecting remnants of a fine white powder, which is quickly shoved into his greedy mouth and rubbed on his gums like he’s brushing his teeth. 

  “Here,” he grunts, shoving the drugged money into your pocket, avoiding your eyes at all cost, “now get lost.” 

  The blinds on the door are still swinging as you stand there dumbstruck and watery eyed. Low voices are murmured through the thin walls as a lighter flicks and sizzles.

  Who was that baby? 

  Nobody. 

  And that’s exactly who you were to everyone you knew, nobody. 

  And ironically enough— that’s exactly who you could rely on. 

  One thing was for certain: Eddie Munson was a stranger to you. 

  The tears fell harder on the shameful walk back to Chad. But you weren’t sure if you were crying harder because of the sudden loss you felt from an old friend or because of the pain in your eye.  

-

  Heart hammering in his chest, Eddie jiggles the door handle, it’s locked and he panics and realizes he still has his key. Fumbling with the key ring, Eddie finds the short brass one and unlocks the door. 

  The sight of the mostly empty house is jarring, causing his stomach to drop , a small recliner rests in the living room where his couch once sat. Wine is spilled from the kitchen to the living room, smeared like it was swept poorly with a mop. 

  You never drank wine.

  Maybe you started drinking heavily after he left. He did. It only made sense. 

But a second glance at the claret colored stain embedded into the carpet and his worst fear was realized. 

  Blood.

  The sound of something wet and thwacking settles into his bones and shakes his spine. Someone was hurting you.

  Heavy docs lead him to the corner of the house, your room and his old room. Where his door was intact, yours was shattered. Like Jack Torrance took his ax to it in The Shining. Stepping on cracked wood, Eddie sees the most horrific thing he’s ever been a witness too. 

  And suddenly he’s six years old again, helpless. Watching a woman he loved lose a battle she didn’t even know she was in. But instead of his mother’s lifeless body crumbled by his father’s feet, instead of her dark curly hair matted with pooling blood and a gaping bullet hole— It’s you underneath a guy he doesn’t recognize.

  Your face is battered and covered in blood, the once plush lips he held so warmly between his own were split and slack. Your eyes were swollen, lacking any shine to them they normally held. 

  His eyes connect with yours for a brief second, and when they close he doesn’t know if they will open again. 

  Fury radiates through his entire body, masking the pain of heartache at the sight of you slipping from him. 

  Before he can acknowledge the thought of you being gone, he lunges at the catalog Dad dressed asshole. Knocking him off your body and landing on top of him, colliding into your dresser. The tangle of body parts wrestling for purchase tumble into the hall. Ringed fists land home on every surface of this guy's face, and when he stops to take a breath— he realizes the face he is hitting is Chad Cunningham’s.

  How did he find you? Had he been stalking you both since that day at the grocery store?

  Didn’t matter all that he cared about was throwing this mother fucker the biggest ass kicking of his life, and he wouldn’t stop until either Chad or himself was dead.

  “I’ve waited years for this day,” Chad spit, after getting a punch in when Eddie was in his own head, knocking Eddie’s jaw to bite down on his tongue, filling his mouth with blood immediately. “Trailer trash Munson finally came to play.”

  Taken by surprise, Chad shoves Eddie from him and stands up, looking through the doorway at your limp body. 

  Eddie stands slow, using the bathroom doorknob to help, he reaches for the knife kept in his back pocket. 

  Chad spins to face Eddie, his hair sweaty and face ballooning out from Eddie’s rings. “You should have left my girl alone Munson, would have saved your uncle the heartache.”

  Eddie flicks the blade open on the knife, grip tight around it, he breathes through his nose his throat tight and stretching around his words, his leather jacket creaking when he moves his neck around in a stretch, confident in his delivery, “she’s not yours.” 

  The hysterical laugh that leaves Chad’s lungs could resemble bats screeching in the night, he’d make a great clown in a haunted house. 

  “Dead or alive whether I’m married or not— she’ll always be mine.”

  Like alley cats, they stare each other down, waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

  Chad licks his lips and looks your way again, “listen, I get it, she’s hot. And that tight little pussy..” he licks his lips and grabs himself over his denim jeans, stained with your blood.

  Eddie’s blood is boiling, he’s seconds away from snapping but trying to hold it together long enough to make a perfect attack.

  Chad leans forward, gesturing a mockery secret with his hand held around his mouth, “It’s even better when she’s fighting you,” he inhales deep, like he’s wishing he was in a past memory, “screaming really tightens her right up.”

  Knife out, Eddie charges forward. And is struck dumb when the knife is kicked from his hand. Another kick this time to the chest that he wasn’t expecting sends him stumbling into the living room, air gone from his lungs. Chad follows and swings into his diaphragm making Eddie choke out on nothing, gasping for air. 

  “Oh come on, Munson,” Chad taunted, leaning down to kiss Eddie’s cheek, “Thought you would have some trailer park moves to throw at me.”

  Raising a heavy boot, Eddie stomps on Chad’s toes, and mule kicks his kneecaps. A ringed fist meets his cheek, adding another forming bruise to his winter tan skin. Shoving him backwards into the counter in the kitchen, the cabinet doors bust on the impact. 

  The punches Eddie is landing have his knuckles bloody and swelling but he doesn’t care. Each punch is a testament for the years you held yourself together, acted like nothing bad was going on, when in reality you were experiencing hell on Earth and he never knew. 

  This was his payback. His way of righting a wrong. A wrong that should have never even began.

  He doesn’t know what he was hit with just that he was stumbling backwards again. Temple throbbing and without reaching up he knows he’s bleeding. His back hitting the corner of the fridge he slides down onto the linoleum.

  His head is heavy and his vision blinded with hazy clouds of black and white. He hears Chad but doesn’t see him, just feels his head being slammed in the fridge and a grip in his hair. 

  “Could have saved your uncle funeral costs you stupid bastard… clearly you don’t care about him, or Tooty for that matter, leaving her all alone like that,” Chad sucks through his teeth, splitting blood onto Eddie’s shirt, “thought the raccoons usually stuck together.”

  He chuckles low and slams Eddie’s head one more time with such force it leaves a dent in the fridge. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says, straightening his shirt, walking towards your room , “my girl is waiting.”

  “Don’t touch her!” Eddie roars, pushing himself up to stand with all his might. Pounding head and nausea thick in his mouth. Raising his head he looks at Chad with blurry sight, trying to see clearly. His voice is low, catching his breath and taking all of his strength to utter out the words. Balancing around the mark of deranged, “I’ll fucking kill you.”  

  Chad swivels on his heels, head cocked at Eddie, he grabs under his chin holding it firmly in place. His breath fanning over Eddie’s cheeks and he smiles maniacally, blood painting his teeth. 

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” A heavy fist to the gut has Eddie doubled over. Gripping the counter with white knuckles and wet blood smeared fingertips. 

  He had failed again. He wasn’t able to stop his own father from killing his mother. And now Chad was on his way to desecrate your lifeless body. He’s a fuck up and a failure. 

  Always. 

  A low guttural choking sound breeches Eddie’s ears. And he turns to see you covered in your own blood, barely standing and wielding a bat with nails protruding from every which way. 

  The nails are claret colored and dripping thick drops onto the carpet, fibers of Chad’s jeans hang in shreds from the sharp edges. A scant look towards Eddie and your eyes swim with relief and mourning. 

  He’s here. Blood is smeared down his lips and his hands look tight and swollen. 

  But he’s alive. And so are you.

  Eddie’s vision is doubled and he blinks rapidly unaware if he is seeing you or not. He swallows hard and almost chokes on tears.

  But that is short lived.

  And it happens fast. 

  The yelling rage from Chad’s lungs over power your screams. His hands are tight around your throat before you can blink, your spine snapping into the nearest wall, feet dangling off the ground. 

  Haziness bleeds into your eyes and your breath is expelled from screaming— now gone when your windpipe is crushing like a pixie stick under Chad’s grip. 

  Desperate to fight back you jam your thumbs into his eyes. Victor Creel style like the Urban Legends passed down that you were told as kids. 

  If you were going to die, at least he would be blind, a forever reminder of this day etched, literally, into his face. 

  You prayed Eddie would know how much you loved him.  

  Should have’s taking over the last puffs of oxygen in your brain, popping like bubbles. 

  Should have told him sooner. 

  Should have said it every day. 

  Should have kissed him more. 

  Should have let him love you. 

  The guilt wraps around your mind as the cold hands of death welcome you. But you’re not afraid. Knowing Chad always kept good on his word, Eddie would join you in the afterlife.

  Hand in hand. 

  Strolling along the pinked cotton candy clouds and the pearly gates. 

  You are his and he is yours. 

  Lovers together finally at last. 

  The last breath on your lips is a silent devotion to him. 

  I love you, Eddie.

-

a/n: my asks are always open ♥️

[beepingmemesauce2727]

The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) Rewrite

Directed by Marc Webb

Screenplay by James Vanderbilt, Alvin Sargent, Steve Kloves, Me :3

Story by James Vanderbilt, Me :3

Based on The Amazing Spider-Man by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko

Produced by Laura Ziskin, Avi Arad, Matt Tolmach

Starring Andrew Garfield, Emma Stone, Rhys Ifans, Denis Leary, Cambell Scott, Irrfan Khan, Martin Sheen, Sally Field

Cinematography by John Schwartzman

Edited by Alan Edward Bell, Pietro Scalia

Music by James Horner

Production Companies: Colombia Pictures, Marvel Entertainment, Laura Ziskin Productions, Arad Productions Inc., Matt Tolmach Productions

Distributed by Sony Pictures Releasing

Release Dates: June 13, 2012 (United States) July 3, 2012 (Tokyo)

Running Time: 136 minutes

Country: United States

Language: English

Budget: $200-230 million

Box Office: $758 million

Act One:

We open on a cold and stormy night. It is 11:45 p.m. on May 3rd, 2002. We turn our attention to a small suburban house in Forest Hills, Queens, New York.

We cut to a boy, age 7, sitting on a staircase with his hands cupped over his eyes.

"3...2...1. Ready or not, here I come." The child says out loud. He lifts himself up off the staircase and walks into the living room.

He then notices a pair of shoes underneath the window sill curtain. He pulls back the curtain...and a broom with a fedora on top falls over next to the boy. The boy, with a dejected look on his face, searches the rest of the house for his father. He checks the closet of his room, nothing there, he checks in the garage, nothing there, until after standing in place in the middle of the house wondering where his father could be, the boy has a eureka moment, and decides to check his Dad's office.

Once he opens the door, he looks inside and notices papers strew out all over the floor. Documents...of some sort of....cure? Cure for what? And why are they researching.....

Spiders?

Suddenly, his Dad bursts in.

Richard Parker, age 51, looks down at Peter with an alarmed look on his face.

Richard: "Peter, what are you doing in my office?"

Peter: "I thought I would find you in here."

Richard: "Peter, I told you you aren't supposed to be in here. This is private work stuff."

Peter: "But I thought we were playing Hide 'n' Seek?"

Richard: "Not right now..."

Richard starts erasing equations written on a chalkboard and packing the scattered documents into a large suitcase.

Peter: "Where are you going?"

Richard: "Peter, your mother and I have to go away for a few weeks. We're gonna drop you off at your Uncle Ben and Aunt May's place for the time being."

Peter: "Dad, why can't I go with you?

Richard: "I told you, it's top secret, Peter. It could put you in danger."

Mary Parker, age 49, walks into the room.

Mary: "Richard, we have to leave. The plane leaves in half an hour."

Richard: "Okay, I'm almost ready, get the car started. We'll take Peter to Ben's place."

Mary takes Peter by the hand, and takes him to the car. Richard stuffs the suitcases in the trunk of the car and steps inside of the driver's seat, and started the engine. After a few miles of driving, they finally make it to the residence of Ben and May Parker.

When they get there, they hand Peter over to his Uncle and Aunt.

Ben: "Richard? What are you doing here this late at night?"

Richard: "There's no time to explain. Take good care of him, Ben, please."

Ben: "Of course."

Richard: "Thank God for you, Ben."

Mary: "Peter, I know this must be scary for you right now, but I promise you, everything will be alright."

Peter: "Okay, Mom."

Mary: "I love you more than anything else in this world, Peter. Please be good."

Peter: "I will, Mom."

Richard: "Honey, we have to leave."

Mary gives Peter one last kiss on the forehead, and gets in the car.

Richard says his final goodbyes to his son.

Richard: "I love you, Peter."

Peter, with tears in his eyes, says his final goodbyes to his father.

Richard: "We'll be back, Peter."

Richard shuts the door, gets in the car, and drives off with Mary.

Peter watches the car exit the driveway and disappear into the night. He is comforted by Ben and May. They remind him his parents will be back in a few weeks.

Little did Peter know, that would be the last time he would ever see his parents again.

[korysimmons]

Good Guys Garage Door Repair OKC (405) 600-2116

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[kairosgaragedoorsllc]

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[garagedoorrepairsny]

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[longislandgaragedoorservice]

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[makoto-nihil]

The Ocean Hunter: Eyes of Truth - Log Entry 01-02

Log Entry 00 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

First page | Previous page | Next page

~~CONTENT WARNING: Implied awful parents, negative thoughts near the end~~

"Today's news...."

The car pulled up to a fairly large manor at the edge of the city. The land surrounding the two-story building consisted of a large open field, a big forest to the left of the house, and a hill that stopped at a cliff that looked out to the sea beyond. A wooden staircase ran down along the cliff to a small beach and a private harbor at the bottom. A small airship - a large, copper-orange modified bathysphere with fin-like parts sticking alongside the bottom section, attached to a larger blue envelope with a crow's nest on the top of it - was currently docked at the harbor along with a small, wooden boat.

"...the ship, which was scheduled to arrive at the port in the Caribbean a week ago according to the company responsible for the shipment, has been confirmed to have disappeared out at Tartarus Deep. Many have already speculated that this was the work of Charybdis, but some have argued it was an act of piracy..."

"Huh. I guess Uncle turned up the radio again," Torel remarked as they and Chris stepped into the foyer.

The foyer led to a big hall and a staircase that led upstairs to the personal bedrooms and bathrooms. The doors to the left and right of the hall led to the parlor and the library respectively, and those further down the hall led to the dining room, drawing room, a bathroom, and a smaller hallway. A fair-skinned maid walked out from the parlor and towards the two young adults as they hung their jackets onto the nearby coat hanger.

"Welcome home, young master," she said, bowing. "Good afternoon, Mr. Lee," she quietly added, bowing to him. She turned back to Torel and her voice returned to normal level. "Young master, you are expected at the parlor by your father."

Torel paused midway of removing their satchel from their shoulder. Chris nearly froze.

"What?" They looked at her, dumbfounded. "Father's home right now? This early? What does he want from me?"

"I don't know," the maid replied, uncertain. "But he wished to speak with you as soon as you arrived home."

Torel swallowed. They took a deep breath, and another. They felt a hand on their shoulder, and already they could feel the worry and concern radiating from Chris's eyes as he looked at them. It's one thing to suddenly hear that their father came home early today, but out of all of the days he would do such a thing...

Had Mr. Lee known of this, he wouldn't have allowed Chris to come over today. I can't let Father know...

If they were quick enough, they could bolt out the front door right now and ask the middle-aged, fair-skinned butler in the garage as he's parking the car to drive them and Chris back to the city to drop the latter off and then drive back home like nothing had happened. But their father, and perhaps their mother if she's in the same room as he, would easily hear the car departing from the parlor, and they wouldn't want to endure the questions that would come once they would arrive home.

"T-Tell him I'm coming. But, please don't tell him Chris is here," they said quietly for only the maid and Chris to hear.

The maid bowed with a quiet "Of course" and returned to the parlor. Torel lifted their head and looked at Chris. He's frowning now and he looked like he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut and he's concerned about them right now from the look of his eyes. They quietly pat their hand over his on their shoulder.

"I think I'll be OK. G-Go on ahead to the library without me," Torel whispered to Chris. "I'll try to get back as quickly as I can."

The frown and the worry and concern didn't leave his face, but Chris silently nodded and let go of their shoulder. He caught Torel's satchel as its owner tossed it over to him and then silently made his way to the library. As soon as he slowly closed the door behind him so that it wouldn't creak or alert the house of his presence, but not before giving them one last glance, Torel walked to the door leading to the parlor and opened it. The room was exactly as it was before they left this morning - fancy, vibrant in a range of blue hues, and tidy, with a couple of fancy-looking couches here and side tables there and a couple glass-doored cabinets against the walls. Sitting on the long couch that faced the door from opposite side was a tired-looking fair-skinned man in his late forties. Despite his weary-looking face, he still maintained a stern and calm impression. He had a beard and mustache, and wore a dark blue-gray waistcoat over a plain white shirt with a dark azure cravat, a dark brown coat and trousers with matching colors, and a monocle over his left eye. His dirty blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail, leaving the ends curled up. The man was currently talking to a dark-haired, tan-skinned man, and a fair-skinned blonde man with a bushy mustache. The three men stopped talking as soon as Torel entered the room and looked up at the young adult.

The tired-looking man smiled. "Good afternoon, son," he greeted.

"Good afternoon...Father," Torel said while trying to keep their voice steady and neutral.

***This was...my father, Samuel Murdoch, or as everyone called him, Professor Murdoch. Current head of the family house, lead scientist of an oceanographic research institute, and a part-time professor at the University of Plymouth. Because of his work Father usually doesn't come home until late at night. The only day he ever came home early was on my birthdays, but it basically could be summed up as a simple, "Happy birthday, son."***

***For him to come home this early on this day was rather unusual.***

***The man with the bushy mustache and sitting next to Father is my uncle, Roger Murdoch. He was visiting the manor at the time.***

"Seth, this is my son, Torel," Professor Murdoch said, gesturing the dark-haired man to Torel. "Torel, this is my colleague and assistant, Seth Douglas."

Seth smiled as he extended a hand out to them. "Pleased to meet you, young man." He too looked tired, but their clothes and hair were unkempt and messy.

"Um...pleased to meet you too, Mr. Douglas," Torel replied.

"My apologies," Prof. Murdoch said to a confused Seth. "He's a bit...shy around strangers."

No I'm not, Torel thought, trying to keep themself from growing tense.

"Father, is there something you wanted to talk about with me?" Torel promptly asked.

"Ah, yes." Prof. Murdoch got up. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Brett, if you may," he added, nodding to a woman in a vibrant crimson dress who was sewing a shirt with the maid on the couch adjacent to his as he rose from the couch, and the two adults led Torel out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~

"You're going away to Luna Sea tomorrow?" Torel asked.

The family of three were in the drawing room, which was, in comparison with the parlor, less vibrant but retained the same blue hues in appearance. Not much sunlight could peek behind the closed window blinds and into this room save for the lit lamps, giving the entire room much somber impression.

"Yes," Prof. Murdoch said. "Seth and I are going to meet up with some of our colleagues to check on the recent activity with the hammerhead shark population there. There had recently been an uptick in their numbers."

"But isn't it still dangerous to go out there, Father? The last time you went out on an expedition to one of the Seven Seas, you nearly died."

***Ever since the Seven Great Monsters came ten years ago, most of the sea creatures, even the predators who usually don't attack unless provoked, have been attacking any human who dive into the Seven Seas. As a result it became extremely difficult for scientists like Father to continue studying the nature and mysteries of the ocean, especially with what's been happening to the sea life in the Seven Seas. Not that they have it worse than every other treasure hunter and diver out there.***

"I know, son, but considering the recent claims of this abnormal activity with the hammerhead sharks, even with the Seven Great Monsters still present in the seas, we can't just ignore our duties to investigate the ongoing changes in the seas," Professor Murdoch said.

"I see..."

Torel swallowed and looked down at the floor. Their mother - Lady Murdoch, a young-looking fair-skinned woman who always kept her fine brown hair in a tight bun - hadn't said anything during the entire conversation, nor had she said anything to her husband or looked at him. Instead, she had been looking at their own child, scrutinizing them while their father was talking for any reactions or flickers of emotion that she didn't like to see on their face. They could still feel her brown eyes burning against their head.

"Son, is there anything you would want to tell me or talk about? I will have to prepare for the trip later tonight, and I know we haven't seen each other for long periods of time because of my work, but whatever's on your mind that you want to discuss with me right now, please don't hesitate to."

***There was one thought I had that day that came out to the forefront, out of all the other thoughts that were racing in my head back then. I just wished Mother wasn't in the same room as me when I said it.***

"Father, I uh...I want to go out to the seas with you someday," Torel finally said after a minute of silence passed.

"You will not," Lady Murdoch snapped.

Prof. Murdoch almost immediately looked at their wife in surprise. "Brett..." he started to say.

"Mother, I-."

"How many times must I tell you again?" The woman had her hands clenched into fists as she stood upright and glared down at her child. "I forbid you from ever stepping foot into the seas! Do you even know how many have died out there because of those monsters?"

"I do-."

"No, you don't!"

"But-."

"You never do! I told you many times before, and I'll say it again. I won't allow you to wish such a thing! You'll forget ever thinking of doing such thing right now!"

"Brett!" Prof. Murdoch shouted sternly.

Lady Murdoch turned to look at her husband, her face still livid. Now that their mother's attention was off them, Torel quietly let out a breath they had been holding. While the two adults talked to each other in low voices, although Lady Murdoch was furious and louder than her husband's, Torel felt their right hand starting to twitch and grabbed it with their other hand before their parents would notice. A few minutes passed before their parents turned back to them. By then, Torel had managed to keep their expression neutral and breathing steady, hiding the fact that there were many thoughts racing in their head for the past few minutes and still going, and had moved their still-shaking right hand behind them on their back. Prof. Murdoch studied their expression with his sky blue eyes for a bit before he spoke.

"Torel," Prof. Murdoch said, his voice still stern. "I have asked you this before when you were younger, but I'll ask again: Why do you want to go down to the ocean?"

Torel blinked. They remembered being asked this question when they were younger, back when they used to look forward to their own birthdays because it meant they'll see their cousin again, back before she and her family stopped coming for reasons they still don't know and were never told. They remembered the discussion back then that led their father to ask them this particular question in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~

"What do you wanna be when you grow up?" Torel asked their cousin.

Morfa tilted her head left and right as she thought about it, her curled up pink hair that surrounded the sides of her fair-skinned face swaying along with her head, and her fork pressed against her lips. "Well, I wanna be a historian like my Mom! Study and record the past and stuff!" Morfa exclaimed with a smile.

Out of the corner of Torel's eye, they could see their aunt Minerva, who was standing nearby the two children, briefly turn to look at them both with a smile, still sitting next to each other on the big couch with plates of cake slices on their laps, before turning back to the relative she was talking to and resume her conversation. Her curled up braided pink hair, its color a somewhat contrast to her fair-skinned complexion, whirled around along with her head's movements and came to rest on her left shoulder. None of the other relatives in the room seemed to pay much attention to the two children, not even Prof. Murdoch despite that he was also standing nearby the couch, and were instead busy discussing with each other.

Morfa chewed some more of her cake slice, ignoring the fact that there were smears of cake and frosting around her mouth. "What about you?"

"Hmmm..." Torel poke their cheek with their cake-stained fork. "I think I wanna be like my Father. Go down into the ocean and study all the scary sea creatures and underwater plant life and stuff!"

"Ooooooo! Sounds pretty cool! Wonder what kinds of creatures or plants or stuff you'll find down there!" Morfa exclaimed.

Neither of the two children heard or noticed Prof. Murdoch pause in his conversation with a relative and glanced at Torel with a frown respectively. Torel didn't expect to be asked why they thought of wanting to go down into the ocean until the evening arrived and Morfa and her family and everyone else who were invited had left the manor. Back then, they didn't had a good reason to give besides a "Because I wanna see what it's really like down there with my very own eyes! Everything I've heard and read sounds so scary but pretty!" (then again, they were very young at the time), but it was enough to persuade their father to not dissuade them from their interest, much to their mother's chagrin.

~~~~~~~~~

Now, Torel took a breath before they gave their reason for this time.

"I...I want to see the world down there, to see what wonders and beauty it holds through my own eyes. I don't care if I have to wait a few more years or until all of the monsters are gone, but I'll fight my way if I have to! I just don't want to live in ignorance of the underwater world and the life within it."

Silence filled the air after Torel finished talking. They looked down to the floor, awaiting whatever their father would respond with while ignoring how tense their body became.

"I see," Professor Murdoch said after a few seconds. "If that's so, then so be it. However," he added added abruptly. "If you were given the chance to do it, would you be willing to take it, even if you may never return?"

"I..." Torel started to mumble.

"Samuel, what are you-?" Lady Murdoch started to ask her husband, but he held up his hand towards her.

"You may be aware of the present dangers in the Seven Seas, even in the ocean, but it would take one's pure, sheer will to dive much deeper. What me and my colleagues are doing out there, even now, are at our own peril. Even though the seas are no longer safe, we can't ignore what's happening down there nor abandon our jobs. The same goes for the scientists who went to North Sea five years ago to investigate the decreasing numbers of the whale population there."

The professor paused to push a strand of hair away from his face before he continued.

"Humans are to blame for the current state of the ocean. The Seven Great Monsters may be the ones who are destroying the ocean now, but they also serve as grim reminders of our past mistakes. Unless we break free from the cycle of destruction and apathy that the Old World succumbed to, we are to forever carry the heavy burden of our ancestors and of the Old World. We may never see the end of the monsters, but as the new generation it is our job to fix the mistakes of the past and preserve the beauty and the life the ocean bears while we can, even if it costs us our lives."

The room was silent once more.

"I'm sorry, Father," Torel said. Their eyes still kept to the floor. "Just...forget I ever said anything."

"It's alright, son," Professor Murdoch said. "We'll discuss more about this when I get back."

"I'll...get back to my studies then." Torel started to turn towards the door.

"Torel, wait."

Torel stopped. "What is it, Father?"

"Your mother mentioned that you were going to ask your friend, Chris, to come over today for a study session for the coming exams, right? Is he here right now?"

Torel nearly raised their head sharply. They did their damnedest to stay calm and keep their breathing level and steady and the color on their face. They seemed to have succeeded, judging from the lack of reaction from their parents' faces as they continue to look at them. He can't know. I can't tell Father, they thought as their mind raced. I already have to beg the butler not to say anything this morning and on the ride back before, and the maid has always kept her word. But Mr. Lee made me promise not to ever let Father know Chris is here if I ever bring him over, no matter what...He'll kill me if I do.

"Actually...no. Chris had to help at the shop after classes," Torel said instead. "Something about...a car nearly blowing up while it was being repaired."

Prof. Murdoch let out a disappointed sigh and shook his head sadly. "Oh, I see." He took a deep breath before he continued with a smile. "Well, I was hoping to finally be able to ask him something about his father. Thank you, though."

His father? But Chris never spoke of or mentioned him before...

Torel quickly turned to the door before they could go down the rabbit hole and headed out of the room. Their right hand was still slightly twitching.

~~~~~~~

"Yeah, I'm OK. No, he doesn't know I'm here yet. You sure? But what about the-? I know, I know. But, give us an hour or two before you come over. They really needed my help with the subject and we'd agreed to today. OK. I know. I'll be careful. See you later. Love you too."

Chris put the phone down and looked outside the window at the afternoon sun. The library he was in was relatively bigger than the parlor and any other room in the house, and was the only room with a fireplace that faced the windows looking outside to the sea beyond, although it looked as though it hadn't been used for a long time. A side table with the phone Chris was using earlier was sitting next to the windows. He took a look back at the room. Shelves stuffed with fine-conditioned encyclopedias and books aligned the walls stop near the fireplace. A big, long oak table sat in the middle of the room, having been cleared of the books and papers that were sitting on it before Chris entered the room and replaced with his and Torel's satchels. A small lamp sat in the middle of the mess. Six wooden chairs were placed by the table, and a few fancy armchairs around the room. There were a few small framed photos on the mantlepiece, which included a younger smiling Torel (although from the look of their expression, Chris would have to guess they had to smile for the picture) with their grim-faced parents, and his uncle with the carcass of a bear behind him, presumably from a hunting trip.

Chris quietly walked to the big table and lifted a chair out to sit on it. He pulled out the textbooks related to the subject of today's study session from his satchel, while listening for any noise coming from outside the room. It was bad enough for Torel's father to unexpectedly arrive home without either of the two's knowledge, but it was worse calling Taka about this and hearing his very concerned voice at the other end of the line. If Torel's father were to step into the room right now, the windows were easy to unlock and push up and big enough to slip out through, and there's a bus station nearby, and he still had the pocket money Taka had given him in one of the inner pockets of his satchel that would cover the bus fare back to the city, but if the bus hadn't arrive in time he could just walk-.

He felt and heard a soft, low hum against his chest. He placed his left hand against the source of the quiet noise and felt the pendant hidden under his shirt. He nearly forgot about it still hanging around his neck from what had happened so far. The fact that it's trying to calm him down now was familiar and soothing, even under the current situation. He took a few steady breaths before patting the pendant again. The hum quietly faded away, but its presence against his chest remained.

He then opened the textbook and turned to the chapter that he found would be very useful for the exams when he heard a door open in the hallway outside. The low hum returned, echoing against his chest. He quickly, but quietly, got up and pressed himself against the bookshelves near the windows as he heard footsteps approaching the library door. As soon as the door opened and he saw the familiar seashell-shaped blonde hair poke in did he relax and the same for his pendant.

"Sorry about that," Torel whispered as soon as they closed the door behind them. "Father wanted to tell me that he was leaving for a trip tomorrow, that's why he came home early." They let out an exhausted sigh and scratched their head. "You OK, though? No-one heard you or try to come into the room?"

"I'm alright. I called Taka a few minutes ago about what happened, but no-one else in the building heard me," Chris assured them as he moved back to the table. "What about you?"

"I...I think I'll be OK for now." They paused for a bit. "When is he going to come pick you up?"

"Give him an hour or two. He was already ready to drop what he was doing and come pick me up when I made the call, but I managed to convince him to give us time to study."

Torel pulled out one of the chairs surrounding the table and sank down onto it. They looked at the satchels and the textbook Chris had pulled out earlier scattered on the table. "We probably should have done this at the school library or at your apartment instead..." they mumbled, their hand pressed against their own forehead.

"You didn't know," Chris insisted quietly. "It's not your fault."

"But-." Torel wanted to disagree, but they quickly shut their mouth instead. As much as they want to disagree right now, they both have an hour or two with the time Chris managed to get for both of them to understand and cram whatever they could into their head to remember for the exams during the study session, before Taka would arrive to pick Chris up, and then they and Chris wouldn't have to be extremely tense and stressed out right now under the current circumstances. But at the same time, they wished they weren't having difficulty with the subject in question - physics, of all the other subjects they could've had trouble with like mathematics and geography - to necessitate a study session mere days before the exams.

So instead of trying to counter Chris's words and risk having everyone else in the manor hear the commotion, they just quietly sighed, and got up to pull another chair from the table and propped it against the door in case their father or anyone else decided to barge into the room without knocking for whatever reason. They sat back down into their seat and pulled out their textbook and notebook, Chris doing the same.

"Let's just get this done," they reluctantly whispered.

~~~~~~~

An hour later, the sun was midway to sink below the horizon out at the sea by the time a pickup truck pulled up at the manor. Prof. Murdoch was still in the parlor talking with Seth and Roger by then, and he hadn't dared to step into the library for whatever reason, so Torel and Chris were able to grab their things and sneak out the front door and to the driveway as the truck stopped. A dark-skinned, dark-haired man stepped out from the driver's side. The man wore a stained beige shirt with dark suspenders and dark grey trousers. His dark hair was tied back in a short ponytail and he wore googles over his forehead. Besides his dark stubble, a stern-looking face, broad shoulders, and a semi-pronounced nose, he shared the same eyes and eye color as Chris.

***That's Mr. Taka Lee, Chris's uncle and guardian. A tough, mean-looking engineer, but he's actually nice once you get to know him. He owns and works at an auto shop in the city that primarily services vehicles and Shock Guns. The apartment building where he and Chris lived in is a few blocks down from it. He's actually one of two men who invented the Shock Gun, and the only one of the two that people remember and recognize the most besides his top-notch skills. It's because of that that people would go to his auto shop more than the other auto shops in the same area and request repair or maintenance work from him.***

"Hey, kiddo," Taka greeted his nephew with a smile. "How did the study session go?"

"You can say it went well. So well, I think Torel wouldn't need to study for the next two days at this point," Chris said with a smirk and a nod towards Torel.

Torel could only laugh in response, in spite of how tense they both were in the past hour. They didn't realize they were laughing too loud until they heard the front door open behind them and someone stepping out onto the porch. They stopped laughing the moment they heard their father's voice call out from the porch.

"Torel? What are you-? Oh! Chris! You're actually here?"

Taka frowned and quickly stepped in front of Chris, blocking Prof. Murdoch's view of him. "Chris, get in the truck," he told his nephew.

The front passenger door quickly opened and closed shut with a click in a matter of a few seconds. Torel looked between their father now approaching them and Taka, who remained steadfast and still where he stood and with his arms crossed across his chest.

"Son, go back inside. Taka and I are...just going to have a chat." Prof. Murdoch gave a look at Torel. "We'll talk later."

Torel was too well familiar with the subtle undertone in their father's voice. They knew the moment they stepped back inside the manor and Taka and Chris had left the premises, the building would be filled with loud, angry voices, disappointed and upset that they were lied to and berating Torel for all of this. They know how awful their mother could be when she gets angry. Their uncle would be too oblivious about what happened to try and step in. But their father would be droves worse.

I'll be dead if I step back into the house right now...

"Torel..." Taka started to say something, but Torel had just opened the front driver's door and bolted in. Taka quickly glanced at the door as it shut closed before turning back to Prof. Murdoch, who had stopped some distance away from him in shock and confusion of what Torel just did.

Torel was fortunate Taka didn't get called to an offsite repair or maintenance job today because it meant they could slip behind the driver's seat, throw their satchel onto the backseats that were devoid of any tools or equipment Taka would've brought with him, and slide down to the floor that was also devoid of said tools or equipment to hide. They could hear their confused father outside exclaim in surprise at their sudden act of defiance during all of this, but then he quickly changed the subject to something Torel had a feeling Taka wouldn't like. They were proven correct as they listened to the argument happening outside the truck.

"Taka, honestly, I don't understand why you always never let me talk to your nephew."

"You know damn well why, Sam. We're not having this discussion again."

"Yes, you kept mentioning his father didn't want me to ever as the reason why before, but I'd never heard from my old friend for a very long time before he-!"

"Former friend. And you'll do well to remember that."

"But-!"

"Torel? You OK?"

Torel looked up from where they were sitting on the floor. During the argument outside (which was still ongoing), Chris had moved from the front passenger seat to the backseats and was crouching in front of them. The worry and concern were back on his face. Just his look alone caused Torel to crumble on the inside. They buried their head into their hands and let out a weary groan.

"This was not how I wanted today to go," they mumbled. "This was not what I want you to have to deal with today. If I'd known Father would come home early from the beginn-."

"Torel."

The way Chris gently spoke to them now was enough to make them clamp their mouth shut. They looked up to see a gloved left hand extended out towards them - a familiar invitation for times like this. They took it and felt Chris gently pull them into a hug, and they wrapped their arms around him without hesitation. The loud voices outside slowly faded away as Torel shut them out and only focused on the now with their partner. They took a few steady deep breaths to try and calm themself.

"It's not your fault," Chris told them as they calmed themself down, repeating the words he'd spoken to them earlier at the library. "It's not your fault you didn't know. You didn't ruin anything."

Torel could only nod. They didn't have the capacity to try and disagree right now because they knew Chris was right and that he cared for them. But on the contrary, their mind was disagreeing with his words - Your fault, your fault for not double checking that your father would come home early, your fault for wanting this study session, your fault... - and trying to talk right now would only echo what their mind was saying. They shook their head to try and push those thoughts away, and buried their face against Chris's shoulder. The two remained where they were on the floor, holding each other tightly, and they still were when the commotion outside finally ended with a final loud voice, followed by the front driver's door opening as Taka sat back inside on the driver's seat and shut the door vehemently. There were no words spoken inside or outside the vehicle as Taka started the truck and started driving out of the manor premises. As he made a turn onto the road back to the city, Torel was tempted to peek out the rear window to see if their father was still standing at the driveway or trying to run after the departing vehicle to get them, but that would mean separating from Chris and they loathed to do so in their current mental state.

"He's still standing there when we left, if you're wondering," Taka said, finally breaking the silence, as if he could hear Torel's thoughts. His eyes kept to the road ahead, but he took a glance at the two from the rear view mirror. "Fuming on the inside, yeah, but he's not driving after us right now. He mentioned as well during our little 'chat' that he's leaving for a trip tomorrow, yeah?" He asked, glancing at the rear view mirror again. Torel nodded from where they were. Taka looked back at the road ahead and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "Well, knowing him, that means he's got better things to deal with tonight than chase after us or send someone else to drag you back home. If he'd ever, that is."

"And yeah, I already know what you're going to ask," he added before Torel could open their mouth. "You can stay over for the night, or as long as you need. Gonna have to clear the couch again when we get back, though. But right now, you two need to get up from the floor and put on your seat belts. I rather not get pulled over on the way back because my nephew and his partner weren't properly being seated and buckled up."

And with that, Torel and Chris finally but reluctantly pulled away and did as Taka told them to do. They had to push their satchels to the floor since they were taking up space in the backseats in the process, but it'd do. A few minutes passed before Torel turned to look outside the window at the passing trees, the glowing lampposts, and the afternoon sky. Already, they felt somewhat tired from what had transpired today, but at the same time, they didn't really want to fall asleep right now. But...

"You don't mind if I take a nap on your shoulder?" Torel asked Chris.

Chris shook his head. "You're not going to scream in your sleep if you do, like the many times before?" he asked in return.

"Hopefully not this time," they replied with a weary smile.

Chris rolled his eyes, but he let Torel rest their head on his shoulder. As soon as their head landed on his shoulder and they closed their eyes, they were lightly snoring. Chris could already tell Taka was grinning at the sight from the view off the rear view mirror, but he knew his uncle didn't mind any of this in the slightest. He carefully reached for his satchel without jostling their sleeping partner and pulled out the book he was reading earlier this morning. He rested his head against Torel's and continued reading from where he last left off for the rest of the ride home.

Torel didn't scream or fidget in their sleep for the rest of the ride back to Taka's and Chris's apartment.

[anogete]

In Between

Hi, folks.  I’m sorry I have nothing to offer as far as fic goes.  Things have been... ::sigh::  You know, I don’t know what things have been.  Not good, not bad.  Just... things.  I wanted to talk--get things out of my head--this morning, but I realized I don’t have a person/outlet who can accept these things right now.  So, I will put them here for anyone who cares to read them.

1) My car blew up.  Well, the engine did.  I was on my way back home with groceries last Saturday, and I lost all ability to accelerate and brake.  So, I puttered out on the side of the road and waited to be saved.  The issue may be covered under the warranty so I had it taken to the dealership.  They’ve had it for a week and still don’t have answers for me besides an offer to lend me a car for free until they can figure out what to do with my car.

2) This deserves it’s own point, though I almost included it on the first point.  I’ve never bought a car without my grandmother.  She was under five feet tall and had a tendency to wear sweat pants and Christmas sweaters year-round.  She smoked Winston Lights and carried a purse covered in rhinestones.  The car salesmen didn’t know what hit them because she wasn’t at all the sweet old lady who would roll over and accept their first offer.  She was hard to read and she wouldn’t give an inch.  She also wouldn’t tell them what she was willing to pay.  No counter offers from her; she’d just tell you to “do better.”  Anyway, she worked her magic when I bought all three of my cars.  When I realized the problem with the engine was serious and might require me getting a new car, I went into a mental tailspin.  Yeah, yeah, I was worried about fitting it into my budget and all that, but mostly I couldn’t seem to cope with buying a car on my own without my grandma there to hold my hand.  I’m almost 39 years old and the thought of doing this without her had me sobbing in the floor.  Except, I didn’t realize my tailspin was due to my grandmother at first.  At first, I just thought I was incapable of handling stress.  Maybe that’s still accurate.

3) While we’re talking about expensive-ass shit, I knew the air conditioner and furnace on this house needed to be replaced sooner rather than later when I bought it last February.  It looks like the time has come.  I managed to find a nice man with very odd hair (think a longer version of the Prince Valiant hair-do, but bright white) through my boyfriend’s dad.  He does this for a living and said he’d give me a discount and do for $5,000 what other places were telling me would cost $9,000.  So, that’s happening next week.  I have the money, but the idea of writing a $5,000 check makes me want to puke.  Ugh.

4) The days are running together.  I’m working from home.  I can’t complain, though.  I’ve got it better than most.  I’m alone all day.  I have a library with a desk.  I can go downstairs and make tea or lunch in my own kitchen.  I’m getting paid my full salary with bonuses.  I can pretty much make my own hours.  The company I work for is taking the pandemic seriously and has told us that we can all work from home until we feel comfortable returning to the office.  Their timeline for “normal” is months.  I don’t think I’ll be back in the office until late summer, if that.  Those who want to return are permitted to, but they can’t use the public areas (kitchen, conference rooms) and have to abide by some strict safety requirements.  And they can choose when and how often they go into the office, working the remainder of the time at home.  So, better than most.

5) I’ve been doing this social distancing thing since March 19th.  It’s not difficult for me.  On good days I’ll exercise (I have a Peloton) before logging into work around 9am.  On not-good days (which seem to be more often than not), I’ll skip the exercise and just log into work early.  Work keeps me busy and I spend a decent amount of my day on the phone with clients.  I go to the grocery store once a week, but I order for pickup.  Someone else does the shopping for me and loads it into my trunk.  This is nothing new.  I’ve been shopping that way for years.  Now it’s just harder to get my usual pickup slot because everyone else has joined the party.  I do miss taking a break from work and leaving my office to grab a coffee and sit outside on a bench downtown.  I guess I could do that outside my own house, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

6) A few months ago, a husband and wife who are clients came in to meet with me at my office.  They’re in their 80s and both were having trouble walking.  They parked in the garage next door and couldn’t find the elevator to exit.  I walked over and escorted them to our office building.  They were both struggling with walking and the wife (Rose) had been fighting lung cancer for a couple years, so I suggested they wait outside and I’d valet their car once we were done.  The thought of making the trek to their car alone was painful to me because it was a monumental struggle for them to walk down a hallway.  Their daughter-in-law called me two days ago.  Rose passed away two weeks ago.  The husband, a former literature professor for a university, was in the hospital with four broken ribs because he’d fallen shortly after Rose’s passing.  He was a Jewish child in Nazi Germany during the war.  He’d told me stories about hiding from the Nazis, surviving off of tree bark and whatever he could find in the forests.  He also jokingly told me that he’d live until he was 120.  Now, it looks like he won’t survive the year.  He and Rose would tease each other all the time, but you could see all that love between them. Whenever I’d call him, he’d ask me in that wonderful accent to wait while he got “the boss” on the phone as well.  Rose thought it was silly that she was “the boss,” but she humored him.  You know, they’re shorties, too.  Five foot, nothing.  Just like my grandma.  Hearing that Rose was gone and Dr. (he’s a PhD) was likely soon to follow just broke my already fragile heart.

7) Fragile heart, huh?  Yeah.  After the car situation and the realization that one day I’m going to have to do big life things without having my grandma to help me, I was feeling pretty raw.  But I’ve been trying to be responsible and do things I’ve been putting off lately.  So, I gathered up all those medical bills from Ferguson’s illness last September.  (Ferguson was my soulmate little chihuahua mix that I had for over 13 years.)  I had pet insurance on him and hadn’t bothered to make the claim because I couldn’t handle it.  But it’s been almost a year so I pulled out the invoices, which were over $2,000, and logged into the website and starting inputting the info to file the claims.  The little box asks for a description of why I took him to the vet.  And answering that question just brought back all that shit like a wave.  I remember reading this nice description of grief and how it is like waves.  At first they’re big and they knock you around and you can’t breathe.  But over time they get smaller and you learn how to navigate them.  Still there, but manageable.  Filling in that box resulted in a bit of a tidal wave that knocked me on my ass.  My boyfriend came home to find me sobbing at my desk like a lunatic..  He’s... not so good with emotional shit.  And I usually keep it bottled up so that no one knows what’s going on inside me.  But some days...  Some days it just overflows.  So, after confirming that nothing terrible had occurred and that I was reliving September 2019, he slowly backed out of the room to leave me with my grief-wave.

8) I want to be one of those succulent people.  You know, the ones who have succulents lining their windowsills.  The dining room and kitchen windows are full of this oddball little plants.  The boyfriend hates it, but I told him he’d have to deal.  I’ll die on this hill.  I’m a succulent lady.

9) I’ve been reading memoirs or, rather, memoirs through collections of essays.  I don’t know if it’s the mental state I’m in or if social distancing has got me subconsciously reaching out for life beyond my head, but I can’t seem to read much else.  I loved Liz Phair’s Horror Stories.  I’m reading The Book of Help by Megan Griswold right now.  I’m determined to procure a signed copy of What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker by Damon Young.  He did a virtual event for a local bookseller recently and they have signed copies available for purchase.  I just need to muster up the will to call them and ask them to hold one for me.  The little snippets of their life and experiences via these memoirs through essays bring me some measure of comfort.

10) I tried to watch Euphoria on HBO.  I managed to make it through the first episode, but I don’t think I can watch more.  I can’t relate, but that normally isn’t a necessity for an enjoyable story.  Maybe it’s just too depressing for me right now.

11) I binged Dollface on Hulu and wish I had more to watch.  Parts of it hit me hard.  I’ve always had trouble maintaining friendships, period.  But maintaining friendships while in a relationship has been damn near impossible for me.  Just like Jules.  Except, I’m not nearly as cool or gorgeous as Kat Dennings.  And I have no friends in this city to go back to.  Just friends at work. 

12) I haven’t worn makeup for 2 solid months.  I’m starting to miss it.  I found old selfies I’d taken in which I don’t recognize myself.  Did I ever look like that?  I must have since here is photographic evidence.  I look like shit now.�� I’m forever in yoga pants and a hoodie with half-wet hair from the shower.  Maybe putting on a pair of jeans and a cute shirt and some makeup will make me feel like a human being again.  Maybe I’m not doing as well as I thought in quarantine.  Huh.

13) I hope you all are well.  If you’ve sent me a message, I’m so sorry for not responding.  My mental state has been delicate lately and the silence from me has nothing to do with your kind words.  I promise I read and treasure and appreciate anything that is sent to me.  I’m also sorry for having no offering of fic or a promise of something to come.  I haven’t written since last summer.  It’s been almost a year.  I guess I’m in a dry spell.

14) Since I’ve been struggling with loss/grief lately, I’ll leave you with a quote from Philip Pullman, taken from his novel The Amber Spyglass.  It’s about death, I suppose.  Or maybe just a transition to something else entirely.  It’s nice to think of my grandma and Rose and my sweet, sweet love of a dog falling in the raindrops and riding on the wind through tall grass.  If it wasn’t raining, I’d take my computer outside right now.

“Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.” 

[stargatesandgarage]

Custom Made Designer Garage Doors Will Certainly Give You Something of Which You Will be Proud

Designer Garage Doors

In most cases the garage door is used as much or even more than the front door. Garage doors play an important role and provide a safe place for your car. If you want to upgrade your current design or install new parking space doors, designer doors are available. Custom made options range everywhere from design and colour to entryway systems. Whether a person is installing new doors or upgrading the old ones, an installer can help your through the whole process.

Custom designer garage doors that are installed are normally fitted to the door completely. Whether the parking has 1 or 2 doors they can be custom made to fit properly and look great. They will certainly brighten up the property through sheer brilliance of material and style.

Having a well maintained driveway and a new garage door can make the house look newer and more expensive? Property owners can even gain more value to their house from just adding a parking space door to it.

A custom made garage door is the only way that a person will be able to have the perfect doors for his home. Customise the door of the garage to suit your needs and your style. Below are some tips to help one design his or her customised unit:

Who will design the garage doors for you?

Most garage door companies normally accept custom designs which are provided by their clients. You need to choose whether you will make the door design yourself or ask a designer to come up with a suitable design for your garage. You can also select from the existing designs for custom garage doors that the company will most likely have.

Decide on the type of material to be used

The material of any unit is a very important thing to consider. You should be careful when selecting the materials since it will affect the performance and look of the doors.

What added features would you like the Designer Garage Doors to have?

You should to think about how you want the door to work. Do you want to stick to the manual opening and go old school or are you more inclined to the automatic door type? What security features do you want to be included in the door? It is advisable to consult a professional company about the available security devices for garage doors which are present on the market.

Designer Garage Doors should not be looked as just an ordinary garage door to close and open. You should consider it as an investment that if you take good care it will last your family a lifetime.

There are many methods to construct a parking door and they are not only for design but also for protection. Therefore, installing a multiple layer parking space door is suitable for security purposes. You can get one which has multiple layers of materials. Alternatively, you can also get some with single layers but are made using tough materials.

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[california-raccoon]

eye's on the sparrow

He just stares at her, like he’d been wishing for his mom but she appeared instead. This belief - in wishing, in divine intervention, in fate - is probably the reason why he chooses to believe in her. BLEACH / AU / ICHIRUKI • [PART 1/?]

A/N: It figures my first official attempt at fanfic is gonna be for this old ship in the wildest year 2020. Apologies in advance because I am no writer, but like a kid messing around in a kitchen, I hope you enjoy it anyway. Bone apple teeths, my dudes.

——————

I.

The first time she meets him, he’s by himself on the side of the road. He isn’t doing much of anything, just a lot of crying, same as that day his mother died. Rukia wasn’t there to see it happen, but she saw the officers and the cars all hovered around the scene in the aftermath, a pop of bright yellow about her height wailing like a siren. 

For all of her seven years of living, she is precocious enough to understand death and loss, but when she greets him weeks later, she has no kid gloves to treat him with, just her bare-knuckled fists knocking into his shoulders. He loses his balance among other things, face no longer crunched together in tears but spread wide with shock. 

“What’s wrong?” says she, without any hint of sympathy. The boy offers her nothing in response. His hand is on the pavement, catching himself.

He just stares at her, like he’d been wishing for his mom but she appeared instead. This belief - in wishing, in divine intervention, in fate - is probably the reason why he chooses to believe in her. He swallows his tears long enough to tell her “I lost my mom here,” with a glint of hope in his eyes as if she could find her for him.

“Was she pretty?” Is all Rukia asks, trying to imagine her, and the boy cracks a smile.

“The prettiest. She made the best blueberry pancakes for breakfast and held my hand while we walked. I was supposed to protect her… but,” The boy chokes, big drops forming on the sides of his eyes.

“Just… don’t forget her.”

The boy gulps at this, not really understanding but nodding anyway. Maybe it’s Rukia’s imagination of his mother now in her mind, as pretty and warm as the sunshine, smelling like pancakes and blueberries, that causes her to reflect. She squats down next to him with a frown on her face.

“You’re lucky, I don’t have a mother to remember.” Rukia says, “So whatever you do, don’t forget her.” 

He looks up at her then, eyes as big as saucers, and she helps him up to his feet. They say nothing else in the exchange, but he keeps looking at her, so she ruffles his hair to make him stop. She likes that she’s a little taller than him that she can do that; the other boys she knows are older and too tall for her fingers and fists to reach.

When she sees him the next day, he isn’t crying anymore but he talks. About little things, at first. A lot of stories about his mom, so he won’t forget. How she warmed the room with her presence, could peel apple skins in one long strip and loved reading books about funny English plays. As the days go on, it mixes with stories of things he’s learned in school, or his classmate in karate who he can never seem to beat. Rukia listens. They walk together down the road on his way home.

“Where do you live?” he asks one day, between showing her this new Pokemon card he’d traded Mizuiro during recess. It’s another rainy afternoon, but he’s okay, and they’re sharing his umbrella on the road home.

“Up that hill over there,” she says, pointing past the street they’re on. 

“That’s pretty far. You can take my umbrella with you; I live right here.” The boy exclaims, stopping right in front of a family clinic. There’s a chipper smile on his face as he hands her the umbrella to hold.

She doesn’t really know what to think, the gesture unusual to her, but she takes it with a small thanks before parting ways.

 -

II.

Ichigo is six the first time he invites a girl over to his house. He doesn’t really know her name, nor does he know much of anything about her, now that he thinks about it, but they somehow walk home together every day and he’s happy for the company of his new friend.

She doesn’t accept at first, but once she manages to sneak up to his window by climbing the adjacent tree, it’s as if she’s always been there. He shares his manga and his favorite snacks and teaches her how to play Pokemon among his growing collection of cards. She’ll stay over an hour after sunset, the pair of them reading and laughing until he has to head down for dinner, and she’ll leave the way she came. If his dad is wise to the situation, Ichigo doesn’t really know, but the man is all too happy to give him extra snacks to carry into his room whenever he asks.

On one weekend Ichigo finds himself packed in with his sisters in the car, dad behind the wheel with a list of things to buy and the promise of candy and ice cream at the end of the day if they behave. When they pass the hill, all he sees are lush forest greens and the Torii that pokes its head among the body of stairs. There are no houses, so he asks where they are.

“There are no houses there, son. Just the orphanage near the Shinto shrine.” His dad answers with unexpected gravity. 

Ichigo says nothing in response to this, but he looks up what an orphanage is later in the dictionary once they get home, remembers the girl with no mother and cries.

He notices it, seeing her again on his way home from karate. She usually comes up to meet him from the river, playing by herself. Her clothes are a little too big on her, waiting to grow into them like the hand-me-downs his sisters complain about.

He can’t really bring himself to say anything to her, though he really wants to. It’s on the tip of his tongue, to tell her that he knows, but he never gets the chance to because they’re home before he realizes it and the door bursts open just as soon as he gathers the courage to speak.

“Welcome home, Ichigo!” His dad surprises him outside their doors just as they’ve arrived. There’s a sly look on his eye that Ichigo is too young to decipher, but he feels as if some secret’s been found out when his dad turns to the person frozen in place next to him.

“And who is this young lady accompanying my son home today?” 

Ichigo’s mind is racing to respond but he can’t find a simple answer. Static bubbles out of him instead in stammers and incoherent half-words that only stop when she says her name.

“Rukia,” his dad repeats with gentlemanly charm. “Thank you for keeping an eye out for my son. Come in and stay for dinner.”

His dad figures out everything but he’s surprisingly lenient about it. She’s allowed to stay as she wishes, for snacks, for games, as long as she heads back before nightfall. The terms are fair, especially with the long summer days ahead of them, and sometimes his dad will leave work ahead of schedule so they can have earlier dinners with her as their guest.

It’s how most of Ichigo’s summer unfolds: him, his sisters, and Rukia eating dinners together, watching tv and playing video games. Her drawings of bears and rabbits mix with Yuzu and Karin’s on the refrigerator. The newness of having her over gives the family something to talk about, and they welcome her openly. The rest of the days are a haze of laughs and pixelated dungeons where they save princesses. 

“Why do you always play by the river?” Ichigo asks her one afternoon. The question stops her in her tracks, thrown off by the question. They’re on the way home, the usual babble of the river filling her sudden silence. She’d been talking to him about her strategy to defeat the boss at the Fire Temple. He’s a little guilty he wasn’t paying attention.

“My friend Renji was adopted a week before I met you,” she tells him. “We used to sneak out and play by the river all the time before he went away.”

“Will you go away too when you get adopted?” 

“I don’t know. Probably.” She shrugs, but her fingers are tightly wound like the first day they met.

Later that night after she leaves, Ichigo tugs on the bottom of his dads shirt as he’s putting away the last of the clean dishes and stares up at him.

“Can’t we adopt her?” He chokes out, vision wet and blurry as he says it because he already knows the answer.

His dad sighs, picking him up by his armpits, and suddenly he’s four years old again, crying on the kitchen counter. Ichigo is surprised to find himself tightly wound in his dads arms, a hug so warm and sincere he thinks he could choke if he doesn’t remember to breathe.

“Sorry, kiddo.” His dad ruffles his hair when they pull apart, and looking up at him, his eyes look wet too. 

The last of his summer is a countdown till it finally happens. It’s a normal sunny afternoon walking back from karate. He lingers over the view of the river before walking home alone for the first time in months. There’s a pit in his stomach that he ignores and he mostly sulks in his room the rest of the evening.

She shows up two days later with a big smile on her face that he’s never seen. He knows before she even says it.

Her smile is so big it eclipses the frown that threatens to show on his face because the more he listens to her, the happier he genuinely feels for her. A young couple from Tokyo, and the woman is warm and sunny just like any mother should be, she says. 

“The man isn’t as goofy as your dad, but he seems nice… I’m moving with them to Tokyo this week once the papers are signed.”

The mention of the move makes her nervous, the only other emotion she’s expressed in her retelling of the past two days. They spend the rest of the afternoon on his father’s computer looking up pictures of Tokyo, then find a map in the garage to see how far it is from Karakura.

On her last day, Ichigo and his dad go out to buy a small bouquet of flowers in congratulations, and they snap a photo together along with his sisters, who are hugging her in a fond embrace. 

“Write to me,” he says with a grin, hand stuffed in his pockets, suddenly feeling too cool for goodbyes. She ignores it completely and gives him a fierce hug.

“Of course.” She laughs at him, then punches him fondly on the shoulder for good measure. “Thanks, Ichigo.”

The words throw him off, the first time she’s ever called him by name, and he tries hers in kind. 

“See ya later, Rukia.”

They write to each other the way pen pals do, in a pattern of energetic bursts of conversation between the pauses of closing signatures that grow wider until their lives fill with classes, exams, friends and families. The letters stop coming at the end of the year.

[PART 2 → ]

[mastergaragedoorngates]

Saving Money on Garage Door Repairs

A garage door is a great way of keeping your tools and vehicle safe, but can be a real pain when they break.  There are some parts of the garage door that are safe for you to fix by yourself.  Other parts are surprisingly dangerous and you should turn to a professional repair person at a reasonable cost who knows what he or she is doing and can get the job done safely.

The safest jobs to do yourself are cosmetic and aesthetic: You should be able to paint most doors without trouble.  You can also add rubber or foam flashing to protect against air coming in or going out below or around your garage door in order to help ensure optimal energy efficiency.

Other jobs involving the springs or the motor are more dangerous and should be left to a professional.  The springs can snap and cause amazing injuries or even death in the worst cases.  The motors can be a source of dangerous electric shocks.  In both cases, any problems with these parts of the garage door should be left to a professional whose hourly charge will be worth it in order to make sure that you are not injured.

If you have the name of the person who originally installed your door, contacting them may be easiest because they will already be familiar with the setup.  Otherwise, try to get a reference from a friend or read reviews online to find a quality service company in your area.

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[bhgaragedoor]

9 Tips to Avoid Being Tricked by a Garage Door Repair Company

Once the garage door is installed you need to maintain it regularly to avoid any damage or any major fault in it in the future. However, there are chances that there can be a breakdown of the garage or some minor issues with it which needs to be repaired and you need professional help.

Be it door springs, openers, rollers there can be a technical problem in any of its parts. You must then look out for the best garage door maintenance service but you must keep in mind the following things to make sure that there is no chance of getting fooled by the company.

1) You must have the basic idea about the damage that needs to be repaired.

2) When the technician is repairing the door you must be present with him and be watchful of what exactly he is doing even if you have hired the best garage door repair service.

3) Don't be hesitant to ask questions like what is the damage, which part he is repairing and how etc. This will increase your knowledge and will also enable you to keep an eye on him.

4) Do not suggest the serviceman to replace any of the parts yourself. Let them first try to repair it and if required let them suggest if replacement is required. In fact if you are sure about the things you can suggest them what you feel should be done in the situation.

5) While hiring the services, shortlist 3-4 companies and select the best garage opener repair service company out of those based on a proper research.

6) Do not give much detail to the serviceman about the past repair work of garage door springs, openers, hinges etc. unless it is necessary, this might give them a chance to trick you with new faults which could cost you more.

7) Look out for the best garage door maintenance service company that offers upfront pricing. Be aware of the prices of their services and the parts they sell beforehand to avoid any surprise costing.

8) If a service provider tells you about some major fault in the door or any replacement required which involves a somewhat big amount of money, you must take a second and third opinion. In this case don't just decide to opt for what a person has suggested you and consult other professional companies too.

9) In case of replacement shortlist those companies that are providing after sales services and make sure you carry out a research about the quality of their after sales services to select the best professional services.

Keeping these simple points in mind will help you to keep yourself away from any kind of smart tricks by the company.

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[justjessame]

A Reluctant Hero Chapter 4

Fighting down the absolute sharp thrust of lust that shot through my very core at the words I vaguely recalled saying when we met, I focused on my breakfast again.  The waitress brought me a glass of water, once I’d had my fill of juice, and JD tried for a less entendre laden topic.

“Why would you go out in the middle of the week, alone, and get completely plastered?”  Better than a bucket of ice water to cool down my libido.  

“I got an unpleasant shock when I got home from shopping yesterday,”  I took a sip of water, then picked up my fork again. Stabbing at my scrambled eggs, I gave an internal shrug.  Fuck it, I hadn’t done anything wrong.  “My NOW ex was humping one of his students on my very expensive dining room table.”  His eyes widened at my candor.  “I felt numbing myself with copious amounts of alcohol was the best course of action.”

JD was chewing carefully on a bite of his own breakfast, mulling over his next question, and I recalled that Kelsey had said he was in law enforcement or bounty hunting so it made sense, I supposed, his interest I mean.  “That explains you wanting to hire cleaners, but the chainsaw you need to purchase has me worried I should learn your ex's name, just in case I have to link you to his mangled body.”

I snorted, nearly choking on my own bite in the process.  “I think I only want it for the table, actually.  He’s a dickhead, but he’s not worth prison time.”  I smirked and went back to eating.

I paid, even though he tried, not too subtly to slip the waitress his own card.  And then I directed him to my house.  He was driving like a maniac, and I found myself clutching at the ‘oh shit’ handle as my grandpa once called it.

“Are you in a rush?”  I gasped, as he took a turn so fast that I felt like I’d left my full stomach at the beginning of it.  “I could have called a cab-”

He turned slightly and I saw his smile grow.  “No hurry, I just like to drive-”

“Like a fucking psycho?”  I provided, closing my eyes because it made the ride slightly less terrifying.  

I heard his chuckle, but kept my eyes tightly shut.  “If you think this is fast and crazy, I better not borrow the Spyder from my buddy to take you for a spin.”  

I realized that I had to open my eyes, sometimes the GPS would go screwy and bypass my house’s turnoff.  My house was just a far off the beaten path as his, only on the opposite side of town.  I heard him let out a little gasp of surprise when he made the turn and my house came into sight.  Far back from the road, looking like it was a part of the side of the hill, all glass and browns, and this was only the front.  Once he pulled around to the garage, he’d be able to see the guest house, a spacious apartment above the three car garage, but the other amenities were interior.  

“Ani?”  He shot a look at me once the truck was parked outside the garage.  “Kelsey said you taught at her school.”  

I nodded and gave a shrug.  “If I’m in town for more than a month, the university asks me to cover one of their creative writing courses.”  I was about to open my door and hop down, when his hand on my wrist stopped me.  Oh, I had to explain outside, fun.  “Anilea Ampstead.”  I watched as his mind tried to figure out how or from where he knew my name.  “The Greek Acropolis series?”  

JD’s eyes widened again.  “That’s you?”  

“That’s me.”  I reached for the door again, but he stopped me again.  “I know that I said I couldn’t go home until I had a chainsaw and a cleaning crew, JD, but seriously, I’d like a shower.”  In my fucking decadent shower.

He laughed and shook his head.  “Just hang tight for a moment, would you?”  And then he was out of the truck and opening the passenger door for me, holding out his hand so he could help me down.  “Your ex was a winner, wasn’t he?”  Another shake of his head, and he smiled down at me as he shut the door behind me.  “You still don’t have your car, Ani.”

“I can call for a ride,” I led the way to my house, happy that he was following behind.  Using the bio-metric lock, I added resetting and erasing Roger’s identity from the system.  Asshole. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”  

JD didn’t fawn.  He didn’t froth at the mouth at the obvious signs of my success.  The indoor pool.  The sauna.  Hot tub.  I showed him where Kelsey lived when she wasn’t at her mom’s or visiting him.  

“Didn’t you say you needed a shower?”  He asked, and I shook my head.  “I haven’t seen the whole house, your room, the infamous dining room table-”

I couldn’t decide if he was teasing or flirting, but I figured what the hell.  We walked across the entire house, me pointing out the massive dining room table that looked like a huge redwood sliced with the rings stained to a high shine, and the base like twisted limbs.  The chairs, also patterned as though they were fresh from a forest, were well padded and comfortable.  

“Seems like a shame to take a chainsaw to it,”  JD’s eyes drinking in the rustic beauty of it.  “Maybe just have it re-sanded and stained in a new color?”  

“I’ll think about it.”  I realized that while he wasn’t impressed with the opulence, he was fascinated by the decor.  It was well made, and rustic, while also showing well used wealth.  

“This doesn’t really look like a-” he stopped, taking in the color schemes dark browns, tans, hints of gold.  Soft suede sofas and chairs, gorgeous, but also comfortable.  

I smirked.  Everyone who got a tour of my house said nearly the same thing.  “Like a lady’s house?”  I put a sneer into the word ‘lady’.  “Yeah, well I want comfort, without fear of dropping a glass of wine or a glass of scotch on the carpet.”

He followed me down the hallway, and I pointed out the guest rooms that were on the corners of the house.  “Back here,” I offered over my shoulder, “are my rooms.”  

“Isn’t the whole damn house made up of your ‘rooms’?”  He growled, and I smiled.  

“Yes, but company gets to visit the rest of my rooms, only special people get invited back here.”  I shut my eyes at the implication of my words, but sailed on.  I pressed a button, also print based, and a hidden pocket door slid open.  “I like to keep something a bit of a mystery.”

“Maybe I should go?”  He offered, but I just looked over my shoulder.

“What’s wrong, JD?  Scared?”  And I stepped across the threshold daring him to follow.

[gsgaragedoors1]

Garage Door Installation

A Functioning garage door could be just a vital part of life. The timing of which it breaks makes it not possible to resolve the issue straight away. You may have to make unique strategies to get to where you are going and handle the problem after.

It's then that you have to contact professionals who focus on the repair and replacement of garage doors Perth. Garage doors may perhaps look as though they are simple to fix and operate, but the particular reverse could be the circumstance. They feature complex electric and hydraulic systems which can be linked in ways that just a person with deep wisdom and comprehension will be able to comprehend.

If your garage door gets malfunctioned, you need to call out a professional that may come out immediately and diagnose the issue, give you a repair estimate, and get to work straight away on solving the matter. This really is the sole means to spare you from further trouble and hassle.

You may be enticed to fix the door. This is a lousy idea. Your good intentions can lead to devastating consequences. You may make the issue worse. There is also security to think about. Garage doors are thick and strong. You do not need to place yourself in the position of getting any of your own body parts crushed or hurt. You should take precautions against this type of thing by getting in touch with those with the expertise and the equipment to carry out the repair.

The issue could be easily resolved. If that's true, then the people that you callout are likely to be in a position to conduct the repair and sort it in very little time. A substantial problem may require replacement. This really is really a much more involved job which will surely cost you more money. But it's going to go simpler if you put this at the hands of a person who knows what they're doing.

It's crucial to understand that not all garage repair companies are the exact same. They don't adhere to the exact same calibre of quality, value, service, and excellence. The organization which you use has to have a record and reputation for providing exceptional advantages and outstanding support. Cost is also important. Though spending money to receive your garage door fully functional again is just a worthy investment, so you should not need to cover excessive fees.

The company you use needs to deliver its promises. You have to work with a company that is willing to survive alone by its brand and what it states it may deliver. Obtaining your garage door functioning again should not be that tough and baffling. It is not going to be should you work with the right women and men.

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[garagedoorrepairsny]

For the best garage door opener inspection services in Long Island NY, don't go look beyond Long Island Garage Doors Repair & Services. 

We are one of the leading garage door service companies in Nassau County & Suffolk County and specialize in fixing any problem of the functioning of the garage door opener.

[longislandgaragedoorservice]