#box truck repair long island

[authorityontransportation]

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[thelastharbinger]

Tidbits of ATSV That I Enjoyed (Or Alternatively: Just Miles Being The Most Endearing Spidey Ever)

Miles patting The Spot's head after successfully webbing him (I don't see this as condescending, but rather him still engaging with the humanity of a villain like Spot) and ~very assertively~ telling/asking him not to escape.

"I'm like Robin Hood-if he gave to himself."

Miles' spidey senses going off when he arrives late to his dad's party because there's nothing more frightening than Brown parents when they're mad at you. Beware the chancla or correa!

O.k. So we all know there are different versions of the movie out there. You may already know that one of the slight differences is when Miles goes to save Inspector Singh. There's a version where you can hear Gwen's voice in the distant background yelling no! when she thinks Miles gets crushed under the rubble, and there's another where she's silent as she webs to him. Now, I have found ANOTHER version (online) where her shouting is even more at the forefront. She's practically screaming and sounds more desperate, (prolly because it's close to the same way her Peter Parker died so she's reliving trauma) and the fear in her voice is palpable. That one haunts me.

Jefferson trying to equate studying for his police exams to childbirth, which Rio quickly nips in the bud.

Ganke having a soccer poster of Son Heung Min, a famous Korean footballer who currently plays for the Premier League Tottenham Hotspur and is captain of the South Korean national team.

Miles having a Sashimi (his universe's version of Supreme, but I just like the idea that Miles loves eating sashimi. Like I know that kid has good taste in food) poster in his bedroom.

The fact that Miles kept in touch with Aunt May for long enough after the events of ITSV that he helps her move.

The Spot saying he was one of the more handsome scientists at Alchemax according to his colleagues.

Miles and Gwen having the same collectible toys, the only difference being that he keeps his in the box and she doesn't.

"Hey, don't try to wow me with big words, man," *in deep manly voice* "I do crosswords every day"- Miles after Spot points out Alchemax as "the crucible of our connection!"

Miles going, "This job is so dumb sometimes" after he tries to web Spot at the deli, but it goes through a hole and lands on his face.

"Nahhh, he seems more Dominican to me." Kinda want Miles to meet a native Dominican Spidey because that dynamic would highkey fuck hard *pun not intended*. They would repair relations between our two islands-PR&DR.

"Almost there Mami *smiley face* *cowboy* prayer hands*"

The college admissions coach at Visions Academy straight up saying, "That's your story! Now, just stick to the script..." Ma'am what???

"Calmate Mami, eso no es my fault."

"I've hit a lot of different villains with a lot of different food...I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

Miles in his angsty teen era and smart-mouthing everyone around him. Love that for him.

"He almost killed his mom as a baby, I mean, look at those shoulders." No but for real tho. Those shoulders are as wide as a truck. Kim Seokjin who??? (if you understood that reference, ily).

Miles writing a love letter to his dad in 2 cakes.

Gwen at the water tower chowing and saying how feelings make her hungry after her and Miles talked about how they can't be together cause it would end in tragedy. Like Gwen, come again?!

Also, Miles' and Gwen's talk at the Williamsburg Bank Building being lowkey the catalyst for the 2nd/3rd acts of the film. Without them both kind of silently admitting their feelings for each other, Miles probably wouldn't have chased after her the way he did. Pretty sure you know the rest.

"I bet she doesn't even speak Spanish," and Jeff going "Que barbaridad" in his very broken Spanish. Queue Rio's bombastic side eye.

Both Gwen and Miles referring to Spot as a Villain Of The Week, even though neither of them have spoken about Spot to each other.

"I was bitten by a-wouldnt you like to know? Know what I mean?" SIR. Chill. This movie is for children.

The Spot inverting himself, going from a white mass with black spots to a gaping black hole with smaller white spirals. It's giving Junji Ito.

The irony of Pavitr exclaiming, "Well that was another easy adventure for Spider-Man!" right before an incoming canon event. HIS. He was about to experience his first big loss, and his happy-go-lucky nature would've been challenged.

Miguel saying conyo! when all the Spideys start pointing at each other.

"!Cállate!" "Nosy!" Sidebar: we don't talk about Gwen's banter with bad guys enough. She's so funny!

A lot of the Peters saying hi to Gwen as she passes HQ because she is canonically the one lost love--the love interest they all would've ended up with had she not died, so they all have an affection for her.

Web-Slinger going "Giddy up!" Cause he's swinging up.

Miles offering his fresh new takes on how to deal with the Spot upon meeting Miguel, saying "He just wants to be taken seriously. Like we all do." MILES YOU BEAUTIFUL, COMPASSIONATE GOLDEN SUNFLOWER BOY I LOVE YOUUUUU.

Hobie referring to Peter B. as Humbling Reality Spider-Man, which considering how steeped in tragedy the Spidey lore is, is really saying something.

Miguel's nonono no puedo más no puedo más. His misery is very funny and delightful to me. Little bitch ass.

"You know you're the only Spider-Man who isn't funny." Yes! More Miguel slander in the next one, please! Little bitch ass.

"Snitch!"

Miles shouting out Peter's name for help whilst Miguel pins and lays into him the fact that he's an anomaly. This after he momentarily glitches back to his ITSV store-bought suit. Mimicking the way-in also the first movie-Miles shouting out Peter's name for his own rescue as Doc Ock attacks him at the research facility. Because even though he feels hurt by Peter at this point, that's still his dad mentor and he still instinctively looks to him for protection. Rip my heart out why don't you!

Gwen sneaking back into her and her dad's place just to get that printed polaroid of her and Miles, a pic she already has on her phone.

Earth-42 Miles wearing Nike while our Miles wears Jordans.

[awanderingcanadian]

Adventures with a New RV

A few months ago we took our ‘new to us’ travel trailer out for our highly anticipated shakeout trip. The purpose for the trip was to find out how everything worked in our new trailer. We were so excited to get out and enjoy it. We deliberately chose a nearby provincial park, without hook ups, (no electricity, water, or sewage), so we could check out our newly installed solar panels. Armed with two brand new batteries, we were eager to see how we fared over the 4 nights. Unfortunately, it turned into the worst trip ever.

This is our second travel trailer, and we had to live in our last one for 5 months during the pandemic when we returned home early and our house was rented out, so we’re not newbies to rv life. The first problem occurred when I turned on the water pump, filled the hot water tank, then turned on the hot water tank…and water stopped running. My husband frantically shouted, “turn off the water, it’s pouring out of the storage compartment.” Turns out the housing on our water pump had cracked, despite the trailer being winterized. Now, we don’t know if it was cracked when we bought it, or if it happened during our week of record breaking cold, (-15C), when we were away, so we figured this one was on us. A trip back to town and $165 later, Craig was back installing the new water pump, (in a small box with not much space for maneuvering).

Then on night one, we forgot to turn down the heater, (normally we do this to stop if from repeatedly coming on during the night as this is a big energy waster). The next morning, our batteries were dead. We were surprised by this quick drain, but we had both a brand new generator, and the new solar panels, so we figured we could make it through. That was not the case. To make a very long story short: two new batteries, a new solar panel, a new converter, and lots of cash later, things were fixed. The culprit: one of our brand new batteries had a dead cell, and it basically shorted out everything else. To add insult to injury, the front end of the truck started making weird noises as we were limping the trailer to the repair shop…the left front bearings had to be replaced.

Our second trip was a few weeks later. We did the 3 hour towing trip to the west coast of the Island. This is my favourite place in the entire world. We had full hookups, and perfect weather. What could go wrong?? Well, the other side of the front end went. At the end of our week, we made the 3 hour trip back, towing, while the truck noise got louder and louder. This time we paid the big bucks and had the entire front end rebuilt.

Another few weeks later, and we returned to the scene of the crime, Rathtrevor Beach, with a group of badminton friends. Again the trailer refused to accept a charge from the generator. We hooked the generator up successfully to another trailer, and we tried a different generator on our trailer. No dice. It turns out there was an open ground?? I don’t know that that means really, but whatever, it’s fixed now.

We’ve now done 2 great trips with the trailer: a 2 week trip to Invermere, via Christina Lake on the way out, and Cultus Lake on the way back, as well as a weekend trip to unite with my sisters and McGuire cousins. As we’re relaxing with the new trailer, we’re finally enjoying it. Here’s to many more adventures!

[mariasmemo]

Masonry Conservation Accomplished!

With the COVID-19 Pandemic severely slowing the start of the conservation project and supply chain issues, as well as weather, among other things, it has been a long road but we have finally completed the masonry conservation and roof repairs at our historic Maria Mitchell Vestal Street Observatory!

I say “we” but this was the fantastic work of island mason, Wayne Morris.  He has accomplished a great deal and the building is now weather tight, brick and grout are secure, and we have new steel lintels over doors and windows.  It sounds simple doesn’t it?  But, it is not and it has taken a lot of time and care – and all sort of new and interesting issues were revealed as old repairs were removed and things were opened up – things you cannot see until you dig.  Even removing one lintel is a painstaking process – especially on the main floor where you have large stone pieces over each opening that “hide” the original iron (and rusting) lintel beneath.  It’s not everyone who can do a project such as this and the MMA is lucky to have had Wayne Morris.  He’s talented, knows how to think outside the box, and genuinely knows and loves what he does.  He spent a lot of hours grinding up stone to match the 1908 and 1922 grouts and trying to match the color.  Not many will take that time and its important that we do for conservation reasons. I’ve learned some things from him over the years – including to call it “grout.”

I would also like to thank James Lydon and Sons and Daughters for the work to the rubber and copper on the two roofs, and to Jeff Schneider and Ellis and Schneider Electrical for moving the electrical lines so that the mason could get to one of the lintels in the basement.  Apparently, at some point, long ago, they thought it was a good idea to run conduit pipe for electrical wires in FRONT of a cellar window thus negating the possibility of it being opened AND blocking the lintel that Wayne Morris needed to replace!

We still have to clean up the landscape, put in a French drain in front, and paint the windows and wood door – and remove the paint from the original 1908 copper door. Then, the exterior will be complete.  Next up, conservation of the interior which will include conservation of the original 1922 Astronomical Study’s floor and woodwork, painting, the addition of new wood storms on the façade, HVAC, and electrical upgrades.  So, there is more to come – but first we needed to be weather tight!

JNLF

P.S. Not sure what I am going to do.  I’ve worked on several projects here at MMA and at the Coffin School with Wayne Morris.  I keep teasing him we can’t let him go.  Going to miss seeing his truck parked in our front yard at MMA – a parking spot only he could have!

[awesomeforever]

Get access to more than 30 brands, premium video, exclusive content, events, mapping, and more. Get access to more than 30 brands, premium video, exclusive content, events, mapping, and more. Peace Out, Paywall Unlock world-class adventure journalism. Subscribe Now With inflation on the rise, I scrapped plans for another long summer hike. On little daily walks through South Dakota’s Black Hills, I’ve rediscovered the surprise and delight of getting back to basics. Get full access to Outside Learn, our online education hub featuring in-depth fitness, nutrition, and adventure courses and more than 2,000 instructional videos when you sign up for Outside+. The cattle rancher in the dented red truck laughed when I told him I was looking for someplace new to hike. We had both taken a rugged gravel road, beset by mudholes so deep they made me contemplate crashing asteroids, into the southwestern edge of South Dakota’s Black Hills National Forest on a toasty day in early July. He was checking the water tanks for a small band of stock roaming the rims of several interlocking canyons, the same land I was looking to walk—if only I could find a path. Leaning from his window, he spread his hands wide and scanned the horizon slowly before turning back to me with a knowing grin. If you’re walking it, he seemed to say silently, it’s all a trail. This, of course, was right: a trail is just a reductive word for someplace other people have already walked, and no one was really going to tell me where not to roam among most of the Black Hills National Forest’s 1.2 million public acres, an area about twice as big as Rhode Island. Go, and you might find something worth checking out. I have been remembering this (or, perhaps, learning it for the first time) during a summer of ceaseless day hikes in South Dakota, my unexpected home for the season. During a pause from traveling one of the United States’ iconic long trails or another while moving 20 miles or so per day, I have been hiking the way most folks do: an hour or three at the time, in search of a little exercise and maybe someplace I’ve never been. As a thru-hiker, after living out of a backpack for months on end, it has been a refreshing return to basics, a way to rediscover the delight and surprise of walking through an unbroken landscape without the pressure of heading toward Canada or Maine or anywhere specific at all. The humble day hike has reminded me of the endless joys of exploring for the hell of it. Everyone always talks about how thru-hiking changes your life—day hikes, I like to joke, are now repairing some of their damage. I thought I’d be crossing the country again this summer, perhaps grabbing the final jewel of a Triple Crown or brushing against the Canadian border for 1,200 miles and three states via the Pacific Northwest Trail. But by early March, when my wife, Tina, and I emerged from the swamps and sands of the Florida Trail, inflation was already at a 40-year high, with talk of recession rising in a commensurate rush. Rather than blow our savings on hostels and postage for resupply boxes, we decided to settle down for a few months and save money. We sold our cabin in North Carolina, piled our family of pets into a van, and sprinted across the country, leaving the South for South Dakota, so she could guide paying tourists through federally protected caves in the Black Hills. While she’s been underground, I’ve been overhead on most days, looking for my next half-day adventure, with our dog, Alice, at my side and a little Nathan water-toting backpack buckled across my chest. I mostly cherish the wonderful absurdity of an extremely long hike, the way you decide on day one of your excursion to forgo the comforts of civilized society and indulge pain and filth and hunger, then repeat said decision for, say, six months. But stepping away for this spell has

offered a welcomed jolt of refreshing perspective, too, highlighting some downsides I tend to ignore when I’m in the thick of the thing, pushing as many miles as I can stand. Thru-hiking, for instance, indulges our inclination to always pursue something bigger and better, to seem like an indomitable hero conquering some impossible endeavor. And then there’s the prevailing notion that thru-hikes should be shared, whether by YouTube channels vying for subscribers, or on Instagram stories vying for chuckles or awe. Maybe these dual impulses are just our human nature at work, functions of our quests for self-improvement and community, but it’s hard not to see them as extensions of rank capitalism, too—creating a brand and broadcasting it, the antithesis of disappearing into the woods to craft an epic of and for yourself. And given the political turmoil of recent years and the unlikelihood that it will soon abate, escaping into California’s Sierra Nevada or Wyoming’s Wind River Range—sans cell-phone service, news updates, and the like—can sometimes feel like shirking the responsibility of democracy. I have friends who went sober (and stayed that way) during the Trump era so they could pay attention, be present; I, on the other hand, often disappeared into the woods, an ostrich wandering among the trees. There’s no competitive or completist pressure, no need to see every white blaze or to keep up with anyone. Day hikes, meanwhile, bring none of these conflicts. Vanishing from the vortex of bad news and screen time for two hours is productive and restorative in a way that a six-month hiatus isn’t—a pause for sanity, not a retreat for selfishness. And I find it hard not to contemplate 500 years worth of current events while traveling in the Black Hills, land the United States government stole for gold despite multiple treaties and that the Sioux still rightfully want honored. There’s no competitive or completist pressure during a shorter outing, no need to see every white blaze or to keep up with anyone. This is, I think, what it means to actually hike your own hike. And aside from telling Tina vaguely where I might go for safety’s sake, I don’t feel compelled to share most of what I see, to capitalize on personal experience as professional content. Instead, I simply relish in the small surprises and little wonders I’ve encountered while sauntering down the semi-permanent scars of forest service roads or faint wildlife traces, while skittering up limestone cliffs or among ponderosa pines beneath great granite spires. Such surprises have proven endless. There was, for instance, the peace sign carved into the verdant valley floor below the rim of the Stratobowl, where scientists launched observation balloons into the stratosphere nearly a century ago. There was the clutch of pronghorn—that is, “the South Dakota antelope”—I startled alongside a spring while following a footpath so faint I had to squint to find it. (I soon turned around, for fear of a mountain lion lurking in the brush.) And there was the complete bison skeleton at the base of a gulch in Wind Cave National Park, so freshly mauled by one such wildcat that the bones remained moist with sinew. I’d forgotten that the primary point of it all was to have an adventure, to be delighted by the unexpected encounters of the outdoors. On the day that I met the cattle rancher checking his water tanks, I wandered up and down a series of ridges for hours, eventually cutting across a creek toward a short limestone pillar that looked like a giant’s surreal pillow. When I finally returned to the car, his cows were lying beside and grazing around it, as if my vehicle had joined their herd. Alice and I stood among them for a quarter-hour, reveling in the little spell of wonder into which I’d walked. Last summer, as I neared the halfway point of the Pacific Crest Trail, I encountered two perpetually baked dudes, who not only gifted me fruit-flavored rolling papers, but also added extra miles to their thru-hike by taking, it seemed, most every side trail they crossed.

They paused their northward progression repeatedly to walk most of the 170-mile Tahoe Rim Trail or sneak into Yosemite Valley and journey up its famed waterfalls. I worried needlessly about them: What if they got hurt on one of these excursions and had to bail on the PCT? What if they ran out of time to reach Washington before snow hit the Cascades hard? What if they, as their journey crossed the 3,000-mile mark, got tired of hiking, of making the daily decision to press on? I’m realizing now, strolling the limestone-strewn canyons and creekbeds of the Black Hills, that they had it right. In my overzealousness to complete the task at hand, to check the box of “2021 PCT Thru-Hike,” I’d forgotten that the primary point of it all was to have an adventure, to be delighted by the unexpected encounters of the outdoors. It’s hard to be surprised when you’re staring at a map or an app, heading forever in the same orderly direction as your peers. That footloose pair was adding day hikes to their thru-hike because they wanted to have more fun. The true trail led wherever they happened to be walking. With a little money hopefully pocketed, we aim to return to thru-hiking later this year, with the Arizona Trail on deck in the fall and the Continental Divide Trail in the spring. The temptation to churn through miles and get it done will of course return on such long journeys. But I like to think that this season of side trails has taught me to slow down and just enjoy hiking again—something nice to do, not something epic that has to be done. I hope that lesson outlasts my time in South Dakota. Join Outside+ to get Outside magazine, access to exclusive content, 1,000s of training plans, and more. © 2022 Outside Interactive, Inc source

[liptonsbabe]

My dear [S.U]

Sam Uley x Fem! reader!

Summary: “Did you have a hard day? You can complain to me. Did something make you almost cry? It’s alright, look at me. Starting from now, think of three really good things: the warm air, the dazzling weather, and me outside your window.  I told you, you can see brightness only when it gets dark”

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, death, heart dissease and such. English not my mother language so pls let me know if something’s wrong

gif’s not mine

"Sorry to bother you, Chief," you said following the man's moves through your house. Charlie Swan was carrying a reclining chair with ease leaving it in the middle of the living room while you stood at the bottom of the stairs with your little four year old daughter in your arms. Cassie was exhausted. It had been a long plane ride and a bit more road travel, which knocked your little girl out as soon as you set foot in your new home in Forks. It was a long time since you had seen that place but of course you remembered Charlie Swan as kind as he had always been. Even when you were just starting to think about moving back to Forks he was the first to help you get a safe home for you and your daughter. You remembered looking up for Charlie's old phone number hoping it was still the same and when you dialed and heard the man's voice behind the phone you sighed in relief. At last life seemed to be smiling on you after a long time and Charlie was quick to offer to help you if you decided to return to town.

He told you about a house for sale next to his. The owner was elderly and preferred to live with one of her children and earn income from the house near the forest that could be bought by curious tourists so Charlie convinced her to sell you the house and at a lower price than she was originally asking because the house needed some repairs that he could do. So you thought no more about it and packed your things to return to Forks after the horrible years you had lived in Brownsville.

Charlie picked you up at the airport in his police cruiser and avoided turning on the siren cause Cassie was already half asleep in your arms when you got off the plane and he didn't want to disturb her, but Cassie had the strength to stay awake long enough to make him promise that next time he would turn on the siren as they drove around town.

The truth was that Charlie Swan was an angel. He arranged everything so you would have a quick return and even now he was bothering to get all your stuff out of the moving truck so you wouldn't have the worry of doing it later.

"Nonsense, I'm happy to do it. Besides, it's my day off."

"And that's why you shouldn't be doing all this. I know vacations for police officers are non-recurring."

"I'm the chief, I have certain privileges."

"Still."

"Well, I wasn't going to let you do this on your own" he replied, carrying the boxes with your and Cassie's clothes. He set them down on the kitchen island and leaned back against them to rest. You walked over and settling Cassie better in your arms you sat down in one of the chairs Charlie had given you "Billy and Jacob will be here in a little while to get all this settled so you can have your first night here without any problems."

"I still think it's too much. Stop spoiling me like this, Charlie, you even gave me part of your dining room!"

"Ah, it was nothing. Bella and I recently bought a new one and we didn't want to take it to the dump cause it still has some use. The table is made out of good wood and the chairs are freshly upholstered. Look at it, it suits perfectly!"

"That's not the point" you said, glancing sideways at the newly arranged dining room near the kitchen "The point is that you're doing a lot for me and it's not fair."

"Your father would have done the same for Bella if it had been about me" he replied reaching for a bottle of water from the installed cooler. A sudden tension appeared in the room as you both remembered what your father's life was like in Forks "Jackson was my best friend for a long time and when he died...I promised him that I would seek you out and support you as if you were my own and that is precisely what I am doing."

"You wouldn't have if I hadn't left and hadn't abandoned him. He died because of me"

"That's not true."

"He was left alone when I left. He died of grief"

"He died from the heart valve disease he had. Your father suffered it from a young age and even so, you had a right to look for your mother"

"I wish I hadn't" you murmured, cooing to Cassie who was beginning to get annoyed by the noise of your voices "I abandoned my father and didn't find anything worthwhile"

"Well, that doesn't matter anymore, stop tormenting yourself and thinking you killed your father. I was with him. He loved you and he died peacefully, remember him as the good man he was, child."

You sighed. Cassie went back to sleep peacefully

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I know it's not the same, but you have me now and I'd rather die than let you leave again, do you hear me?"

"Easy, I have no intention of doing that" you half smiled "I'm running away from the tracks I left in Brownsville, I have no desire to go back under any circumstances. What I'm worried about is that the tracks won't rub off and show the way to the one I'm hiding from"

Charlie clicked his tongue.

"That should be the least of your problems. I have a gun and I know how to use it. He'll have to deal with that first before he gets to you."

"Thanks, Charlie."

"Although, if Chief Swan is as good at shooting as he is at fishing then you'll have to learn how to handle a gun yourself, honey" a voice appeared from the doorway followed by a young man's laughter.  You looked up meeting the unmistakable face of Billy Black next to his son Jacob. Billy entered your house being pushed by Jacob leaving him next to Charlie as he rolled his eyes "Be a little more modest, buddy."

"There's nothing wrong with bragging once in a while."

"Yeah, but you do it all the time."

"Shut up."

"Make me"

Charlie got up from his spot lunging towards Billy who ina swift movement spun the wheels of his chair avoiding Charlie's attack thus beginning a chase through the house dodging the obstacles of boxes on the floor. Jacob laughed taking Charlie's place in front of you.

"I thought we were coming to help with the move, not to watch them play like preschoolers?"

"Me too. I think Cassie will get along with them."

"Your little girl will beat them up right away"

"Probably."

You giggled quietly avoiding waking Cassie as Charlie and Billy finished their game to go back to the truck and get the last boxes, then you could finally get everything settled at home. Jacob smiled, looking at you

"I'm Jacob. You may not remember me but..."

"Are you kidding? I used to give you the bottle."

"No you didn't."

"Of course i did! My dad used to visit your parents a lot and he used to take me with him. You were a newborn baby and I used to volunteer to help Sarah feed you. You were the worst baby ever. You cried too loudly and squeezed the bottle with your swollen gums. Then you'd throw the milk back and you used to get really messy. Your poop was the smelliest I could remember."

"Don't say that!" he replied, embarrassed "I see you do remember me."

"And Quill and Embry. Tell me, are they still the same old fools?"

"They haven't changed at all."

You laughed.

"Perfect."

"Ok, these are the last boxes" announced Charlie walking into the house carrying with him a small box with Cassie's toys. Billy came in behind with some boxes on his lap "I think now we can get everything organized and finishing in time for you to get some rest."

"I'll clean up the little girl's room" offered Jacob standing up "then I'll fill the closet and set up the bed so you can lay her down, you must be tired from carrying her around for so long. is that okay with you?" he asked you. You nodded

"Yes, thank you Jacob."

"You're welcome. Give me that" The boy took the boxes off his father's legs and picked up Charlie's, all with one arm and with the other he carried the folding base of the bed. You opened your eyes wide 

"Easy, big guy, when did you get so strong?"

"I don't know. It just... showed up" he replied disappearing up the stairs

"It showed up" said Charlie "Ah, I hope shows up something like that to me"

"Don’t hold your breath as that happens" Billy joked.

"I should do something for lunch" you said trying to stand up. You were going to put Cassie down on one of the couches and put some cushions around her, but Charlie won't let you. Billy agreed 

"None of that. We'll order something."

"But..."

"Nothing" interrupted Billy "We'll buy pizza"

"You guys really need to stop doing this" you reproached. Billy picked up his phone

"Ah, sorry, you had to say that earlier, I'm already on the call."

"You guys are unbelievable"

Charlie smiled

"We know. oh I'll get Bella, she hasn't said hello yet" Charlie walked out before you could say anything else and closed the door dismissing the moving truck. Billy smiled complicitly, placed the order, gave the address and left the cell phone on the kitchen bar

"Dinner is served."

"Thank you."

"They had children's menu, so I ordered it for Cassie. I hear their brownies are delicious. Maybe I'll steal it for myself."

"I'll keep it as a secret"

Billy nodded with a smile and as the food arrived you chatted animatedly about what had happened in your absence, he also told you things about your father and all the times they went fishing together before his death. You were enjoying Billy's stories when time began to pass and Charlie didn’t return with Bella as he promised. Jacob was finishing Cassie's room and when the pizza arrived he came downstairs immediately, asking about Charlie's whereabouts.

"He went to get Bella, but he hasn't come back yet."

"That's strange, his house is right next door."

"Maybe something came up for him at the station" Billy shrugged.

You  decided to wait for the Swans to eat, but seeing that they didn't show up Jacob offered to investigate what was going on when suddenly the door opened and a very worried Charlie Swan walked in wiping the sweat from his brow

"Bella’s missing."

"What?"

Jacob suddenly became alert and Billy remained static in his place. You felt a knot in your stomach. While riding in the police cruiser that morning, you had heard something about tourist disappearances and wild creatures killing people in the woods and you feared Bella might be in that kind of danger. You were never close, but you knew her and occasionally went out together to talk or share a movie night. You still hadn't seen her after the years you were away and the least you wanted was for something bad to happen to her.

"Did you talk to any of her friends?"

"She was with them during classes, but they lost track of her on her way here. I'll call the Cullens, maybe..."

"You didn't know?" asked Billy "The Cullens left Forks, Charlie."

"Where did they go?"

"We'll find her" encouraged Jacob "But we have to go out and look for her before dark."

"I'll go with you" you said "I'll take Cassie to her room and..."

"No, no, stay" Charlie asked you "I left a note for Bella at home in case she comes back she’ll know that she has to come here and wait for me. If she does, call me right away, please" you nodded

"I'll call Harry and ask him to join along with the boys" Billy said and wheeled away down the hallway holding the phone to his ear. Charlie and Jacob left and you decided to take Cassie to the room, go down to the kitchen and make some coffee for the Brigadiers and Bella. If she was alone in the woods and the night was catching up with her then she was going to need something hot to get her strength back. 

You hoped with all your heart that she was all right. For her, for Charlie.

.

.

.

Hours passed one after another with no sign of Bella. Your driveway was carpeted with people and police cruisers specially brought by Charlie to search for Bella. The entire town was scoured by officers from the early hours of the night, yet there was no trace of the chief's daughter. You decided to join the search taking the opportunity that Sue Clearwater was playing with Cassie - who was awakened by the ruckus of the patrol cars - asking if it was a good idea to search for her in the woods, but Harry refused.

"It's too dangerous, we don't know what might be among the trees. We can't risk losing any more people."

You were about to object his words when Jacob came up to you putting a hand on your shoulder telling you that he was right and that the forest was something not to be taken lightly. So you gave up, deciding to go back inside and refill the coffee pot when Jacob alerted Charlie that someone had found Bella.

A tall man walked in a straight line toward the Brigadiers where Billy and Harry watched him with restrained relief. He had a stocky frame and Bella unconscious in his arms seemed to weigh no more than a feather. His cropped black hair was messy and his lack of a shirt told you that the icy cold of the city didn't affect him at all

You knew him. His face was very familiar yet strange at the same time. You were back in Forks after a few years, but you knew that no one could change that much in that period of time.

Sam Uley was holding Bella and Charlie took her in his arms as he came out of the stupor and relief of having found his daughter. The Brigadiers sighed in unison and Billy thanked them all. You wanted to do something, to approach Charlie, to ask him if he needed help with Bella, but your eyes were caught in Sam’s. 

They were dark, wild, like the forest behind him. You remembered him perfectly. 

Before you left Forks you two were close friends and came to like each other as something more, but your leaving ended that and what you might have been up to that point.

You tried to look away, but then Sam's huge body began to shake, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground resting his hands on the dirt. Harry Clearwater reacted and approached him asking if he was okay.

"Tired" you heard him whisper causing you to shudder. Harry helped him up, whispered something in his ear and after taking one last look at you he disappeared into the woods. Harry walked back towards you.

"I thought the forest was dangerous"

"For us."

"What do you mean?"

Harry looked at you. Then he looked at his wife with Cassie in her arms standing at the doorway . He smiled.

"You'll find out soon, child"

[winter-fox-queen]

We All Deserve a Fairy Tale Chapter 5

Warnings:  Here be smut, my loves.  Minors be gone, because it is explicit.  First time writing smut, so I hope it works.

Frankie x female blank slate, use of first person.  I think there is cursing.

Frankie ghosts you, then something happens to change it…

Thanks to @sharkbait77​ and @hnt-escape​  If you want on my tag list, tell me.  :)

I waited a week.  A week and a half.  And I broke down, finally, and texted.

Got the edits back for my next book.  I hate this part.

After a moment, a reply.  You got this.

Hope?  Maybe?  Or was he just being nice?

I responded anyway.  

Maybe we can go out and see that movie tonight?  Have dinner?  A little fun before I chain myself to the computer?

No response.

I waited a day, but my stomach churned the whole time.

I texted again, after getting myself good and wound up.  You don’t owe me any explanations.  But please respect me enough not to ghost me.  You’re not interested in me, that’s fine.  But don’t leave me dangling.  You’re better than that.

I hit send, regretted it immediately.

Your right.  What’s your address?

“Shit.  Shit.  What have I done?”  I whispered as I typed it to him.  

About five away.  K?

Yeah.  Thanks.

I ran back inside the house and straightened myself up.  Military minutes must be shorter than civilian minutes because I heard him pull up sooner than I was ready.

I went outside, to the back yard.  I waved at him, half heartedly.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and came over.

“Hey.”  He gave me a soft smile.  Everything about him was guarded.  OK.  Well, I asked him to come over and officially tell me to take a hike, so, I guess I deserved it.

“Frankie, I…”

“No.  I, uh.”  He looked at the ground between our feet.  It was more dirt than grass.  “Man, you weren’t kidding about this place being a wasteland.”  

I laughed despite the rock in my gut.

He looked up at me, a little sideways.  “Let me say my piece and go, OK?”

I hugged myself, and nodded.

“I like you.”  He said so quietly that I had to lean closer to hear him.  “Like you more than I’ve liked anyone for a long time.  And I mean that.  But wanting you in my life doesn’t mean I get to.  I’ve killed — “

I started to object, say something about the army and of course he did and he did what he had to…

He saw it and said, firmly, “No.”

I closed my mouth and he nodded.  “No.  I’m talking about…less than a year ago.  Some friends and I went on a mission.  We said it was to help stop a major drug dealer but it was just…”  He’s breathing a little heavier, now.  Unable to look at me, rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs.  

“People died.”  He looks at me, then, the anguish in his eyes, the guilt.  “My own fucking actions lead to one of my best friends getting killed.  If I hadn’t taken that shot.  If I hadn’t wrecked the fucking chopper…”  

He steps forward and takes my hands in his.  They’re clammy, shaking.  “The mail you saw, it was a reminder.  My friend’s widow, she’s angry and looking for answers and she doesn’t want any of us to be happy.  And she’s right.”  

I try to find words.  I feel like I’m in a cave in, trying to scramble over rocks and debris.  

“I don’t deserve to be happy, and I don’t deserve you.”  He touches my cheek for a second, a butterfly landing and running away.  “I’m gonna go now, I’m gonna block your number.”

He kisses me.  His lips are hot.  When he steps back, I say, “So you’re not going to give me a choice?”

“Why would you want one?”  His voice is incredulous.  There’s an echo, under his words, I can see it in his eyes, in the frustrated way he throws his hands out.  Why would you want me?

I shook my head.  “You say you like me, but you want to close yourself off?  Not give me a chance to get to know you, help you if I can?”

“It’s for the best.  You see that, right?”  There’s a desperate edge.  

I shake my head.  Everything that can possibly hurt does.  I’m supposed to be so good at words, and I can’t find the right ones, the ones to reel him back in.  

He adjusts his hat.  “No, you don’t.  I love your books, but they are fairy tales.  You can’t make a good man out of a monster.  It’s not how the world works.”

“You’re not a monster.”  

He’s all twitchiness now, looking at his truck, desperate to get out of this situation.  It makes me mad, how badly he wants to go.  How I know I can’t fix this.  “Don’t bother blocking my number.”  I say, as I turn on my heel.  “I won’t bother you again.”

He whispers my name and it is so pained that I almost turn around.  But I don’t.

***

I don’t block his number.  I can’t.  I focus on work.  My job that lets me eat work.  My book.   My hands shake on the keyboard, sometimes, as I try to make the story mine again.  It’s hard to write a love story, even one with murder and mystery, when your own heart is broken.

It was ridiculous.  I didn’t even know him that long,  but the loss of him hurt.  It made the story feel pointless.  What right did I have to sell these lies?  To make people believe in love and romance and happily ever after when you can meet someone so amazing and wonderful, and have to watch him walk away?

I kept working.  I’d get over it.  I had to.  It’s not like I’d built anything with him.  I was just aching for the possibilities — the things I tortured myself about.  The things I imagined I m might have lost, with Frankie.

And damn it, I missed him.

But life continues.  And sink faucets wear out, making you have to run to the local home improvement store, wandering the isles with an armload of new faucet, fittings, plumbers tape and everything else the YouTube videos I’d consulted said I would need.

The universe has decided that I have not suffered enough, because I can see him, Frankie Morales in the flesh, frowning at the back of a box like its his greatest enemy.  He was in the home security section.  

I could sneak by.  He was way too interested in what he was holding in those lovely, large hands of his.  I dashed by, head down, determined to just get past him, but some lady with a cart pushed past me at the same time, and my arm load of stuff got jostled.  I was able to save the most expensive bit — the faucet in its box, the long flexible connection thingies — but the plumbers tape, in its plastic hard shell donut jumped out, fell onto the floor, and rolled right over to a well worn work boot.  Spun like a top.  Settled right against his toe.  I looked up, too nervous to enjoy the view (much) and right into his eyes.  His lips were parted, like he was a little surprised to see me.  

“Hey.”  I said, and then, because I didn’t  know what else to do, I turned and fled back the way I came.  I knew where the plumbers tape was, I could just go get another…

“Hey.  Wait a second.”  

I stopped, took a breath, smiled like everything was perfectly normal.

He held up the white plastic Judas.  “Um…your faucet break?”  And then he winced.  “I mean, obviously.  Um.”  He placed the tape on top of my pile delicately.  He was holding a box in both hands tight enough to warp the cardboard.

“It’s old.  I thought I would try my hand at replacing it…can’t be that hard.”

“No, but plumbing can be really picky if you’ve never done it…”

“Don’t offer.”  I whisper it desperately, before I can even think about it.  I can tell he’s working himself up to it, and the thought of him in my house is like a punch ion the guts.

“It wouldn’t be a problem.”  His dark eyes study my face.  Sad.  A little desperate.  For a second I think, maybe he misses me, too.

“No.  I got it.”  I say softly, looking at the floor again.

“Do you still have my number?  If you change your mind?”

I nod at the container.  “Go back to your project, Frankie.  I can handle this on my own.”

Did you know, plumbing is an utter bitch?

Throw in some more curse words in the last sentence.  I certainly used every one I could.  

Two hours later, I get a text.  

Frankie:  How did it go?  

I want to sob.  Instead, I put myself together and write a fairly moderate response:

Me:  I have decided that I will now do my dishes in the bathroom sink.  Who needs a sink in the kitchen?  A total waste.  

Frankie:  The offer is still open?

Me:  How did you know?  Did you just look at me and think, she is too inept to be able to do this herself?

Frankie:  No.  I don’t think that at all.

Frankie:  Let me help?  Please?

Me:  Since you said please, I guess I can allow you to come rescue me.  

Frankie:  OMW.  

I looked at the time, and decided to order pizza.  It was only fair.

Twenty minutes later he’s under the sink.  “You did a good job.  I think maybe you just cross threaded it…”

“Oh, no…did I ruin the threads?”

“It’s probably OK.  I’ll just use a lot of tape…”

And he does some magical things with a wrench and the bright pink tape, which he wraps around the threads to make them more water tight.  I try not to admire his long legs or the rest of him, spread out on my kitchen floor, as he half lays in the bottom of the sink.

The doorbell rings, and I go pay for the pizza, and when I come back he’s turned on the water, and he’s kneeing in front of the open sink bottom, using a paper towel to see if he can find any leaks.

“It looks OK?”  I ask tentatively.

“Yep…you really did have it done mostly.  Just that one spot.”

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly.  “I bought us dinner?”

“You are awesome.”  He does a quick but of clean up so he can shut the sink doors and washes his hands in the newly repaired sink.  He tosses his hat onto the end of the island, and I want to run my fingers through his hair.  He does it for me, absentmindedly pushing the hair off his forehead.  

We sit on either side of my kitchen island, sharing pizza.  I don’t know what to say.  

“It’s a nice apartment.”  He said quietly, picking up another slice.

“It’s cheap, not far from my day job.  It works.”  I shove a hunk of crust in my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else.  I knew this would be bad.  Here he is, sitting a few  inches away.  I could touch him, but I’m not allowed.  It’s a rotten feeling, wanting something and not being allowed to have it.  To feel his fingers wrap around mine.  To have that easy, happy camaraderie again.

“What are you thinking?”  I ask, when the silence gets too much.

He shakes his head.  Wads up his napkin.  Puts his plate in the sink.  Locates the trash.  Such a good guest.  

“I shouldn’t have come.  But I wanted to see you.”  He said this quietly, as if he isn’t sure he should admit it.  

“Well, if you hadn’t, I’d still be under the sink wondering why the damned fittings are still leaking.”

He gives me a gentle smile.  “You would have been ok.”  

“Lucky I didn’t block your number, huh?”

He smiles and kneels down, picking up tools and putting them back in the box.  Sorting his from mine.

“It was nice of you to come help me?  I might be a bit snarky, but I really am grateful for the help.”

“I was happy to.  Where do you keep these?”  I took my tools off him, put them and the plumber’s tape in my tool drawer.  

“But why?  Why were you happy to help?  Why did you want to see me?  You couldn’t leave here quickly enough the other day…” I smile to take the sting out.  “Not that I blame you, the yard is a hot mess.”

He touches my face gently.  “Hush.”  I stop my babbling, lean into his touch.  

“You asked me a question, awhile back.”  I muzzle his hand.  “I never got to answer it.”

“What was that?”  

“You asked me if I wanted you.  And I do.  Very much.”

He made a huffing sound, as if he had been gut punched, and then, slowly, slowly, leaned in and kissed me.  “I miss you,”. He whispers between kisses, his hands framing my face like I’m a delicate thing.  “I miss you when I wake up.  I miss you when I lay down to sleep.  I miss you when I’m driving.”  And each sentence he punctuates, gently, with a kiss, to my forehead, to my nose, to my mouth.  “I barely know you, but you are already woven into my thoughts…”

I’m holding him tight, kissing him back.  I bump my nose against his, sweetly, and I saw, “Then why?  Why stay away?”

He pulls back as far as I’ll let him, sits down again.  I see the ghosts in his eyes again, and I remember the lyrics from a song I used to love, “There’s ghosts in your eyes, they cry when you smile…”

“I shouldn’t have come…I’m a train wreck waiting to happen.”

“No, not if you’re just going to push me away again.  That’s cruel.  I never thought you’d be cruel, Francisco Morales.”

He winces like I punched him.  

“If it’s too soon to tell me, that’s fine.  Just push it aside until you trust me.  Or until it matters.  I don’t care about your past, what you’ve done.  I know you well enough to know you did what you had to do at the time.”  I give in to the longing to touch him, I run my fingers lightly through the curls at his temple before letting my hand drop.  He’s watching me like a landmine he’s stepped on.  His fingers ghost over my hips.  Grip them gently.  Pulls me between his thighs.  Now it’s my turn to be wary, as he pulls me close.  His dark, liquid eyes study my face, I can almost hear him weighing and sorting.  Lay your secrets on me, beautiful man.  I want to tell him.  But I wait.  I wait until his large hands encompass me, run over my waist, the softness over my ribs, glide up the sides of my breasts so softly I am not even sure he touched me, to cup my face.

 “I want to be who you think I am,” he says, and I smile gently.

A decision is made, in those fathomless eyes.  And he leans close, and he kisses me again.  The last kisses were loving.  This kiss is passionate.  Deep. So full of longing I could cry.  I let my lips part and his tongue traces, licks inside.  I make a little sound and grab his wrists, pushing them aside so I can wrap my arms around him, if I could meld myself to him, I would have then, melted inside of him like gold, fixing his cracks.

He stands, the stool scraping against the floor.  The sound is jarring, lifts me out of the lust sodden moment.  “If you want me, baby, you have me,” he says in that rough honey voice of him.  “Show me the way.”  

I take one of his hands in both of mine, I kiss each knuckle.  I’d been playing with the idea, and now here I was.  I could still say no.  I could slow things down, I could be sensible.  

But I’d never wanted anything so deeply, so profoundly, as I wanted him.  Every time I touched his skin, I felt like something lost had been returned to me.

I smiled a little at him, and backed away, pulling him with me.  “This way, sweetheart.”

His lips are on mine the second we cross into my bedroom.  Once Frankie Morales makes a decision, he is all in.  His hand cups the back of my head, holding me so he can kiss me, his tounge sliding against mine as his other hand slips under my shirt.  I pull back and tug at his shirt.  “Off.”  I command, and he grins and sheds it.   My shirt and my bra join it on the floor.  I press my breasts to the warm smoothness of his chest.  I run my hands over his ribs, his stomach, as his mouth claims mine again.  His skin is soft and warm, strong muscles flexing under my hands.  I kiss along his jawline, I lick and kiss the constellation of freckles on the side of his neck.  He moans softly in approval as I nip and kiss my way to his shoulder.

His own hands slip up to my breasts, weighing them in his hands, squeezing gently. He runs his thumb over one nipple, then bends to lick the other into his mouth, sucking gently, his tounge flicking at the hard peak.  His freehand is splayed against the small of my back, holding me in place.  Pleasure shoots through me, and all I can do is cling to him.  He lets me go and pushes me gently.  I fall back onto my bed, tearing at the button on my pants, needing to get everything off, needing to feel his skin, his warmth, his strength and softness.

“Condoms?”  He asks, one knee on the bed.  “I didn’t think…”

I shook my head.  “I’m on the pill?”

His eyes darken further, and he asks, “Are you sure?”

I nod and hold out my arms, and he gives me the sweetest smile.  He stands up again and undoes his pants, sliding them off, and he’s naked and beautiful and I just want him wrapped around me.  He slips into my arms and kisses me again, his arms holding him over me.  He gives me a little of his weight, grounding me.  It feels so good, skin sliding against skin, warmth against warmth,

His slips a hand between us, and I clench at the thought of him touching me just as he slides two thick fingers between my folds, rubbing my clit gently, exploring me.  “So wet.”  He whispers, kissing my temple.  “So soft.”  He kisses the tip of my nose.  “So hot.”  And his takes my lips again, his fingers rubbing my clit, making me shake with building pleasure.  “I want to taste you, sweetheart.  I want to make you come on my tounge…can I, baby?”

I nod.  I don’t know who can resist that voice, rough with lust and promise?  He kisses his way down and I spread my legs wider, and he gently licks — a test lick, from my entrance to my clit.  He licks my clit, hard, with short licks before drawing me into his mouth and sucking me.  He is fervent, as he works, and I can’t think about anything but the heat of his mouth.  As the pressure and pleasure builds, I’m making the most needy sounds, unable to control myself.  His slips one finger in, then a second, exploring, touching, then another, stretching and reaching for that spot.  The rippling explosion leaves me shamelessly arching into his mouth, crying out his name like a prayer.  

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, kissing the inside of my thigh, rubbing his beard against the soft skin.  

He comes up to kneel between by thighs.  His eyes meet mine as I struggle to compose myself, and his hand gently comes up to very gently lay across my throat, his thumb tracing my chin.  

“Are you sure?  Where do you want me to come?”

I nod frantically. “Please, baby, I want you.  Inside me, please…”

His hand slips away from my throat to rest on the bed above my shoulder, and I miss the warmth of it as he gently strokes my skin, settling his hand on my thigh.  He takes his cock into his hand, stroking it before rubbing it against my clit, causing me to whimper.  He runs the head of it up and down a few times, his eyes slipped closed, his jaw going slack, that lush lower lip parting.  I wish I had a picture…he was beautiful.  Skin made gold by the fading light, thighs splayed under mine.  I felt the head of his cock in my entrance, and he pressed in, a slow hot stretch until he was sheathed completely.  

“Oh, fuck.”   He whispered.  “You feel so good.  So fucking good.”

He lowered himself back on top of me.  “You feel so huge inside me, baby,” I whisper in his ear.    “You feel like heaven.  Please…fuck me, honey.  Please…” And he started moving, slow at first, the changing the angle and speeding up.  With every thrust he pressed against something that felt so good…I was seeing the proverbial stars as he gasped in my ear, making soft sounds of pleasure every time he slammed home.  I nipped at his shoulder, and he was looking down at me, dark eyes studying me.  

“Frankie, I…I can’t think, I don’t know what to do…”  

“Don’t think.  Just let me take care of you.  It’s all I want to do…”  He captures my mouth in a sloppy kiss.  “Just let go.”

And I do.  I cry out his name as he continues to move, the friction making my high last.  He speeds up, and I cup his face in shaking hands.

“You’re so beautiful.  I want to feel you come, Frankie, honey, come for me.”

He moved to kiss the palm of my hand, then his eyes squeeze shut as he finds his own release.  I can feel it, spilling hot inside of me.  I welcome him as he lowers himself down completely, unable to stay up on his forearms any longer.  He tried to shift off, but I cling to him.  I welcome his weight.  His strength.  

I don’t want to let go.  I never want to let him go.

[coachbusrepair-blog]

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[jamielea81]

When We Were Young

Chapter 1

Description: Leaving the only home your daughter had ever known wasn’t part of the grand plan. But then again, sometimes taking chances can change your whole life. And you should know that, you’ve been doing that since the start.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, maybe a curse word or two.

Word Count: 2,271

A/N: Super nervous about this one. As always, this is strictly for fun as I know nothing about the personal life of Chris Evans. This series takes place in 2018.

*Italics are internal thoughts*

**

This is it. This…is…it. Okay, deep breath. Plaster on that smile.

“We’re almost there,” you sing-songed.

“Mom…” your daughter Ellie groaned.

Turning your head to the side, your co-pilot was currently nose deep in a book.

Better than her phone.

She’s a great kid and you really couldn’t complain. At fifteen you were pulling away from your parents as were most of your friends. It had been the two of you for so long that you were closer than ever. She didn’t keep secrets from you and you didn’t keep any from her. That had been your deal for years.

“I’m hoping we beat the moving truck there. Would hate to pay them to sit around,” you said eyeing the clock on the dash.

“It’s a moving truck and you don’t exactly have a light foot,” she replied, tucking in a bookmark and setting her book on her lap.

“What are you implying Ellington?” Smirk ever-present in your voice.

“It’s just that you tend to speed mother dear. When we were on the open roads in North Carolina that was one thing, but I don’t think you’ll get away with that in Boston.”

“Just wait until you start driving. You’re going to be worse than me!” you laughed. “But your probably right.”

“Don’t forget to sign me up for classes. You promised after the move you’d enroll me.”

“I know and I will. Let’s just get the school tour and the first few days of classes settled first. One step at a time,” you replied, giving her a soft smile.

Where did the time go?

“And are you ready?” she questioned.

“Ready for what?” you asked, small frown appearing on your lips.

“You’re new job. The new house. It’s an entirely different part of the country. It’s a lot,” Ellie sighed out. “Even I know that and I’m the one that wanted this change.” She placed her hand over your right hand that held the steering wheel.

“I’m ready.” You nodded your head because you really were. “This is for you, baby. But a little part of this is for me too. Change is good,” you said shrugging your shoulders. “That’s what they say right?” You gave her a questioning look which she chuckled at.

“Absolutely, mom,” Ellie agreed.

**

Despite your concern, the two of you made it to the townhome before the movers. The car was unloaded and food ordered before they even pulled up.

All of your furniture had survived the move, but now that you had it in the house, the beach vibe really wasn’t matching with the old brick row home. If your savings weren’t mostly depleted, you’d consider purchasing a new living room and dining room set. Only one box of miscellaneous knickknacks was damaged beyond repair from the move up the coast. According to your daughter, it was just an excuse to go shopping.

Ellie was tucked away in her new room organizing her clothes, promising she’d actually go to sleep in the next thirty minutes. It was a big day for her and you as she would tour her new school. The school specializing in engineering was the reason you were here. While Ellie didn’t inherit the social awkwardness you experienced in junior high and most of high school, she was also incredible smart. How your beautiful daughter turned out so well rounded only being raised by you was a bit of a mystery, but you thanked your lucky stars every night.

When Ellie came to you ten months ago with a glittery pink folder filled with the school’s brochure, a list of courses she planned to take, a breakdown of tuition cost, nearby neighborhoods, and a recommendation for one of her teachers, you knew she was serious. She had been talking about Harvard since she was nine years old when her school had a special speaker that had mentioned graduating from the esteemed university. She reminded you that when she did start her college career there, because she knew she’d get in, it would be a lot easier on you if you lived locally. Sometimes she was too smart for her own good.

Reaching out to a of couple old NYU classmate who lived in Boston was the easy part. Getting your small two-bedroom bungalow solid was the tough part. The house sat on the market for two months without so much as a nibble. The two of you got to work painting every room, replacing light fixtures, baseboards, and outlets. It paid off in the end as your house was in escrow a month later.

While you liked having a detached home, it wasn’t in the budget in Boston or in any of the surrounding suburbs. Your old classmate Hillary, who was happy to reconnect really steered you toward a row home. After searching Google for months, you found a rental in the town of Belmont that was conveniently located near Ellie’s high school. And just like that, you were saying goodbye to the only town she had ever known.

Wine. You needed wine if you were going to stop worrying and get some sleep yourself. If only you could find a wine glass. Digging through the one of three boxes labeled “dishes”, you gave up your search when you came up empty after the first box.

“A coffee cup will do.”

Filling the mug three quarters of the way full, you headed back to the couch, resting your feet up on the cushions and thought about how your lives were going to change. Ellie was excited for a new city and school, but you were sure she also held onto some anxiety on the inside as she tended to do.  

When you were three months pregnant, you moved to Wilmington North Carolina with your college classmate Peter who was nice enough to offer you a place to stay. You certainly couldn’t go home to Kentucky. Not when you were pregnant and single. Not that you wanted to anyway. Wilmington is where you built your life for the last sixteen years and you missed it already.

You grew up in a very structured home. Middle child to wealthy parents who weren’t shy about how much they had. They had goals for you and for the most part, you obeyed. Piano lessons, cello lessons, dance, although, that one ended shortly after you started. Private schools, tutors, math camp, really anything that would help you succeed. You did well in school because you worked hard. Not that you had a choice really. College and then back home to work for your father’s company. No doubt they had a short list of potential husbands handpicked for you by your sixteenth birthday. You’d be engaged by twenty four, married, by twenty five, first child by twenty seven. It wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted to plan out the rest of your life, not have it planned out for you. Having a child on your own terms was very much a part of your plans.

**

Leaving work early after only two weeks at Hayward Financial was not on your calendar for the day. Two appointments with new clients had to be canceled with new ones set up for the following week. Receiving a call from Middlebury Engineering Academy that your daughter missed third and fourth period was most certainly not a call you expected to get. She loved school. Always had perfect attendance except for that one year where she got very sick with the flu and had to miss three days. Missing class was more painful to Ellie than the illness itself. Maybe you missed something. Maybe she wasn’t as happy as she seemed. She already had a small group of friends but maybe they weren’t good kids. You slammed your hands on the steering wheel.

“Where are you Ellington Rae?”

You had already called her cellphone three times and texted her twice as much but she wasn’t responding. Home was your first stop but she wasn’t there. The coffee shop was next. It was a favorite for the two of you, stopping there at least four days a week. Unfortunately, they hadn’t seen her. The pizza place, sandwich shop, frozen yogurt kiosk, library, that clothing boutique she had been begging you to take her to since her friend Carmen had mentioned it, all turned up empty. On the verge of tears, you pulled back into your driveway for the second time that day and called your best friend who not only felt a thousand miles away but actually was a thousand miles away in Wilmington. This was the hard part about moving somewhere new. You hadn’t met the neighbors, hadn’t introduced yourself to the parents of Ellie’s friends, barely knew her teachers. You had never felt more alone than you did at that moment.

“Gwen…” you said, voice barely holding on.

“What’s wrong? Shit. Give me a second, I’m going to step outside,” she said.

You got out of the car, walking up the stairs with the phone attached to your ear and your bag in your other hand. You pushed your shoulder up to hold the phone in place while you dug for the keys.

“Okay, tell me what’s going on.

“It was a mistake coming here,” you sobbed, dropping the keys on the kitchen island. “I miss Wilmington.”

“Oh babe. You love it there. You already told me you do,” she sighed.

“Not anymore. We’re coming home. I just need, um I just need to get out of my lease. We can stay with you right?”

“Always. But that’s not going to happen. Now tell me what’s bringing this panic on.”

**

“I can do this. Just act like you know what you’re doing,” Ellie said to herself, taking a big breath, straightening her shoulders, and walking out the door.

Leaving campus after second period was a lot easier than she thought it would be. Between the hustle and bustle of the hallway, watching the exits apparently wasn’t a thing teachers did. She walked three blocks from campus and ordered an Uber. The app was already on her phone from when her mom’s car got a flat and they decided to get lunch rather than sit around the repair shop. Her mom would be mad at her, but this was worth it and she would apologize for it later.

Her driver dropped her off in front of the booming convention center. She’d always wanted to go to one of these things, just never figured she’d be ditching school to do it. The building was massive with an impressive architectural roof. The engineer in her was beaming, but she wasn’t here for that. No, she was on a schedule. This was her one chance and she wasn’t going to blow it standing outside. Walking past the dozen or so smokers, she made her way inside the convention center, making a stop at the registration table to grab her credentials. While most attendees lined up early to be let in as soon as the doors were open, Ellie was not the average attendee.

Checking her phone for the time, she saw the dozen or so missed calls and texts. She was going to be in so much trouble when she got home and she honestly hated herself for making her mom worry. Ellie had an hour before she could line up for the one photograph she purchased months ago. Deciding to kill time in the vendor room seemed like the best option. Maybe she could buy something for you to make up for giving you wrinkles at an early age.

After browsing for some time, Ellie settled on two matching beaded bracelets in your favorite color for each of you. Maybe when you finally forgave her, you’d wear them and go to brunch like the two of you enjoyed doing back in Wilmington.

Combing her fingers through her hair for the fourth time, Ellie leaned to the side to check the length of the line once more. There were maybe twenty to twenty five people ahead of her, so she knew it would go fast. But if she had to hear how hot Chris Evans was one more time, she was going to scream. Ellie had rehearsed what she was going to say a million times in her head, but she wasn’t sure if she’d be able verbalize the words. An opportunity like this wouldn’t happen again, at least not one this easily.

She was led into a room with two other girls not much older than herself. They were here together and couldn’t stop giggling. Chris said hello and both said hello in unison causing Ellie to sigh.

“How do you want to pose for the photo?” Chris asked.

“Could we both hug you?” one of the girls asked.

“Yeah, that would be okay,” Chris replied, giving them each a smile which only caused them to giggle more and Ellie to roll her eyes.

After the girls said goodbye, two more people were ushered in the room behind Ellie. The assistant urged her forward to a smiling Chris.

“Hi sweetheart. How would you like to pose for our photo?” Ellie gulped in reply. “Don’t be nervous. How about I just give you a side hug?”

Ellie nodded her head as Chris wrapped his arm around her waist. She turned her head to face him, seeing that he wasn’t looking at her, but at the camera.

“You’re my dad,” she exclaimed.

Chris whipped his head to the side to face her. “What?” he whispered.

“You’re my father.”

Chapter 2

**

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Roy Albert DeMeo,September 7, 1940[– January 10, 1983) was an Italian-American mobster in the Gambino crime family of New York City. He headed the a group referred to as the "DeMeo crew", which became notorious for the large number of alleged murders they committed and for the grisly way they disposed of the bodies, which became known as "the Gemini Method".The crew committed a very large amount of murders, with the majority of them committed by DeMeo himself. Roy Albert DeMeo was born in 1940 in Bath Beach, Brooklyn, to a working class Italian immigrant family of Neapolitan origin. Anthony Gaggi, a soldier in the Gambino crime family, noticed DeMeo and told him that he could make even more money with his successful business if he came to work directly for the Gambinos. Through the late 1960s, DeMeo's organized crime prospects increased on two fronts. He continued in the loansharking business with Gaggi, and began developing a crew of young men involved in car theft. It was this collective of criminals that would become known both in the underworld and in law enforcement circles as the DeMeo crew.

The first member of the DeMeo crew was 16-year-old Chris Rosenberg, who met DeMeo in 1966 when he was dealing marijuana at a Canarsie gas station. DeMeo helped Rosenberg increase his business and profits by loaning him money so that he could deal in larger amounts. By 1972, Rosenberg had introduced his friends to DeMeo and they began working for him as well. The members of the crew included Joseph "Dracula" Guglielmo (DeMeo's cousin), Joseph and Patrick Testa, and Anthony Senter. DeMeo joined a Brooklyn credit union that same year, gaining a position on the board of directors shortly afterward. He utilized his position to launder money earned through his illegal ventures. He also introduced colleagues at the credit union to a lucrative side-business, laundering the money of drug dealers he had become acquainted with. DeMeo also built up his loansharking business with funds stolen from credit union reserves.

DeMeo's collection of loanshark customers, while still primarily those in the car industry, soon included other businesses such as a dentist's office, an abortion clinic, restaurants and flea markets. He was also listed as an employee for a Brooklyn company named S & C Sportswear Corporation, and frequently told his neighbors he worked in construction, food retailing and the used car business.

In late 1974, a conflict that had erupted between the DeMeo crew and Andrei Katz, a young auto repair shop owner who was partners with DeMeo in a stolen car ring, had continued to escalate. In May 1975, DeMeo was informed by a police officer that, as a result of this conflict, Katz was cooperating with authorities. In June Katz was lured to a place where he could be confronted. After being abducted, he was stabbed to death and then dismembered. An accomplice who helped bait Katz confessed her role, and Joseph Testa and Henry Borelli were both arrested. They would secure an acquittal at trial in January 1976.

This was the first known murder committed by the DeMeo crew, and for years it was thought to have been the first occasion where DeMeo or members of his crew had dismembered a body for disposal. In 2003, however, new information was provided to the FBI by Bonanno underboss Salvatore Vitale, who claimed that in 1974 he was ordered to deliver the corpse of a man who had just been murdered to a garage in Queens so that it could be disposed of by DeMeo. As the 1970s continued, DeMeo cultivated his followers into a crew experienced with the process of murdering and dismembering victims. With the exception of killings intended to send a message to any who would hinder their criminal activities, or murders that presented no other alternative, a set method of execution was established by DeMeo and crew to ensure that victims would be dispatched quickly and then made to disappear. The style of execution was dubbed the "Gemini Method", after the Gemini Lounge, the primary hangout of the DeMeo crew, as well as the site where most of the crew's victims were killed.

The process of the Gemini Method, as revealed by multiple crew members and associates who became government witnesses in the early 1980s, was to lure the victim through the side door of the lounge and into the apartment in the back portion of the building. At this point, a crew member (almost always DeMeo according to crew-member-turned-government-witness Frederick DiNome) would approach with a silenced pistol in one hand and a towel in the other, shooting the victim in the head then wrapping the towel around the victim's head wound like a turban to stanch the blood flow. Immediately after, another member of the crew (originally Chris Rosenberg, up until his 1979 murder, according to government witness testimony) would stab the victim in the heart to prevent more blood from pumping out of the gunshot wound. By then, the victim would be dead, at which point the body would be stripped of clothing and dragged into the bathroom, where the remaining blood drained out or congealed within the body. This was to eliminate the messiness of the next step, when crew members would place the body onto plastic sheets laid out in the main room and proceed to dismember it, cutting off the arms, legs and head.

The body parts would then be put into bags, placed in cardboard boxes and sent to the Fountain Avenue Dump in Brooklyn, where so many tons of garbage were dropped each day that it would be nearly impossible for the bodies to be discovered. During the initial stages of an early 1980s federal/state task force targeting the DeMeo crew, a plan by authorities to excavate sections of the dump to locate remains of victims was aborted when it was deemed too costly and unlikely to locate any meaningful evidence. The landfill, opposite the Starrett City Apartment Complex on Pennsylvania Avenue in the heavily African-American East New York section of Brooklyn, across the Belt Parkway, was shut down in 1985, and capped over since, all signs (and odors) that a landfill had existed gone, replaced by a parkland.

Some victims would be killed in other ways for varying reasons. At times, suspected informants or those who committed an act of disrespect against a member of the crew or their superiors had their bodies left in the streets of New York to serve as a message and warning. There were also occasions where it would not be possible to lure the intended victim into the Gemini Lounge, in which case other locations would have to be used. A cabin cruiser owned by Richard DiNome was used on at least one occasion to dispose of bodies. In the latter half of 1975, DeMeo became a silent partner in a peep show/prostitution establishment in Bricktown, New Jersey after the owner of the business became unable to pay his loansharking debts. DeMeo also began dealing in bestiality and child pornography, which he sold to his New Jersey establishment as well as connections he had in Rhode Island. When Gaggi found out about DeMeo's involvement in such taboo films, he ordered DeMeo to stop under the threat of death. However, DeMeo defied Gaggi and continued the practice. Gaggi did not retaliate, and, according to his nephew, Dominick Montiglio, the subject was never mentioned again as long as DeMeo continued making payments to Gaggi. DeMeo also dealt in narcotics despite the Gambino family strictly forbidding such activity. In 2011, former Gambino associate Greg Bucceroni alleged that during the late 1970s and early 1980s, DeMeo utilized his henchman Richard Kuklinski on behalf of Robert "DB" DiBernardo and the Gambino family's pornography establishments in New York, New Jersey, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. Here, Kuklinski would traffic illegal pornography, collect debts, and carry out contract killings.

As 1975 drew to a close, DeMeo was the subject of IRS investigations into his income. Months earlier, the Borrough of Brooklyn Credit Union had been pushed into insolvency as a result of DeMeo and his colleagues' plundering of its finances. As a result, DeMeo quit the Credit Union. Before an indictment could be handed down against him, he utilized false affidavits from businesses owned by friends and acquaintances claiming he was on their payrolls as an employee. These affidavits served to account for some of his income, allowing him to reach a settlement with the IRS.

DeMeo's sources of income, as well as his crew, continued to grow. By July 1976, DeMeo added an automobile firm by the name of Team Auto Wholesalers to his loanshark customers. The owner of Team Auto, Matthew Rega, also purchased stolen vehicles from the crew and sold them off at a New Jersey car lot that he owned. He also involved himself with hijacking delivery trucks from John F. Kennedy International Airport. His crew now included Danny Grillo, a hijacker who had just been released from prison.

In the fall of 1976, the Gambino family went through a massive change when its boss Carlo Gambino died of natural causes. Paul Castellano was named the boss, with Aniello Dellacroce retaining the position of underboss. The implications of this were twofold for DeMeo. Gaggi was elevated to the position of caporegime, taking over the crew of men Castellano previously headed. This promotion was beneficial for DeMeo, whose mentor was now even closer to the family leadership. Another advantage was that with Gambino deceased, new associates would be eligible for membership into the family. Castellano did not immediately "open the books" for new members, opting instead to promote existing members and shuffle around the crews' leaders. He also allegedly opposed the idea of DeMeo being made. Castellano involved himself in white-collar crime and looked down on street-level members such as DeMeo. Additionally, Castellano felt DeMeo was uncontrollable. Gaggi's attempts at persuading Castellano to make DeMeo were continually rejected. By 1977, DeMeo became distraught by this situation and searched for opportunities that would ensure larger returns for his superiors. By 1982, the FBI was investigating the enormous number of missing and murdered persons who were linked to DeMeo or who had last been seen entering the Gemini Lounge. It is around this time that an FBI bug in the home of Gambino family capo Angelo Ruggiero picked up a conversation between Ruggiero and Gene Gotti, a brother of John Gotti.

In the conversation, it is discussed that Paul Castellano had put out a hit on DeMeo, but was having difficulty finding someone willing to do the job. Gene Gotti mentions that his brother, John, was wary of taking the contract, as DeMeo had an "army of killers" around him. It is also mentioned in this same secretly recorded conversation that, at that time, John had killed fewer than 10 people, while DeMeo had killed at least 38. According to mob turncoat Sammy Gravano, eventually the contract was given to Frank DeCicco, but DeCicco and his crew could not get to DeMeo either. DeCicco allegedly handed the job to DeMeo's own men. DeMeo's son Albert wrote that in his final days, DeMeo was paranoid and knew that he would be killed soon. DeMeo considered faking his own death and leaving the country. However, instead he left the house one day and never returned. Albert DeMeo later found Roy's personal belongings such as his watch, wallet, and ring in his study room, and a Catholic pamphlet. In his final days, DeMeo was seen wearing a leather jacket, with a shotgun concealed underneath. On January 10, 1983, DeMeo went to crew member Patty Testa's house for a meeting with his men. That night, he failed to attend his daughter Dione's birthday party. As it was unusual for DeMeo to miss an important family occasion, his family suspected that something had happened to him. Ten days later, on January 20, DeMeo's Cadillac was discovered in the parking lot of the Veruna Boat Club in Brooklyn. DeMeo's partially frozen body was found in the trunk with a chandelier on top of it.[11] He had been shot multiple times in the head and had a bullet wound in his hand, assumed by law enforcement to be a reflexive defensive wound caused when his killers opened fire on him. There are several accounts of DeMeo's death. The task force investigating the DeMeo crew theorized that DeMeo was set up in a similar manner to how he set up Rosenberg, and that Gaggi, Testa and Senter were present when he was killed.[12] When Lucchese family underboss Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso became an FBI informant in 1993, he said that Paul Castellano had ordered DeMeo's death, but due to the DeMeo crew's reputation as hardened killers, the Gotti and DeCicco crews had been unable or unwilling to carry out the hit. Therefore DeCicco passed the contract to Casso, who knew Anthony Senter and Joseph Testa, and ordered them to kill DeMeo. In Casso's account, DeMeo was seated and about to receive coffee, when Testa and Senter suddenly opened fire on him. Nino Gaggi was not present. In April 1984, Colombo crime family soldier Ralph Scopo was overheard explaining to an associate that DeMeo had been killed by his own family because they merely suspected that he would not be able to stand up to legal charges that resulted from his stolen car ring. Albert DeMeo believed that his father was killed by Testa and Senter. The remainder of DeMeo's crew were soon rounded up and the core members, Henry Borelli, Joseph Testa and Anthony Senter were imprisoned for life after two trials that saw them convicted of a collective total of 25 murders, in addition to extortion, car theft and drug trafficking. The convictions were secured in large part by testimony of former members Frederick DiNome and Dominick Montiglio. Paul Castellano was indicted for ordering the murder of DeMeo, as well as a host of other crimes, but was killed in December 1985 while out on bail in the middle of the first trial. The murder was allegedly ordered by John Gotti, who thus became the new boss of the Gambino family.

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Mobile Mechanic Service near Albuquerque NM:When you hire a mobile mechanic, you want to find somebody that you can really trust. You are putting your vehicle in the hands of somebody else, and if you are searching for a new mobile mechanic, that can seem scary. At Mobile Mechanics of Albuquerque, we carefully screen each potential mechanic to make sure they are very experienced and reliable so that our customers keep coming back! When you find yourself searching for a new mechanic, give us a call and we will match you up with the perfect mobile mechanic and they will come to you at your preferred time and location.

Experience

When you are looking for a mobile mechanic, you want an experienced mechanic because they will have the technical skills to correctly perform any service you may need. A good way to know if a mobile mechanic is experienced is to ask if they are ASE certified. At Mobile Mechanics of Albuquerque, every mobile mechanic we hire is required to have the ASE certification! To find an experienced mobile mechanic near you, give us a call and we will point you in the right direction.

Reliability

You want your new mobile mechanic to be extremely reliable. This quality tends to be lacking in a lot of traditional auto mechanic shops across the US. When your mobile mechanic is reliable, you will notice a huge difference. They will be on-time and efficient. If that is what you are looking for, hire a mobile mechanic from Mobile Mechanics of Albuquerque! When conducting interviews, we specifically select reliable mechanics so our customers will never have to worry about their mobile mechanic being late!

Specialized Skills

If you have a very expensive vehicle such as a Ferrari or Tesla, you want to make sure your mobile mechanic has the specific skills so they can work on your vehicle. At Mobile Mechanics of Albuquerque, we ask for the make and model of your vehicle so we can match you up with an expert mobile mechanic that has specialized skills for your vehicle. With us, you won’t have to compromise convenience for specialized service. Our mobile mechanics can do it all! Give us a call today and we will get your appointment scheduled as soon as possible.

Communication Skills

A good mobile mechanic should be able to communicate with their customers and fellow mechanics. This is important because the mechanic should tell you, their customer, what you can to accurately prevent costly repairs and maintain your vehicle so that it is always running at its best! Mobile Mechanics of Albuquerque mobile mechanics are trained to not only have good technical skills, but they are also trained to be good communicators.

Customer Service Skills

A mobile mechanic is there to fix your vehicle, but you should never have a bad customer service experience in order to get the best results! When looking for a new mobile mechanic, you want to trust your gut. A mobile mechanic should be there to serve you AND your vehicle! At Mobile Mechanics of Albuquerque, we value our customers just as much as we value their vehicles. We want to create relationships with our customers because when you hire one of our mobile mechanics, you become part of the Mobile Mechanics of Albuquerque family! Book an appointment today and we guarantee you will have the best experience yet!

 COST

MobileMechanic Services in Albuquerque NM: Our mobile mechanics charge as low as $40-60 per hour plus parts. Most independent repair shops charge between $70-$90 per hour and most dealerships charge between $80-$125 per hour. If you find a good mobile mechanic repair shop that you can trust to do great work and give you excellent service, then be happy to pay them their rate and invite them or take your cars to them whenever you need them serviced.

Looking for mobile mechanic pricing? Your Albuquerque NM mobile mechanic charges only the base cost of parts, plus our flat rate $30-60 per hour labor fee.

There are several main factors that determine labor rates. Dealerships are generally more expensive than independent repair shops. One of the main reasons is because consumers see them as being more qualified to work on their cars. In some cases this might be true, but in some cases it isn't. Dealerships generally have brand specific diagnostic tools that are very expensive and this adds to their labor cost as well.

Another determining factor for labor rates is where the shop is located in Albuquerque NM. Where it is located in the city and which city it is located in both play a role. If it is in the middle of town where building lease rates are high the labor rate will probably be higher. If they are located in a small town they will usually have lower labor rates. Some cities have higher rates than other similarly sized cities.

As far as a reasonable rate, there are also several factors to consider here as well. The main thing to think about is are you getting good service and quality work done on your car? If the answer is yes, then you should be willing to pay a premium for that since it is so hard to find.

Most independent repair shops charge between $80-$90 per hour and most dealerships charge between $80-$125 per hour.

 Get Peace Of Mind With Our Easy To Understand, Transparent Quotes.

Mobile Mechanic Services in Albuquerque NM:  Getting an instant price is just a few clicks away. Simply provide your car make and model, desired service, your location and we’ll provide you with a fair, transparent quote before you schedule your service.

Our easy to understand quotes show the detailed cost of labor, parts, and taxes (if any). You'll know exactly what's included in your service so there are no surprises.

You're always in control. If your mechanic discovers that your car doesn't need all the services you requested, we'll remove those services and lower your bill, right on the spot. If your car needs additional repair services, your mechanic will provide you with an itemized list of what you need. You can always decide to add or decline any additional services.

 Low Overhead Means Savings For You.

Our mechanics are mobile. Not only do we have significantly lower overhead costs compared to the local shops, but as a national brand, we are able to negotiate better prices from the auto parts vendors. We pass these savings to you! The bigger the job, the more you save.

 FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

What is a Mobile Mechanic?

Mobile Mechanic is the new way to get your vehicle repaired at home, on the side of the road, at your office or anywhere else. Instead you take your car, truck or van to an auto shop. They come to you.

 Do Mobile Mechanics Charge a Fee to come you?

Depending on the Truck Mechanic service, sometime if they come and tell you what is wrong with your automobile and you let them do the repair. They might wave the fee for you or the best way to find out is Click here and just ask them.

 Can a Mobile Mechanic Service Fix My Automobile Anywhere?

Yes, a mobile mechanic service can repair your car, truck or van anywhere, at your house or home while watching them doing their work or you could be doing whatever you please while they are working in your vehicle, at your job while you are working, at your office while you are taking care of your business or on the side of the road.

 Do I Buy My Parts or the Mobile Mechanic brings their parts?

Majority of the time you purchase your own part so you can keep your parts warranty or you could let them buy the parts for you. If you think it is going to be cheaper, if they use their commercial account they have with auto parts stores.

 What is the method of payment for Mobile Mechanic Service?

All mobile mechanic services prefer cash as their method of payment while some of them will take credit card or check as a payment and others will not take them. Go to https://www.carhelpout.com/location/ and ask them right of front.

 Can Mobile Mechanic Service complete larger repair work on site?

Professional Mobile Mechanic Vans or Truck are fully equipped workshops so we can conduct most repairs on site. For select larger jobs we may take vehicles to a partner workshop, but we’ll do the running around for you at no extra charge – so you can get on with your day.

 Can a Mobile Mechanic service fix any types of vehicles?

No, some Truck Mechanic services can only work on gasoline vehicles while others can work on both gasoline and diesel automobiles.

 Can Mobile Mechanic Service repair my motorbike, scooter, or commercial vehicle?

Yes and No. Some others may not. All you have to do is ask. Even do the odd tractor, caravan and trailer.

 Do Mobile Mechanic services provide guarantee for their work?

Most of them do give guarantee for the mechanic work they do on their parts they install or replace.

 What is the open hour of Mobile Mechanic Service?

Most Mobile Mechanic Services are open as early as 6 AM to 10 PM depending on the location and auto part store hours while some of them operate 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The simple way to find out is to find your mobile mechanics service at your location and give them a quick call and ask.

 Do Mobile Mechanic Service Work on the weekend and Holidays?

Some Truck Mechanic service work on the week and holidays, while some of them only work on the weekdays; the best way to find out is to call and ask.

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[timelordthirteen]

Some Other Time - Part 5

Mr. Gold/Lacey French, Explicit

Summary: College student Lacey dumps her boyfriend and needs a new apartment, it just so happens her professor, Dr. Gold, has a room to rent.

Chapter Summary: Lacey gets a package, and Gold gets a peek.

Notes: I'm so behind on these fics. :( I hate everything. For the 31 Days of Fandomas prompt #20 - Stockings.

[AO3]

Lacey’s leg bounced as she glanced up at the clock.

Fifteen minutes left and she still had no idea how to answer three of the questions. She huffed and frowned at the exam sheet, tapping her pen against the edge of the desk. Professor Mills's test were always challenging, but Lacey usually did well on them. This time though, it was like she studied all the things that weren’t on the test. She wanted to be done with this stupid final and done with the semester.

It didn’t help that there was a package waiting for her at home. Well, Gold’s home. The home she sort of shared with Gold.

The package was the kind that she wanted to get to before anyone else saw it, just in case. There was no way for anyone to leave a package at her door, specifically. It would be left on the front porch, probably on the little bench. If Gold saw it, he’d bring it for her, which might mean he would figure out where it was from, and thus what was inside.

Things were less awkward now that she’d apologized for her antics and exploded Christmas decorations all over the house. Gold seemed happier the last few days, and as a result he’d been inviting her to have dinner. Afterwards, they would talk late into the evening, sometimes with a movie playing, sometimes with nothing but the crack of the fire. It felt like a real friendship now, which only made her romantic and sexual attraction to him stronger.

Hence the package.

She decided to treat herself to a little something from her favorite lingerie catalog, something she thought he might like, with all the accessories, like a garter belt and stockings, to go with it. Even if she never wore it for him, she could still pretend, still think of him when she wore it for herself. Maybe, if she was brave enough, she’d follow through on her fantasy and let him find her under the tree on Christmas morning. He wouldn’t be able to mistake her intentions then.

Because her order was over a certain amount, the company threw in one of their toys for free, a shiny gold vibrator that she thought was hilariously appropriate. It could be her little “Gold” when she got all dressed up and let her fantasies run wild. Her legs pressed together just imagining how it might feel, and she looked up at the clock again to see only five minutes remaining. She blew out a breath and started writing furiously, hoping she could bullshit her way to at least a B, and make it home before Gold.

Gold sighed as he stepped up onto the porch.

There was a box by the door, sitting on the old bench. It used to be a park bench in Boston, but he found it at flea market and decided it would be a good project someday. It lived in the garage for a few months, along with the numerous other items he had plans for if he ever retired from teaching and opened an antique shop. Last summer he finally pulled the bench out, and restored the old iron work and stained the wood, thinking it would be nice to put out front and have a place to sit. Not that he ever sat out there, but it did look nice, especially now that Lacey had dressed it up with some lights and a little wreath.

He picked up the box, expecting it to be heavier than it was based on its size, and hauled it inside. In the kitchen, he set the it on the counter, and started the kettle for some tea. The package seemed familiar somehow, but he didn’t remember ordering anything. He stared at the logo for a long moment, wondering what it could be, and then turned the box around and around, trying to find the shipping label.

The contents seemed very lightweight, and he frowned, unable to find anything beyond the barcode label the shipping company had used. Then it hit him. He had ordered some sample paper and leather for an old book he wanted to repair. They would be small squares and probably no more than a couple of pounds all together. He had thought some of them were backordered until after the new year, but perhaps they had arrived early.

A little giddy at the prospect of being able to finish the book over the winter break, he took out a paring knife and used the sharp tip to slit the tape on the edges of the box and up the middle. Inside was a layer of pink tissue, which he thought was an odd choice for packing material. He folded it back and gasped.

Laid out in the box, nestled in even more pink tissue paper, was the single skimpiest lingerie set he’d ever seen, with a strappy garter belt and seamed stockings. The top portion was comprised of mostly black lace and ribbons with a shimmery gold mesh material. The panties that presumably went under it, were no more than a few strings and a triangle of the same shimmery fabric. The garter belt was also black and trimmed in gold, and laying in the middle of the box was a shiny, metallic gold colored...thing. It looked phallic shaped, but small, and one part seemed separated from the rest, as if it might twist or click like a pen. It had been a few years since he’d seen one, but he was pretty sure that was some sort of vibrating sex toy.

Gold swallowed hard as he reached inside the picked up a small postcard.

Merry Christmas, Lacey! From all your friends at Exotic Wonders! Enjoy 10% off your next order with the code on the back of this card.

The logo on the outside was familiar because it was the same logo as Lacey’s lingerie catalog. The one she’d dropped in the hallway that had nearly given him a heart attack to pick up later. That meant this was Lacey’s. That Lacey had order this with at least some intention of wearing it. And using...it.

His mind flooded with images. Lacey in the lingerie, the sheer fabric hiding nothing and shining in the firelight. Lacey on the bed, stretched out with the shiny gold toy between her thighs, buzzing away as she cried out in ecstasy. He wanted to use it on her, tease her with it until she sobbed for release. He wanted to peel off that barely there lingerie and replace it with his mouth, working his way down to where she was warm and wet. His eyes closed and he leaned forward on the counter for a moment, until the shrill whistle of the kettle snapped him back to reality.

He moved the kettle off the burner and looked at the clock on the stove, panic rising in his gut. Lacey would be home from her exam any minute. She couldn’t know that he opened her package, that he saw her -

Moving faster than one might have thought possible for a fifty year old man with a bad leg and a cane, he went to his study and retrieved a roll of packing tape from his desk drawer. He laid the tissue paper over everything before closing the flaps. He taped the box shut, smoothing it out to make it look as untouched as possible, and then hurried to the front door to put the box back outside.

When door closed, he exhaled, feeling the thump of his heart in his chest. It was done, and she would never know. He shook his head and decided something far stronger than tea was needed.

Lacey bounded up the front steps, the heels of her boots thudding loudly against the old wood.

Her package had arrived and it was still outside. Gold was home, so it must have been dropped off after he arrived home. She assumed he hadn’t heard the delivery truck and grinned at her fortune. She picked up the box and hurried inside, calling out a quick 'I’m home' before heading upstairs. She’d go back down in a few minutes and whine to Gold about how awful Professor Mills’ exam was, but right now she wanted to see what she ordered. She hoped it looked as good in person as it did in the catalog and online.

The tape sliced easily with her letter opener, almost too easily on the sides, and she frowned. She tipped the box up and saw the ends, which were covered in tape, were not held shut anymore. It looked like something had already cut through tape, the box wasn’t damaged in anyway. When she opened it, everything was there. Putting it out of her mind, she drew back the pink tissue paper.

It looked just as she’d hoped, hot, sexy, and totally slutty, and she grinned. Her fingers slid over the toy as she picked it up, and her eyes went wide as she saw it wasn’t just the cheap model, but the one with three different speeds. Oh, she was definitely treating herself tonight. A long, hot bath, some wine, and some alone time was in order after that completely shit final exam.

But first she needed to bitch about it to Gold, and find out what was for supper. Not that she expected him to make food every night, but he promised her something to soothe her sorrows if the test didn’t go well. She planned on asking for that ridiculous baked mac and cheese he’d made last week. It might make her gain twenty pounds just looking at it, but it would be so worth it.

Smiling, she headed downstairs and into the kitchen. “Hey, Gold, I totally -”

Lacey stopped just inside the door and stared at the marble covered island. The kitchen was empty, but right in the middle of the creamy white surface was a pink and black postcard. Her lips pressed together and she started to smirk. Her package had been opened, and the culprit was totally busted.

Licking her lips slowly, she turned and sauntered out of the room, and headed back upstairs.

[677broadwaytire]

Tire Rotation and Used Tires

Are you in need of a tire repair in Lindenhurst, NY? Or maybe you are just looking for some used tires to make your vehicle run better? If so, then you've come to the right place. Here, you'll find a few tips for Tire Rotation in Lindenhurst, NY. Read on to learn more. Whether you're in need of new tires or want to save money on a used set, there are several places you can turn to.

Tire Repair Lindenhurst NY

If you need a new set of tires for your car or truck, you should consider getting them repaired at a tire shop in Lindenhurst. If you're in the market for new tires, check out Firestone Complete Auto Care, located at 101 E Sunrise Highway. They specialize in quality auto repair, including tires and oil changes. You should always make sure your car or truck is running at peak performance, as when the tires are worn, your vehicle cannot function properly.

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If you need tire rotation services, you should schedule them at least once a year. These are important for a number of reasons, including fuel efficiency and the safety of your car. If you're not sure where to get started, you can read about some of the most common tire types and why they're important. Firestone, for example, is one of the most popular tire brands in the world.

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For your vehicle, you should consider a Tire Rotation before driving for long distances or driving on snowy terrain. Front tires wear down faster than rear tires. They are the ones that turn left and right as the wheel turns. A car will not drive well with worn-out front tires. Its traction on snowy terrain will also deteriorate. Tire Rotation Lindenhurst NY should be performed every few thousand miles or so to ensure your car is road-ready.

Regular tire rotation is essential for optimum performance and traction control. Getting these services performed by a trained mechanic will help extend your tires' life and keep them at their optimal level. A tire rotation ensures that all of your tires are worn out evenly and have equal tread thickness, giving your car predictable handling and traction. And if you're looking for an affordable way to keep your car in tip-top shape, tire rotation is the way to go.

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If you are looking for a great Massapequa tire service, Jrop is the place to go. Jrop is a locally owned business and is proud to be the number one tire service provider in Massapequa Park.

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Tire Rotation Massapequa NY

If you're planning to purchase a used car, you may be interested in getting your tires rotated. Tire rotation services will help extend the life of your tires, improve traction, and prevent costly repairs. Massapequa NY area auto repair centers such as Sunrise Tire & Auto Repair offer quality tire rotation services. To learn more about the benefits of tire rotation, contact Sunrise Tire & Auto Repair today!

Firestone has many tire options, from budget-friendly all-season to performance tires. Firestone's Ecopia and Transforce lines offer reliable traction and a smooth ride. Dueler Tires are ideal for trucks and SUVs and deliver all-around toughness. The Fire hawk is an all-season tire that balances sport performance with reliability and precise handling. Both brands are available at Firestone Complete Auto Care locations in Massapequa NY.

To increase tire life, tire rotation is recommended every 3,000 to 6,000 miles. Tire rotation is important because tires receive uneven use. One tire might lose traction faster than the other and may need replacement. Rotating your tires on a regular basis can help extend their life by a few months. Although every car and tire is different, a general rule of thumb is every three to six thousand miles.

Firestone tires are an excellent option for summer and winter weather in New York. Firestone offers a 90-day buy-back guarantee. The 90-Day Buy-and-Try Guarantee applies to Firestone tires. You can try them out for free, and it will cost you nothing to buy them! There are many ways to get a tire rotation for used tires in Massapequa NY

[ayearofpike]

The Last Vampire 5: Evil Thirst

Pocket Books, 1996 179 pages, 18 chapters ISBN 0-671-55050-0 LOC: CPB Box no. 654 vol. 9 OCLC: 34952388 Released June 4, 1996 (per B&N)

Sita has not heard from her new friend and her baby, and is worried that her daughter might have already carried out her evil scheme. There is a way she can find out, though: a local anthropologist claims to have a document written by a teacher in ancient Egypt that foretold the next coming of a Christ figure, to be born on the day that Sita’s friend had her baby. It adds fuel to the fire that this might be for real when Sita realizes the teacher was her friend, back when she first left India, and Sita knows of her abilities. Maybe together, Sita and the group that has formed around this ancient text can save the baby. Or maybe not.

For what should have been a straight-up  sequel, this book certainly throws in a new story all of a sudden. We’re following Kalika, we’re wondering what’s going to happen to this immaculate conception baby, and now there’s Egyptians. As per usual, it seems that Pike can’t ever leave a thread of research unexplored in multiple books. We got the Egypt thing in The Visitor and The Lost Mind, so I guess it was just something he was learning about and excited to share.

I remember, at the time, being excited that these last three Sita books were coming out in such quick succession. Finally, I said to myself, he’s got a plan of where to take this story and will finish it up and get on with his other work. And TLV4 certainly lived up to that promise. But I got to the end of this one and thought: OK, that’s wrapped this up. Where could he possibly take it from here? (Answer: we’ll find out next time.) Unpopular opinion: I thought The Hunger Games could have been done (and stronger) in one book. So I wasn’t super thrilled when Pike all but closed the story here and BUT WAIT there’s one more coming this fall!

That’s not to say that this was a bad story, necessarily. We start with Sita and Seymour (who of course isn’t leaving her again) in line for a lecture on this ancient text, three months after the confrontation with Kalika on the pier. You might remember that Sita had told her friend to call in a month, so naturally she’s upset and anxious that she hasn’t heard from her. She hasn’t told Seymour how she brought him back to life — as far as he’s concerned, he passed out in the cold water and woke up in the mountains. But they go in to the lecture, pausing to meet the anthropologist’s adult son, who gives Sita a ladyboner for only the second time in recent memory. 

The lecture is a lot like stuff we’ve seen. The anthropologist (whose last name is Seter; this will be important later) talks a little bit about how he found the document and what it says in regards to a messiah, but mostly he answers questions. Sita has a couple of pointed questions about the calendar system and the gods mentioned in the text, which has her intended effect of getting Doc and Son to meet with her after the lecture. She says she wants to see the whole thing, and to convince them to let her into its presence she claims to have another document written by this ancient teacher. Of course there is no such thing; Sita didn’t even know this one existed, and she hung out with the teacher literally the whole time she was a teacher. But she’s still a vampire, and so she’s able to hypnotize the boys into believing her and letting her follow them to their facility in Palm Springs, where the scroll is kept.

There are like 20 True Believers at the place, and Sita’s been eavesdropping across the traffic and knows they have weapons to protect the Next Coming from the Dark Mother. She also knows they are suspicious of her, so she tries not to alarm them. Though she does touch a five-thousand-year-old papyrus scroll with her bare hands while she reads her teacher’s handwriting. Yes, it looks real. She promises to show them her imaginary scroll later, then goes out to the desert and meditates on what she saw. This allows for a nifty device where Sita can remember how she met her teacher, some hundred years after she was turned, and how even before she started having visions and healing people Sita knew she was special.

She goes home in the morning and immediately the phone rings. Of course it’s Kalika, taunting Sita about her wild goose chase after this scroll and warning again that she won’t be stopped in her search for the baby. Sita picks up enough background audio to get an idea of where Kalika might be staying, and Seymour thinks maybe this was intentional. He saw Kalika open up B-Baller and wants to get the fuck out, but Sita knows that this might be an opportunity to get rid of her, if she can get the True Believer Militia to take her out. To get Seymour on board, she finally tells him the truth of his death and rebirth. But before they call in the heavy artillery, they have to find Kalika, so they track down buildings that match Sita’s audio clues and find Kalika living in the first one they check. Lucky? Or on purpose?

Sita and Seymour take off for San Francisco to corner Doc and Son after another lecture, with articles that show the danger of the Dark Mother. OK, so a lot of them are murders caused by Eddie, and there’s also the Matrix/Blade chase and the nuclear explosion. The only thing she has in her file that Kalika actually did is a story about a dead b-baller who had his throat ripped apart. Still, it’s enough for Doc and Son to believe that there’s a dangerous force in Los Angeles and they’d better try to take it out. They send a strike force into Kalika’s apartment, twenty people with assault rifles and body armor, in a pincer formation through the door and both balconies, but she murders them like so many ants. Sita races over to try and stop the carnage, but Kalika hits her with a still-dying body and chucks her off the eighteenth-story balcony into the pool, because Pike.

By the time she gets back to the observation window, it’s too late. Kalika has killed the snipers posted there, and basically made Doc shit his pants and give up everything about the ancient Egyptian document. (Lucky for Son, he wasn’t in the room.) They blast back to the True Believer facility, and sure enough the basement is a wreck and there are scraps of parchment everywhere. Sita reads about the coming strife in the early months of the Next Coming and where he’ll encounter it, about war between worshippers of Set and worshippers of Isis, and on a separate piece of papyrus (of a different texture) about the coming of the Dark Mother, Kali Ma. So everything she understands is true.

But she still doesn’t understand where this document came from. She meditates on her relationship with the teacher some more, and remembers how she didn’t cast Sita out upon discovering her vampiric nature. She thinks about how the teacher slowly turned into a miracle healer, with herbal remedies and some kind of auric repair service, before being discovered by the region’s queen and being asked to interpret a dream. The teacher interprets it to the queen’s satisfaction (and her high priest’s consternation) and is then kept on to work in the palace. Surely there will be no conflict of interest.

Sita next finds herself in B-Baller’s mom’s house again, where she learns that he was diagnosed with end-stage leukemia and given three months to live. New information that might change how she views her daughter’s nature. She still doesn’t know where to look for the next step, though, so she decides to check back at the ice-cream truck where she found Book 4′s deus ex machina, just in case there’s another one. And sure enough, the homeless dude is there, and he wants to play blackjack, which gives Sita just enough clues to go along with the ancient document and realize: New Friend and Baby are at Lake Tahoe. Yes, somehow this ancient Egyptian was able to predict that there would be a casino there, where you could play blackjack, and the storage and dealing device they’d use to hold cards at the tables would be called a “shoe.” Shhh, just go with it.

We get another flashback chapter, where Sita tells us about the queen going whole-hog in reversing the state religion from Set-worship to Isis-worship (as alluded to in the document), and Sita having to protect her teacher friend from countless assassination attempts. They happen as the high priest of Set is a master of Seedling, forcing others to do his will, and his will is to have minions go kill the usurper. (Which ... I fuckin’ told you, this is Cold One II.) This ultimately leads to Sita facing off against the high priest out in the desert. She feels like, hey, no sweat, I’ve been a vampire at least as long as Edward Cullen, I can take this dude. But what she didn’t realize is that the high priest has invoked an ancient lizard through the use of mind-melding and identical twins (which, like ... you know) and is stronger than she realizes. Plus he has power over the elements. He melts her sword, stabs her with a poisoned dagger, and manipulates the sand to lock around her limbs, then leaves her in the desert to be eaten by flies while he returns to town and takes over. At high noon, sure enough, there’s a massive earthquake that knocks Sita free of her bonds, and when she gets back to town ... there is no town. There’s just a hole. So she figured the high priest lost control and ended up killing everyone, including himself.

The remaining four Freedom Fighters drive to Tahoe and quickly triangulate on the house where New Friend is hiding. But they’re too late — Kalika has been there, and grabbed the baby, and is boating out across the lake with him. Sita manages to sink the boat, but Kalika and the baby make it to an island. She swims out there and corners them, but before she can make Kalika do anything Doc’s Son arrives to help. Or does he? Quick as anything he’s got a knife to Sita’s throat ... a knife that looks oddly familiar. 

Remember the last name and how I said it would be important? Seter. Set-er. Set worshipper. Now, I’ve left out the part about how this dude was adopted by Doc as an older teenager, which might throw a wrench into the foreshadowing of the name. Like, would a high school senior really change his name even if he was taken in by a caring old man? I’m not sure I’m all the way on board with this, even if it was needed to make him seem more connected to the cause by giving him the same name up front.

So he takes Sita’s gun and blasts the unholy fuck out of Kalika, then cuts Sita’s throat with the poisoned dagger and stabs it into her back, and then he boats off with the baby, who only now starts crying. Sita figures it’s all over, she misread the scroll and now humanity is totally fucked. Only Kalika works her way over to Sita and feeds her the blood pouring from her exposed heart, giving enough to heal her mother before she dies. When Sita makes it back to shore, she finds Doc dying of heart failure, unable to believe that his adopted son would have betrayed him so hard to the point of having a heart attack. She also finds Seymour bleeding out from a shotgun blast to the stomach. (I really don’t know if Pike knows how a shotgun works, if he thinks you can shoot one nine or ten times without reloading.) There’s no more Jeebus Baby blood, so she has to turn him. And that’s the last we hear from Seymour in this book.

Sita has more important things to do, like finding Jeebus Baby and Lizard Priest. And she thinks she knows where they’ll be: at the place where New Friend had relations with a giant blue star. She starts thinking about New Friend, which makes the star show up, and once more Sita is floating as a transparent ghost vampire or whatever the hell. She spots Lizard Priest below, and he’s waiting for someone: a spaceship full of lizards that is made of some kind of ethereal stuff. Sita realizes that her only chance is to go into the spaceship and possess one of the lizard aliens. She’s in the strongest and ugliest one when the ship lands and the aliens start taunting the baby. But Sita forces the alien to look into the baby’s eyes, and the mesmer of the baby protects her from being subjugated by Seedling, and she grabs the lizard’s knife and stabs Lizard Priest in the eye. And suddenly the spectral aliens disappear, and Sita has Lizard Priest’s knife embedded in his eye. She does the other one and grabs the baby, and then slits his throat for good measure. There’s a whoosh as the spectral aliens take off, and Sita and the baby start back to the car.

And that’s the end of The Last Vampire 5: Evil Thirst! So you see what I mean by ending the story? Sure, they have to drive back to Lake Tahoe or whatever and return the baby to his mom, and Seymour’s a vampire now at long last, but ... is any of it necessary? Is it even germane to the part of the story that will come next? I honestly don’t remember, but I think probably not? We’ll find out next time, as the Pocket editions of the Sita stories come to a close.

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