#Windshield Scratches Repair

[autoglassoutlet]

Windshield Scratches Repair & Replacement in Hyattsville, MD

Here at Auto Glass Outlet, we strive to provide the best Windshield Scratches Repair & Replacement services in Maryland.

[jtautoglassrepair]

JT Auto Glass Repair Professional Reliable Trusted

JT Auto Glass Repair represents a brand built on trust, efficiency, and professional auto glass solutions. The new brand identity reflects the company’s core values fast response, reliable repairs, and complete customer satisfaction.

Visit Our Website: https://jtautoglassrepair.com

[autoglassrepairtampafl-1]

Clearwater’s beautiful coastal location comes with its own set of challenges for windshields. From sea breeze to occasional storms, local drivers encounter unique conditions that may lead to windshield damage.

Signs You Need Windshield Replacement:

Spotting the signs of windshield damage is key to addressing issues promptly. Whether it’s a small chip or a noticeable crack, Expert Auto Glass Repair understands the urgency of maintaining a clear line of sight on Clearwater’s roads.

Why Choose Expert Auto Glass Repair:

When it comes to windshield replacement in Clearwater, FL, choosing the right service provider is paramount. Expert Auto Glass Repair Tampa FL stands out for several compelling reasons:

Expertise and Experience: With years of experience in the auto glass industry, Expert Auto Glass Repair Tampa FL boasts a team of skilled and certified technicians.

Commitment to Quality: Using premium materials is our first priority, and we follow industry best practises. Our first priority is keeping you safe while driving throughout Clearwater, and we promise that the new windscreens will either meet or surpass safety regulations.

Timely and Efficient Service: At Expert Auto Glass Repair, we understand the urgency of windshield replacement. Our team works efficiently to minimize downtime for our customers, providing prompt service without compromising on quality.

State-of-the-Art Facilities: Equipped with modern tools and facilities, Expert Auto Glass Repair can handle a variety of windshield replacement needs. Whether it’s a small chip or a full windshield replacement, our advanced facilities ensure a seamless and professional service.

Transparent Pricing: We believe in transparency when it comes to pricing. Our customers receive clear and detailed quotes, eliminating surprises or hidden fees. ExpertAuto Glass Repair is committed to providing cost-effective solutions without compromising on quality.

Insurance Assistance: Navigating insurance claims for windshield replacement can be a complex process. Our team at Expert Auto Glass Repair is experienced in working with insurance companies and can assist you throughout the claims process, making it as smooth as possible for you.

Customer Satisfaction: Our commitment to customer satisfaction sets us apart. We take pride in our positive reviews and feedback from satisfied customers in Clearwater, FL. At Expert Auto Glass Repair, we strive to not only meet but exceed your expectations.

Cost Transparency and Insurance Assistance:

Expert Auto Glass Repair believes in transparent pricing and assists customers with insurance claims for windshield replacement. Break down the factors influencing costs and how the company helps make the process hassle-free.

In Clearwater, where the sun meets the surf, ensuring a crystal-clear windshield is not just a matter of aesthetics but of safety. Expert Auto Glass Repair stands as your dedicated partner for windshield replacement, offering expertise, reliability, and a commitment to excellence that Clearwater drivers can trust.

For a prompt and professional windshield replacement service in Clearwater, FL, visit Expert Auto Glass Repair or contact us today.

[natautobrampton]

Fix Your Scratched Windshield in Brampton With Ease!

Scratched windshield ruining your ride? 🚙 Don’t worry! At National Auto Glass in Brampton, we offer quick, reliable windshield repair in Brampton. If you need to repair scratches on your windshield, we’ve got you covered! Whether it’s a light scratch or deeper damage, we can help restore your glass. For minor scratches, DIY fixes may work, but for more severe issues, our experts are ready to ensure your windshield is safe and clear. Get your repair done today!

[professionalautoglassservice]

7 Common Misconceptions About Windshield Scratch Repair

In conclusion, debunking these common misconceptions sheds light on the importance of seeking professional windshield scratch repair services.

[diamondcertified]

Why Do You Need Auto Painting and Repairs?

Car detailing jobs are very comprehensive, so it can be difficult to know how to choose the right look. Continue reading to learn more.

For most people, when we decide to buy a new car, the first thing we’re attracted to is the look and design. These things are elevated by the color of the car, which makes it stand out among the crowd of similar vehicles.  

But when it comes to keeping your car’s color intact, repairs and maintenance go a long way. That’s why paintless dent repair  is one of the important things you can do to protect the color of your car.

Minor paint damage tends to be an aesthetic concern , but your car’s paint also serves an important role in preserving your vehicle's value. Here’s why:

Prevents corrosion

Prevents structural problems

Aesthetics

There are two types of paint: solvent paint and water-based paint. Each carries different properties—solvent paint includes volatile organic compounds (VOCs), which are harmful for the environment; while water-based paint has gained in popularity due to its non-harmful effect on the environment. This has led it to be the first preference in many automotive paint shops.

The auto painting process can be divided into three stages:

 Primer Application

Primer has a lot of responsibilities , as it protects the body from things like rust, stone chips, UV light and heat differences. It also helps level the surface of the body and plays an important role in overcoming manufacturing defects.

Base Coat Spraying

Base coat is applied after primer application. At this stage, the visual elements come into being. Base coats include solid, metallic and pearlescent, each of which has unique properties.

Clear Coat Spraying

This is the final stage. After the painting process is complete, the transparent coating is added to the base coat. This is a crucial step, as after this stage, the vehicle comes in direct contact with the outside and is set to resist abrasion and withstand UV light. 

Collision repairs bring your vehicle back to its pre-accident condition and get you back on the road. 

The best auto body estimates can get your car back in its original state and accentuate its appearance. In many cases, delaying necessary repairs can lead to serious problems with your vehicle. Auto body repair technicians are trained to replace shock absorbers along with the auto glass replacement job.

Here are a few reasons why you need auto body repairs.

State inspections clearance

Improve resale value

Paint over blemishes

Escape higher repair costs in the future

Sort out hidden damage

Insurance

To keep the visual appearance of your car intact, frame straightening goes a long way. 

Whenever a car accident takes place, don’t delay in taking it to a reputable collision repair center. Here are a few reasons:

A professional can identify the issue quickly.

Quick repairs can prevent further accidents.

You can get back on the road quickly. 

Auto body repairs are essential. Fortunately, experienced technicians can help you with everything from car scratch repair and car dent removal to windshield repair.  

[spnbabe67]

Knee Deep In The Passenger Seat

Kinktober Day 1: Road Head (D.W)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Oral (M. Receiving), slight mentions of blood, face fucking, hair gripping?, perilous situation?

Summary: What does one do when they have a free afternoon? Tori and Dean go driving. What happens when ones love language is acts of (sexual) service.

Word Count: 1510

It was rare to have a day like this. Tori couldn't remember the last time she and Dean had an afternoon that wasn't preoccupied with lore research, various repairs to the Bunker or assisting other hunters on cases ranging from basic salt and burns to exterminating whole nests of vamps. The stars had finally aligned and for the first time in a while, Tori and Dean found their afternoon wide open for leisure. So when Dean showed up at her doorway with Baby’s keys dangling from his fingers, Tori couldn't get up from her desk fast enough.

Tori had lost track of how long she and Dean had been cruising the open backroads. The only break in miles and miles of gold fields was the occasional cars. She'd fallen asleep sprawled across the front seat around the 2 hour mark, head lolled back against the windowsill, lower legs draped across Dean's thighs. 

That was where she woke some amount of time later, the leather of the seat creaking as she stretched awake. Tori felt Dean's warm hand squeeze her calf, running his calloused palms up and down her shins. She shot him a sleepy grin reaching her arms up and out the window in a languid movement.

It was an unusually chilly early fall day, so the crisp wind whipped through the car, teasing goosebumps across Tori's bare arms. Her legs were kept warm enough via her jeans and the residual heat from Dean's legs and hands, but she'd opted to wear a cutoff tank in lieu of Dean's suggestion for a sweater. Sure she was a little on the cold side, but her pride wouldn't let her accept the jacket he'd offered her on multiple occasions. 

Tori blinked sleepily at her lover, admiring the way the golden glow of the midafternoon sun clung to every topographic feature of his face, how it crested over the bridge of his nose, stippling across his 5 o’clock shadow. The wind had swept his brown locks in a way that Tori knew would feel positively divine were she to reach up and run her fingers through it like she so desperately wanted to. 

“Sleep well, my love?” God, even his voice was sexy.

Tori hummed a noncommittal answer, not bothering to hide the way her eyes dragged over Dean’s form, even when he looked over at her.

“What?” Dean laughed, eyes flashing between Tori and the road before him. 

“Nothin’” Tori grinned cheekily, ignoring the loss of warmth as she pulled her legs from Dean’s lap and under herself instead to sit cross-legged next to him. “I can't admire my sexy ass boyfriend?”

Dean laughed sheepishly and Tori watched the telltale rosy hue stain his cheekbones. “I didn’t say that.”

Tori carded her fingers through his hair, letting her nails gently scratch his scalp, the strands extra fluffy from his shower that morning. Dean’s hum of contentedness reached her ears and Tori felt the rush of satisfaction at pleasing her lover. Speaking of which… Tori glanced sidelong out the windshield seeing nothing but open road, a devious idea flooding her brain. With a smirk, Tori leaned forward, pressing an open mouthed kiss to Dean's neck, her hand in his hair continuing its movements.  

Tori felt Dean go stiff and liquid all at once, hearing the creak of the leather as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Tor,” Dean began, her name half warning half moan. “Whatcha doin babe.”

Tori didn’t deign to reply, simply smiling against his neck as she kissed the spot beneath his ear, her lips trailing south. Her teeth nipped at his pulsepoint, sucking a dark mark against his tan skin. Somewhere along the way Dean had tipped his head to the side, providing her better access. Tori let her free hand that had been resting on Dean’s chest wander down, feeling the soft skin that laid taut over the muscles of his torso until she arrived at the button of his jeans. That was when Dean’s hand shot to hers, encompassing her wrist and hindering any further movement. 

“Tori.” Dean scolded her half convincingly, his voice breathy, chest rising and falling shallowly. 

“Do you trust me?” Tori whispered into his ear, lips caressing the shell as she shook off his grasp. “‘Cause I trust you.”

Dean didn’t make any further moves to stop her as Tori expertly undid the button of his jeans, sliding her hand between the fabric and his feverish skin. Dean’s gasp as Tori’s hand wrapped around his length shot heat directly to her core. He was already half hard beneath her grasp as she ran her hand up and down his length before pulling him free from his boxers. Tori spared a glance upward as she shimmied herself backwards, bracing one knee on the footwell, the other stretched out under her as she lay on her stomach. His eyes were laser focused on the road, his hands locked in death grips on the wheel. His bottom lip was raw from the abuse of his teeth gnawing on it, likewise his cheeks were flushed pink. 

Tori felt the car swerve sharply as her tongue made contact with the swollen red tip of Dean’s cock. She knew it was mean to torture him, kitten licking at the top of his dick, the tang of precum soaking into her tongue. Dean made a desperate sound at the back of his throat as Tori’s hand lazily pumped up and down his shaft as her tongue worked the head of his cock, dipping into the slit at the apex and tracing every contour. His hand shot to the back of her head, fisting in her hair as without warning Tori let his cock slide along her tongue and into her mouth. 

Expletives spewed from her lover's mouth in the form of a guttural moan as her mouth engulfed his cock, feeling the fat head of it nudge the back of her throat. Dean’s grip in her hair loosened, rubbing the back of her head in small circles, a silent apology for his accidental roughness. Tori languidly bobbed her head up and down on his length, utilizing her hand slick with her spit for whatever her mouth couldn’t quite take in. Tori could feel her own arousal soak into her underwear, her clit throbbing almost in time to the grunts and groans slipping past Dean’s lips. Tori gagged slightly as Dean's hips snapped up slightly, chasing her mouth wrapped around him. She blinked back tears, her free hand digging into his thigh to steady herself. She half wondered if she could cum just like this, with her lover's cock shoved down her throat, his big hand tangled in her hair guiding her head up and down; it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten off pleasing Dean.

Dean’s hips thrusted up to meet her as she willed her throat to relax, gradually taking almost all of him past her lips. Tori couldn’t help but moan as Dean gave a particularly harsh tug on her hair, sending vibrations down his shaft that had him uttering a low moan. Every so often the car would snap back to center, shifting Tori ever so slightly. Just as Tori felt her jaw start to become sore, the steady rhythm of Dean’s thrusts into her mouth stuttered, his rhythm becoming sloppy, his hand more forceful on the back of her head. Tori let him fuck her face, feeling tears slip down her cheeks as she resisted the urge to gag against his cock bumping against the back of her throat.

Dean’s hips stuttered violently as he came with a ragged moan down her throat. Tori tried to swallow all his spend but some frothed out the side of her mouth as she pulled off of him. She went to wipe the residual cum off her face but before she could Dean’s hand still tangled in her hair guided her back up, slamming her lips to his own. Tori barely registered Dean driving the Impala off to the side of the road, slamming Baby into park before hauling her into his lap. His tongue assaulted her mouth, tasting himself on her tongue. His hands massaged her hips through her jeans, kissing her harshly like he had wanted to since she started on his neck. 

He pulled back only on the lack of oxygen, both of them breathing heavily. Dean reached up caressing Tori’s cheek as he gazed at her, a soft look etched across his face. Tori’s eyes scanned his face, her own hand coming up to cup his jaw, thumb dragging across his lower lip where he’d dug his teeth in hard enough to draw blood. “What?”

“Nothin’,” Dean smiled at her tipping his head into her hand, his grip on her waist holding her to him. “I can’t admire my sexy ass girlfriend.”

Tori giggled at his words mimicking hers, leaning in to kiss the wound on his lip. “I love you.” She murmured into his mouth. Dean’s answering kiss was all she needed.

[bonebrokebuddy]

@kodedgeekthings eyo you mentioned wanting a dpxdc prompt for Howard, Batman’s mechanic!

Harold misses fixing toys for kids and in his off hours has taken up the habit of answering questions on forums about machining, electrical, engineering, mechanics, and mechanical design that are often frequented by students.

One day, he comes across a request by a college student who is trying to assemble his own car out of scrap he bought from a local wrecking yard.

Ghostly_Boy states that he has previous experience in machining and can make replacements for broken or too-damaged parts if need be, but he doesn’t know where to start and what specific requirements he needs to reach to ensure it’s street legal.

Harold willing to help, he answers a few of Ghostly Boy’s clarifying questions:

- Great questions!

It’s good to note that if you’re not careful, fixing or making your own car from parts can be a moneysink and can cost you more than a brand new vehicle. - That being said, your first major step to ensuring you can drive the car is to get the title of the body/frame of the car you plan to build. It’ll have the VIN on a plate welded to the frame usually near the lower edge of the windshield wipers on the drivers side. It’s how the DMV identifies vehicles for licensing.

- Generally, you’ll at first get a “wreck out” title that shows the vehicle is listed as a total loss, but if you can assemble the parts for the car with that frame, the DMV can check if it’s properly running and road worthy & license for you to use it on public roads if you’ve done the proper paperwork.

- Once that is done, it’s largely a case of getting the right parts and assembling them. Depending on how much you have to repair, you could be taking on a task that could give a challenge to even a seasoned mechanic. There may be additional paperwork depending on what exactly you need to repair, like the breaks, lights, steering, etc.

- If you want to build the car entirely from scratch, chassis and all, that’s an entirely different story with a much more complicated list of requirements to make it street legal, so getting a frame from a junkyard is a great first step!

- Make sure to keep all bills of sale, junkyard receipts, invoices and manufacturers’ certificates on any major parts you used in building the vehicle to prove its road worthy to the DMV when it’s complete!

Harold doesn’t always answer first but over time he’s found the adventures of this kid amusing and keeps up with it.

Ghostly_Boy keeps the forum updated with his progress:

The kid spontaneously deciding to scrap the wiring system and make his own in a span of 3 days, leaving experienced mechanics on the forum practically screaming at the kid for his updates showing him using random wires he salvaged and pigtailing them together to get the length of wire he needed.

Mixing not only multiple types of wires but ones that didn’t have the protection needed for auto use. DIY-ing his own relay and fuses he didn’t have and connecting the wrong grounds and switches. And planning on leaving the wires unwrapped and loose.

Leaving Ghost to promptly redo the wiring, correctly this time, within 78 hours.

Making a repair of a massive rusted hole on the passenger side by the bumper and the front tire via cutting 1/2in past the rust, grinding it pretty and clean, tac & seam welding the vintage aluminum housing material of a toaster to cover the hole to the response of Harold and many others in the forum just going “… I guess that would work?”

Harold and many others telling the kid that this “ectoplasm” material wasn’t cleared through the EPA’s Clear Air Act and could be illegal to drive with it as it’s fuel source unless he got the emissions tested & the center of gravity of the car adjusted to have the center of gravity a gas car has, it wouldn’t pass Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards. Nor would the previously untested on material make it easy or quick to get an Emissions testing certificate. Best to just stick with gas.

Removing what he thought was a “skid plate” that turned out to be another rusted out section on the frame on the bottom of his car and repairing it with steel he salvaged from an old medical table he had laying around. (To the multiple slightly confused commenters asking how Ghost had a spare medical table, he replied, “eh, my folks visit every so often and they’ve been giving me things they’re clearing out of the house so they can move closer to my older sister. I just so happened to get the ye olde medical table. They’re an odd couple of folks but that’s why I love them.”)

People just crying at the kid to go to rockauto.com and just buy the damn parts he needs for his car. (A good resource btw)

The kid kept cutting corners to save cash but through the badgering of Harold and many others that he actually would have to spend money to make this car be safe to drive in, he finally got it completed.

Ghost’s post of him leaving DMV waving the updated title to the car in its envelope in the air, titled, “THE DMV FINALLY SAID IT WASN’T A FIRE HAZARD! ONLY TOOK 2 YEARS! THANKS EVERYONE!” Got the most amount of responses he’d ever had with congratulations from lurkers and previous commenters.

Over the course of those two years, Danny learned how to draw his own wiring diagrams, properly solder and weld, and learning to actually plan out his projects so he got it right at least the fifth time instead of the 20th. Not bad for a kid that went straight from graduating high school with a 1.5GPA to construction jobs.

But after finally getting the car approved, Ghostly_Boy returns to the forum with a new problem. Lamenting that his parents keep coming over and “modifying” his car to no longer make it street legal.

At this point, about half of the answers to the submission think it’s either a joke project taken very, very seriously with a good chunk of money behind it, or a kid with parents that have narrowly avoided falling completely down the mad scientist rogue rabbit hole.

After all, what sort of parent would think that the DMV would approve to “anti-ghost missiles” being attached to the outer body of the car? Either way, the submissions always had video attached showing a demonstration, proving that Ghost wasn’t just completely yanking their chain. And a good amount of money would have to be sunken in to not only pay for the fines Ghostly continued to get from the additions to his car, but to actually manufacture and make a unique working product for each plea for help request.

Harold is not only taking notes on some of these defense measures but also decides to bring up the boy to Alfred. Intrigued, they together keep an eye on Ghostly_Boy. Bruce may be their employer, but they can handle a case or two on their own.

- I wanted Danny to try to make smth for himself now that he doesn’t have access to his parent’s lab anymore but he also doesn’t have access to ectoplasm so he’s fairly unfamiliar how to wire things Not for ectoplasmic standards.

Also I wanted to make a prompt where Danny had a good relationship with his parents & went into a fairly realistic job after high school with his fairly bad GPA so he’s saving up for a technical school via construction jobs as he doesn’t like the idea of working fast food for understandable reasons.

[no-stupid-questions-official]

If you get scratches in your car windshield, is replacing the whole windshield really the only option?

My car has some scratches in its windshield that aren't super deep and don't go all the way through the glass, but are deep enough you can see them and feel them if you run your finger over the glass on the side that they're on. All of the repair places I've been to have said they'd need to replace the whole windshield, and have told me it would be hundreds of dollars to do it. However, that's a lot of money for me and it seems kinda extreme to replace the whole windshield because of some scratches that don't even go all the way through. I don't know much about cars, but I've heard that car repair places will often quote ridiculously expensive prices for relatively cheap and easy repairs to take advantage of people who don't know much about cars. So I want to make sure that I'm not being taken advantage of/scammed here. I think they're probably being honest and I will need to replace it, but it's a lot of money so I'd like to make sure first 😅

-

[ajqwrites]

COD: Modern Warfare Reboot (Under Siege - Book 1)

John drove at ease while his hand tightened on the steering wheel. The leather creaked under the pressure of his grip as the morning sunlight filtered through the windshield, highlighting the tight line of his jaw and his face as his narrowed eyes focused on the road.

Her words about her mother—how she worked in intelligence, always busy with military operatives and classified cases. It had seemed vague, but now it made sense on what her mother does for a living.

Kate Laswell.

Her mother.

The girl he was falling for was the daughter of his superior.

He tightened his grip as his nose scrunched.

Fucking hell.

The base came into view, its slate-gray structure rising from the trees like a fortress cut from stone—remote, contained, and heavily secured. But this wasn't any military compound.

This was the 141 base.

Tucked deep within the bounds of a larger British military facility outside London, the building stood apart—isolated behind an additional layer of fencing, surveillance, and coded entry. Way behind was the woods that was meant for training or hunting purpose, twenty minutes away from the base to Simon and Gabby's house. No other forces step their foot here. Just him and his team.

John slowed only to swipe his clearance badge at the outer gate.

The reinforced steel doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, and he drove through, watching the world outside slip away behind thick, electric fencing. He parked just outside the main structure and stepped out. Even from the lot, you could tell this place wasn't standard issue.

To the right of his SUV sat Soap's old truck—a beat-up, blue-green 1975 Chevrolet C/K, still caked in dried mud from god-knows-what backroad in Scotland. The body had dents that looked like they'd been earned, not repaired. It ran loud and stubborn—just like him.

Next to it was his daughter, Cam's bright yellow Jeep Wrangler Sport, doors removed like she preferred. There were claw marks scratched across the paint from a training mishap in the woods last spring—she'd left them on purpose.

On the other side of the lot, Gaz's car stood sleek and clean—a matte gray Aston Martin DBX707, understated but sharp, polished like the man himself. Tactical, quiet, fast. The kind of car that looked like it could disappear in a second and leave no trace. Practical luxury—exactly what Kyle would choose.

And then there was Gabby's beast—a towering black Dodge Ram 2500 Big Horn Off-Road, tires thick as tree trunks, hood bug-splattered from long, late-night drives between recon stops and home. The windows were tinted dark, the bumper reinforced. It looked like it could survive a landmine—and knowing Gabby, she tested that theory. He'll assume that Simon's motor vehicle wasn't here. So, he must have tagged along with Gabby.

Heading towards the building, it looked more like a retrofitted warehouse from the outside—long, high-ceilinged, no windows facing the front. But inside, every inch was hand-picked and designed with care, meant for Task Force 141 alone. The ground floor was meant for a massive hangar, built large enough to house two fighter jets, a helicopter, a C-130, and space for several ground vehicles. Tool chests, crates, and racks lined the walls, every piece of equipment labeled and locked in tight rows. Making the air inside to be cool, metallic, and still.

At the back corner of the hangar sat a small steel-paneled office, plain at first glance. But inside, behind a hidden biometric panel, was his classified mission room and his office—his main room. The room was soundproof, lined with encrypted servers, stacked with files, maps, and black ops case logs no one else had clearance to see. Only he held the key, including Simon, Soap, and Gabby.

Just right of that office was a windowless interrogation room, where they had dealt with Rich and Harkin last time. It was stuffy but it has purpose to make it look like an interrogation room like crime drama shows would set the mood as one.

To the left, a metal staircase led upward to the second floor.

At the top were two heavy doors: one marked only with a sticker that read "Keep Ear Protection On", leading to the shooting range, lined with soundproof walls and reinforced floors.

The second door opened into the gym/training room, fitted with everything from weight benches and sparring mats to a caged ring where they ran drills or settled grudges in silence.

Back downstairs, a side door from the hangar led directly into the living quarters—starting with a hangout lounge. The space was comfortably cluttered: a worn leather couch, mismatched chairs, a wall-mounted screen, and a corner shelf stacked with half-read books and beat-up decks of cards.

A speaker hummed low in the background, often forgotten but always playing.

There was even a hint of dog toys strewn around since their 141-guard dog, Jasper, is Simon's pet. But, Jasper is still a pet to the 141. Meant to be treated as a guard dog and K-9 type to sniff and snuff out insurgents.

Which, John like about Jasper. He can love and bite at the same time.

His two bowls were empty and needed to be cleaned anyways.

Beside the lounge, an open kitchen stood stocked. Nothing fancy—just enough for a team always running on caffeine and food to survive. The fridge was filled with energy drinks and leftover food that Cam, Gaz, and Gabby usually cook or bring some from their homes.

A narrow hallway beside the kitchen branched off to ten small bedrooms—five on each side—each room uniform in size but personalized with minimal touches: old posters, spare uniforms, and boots lined in straight rows.

At the very end was the laundry room.

Off the kitchen, a small conference room used for non-classified mission prep, quick huddles, or the occasional argument over intel. It had a whiteboard stained from dry-erase markers and a tactical digital table at the center, its screen blank for now. Beyond the back doors, a stretch of woodland forest bordered the base—dense and wild. The team often used it for training and stealth drills, where the crunch of leaves under boots was the only sound, and they learned to move like shadows.

Everything here was designed for a living and going to war. No one came in without his say. No one stayed unless they earned it. And today, he was walking into his den of his own making.

Exhaling slowly, he opened the door and entered the debriefing room—the team was already gathered around the long table that doubled as both mission hub and war room.

Soap leaned casually against the edge, arms folded across his chest, wearing his usual off-duty look: a faded hoodie, dark jeans, and scuffed boots. His hair was slightly mussed, like he'd either just rolled out of bed or finished a quick workout—probably both.

Gabby sat at the far end, one leg hooked over the other, fingers flying over her laptop keyboard as she was typing. She wore a black leather jacket layered over a faded maroon tee, jeans, and black combat boots laced tight to her calves. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, though she spared a glance upward when John entered.

Cam was perched on the arm of the couch near the wall, twirling her red hair between her fingers. Her yellow hoodie contrasted with the dark tones of the room, sleeves shoved up past her elbows, jeans ripped at the knees with vanguard shoes. She didn't say a word—just watched her father stepped in.

Gaz sat on a chair nearby with his arms crossed. He wore his usual grey hoodie with matching sweatpants and nike black and white shoes. His sharp gaze flicked up as soon as the door opened.

"Good night, boss?" Gaz asked with a subtle smirk.

John paused at the entrance, letting the door close behind him with a soft click. He looked down briefly at himself—still in the dark navy shirt and pants from last night, though now clean and freshly groomed.

"Didn't know I had to dress for you lot," he said dryly.

Gaz gave a low chuckle. "Just sayin', you've got that morning-glow on you."

Soap grinned, already amused. "Aye, I noticed that too."

His eyes narrowed at both of them. "Don't start."

Soap raised his hands. "What? Can't a man point out when his captain looks shagged out?"

"Johnny, I'm right here." Cam frowned.

Gabby snorted under her breath but didn't stop typing.

"You leave the base doors unlocked again?" John leveled his look at Soap sharp enough to skin a man.

"Technically, they weren't locked after training yesterday."

"Technically," John echoed, biting the word off. "This isn't a youth hostel. Lock. The. Fucking. Doors."

"Alright, alright," Soap said, backing off with his eyes rolled. "Don't have to be stormin' in like a bloody thundercloud this morning."

"Yeah? Try waking up to find out your superior is the mother of the girl you've—" John caught himself and exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Never mind."

Simon, seated in the corner with his hood up and stern glance, spoke, "Reckon that's one hell of a debrief to walk into."

John didn't respond right away. His jaw flexed, eyes icy as they flicked between Cam and Gabby.

"For the record," Gabby said without glancing up, still typing. "I didn't know either. Not until Kate showed me Charlie's file. And yeah, she is beyond pissed."

"She's en route now," Cam said, voice soft but direct. "Should be here any minute."

John rubbed his face before dragging a hand down his face. "Brilliant."

"So, uh... you gonna tell her?" Soap asked, almost nervous.

"I'm going to tell her exactly what she needs to hear," John said it straight and frowned. "And nothing more."

Silence fell over the room for a beat—until Gaz turned toward the kitchenette and grabbed the coffee pot.

"You want morning shot, Captain?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Black. Strong. Don't water it down." John answered straight.

“Yes, sir.”

As Gaz poured, John stepped closer to the table, eyes scanning the scattered files, satellite photos, and mission notes. His shoulders were tense, jaw tight.

"Alright," he said finally, voice dropping back into command mode. "Let's start with what we know. And someone brief me before Kate walks through those doors swinging a bloody axe."

Gabby finally looked up from her laptop, eyes serious. "Then let's make it count."

***

Every detail of the plan ran through his head like a well-rehearsed script. The intel they had gathered over the past few weeks had finally come together, and in a couple of days, they would execute the plan.

Gabby hovered near the map with him, her sharp eyes scanning the details. They had been collecting bits and pieces of information from various sources until they had enough to break Zakhorov's arms deal network wide open. The plan was set for a night op when Zakhorov's men would least expect it. They would hit the shipment channels hard, severing the lines and keeping his operation running. It was risky, but it was the kind of risk John was used to taking.

Up to his second cup of coffee, his fingers traced a path along the map. His eyes narrowed as he went over the key points of the operation once more. The locations of the warehouses where Zakhorov's shipments were being stored.

Everything was marked with accuracy in the docks where the arms were loaded. It was meant to hit the right places at the right time to disrupt the entire network without tipping Zakhorov off too early.

"We've got everything in place," Gabby said. "Our contacts in Prague confirmed the shipment is set to move in two days. If we hit them now, his whole operation crumbles."

"What about the docks? Have we got eyes on them?" Gaz asked.

"Simon will take care of that. He's got overwatch on the docks, and our contact there will keep us updated if anything changes," Gabby explained.

John nodded, his gaze flickering over to where Soap and Simon were reviewing the final details of the mission. He trusted his team implicitly—each knew their role and what needed to be done.

They'd done this before, too many times to count. But this mission was more at stake, not just for them, but for their home. Their country. And Charlie.

The thought of her being oblivious to the danger made his heart clenched. He hadn't told her what he would do—not because he didn't trust her, but because he didn't want her to know and worry about him. She had enough on her plate, with her thesis, school, day job, and normal life to live. And as long as he kept her out of it, she would be safe. But John couldn't deny that part of him was conflicted.

She had slipped into his life, and now, she was rooted in his heart (and his mind) in ways he hadn't expected. And while he knew how to control his emotions.

He couldn't ignore the nagging thought at the back of his mind: What if it goes wrong?

Biting his inside of his cheek, John breathed out his nose. Gabby could sense the tension in him. Her eyes softened as she studied him.

"It's going to be fine, John. No mistakes."

His eyes moved to hers. He gave her a curt nod.

As if on cue, Soap wandered over, and he glanced down at the map. "So, Cap'n, you think we'll finish this in one smooth strike? Or you think Zakharov's gonna throw us a curveball?"

"Zakharov's smart. He'll have contingencies in place. But we'll be ready." John said without looking at Soap.

Soap crossed his arms. "Aye, that's what I like to hear. We'll hit 'em hard and fast; by the time they know what's happened, we'll be long gone."

John nodded and turned to face the rest.

"Listen up, this isn't about taking out the shipment channels. Zakharov's network stretches far beyond this, and if we do this right, we'll cripple his operations. But we need to be smart. We hit them before they know we were there."

Simon nodded and continued. "We'll need to keep eyes on the ground even after the strike. Zakharov's got too many allies for us to assume it'll end well."

John nodded in agreement, his eyes flickering back to the map one last time. "As soon as Laswell gives us a green light."

"Dad, she's here," Cam called out after she put her phone away.

They heard the door knock and Kate Laswell stepped in. She wore her tailored navy blazer over a cream blouse, dark trousers, and ankle boots. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, not a strand out of place. Her presence could make the seasoned operatives stand at attention. Her sharp blue eyes scanned where the group was with a calculating gaze as her heels clicking against the concrete floor as she entered. Her expression was neutral, but there was a sternness in her demeanor that wasn't lost on anyone.

"Morning," she said curtly, her gaze swept over the group. Her eyes lingered on John for a fraction longer before she turned her attention to Gabby, who stood closest to the table. "I trust everyone's been briefed?"

"Yes, ma'am," Gabby said, her tone respectful but tinged with unease.

Soap, sensing the tension, shifted uncomfortably. Gaz offered a small nod in greeting, his usual humor subdued.

Cam looked away and tried to act normal by being casual.

Then, Laswell landed back on John. Her eyes studied his outfit and she frowned.

"John," she said sternly.

"Laswell," he replied, crossing his arms. Though the sharpness in his tone hadn't softened.

There was a brief silence as the two stared at each other. The air between them was taut with unspoken words. The rest of the team exchanged glances, sensing that this was more than just debriefing.

"Before we get into the details, I want to make clear to all of you," she said in her cool and even tone. "I did not expect my daughter becoming involved in this operation—let alone tangled up with one of mine."

John didn't flinch, but his jaw tightened.

"She was never meant to be a part of this," Laswell added, voice lowering just slightly. "Yet here we are."

Her eyes stayed forward, trained on them all. "Charlie isn't built for this. I've spent my whole life trying to keep her sheltered from my world." Then her gaze cut to John. "Until now."

John met her stare without blinking.

Then Laswell landed her on him. "Starting with you Soap."

Soap straightened instinctively, caught off guard. "Ma'am?"

Her gaze narrowed. "You're the one who set him up, right?"

"Uh... yeah, technically—"

"Don't 'technically' me," Laswell cut him off. "You thought it'd be funny?"

"I was just trying to get him out of his cave, y'know?” Soap shifted, scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't expect it to go this far. And I swear, Laswell. I didn't know Charlie was related."

"Well, now you know," Laswell snapped. "You lit the fuse, MacTavish. You might've thought it was a joke, but now you've dragged my daughter into a circle she was never meant to be in!"

Soap opened his mouth, but Laswell didn't give him the chance.

"And if anything happens to her—anything—because of this..." Her voice dropped to a chilling calm. "It won't just be on John. It'll be on all of you."

She looked around at them—Gaz, Gabby, Cam, even Simon—her sharp stare pinning them each to the floor.

"I trust all of you to handle war zones. Assassinations. Ghost operations in enemy territory. But if you can't protect a single civilian—my daughter—from the fallout of your choices, then maybe I put my trust in the wrong people."

Soap swallowed hard.

"I'm not asking for favors," Laswell continued. "I'm telling you—if this gets worse, and she bleeds, her blood's on this floor. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am," all of have said together except John.

And then, she set her eyes on John.

"A word with you."

He tightened his jaw and watched Laswell step out of the room, and he followed her behind without a word.

✨Return to Masterlist (RTM)✨

✨Chapter 74✨

👉🏽 Return to Main Post (RTMP) 👈🏽

[penguinotaku]

The Resurrection of Leland Turbo

I have a very very specific animatic that I imagine in my head. Undecided if I want to pay or kill to see it realized /j.

Just before the Professor is on the oil rig but a bit after Leland is cubed by the lemons, a (miraculous?) change happens to our poor spy.

Just like what happened to our favorite haunted 1958 Plymouth Fury, an unnatural life takes hold of our dearly departed C.H.R.O.M.E. agent.

The entire cube shakes and trembles as the internal systems are rearranged and readjusted to the unrunning life of a vampire car. The internal temperature drastically drops, creating frost on the inside of the crate.

The first parts of Leland Turbo to be repaired are the tires. The lugnuts are drawn from his own metal frame as the rubber is reinflated and tire spikes emerge out.

Next are the wing mirrors, bursting out from the sides and elongating into the elegant bat ear shapes.

The entire frame then shudders as every dent, compression, scratch and fracture is undone. Even the maroon paintjob is completely recovered as the windshield collects all of the shattered glass pieces and fused back into a single pane with a permanent tint. The teeth are forcibly changed into razor sharp fangs as the oral lubricant also drops to freezing cold temperatures.

The last thing that is fixed is the eyes, a gradual gradient in the irises from their original living color to a bright blood red and the pupils shift from round to snake like slits.

@cars2-renaissance, @little-red-irish-jaguar, @kenzie-the-drawer, and any other fan of Leland Turbo

[autoglassoutlet]

Long Term Benefit of Investing in Quality Windshield Scratch Repair

Investing in quality windshield scratch repair offers numerous long-term benefits, from visibility to preventing further damage.

[klausinamarink]

happy birthday to @penny00dreadful!

Now have the Spider-Man Eddie fic you’ve been hungry for!

thanks to @pearynice for the beta read!

Chapter 1: The Bite

The van just barely makes it inside the shop before it collapses, all four wheels popping out like a cartoon, with the heavy coat of dust exploding into the air like a mushroom cloud. A perfect summary of Eddie’s life right now.

His forehead lands directly on the center of the steering wheel. The horn goes off long enough for someone to rapidly knock on the window. Said window immediately shatters into a bazillion pieces, earning a couple swears from the person outside. Eddie says nothing. He pushes the scorching tears behind his eyeballs and whips his head up with a wide smile. “Sorry I’m late, boss,” Eddie greets nonchalantly, like he isn't crying on the inside. 

“Hey to yourself, Munson, but what the fuck happened to your van?” Olive’s eyes are as wide as a bug as they stare at the vehicle in horror. “Scratch that - how did you even drive?”

“It’s a real funny story, actually.” Eddie cracks the door open and swings his legs out. His boots hit the ground gracefully, but despite the urge to immediately fall and curl up into a ball, Eddie remains standing.

“Picture this: you see the morning traffic on the expressway so you decide to go on a shortcut. Said shortcut also turns out to be a disaster for a very different reason. Can you guess what happened?”

Olive doesn’t have a chance to open their mouth before Eddie barrels on, “I swear to god, boss, it was something from those old D&D books. It was a creature from literal Hell! It rammed right into my van and broke my windshield. I thought it was some lost deer or something, but I couldn’t leave to check because then it stood up and its face opened up!”

Eddie brings his hands to his face and rapidly motions them as jaws clamping together. It doesn’t fit the exact description of seeing a spindly thing suddenly reaching out ninety percent of its face as rows of razor-sharp teeth, but it’s close.

“Obviously, I scream and I hide back inside the van. And the next thing I know, that thing was gone and it fucked up my van even more.”

He also leaves out the details of how he hid in the back and cried like a baby, but that wasn’t anybody’s business.

Olive stares at him with utter bewilderment. They rub a hand over their face with an insufferable sigh, “Okay, I don’t believe half of what you just said-”

“It’s not a lie! That shit is probably on the news by now!”

“-but because your van is in that state, I’m giving you some mercy to fix it until the end of the week.” 

The van makes another shuddering sound. Eddie doesn’t dare to turn around yet. But whatever it is, it makes Olive grimace. 

“If you can even repair it.”

Eddie claps his hands together and bows down to the waist, almost weeping in relief. “Thank you, boss.”

Olive is already walking away, “Until Saturday!” 

They disappear into their office. Then Eddie finally drops to the ground.

He’s still shaking from the whole ordeal. But he’s more freaked out about his new transportation plan and car insurance than the flower-faced monster. 

Eddie should count himself lucky that he’s even allowed to repair his van, but it’s only Tuesday and there is no way he can make it look good as new by the weekend. His van is an older model and replacement shipments will take more than a week to arrive, even if he were to call them now. Meaning that Eddie will have to either take the van to another garage (already unlikely, too expensive) or finally give her up to the junkyard (already likely). If he has to take the second option, he will need to find buy another vehicle (fucking impossible) or endure the public transport.

The more he tries to think through, the quicker he spirals. Suddenly, Eddie cannot breathe and he’s pounding on his chest like breaking his ribs will fix it.

A cold sensation taps the back of his neck. Eddie springs up with shock, clamping a hand over the skin. Patrick is standing over him, glass water bottle in hand.

Eddie wordlessly takes the water and gulps half of it in one go. It’s too cold and gives him major brain freeze, but it helps him calm down a bit.

“Thanks, man.”  

“No problem, Munson,” Patrick helps Eddie up to his feet. He jerks his chin at the van, “You seriously going to fix that by yourself?” 

“Already am,” Eddie grunts, tying his hair up into a bun.

“I can get Ronnie for the hose to wash the dirt off.”

Eddie shakes his head, already walking off to the cleaning station, “I got it. No need to help.”

Yeah, I can fix the van like it’s new again by Saturday. Absolutely no problem. 

This is fine. 

-

Eddie is still under the van when his cell phone rings. He ignores it at first, determined to finish the exhausts. It rings again, louder than his drill. Eddie sighs and rolls out, blinking rapidly at the bright ceiling lights burning his retinas. Might as well have a quick break. 

He grabs his phone from where it sits on a nearby box and answers, tired and unkindly.

“Yeah?”

“Eddie, where the hell are you?! You should be picking us up by now!”

Eddie blanks. It takes a few seconds for him to properly absorb Jeff’s words.

“Uh-” He quickly looks around. The whole place is suddenly deserted with the garage doors now closed. Looking through the windows shows him it has gone dark outside. 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah.” He can practically hear Jeff rolling his eyes. “We’re at the gym- Gareth, put that stupid candy down, it’s just meth!” 

“W-Wait, wait, hold on-” Eddie is standing in the middle of the garage like an idiot because his brain is going millions of miles per minute and he is trying to remember what the date is. “What do you mean you’re at the gym?” 

“We’re at Frankie’s gym! Think you can break the ten minute record?” 

Eddie doesn’t answer. He’s staring blankly at the empty sockets of his van’s headlights instead of checking the time.

When Jeff speaks again, it’s in an awfully calm tone that brings Eddie flashbacks to his shitty teachers all the way back in elementary school. 

“Eddie. You’re at your apartment. Right?”

Eddie bites viciously at his thumb, right between the cuticle and skin. 

“Eddie-”

“I was… just leaving…” God, Eddie wishes he can shrink straight up into nonexistence. “You know, uh- the- the garage…”

He holds his cell phone as far as he can, just in case Jeff would scream profanities into his ear. But because he’s the best friend in the world, Jeff doesn’t do that. Instead, Eddie hears him take a long deep breath.

“Okay,” Jeff clicks his tongue, “here’s what we’re going to do. I’m gonna tell Frankie to take our shit and he’ll drive us over to the bar. You meet us there in twenty. Do not forget your guitar.”

His heart rate going up in a spike, Eddie starts biting into the skin of his fingernails. There is no way for him to make it in time without calling for a taxi and even those rides cost money. 

“Jeff, man, listen-” Eddie swallows back the beginnings of a sob, “My van is fucking busted and I literally can’t make it to the Hideout without using the subway. And that’s gonna take me an hour!”

When Jeff doesn’t say anything, Eddie starts to assume the worst. But several seconds pass with more silence, Eddie frowns and checks his phone’s screen.

Even when he rapidly taps on the screen, it remains pitch-black.

Of course his phone chooses that exact moment to die on him. And people call him the dramatic one.

Eddie runs his hands through his hair, almost uncaring about how tangled and greasy it is. Before he can consider yelling or breaking something out of frustration, Eddie starts grabbing his things, throws them into his bag, and books it out of the garage.

Usually, the cool night air would refresh him after a tiring workday surrounded by oils and smoky gears, but Eddie barely cares as he breaks into a sprint.

Twenty minutes should be enough time to catch the train to his place, grab his Sweetheart, and meet up with the guys for their bar performance, right?

He’s almost out of breath by the time he gets to the closest subway station - Creel Station is as filthy as its corporation namesake - but he’s relieved to see that it’s still open. He nearly breaks his neck from running down the stairs but Eddie doesn’t stop until he makes it to the platform.

Collapsing on the nearest bench, Eddie mentally congratulates himself while panting for air. At least he can handle waiting for a few minutes until the train arrives. 

So he waits. 

And waits.

Aaand waits.

Eddie keeps checking his watch every time he thinks the subway is coming. Ten minutes has passed. 

It could be very delayed. His surviving rational brain suggests. Eddie almost believes it.

When twenty minutes pass with no subway in sight, Eddie decides to take advantage of being the only person on the platform and just yell out to the uncaring void.

Now he’s faced with a terrible dilemma: leave and face whatever more miserable luck awaits him or somehow get to the next station.

Naturally, he chooses the wisest decision.

“Why the hell not?” He grumbles to himself as he hops down on the tracks and starts walking. He’s grown up with a carjacking dad and escaped the cops for selling weed and ketamine back in high school. What’s more incriminating than a little tunnel adventure?

It’s only after entering the tunnel that Eddie realizes one thing: it’s too dark. Even with the lights aligning the ceiling, they barely reflect the metal rails. If his phone battery hadn’t run out, then he would have used the flashlight to see properly.

Eddie mutters more curses under his breath, but he’s already too far to turn around. Besides, what’s he supposed to do at this point? Buy a flashlight at the nearest convenience store?

He shuffles to one side of the wall, careful not to trip over the rails or any suspicious puddles. He keeps a hand brushing against the wall, doing his very best to ignore the gross dirt and spiderwebs. 

The first few stations he makes it through are all empty. But unlike Creel Station, the gates to the outside are closed to the public. It makes Eddie a bit claustrophobic but he tries to pretend that it doesn’t bother him. Last thing he needs is a stress-induced heart attack. 

He does wonder why Creel Station hasn’t been closed off if there was apparently no one else there. But Eddie’s starting to see some blurriness in the edges of his vision so he’s desperate to just go home. 

Also because, let’s face it, he can’t make it to the Hideout. He’s going to have to apologize and explain to Jeff and the other guys in the morning. 

But he probably won’t have enough time because now Eddie has to start waking up early and find some way to get to work.

Just as Eddie starts to curse at the world, the toe of his boot hits something. 

Then Eddie is falling forward.

Something very solid hits his face. He barely feels the sharp explosion of pain inside of his mouth before Eddie sees everything going completely black. 

-

The first thing he registers after returning to consciousness is that his nose hurts like hell. 

He’s groggy like he had too many drinks. Drinks. Right, Eddie had gone to the Hideout earlier. 

Wait, didn’t he? 

No, he hadn’t. He was supposed to be on his way there hours ago.

Eddie tries to get up but his head is full of lead and his body is like a rusty car due for a junkyard crushing. 

He tastes the pang of copper in his mouth. He runs a tongue over his teeth, hoping none of them got chipped or broken. They feel fine, but his tongue definitely hurts more at the tip. Must have bitten it. 

When Eddie finally pushes himself up, he cringes at the dirt and a piece of litter sticking to his face. Right. I went into the tunnels like a genius.

It takes a moment before he’s fully on his feet. Even then, Eddie leans against the wall to stop his head from spinning. 

He spits out some of the blood. It lands on the rail, a speckle of red reflecting too brightly on the gray metal. 

“Okay,” Eddie tells himself, “move on and get the fuck out of here.”

Once he feels stable enough and knows his ankles haven’t twisted, Eddie continues on walking. 

As he arrives at the fourth station, his feet are killing him and his eyelids are drooping. He checks his watch but what do you know, the face is cracked and he can’t hear a single tick. 

For all he knows, three days may have passed and his poor uncle is losing his mind. 

Maybe the others had already held a funeral for him. Eddie can see Jeff on the podium and giving the eulogy. Here lies our friend Eddie who died doing what he loved - succumbing to the urge to return to dark holes. Anyway, who wants his guitar?

At this point, Eddie may as well just curl up into a ball and wait for the subway to finally arrive and turn his misery into red mist.

Then there’s a resounding growl from behind.

Eddie whirls around, suddenly much more alert. He stares down at the dark end of the tunnel, expecting it to be the long-lost subway.

But nothing greets him.

All hairs on the back of his neck stand up nonetheless. The morning’s incident flashes before Eddie’s eyes. The flash of teeth in petal-shaped gums. The guttural shrieks and its casual ripping of metal. 

That was under broad daylight. Now he is in a possibly abandoned subway station late at night, very much alone with no contact for help.

But because he’s an idiot, too small and stressed for this massive world, he calls out, “Hello?” 

His mind might be playing tricks on him, a sadistic attempt to get him to fall asleep as soon as possible regardless of the filthy environment. Or maybe it’s just one of the maintenance workers. 

The growl starts again, closer this time.  

Nevermind, fuck that.

Within seconds, Eddie is climbing on the platform and dashing across the station. There’s not a single soul in sight and it accelerates his terror more. Eddie swears he can hear the growling again.

As he gets to the stairs, he prays that the gates aren’t closed and that he can make it aboveground.

When he sees the open path to the night sky, Eddie cries. 

He embraces the night air this time. But Eddie doesn’t stop, his vision blurring. He runs and runs until his legs and lungs give away at once and he collapses against a brick wall in an alleyway.

Eddie pants heavily, his lungs growing tighter with a cold dryness. As his breathing slows to normal, Eddie oh-so carefully peeks out of the alley, opting to stay hidden. 

He just sees regular people and cats on the streets. No shadow demons chasing after him. 

Eddie slides down to the ground, covering his face with his hands. He takes a moment to sob, but it gets stuck in his throat. He almost forces it out but it does make him shed some tears, so it’s a little more cathartic. 

Talk about a fucking day.

Eddie drops his hands and sucks in another breath. Before he can think about his next options to go home, Eddie feels a sudden itch on his arm. 

He scratches it, almost absentmindedly. That is until the itch starts crawling its way down his arm.

Eddie looks down in time to see a spider the size of a coin emerging from under his sleeve.

Now, Eddie is usually arachnophobic, but his reaction to tiny eight-legged demons has a delay of a few seconds. So he spends that time just staring at the spider crawling to a stop at the back of his hand. He even admires it. Unless the lighting has gotten otherworldly, the spider is glowing faintly with a tie-dye mix of red and blue. Its tiny round eyes almost seem to blink up at him.

He thinks, Huh, it looks kind of cute.

And then it bites him. 

To his credit, Eddie doesn’t even scream. 

He just does it after smacking the spider to death. 

-

read more on ao3!

[starwindshield]

If Famous Movie Cars Had Windshield Cracks: A Humorous Take on Glass Damage in Fictional Cars

We all know that movie cars are basically invincible. They leap off cliffs, crash through buildings, and race through fireballs—yet somehow emerge spotless, without a single scratch on their glass. But let’s get real for a second. If these iconic rides had to deal with real-world road conditions—like Ontario’s potholes or random gravel trucks on the QEW—things might look a little different.

So let’s have some fun. Here's what might happen if famous movie cars actually had cracked windshields, and how even the coolest cars aren't immune to needing a windshield repair in St Catharines.

🦖 The Jurassic Park Jeep – “Objects In Mirror Are More Broken Than They Appear”

Imagine you're speeding through the jungle with a T-Rex in hot pursuit and boom—a rogue branch smacks your windshield. Suddenly, that rear-view mirror warning hits differently.

In reality, no one’s escaping prehistoric danger with a cracked windshield and full visibility. A chip today would turn into a full-blown shatter tomorrow (probably mid-roar). That poor windshield never stood a chance.

🏎️ The Fast & Furious Dodge Charger – “Cracks? Nah, Family Holds It Together.”

Dom Toretto may live his life a quarter mile at a time, but that cracked windshield is living its best life one pothole at a time.

Let’s be honest—after all those high-speed chases, explosions, and mid-air stunts, that Charger’s windshield should’ve called it quits by movie two. And yet, it stays intact. Movie magic? Sure. But in St. Catharines? That kind of wear and tear would’ve sent it straight to a local auto glass repair shop for some serious TLC.

🚗 Herbie the Love Bug – “He Has A Personality… And a Spiderweb Crack”

Herbie was practically human—cute, clever, and apparently indestructible. But even the most charming Volkswagen isn’t immune to a flying pebble on a Niagara backroad.

Let’s not even get started on emotional windshield cracks. If Herbie had feelings, you know that crack would’ve formed right after a sad scene. (Cue the moody windshield wipers.)

🕶️ The Men in Black Ford LTD – “Saving the Universe, One Rock Chip at a Time”

Sleek, black, futuristic—until a pigeon flies into the windshield mid-wormhole jump. Sorry, Agent J, but you're going to need more than a neuralyzer to forget that impact.

If this happened in real life, you'd be heading straight to a windshield replacement specialist in St Catharines faster than you can say “alien splatter.”

🦇 The Batmobile – “Even Batman Can’t Escape Construction Debris”

Okay, hear us out. Gotham may be dangerous, but it's got nothing on a Niagara construction detour with exposed gravel. Batman's tech can handle missiles, but a flying rock from a dump truck? Not so much.

Even billionaires need glass repairs sometimes. And imagine how dramatic Batman would be trying to explain the damage:

"It wasn't a villain... it was Infrastructure Ontario."

🚙 The Mystery Machine – “Jinkies, That Chip Wasn’t There Yesterday!”

Scooby and the gang are constantly pulling up to haunted mansions, but the real horror? That creeping crack across the driver’s side that no one’s fixing.

Between chasing ghosts and unmasking villains, they’ve clearly been skipping their glass maintenance. And we’re pretty sure Fred isn't checking his insurance for rock chip repair coverage.

🌪️ Honourable Mention: The Flying Car from Harry Potter – “Windshield? We Don’t Speak of Her”

This one's for the chaos lovers. A flying car battling tree branches, rogue bludgers, and cold British weather? That windshield should be in therapy.

Luckily, we Muggles don’t have to worry about Whomping Willows. But regular Ontario winters? Just as brutal.

So… What’s the Real Message Here?

Behind the laughs and fandom references lies a real truth: Windshields take a beating, even if you're not drifting through Tokyo or dodging dinosaurs. Chips, cracks, and shatters can happen faster than you think—and ignoring them only makes things worse.

If your real-life ride is starting to look like it's been through a movie stunt sequence, don’t wait for the sequel. Get it fixed.

📞 Need a Real-World Hero for Your Windshield?

Whether you're driving to work in St. Catharines or heading out on a road trip through Niagara, a clear and safe windshield is essential. At Star Windshield, we make glass repair fast, reliable, and affordable—no CGI needed.

Call 647-509-2154 today to schedule your windshield repair in St Catharines or drop by to chat with our friendly team. 

Your car might not be famous, but it still deserves star treatment.

[tennypress]

Gun x Goo x reader smut

I’ll write another one !

(No smut sorry, but I might make a nsfw part to it

Street racer AU

(Inspired by fast and furious)

WARNING: love triangle, gender neutral reader

“Ooh, Mami, this a new 'Rari. Hit 150 on the dash, I bent the corner, then she bent it for me sideways, uh I might have to fuck her on the highway, yeah”

You just stepped out of your white and red 1992 Mitsubishi Galant VR 4 hugging your friend Zoe park after she ask you to drive in her place in a local street race. There you see three other cars. A yellow and black 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T and fuzzy dice hanging in the rear view mirror with a guy with blonde hair and sunglasses chilling outside chatting with others.

A green 1993 Toyota Supra Turbo with an older guy with a shaved head and wearing a tank top chilling outside while listening to music with his friends.

Then you see a car that caught your attention. It was a black 1999 Nissan Skyline GT-R R34 with a custom painted oni design on the side. You can see the owner on the side smoking a cigarette and just waved to you. Your intrigued.

But your car was amazing too. It was gifted to you by your father. It was white and red 1992 Mitsubishi Galant VR 4 with a custom paint with hello kitty in the side.

As you enter the race the other racers were snickering and making fun of your car. Saying how it looks girly and too old. However the owner of the nissan just glanced at your car before turning back to focus on the race.

You held onto your wheel as you see the flag girl raise her bandana? Or cloth and just waved it before stepping aside for you guys to race. Then you hear a speakerphone of someone you knew. Daniel park, signaling and counting down. 3, 2, 1, and go! You all step on the pedal

Your racing and your in 3rd place before you see the bridge pull up. The green car owner stopped before you see a flash of yellow also slow down. Now it’s between your Mitsubishi and the owner of the Nissan to finish this race.

Both of you speeding up you drove off the bridge and managed to land on the other side safely.

You both returned back safely and exited the car.

There you get out and a crowd comes rushing to the both of you. Including Zoe and Daniel. They just come up to you and congratulate you. Before you see the Nissan owner also coming up to shake your hand.

“That was impressive, no one has beaten me in a race before. I’m Gun. Gun park” he just greets you with a prideful smirk.

You just smile back and shaked his car before seeing the other racers come up. The green haired guy, or Taejin just comes out pissed and throws his steering wheel out on the ground while another man with tan skinned with glasses comes up to comfort Jin. While Zoe just holds onto you and Daniel looks at Gun with caution. You noticed that the two of them had tension.

“GOD DAMMIT” you see the Blonde glasses man come up with his car totaled and goes up to Gun and grabs his collar.

They were just arguing until you came up to the both of them. “Maybe I can fix your car? I own a auto shop near the city.” Goo just comes up and holds your hand into his and smiles while tears come out of his eyes and agreed. You all bid farewells and drove home. The next day you open your shop and see them both outside with their cars. You welcome them both in offering them drinks while you fix their cars.

Goo just took a coffee while Gun took a beer and you took in Goos car to fix.

Gun couldn’t stop staring at your ass. How it fitted the suit that was covered in dirt and oil. Or how your tank top perfectly outflanked your tits. And how you had that cute hat on your head.

Goo just stared at you with admiration while you fixed his car.

It took a while but you managed to repair the man’s car and took them to the register to tell them the price.

“Good thing most of the car was alright. But for the Windshield crack repair, window replacement, windshield replacement, bumper repair and replacement, scratch repair, frame damage repair, and engine replacement it’ll cost you around 3.4K. How does that sound?” You said ringing up the prices

Goo just nudges to Gun and he groans taking out his card and swiping it. You give the receipt and take out the vehicle out of your shop.

You wave goodbye as you see them leave. Closing up the shop you see a letter left on the counter. Curiosily you went to go pick it up and read it. You see tears swell up with happiness as you see the same love letter you wrote to a good friend of yours after he had left to Japan.

[professionalautoglassservice]

The Importance of Timely Windshield Scratch Repair for Vehicle Resale Value

In this blog, we’ll delve into the importance of timely windshield scratch repair for maintaining your vehicle’s resale value and ensuring the safety of you and your passengers.