#top quality Membrane Door

[zanderplysblog]

Step into a world of refined elegance with Zander's top-quality membrane doors. Crafted with imported rigid membrane films and sturdy flush door cores, these doors offer unparalleled beauty and functionality.

Available in a kaleidoscope of colors, textures, and designs, Zander's doors cater to every aesthetic, from sleek minimalism to intricate grandeur.

[invoitplast]

PVC Batch Mixer in Ahmedabad

Invoit Plast Machinery Pvt. Ltd. Invoit Plast Machinery Pvt. Ltd. is a reputed manufacturer, supplier, and exporter of plastic processing machines based in India, known for its dependable solutions in plastic processing. Specializes in the production and supply of top-quality PVC Batch Mixer in Ahmedabad, Gujarat, India, essential equipment for various PVC product manufacturing processes. PVC Batch Mixers, also referred to as high-speed mixers, efficiently blend PVC resin with additives, ensuring a homogeneous compound suitable for further processing. They play a pivotal role in maintaining consistent quality throughout PVC production processes. Types of PVC Batch Mixer: High-speed mixers: Operate at approximately 40 meters per second, ensuring rapid mixing and shorter processing times. Low-speed mixers: Suitable for mixing heat-sensitive additives or when a gentler mixing action is required. Advantages of PVC Batch Mixer: Ensures efficient and thorough mixing, maintaining consistent compound quality. Short mixing cycles contribute to high production capacity. Versatility in handling various PVC formulations and additives. Robust and reliable equipment designed for long-term operation. Applications: PVC compounds produced by batch mixers are utilized across industries for: Pipes and fittings in plumbing, drainage, and construction. Profiles like window and door profiles, siding, and decking. Sheets and films for flooring, membranes, and packaging. Wire and cable insulation offering excellent electrical insulation. Toys and sporting goods requiring durable and flexible PVC. Service Coverage: Invoit Plast Machinery Pvt. Ltd Provide PVC Batch Mixer in Ahmedabad, Gujarat, India, and surrounding areas, including Sanand, Vani, Kathawada, Odhav, Vatva, Rakhial, Singarva, Bakrol, Kadi, Kalol, Kanbha, Kujad, Changodar, Naroda, Dhandhuka, Dholka, Viramgam, Kerala, and Vatva. For detailed information and inquiries, please feel free to contact us. Read the full article

[window-replacement-group]

Why Do You Need Hurricane Impact Windows in Florida, US?

Hurricane impact windows, also known as impact-resistant windows, are specifically designed to withstand the powerful forces of hurricanes and tropical storms common in regions like Florida. These windows feature a combination of reinforced frames and laminated glass that can endure high winds and flying debris. Unlike traditional windows, which can shatter upon impact, hurricane-impact windows are engineered to remain intact, providing crucial protection for homes and occupants during severe weather events.

The laminated glass used in hurricane impact windows consists of layers of glass bonded together with a durable interlayer, typically made of polyvinyl butyral (PVB). This construction enables the windows to absorb and dissipate the energy from impacts, reducing the likelihood of breakage and maintaining the structural integrity of the building.

Advantages of Hurricane-Impact Windows

Superior Protection: Designed to withstand high winds and impacts from debris.

Enhanced Security: Acts as a deterrent against intruders due to their strength and durability.

Energy Efficiency: Provides insulation, reduces energy costs, and maintains indoor comfort.

Noise Reduction: Minimizes external noise, creating a quieter living environment.

UV Protection: Blocks harmful UV rays, preventing furniture and flooring from fading.

Important Points to Consider Before Buying the Best Hurricane-Impact Windows

Before investing in hurricane-impact windows, it’s essential to consider factors such as:

Product Quality: Ensure windows meet industry standards and certifications for impact resistance.

Installation: Choose a reputable contractor experienced in installing impact windows to ensure proper fit and performance.

Building Codes: Verify compliance with local building codes and regulations regarding hurricane protection.

Warranty: Check the warranty coverage for materials and installation to protect your investment.

Aesthetic Appeal: Select windows that complement the architectural style of your home while providing the desired level of protection.

Do impact windows protect against a hurricane?

Impact windows are indispensable guardians against the wrath of hurricanes. Crafted with layers of durable materials such as tempered glass and interlayer membranes, they form a formidable barrier against the destructive forces of high winds and airborne debris. By dissipating energy upon impact, these windows mitigate the risk of structural compromise, safeguarding both property and lives. Their robust construction not only fortifies buildings but also provides peace of mind to residents in hurricane-prone regions, underscoring their pivotal role in disaster preparedness and resilience.

What are the best rated hurricane impact windows?

Determining the best-rated hurricane impact windows involves a comprehensive evaluation of factors like durability, design, and performance under extreme conditions. Among the top contenders in the market are PGT Custom Windows + Doors, renowned for their innovative designs and stringent testing protocols. Similarly, WinDoor excels with its high performance impact windows known for exceptional strength and energy efficiency. Additionally, CGI Windows & Doors stands out for its premium quality impact-resistant windows, offering a blend of aesthetics and reliability that earns them high marks among homeowners and industry experts alike.

Cost of Hurricane Impact Windows in Florida

The cost of hurricane-impact windows in Florida can vary depending on factors such as the size of the windows, quality of materials, and complexity of installation. On average, homeowners can expect to invest anywhere from $500 to $1,500 per window, including both materials and installation. While this initial expense may seem high, it’s important to consider the long-term benefits, including increased safety, energy savings, and potential insurance discounts.

[countrywinggroupofcompanies]

High Quality Electronic Cow Weighing Scales/ Livestock Scale

Digital Farm Weighing Scales in Kampala

Our range of farm weighing scales are ideal for weighing livestock including sheep and cattle, as well as animal feeds and other farm produce. We build farm scales that are robust, durable, and highly accurate while remaining affordable for any budget. Designed with ease of use in mind, our collection includes lightweight and non-slip options to suit all types of larger animals.

We offer the large animal weighing scales in two different models. Various construction variants and options are available. For accurate weighing, all four feet of the scales must be on the ground. 

Features of the large animal scales | Cattle scales | Bull scales

⦁              Made of hot-galvanized steel

⦁            1 hinged door on the front

⦁            Slip-resistant floor with permeable corrugated sheet bars

⦁            Dimensions 2500 x 1000 mm, with 1200 mm high side walls 

⦁            Platform size interior 230 x 80 cm, exterior 249 x 92 cm

⦁            Cage height 192 cm, passage height 160 cm, passage width 70 cm

⦁            Weight with cage 350 kg

Digital Animal weighing scales for ZOO in Kampala Uganda

We manufacture custom special animal weighing scales for zoo's, animal hospitals and safari parks.

The customer determines the size of the platform and the weighing range.

The weight of the ZOO inhabitants plays such an important role. Regularly measuring the weight of the animals gives an indication of the health status of the animals.

The platform size and the weighing range can be specifically adapted to the animal. Depending on the location, the scale can be made of steel or stainless steel.

Large animal weighing scales-Accurate weighing systems Kampala

Weighing capacity 1500 kg, readability 1 kg, 4 integrated load cells K30S-C3-2000, construction hot-dip galvanized, except safety gear. platform size inside 2180 x 800 mm, outside 2500 x 1300 mm, cage height 1980 mm, passage height 1710 mm, passage width 700 mm.

    Entrance with proven sliding door

    Single, easily removable tubes at the sides

    Floor made of non-slip checker plate, raised at the sides

50 mm LCD large display, including charger, very simple, user-friendly dust- and waterproof membrane keypad. Basic functions: Gross, net, tare, accumulation function (number of weighing and total weight).

special program for weighing live animals

Thank you for allowing Accurate Weighing Scales (U) Ltd the privilege to serve you in advance.

For inquiries on deliveries contact us

Office +256 705 577 823, +256 775 259 917

Address: Wandegeya KCCA Market South Wing, 2nd Floor Room SSF 036

Email:  weighingscales@countrywinggroup.com

[rpmproperty]

Unveiling the Secrets of a Strong Foundation: Essential Tips for Masonry and Construction in Boston

When it comes to building a sturdy and long-lasting structure, a strong foundation is paramount. With its rich history and diverse architecture, Boston holds a special place for masonry and construction. Whether you're a homeowner, a real estate developer, or a construction enthusiast, understanding the importance of Foundation Repair Boston, basement waterproofing, and Stone veneer Installations Boston is crucial. In this article, we'll explore the secrets to achieving top-rated results for masonry and construction in Boston. Foundation Repair Boston: Unveiling the Hidden Stability: Your foundation serves as the backbone of any structure, and over time, it may encounter issues such as cracks, settling, or water damage. To ensure your building remains strong and safe, foundation repair is essential. Boston, known for its varying soil types and frequent weather changes, demands a comprehensive approach to Foundation Repair Boston. Professional Inspection: To identify foundation issues accurately, it's crucial to consult a reputable masonry and construction expert in Boston. Their trained eyes can spot signs of trouble, such as uneven floors, sticking doors, or visible cracks. Customized Solutions: Once the issues are identified, a professional will tailor a Foundation Repair Boston plan that suits your needs. Utilizing advanced techniques such as underpinning, helical piers, or slab jacking, can restore the stability of your foundation. Basement Waterproofing Boston: Shielding Your Space from Water Intrusion: Basements are notorious for their vulnerability to water damage. Basement Waterproofing Boston becomes an essential investment in a city like Boston, where heavy rainfall and melting snow are expected. You can protect your property from structural deterioration, mould growth, and health hazards by preventing water intrusion. External Waterproofing: This technique involves excavating around the foundation and applying a waterproof barrier. Professionals use high-quality materials and advanced membranes to safeguard your basement from moisture penetration. Interior Drainage Systems: For existing structures, interior drainage systems are a popular choice. These systems, including French drains and sump pumps, collect and divert water away from the foundation, keeping your basement dry and moisture-free. Stone veneer Installations Boston: Elevating Aesthetics with Natural Elegance: Adding stone veneer to your home's exterior or interior enhances its visual appeal and increases its value. Boston, known for its classic architecture, offers an ideal setting for stunning stone installations. Material Selection: Consult a professional masonry expert to choose the right type of stone veneer for your project. Options like natural stone, cultured stone, or thin brick veneers offer diverse textures, colours, and patterns to match your desired aesthetic. Expert Installation: Skilled masons understand the intricacies of Stone veneer Installations Boston. They have the expertise to ensure a precise fit, secure bonding, and weather-resistant finish, resulting in a flawless and long-lasting transformation. Conclusion: Masonry and construction in Boston require careful attention to Foundation Repair Boston, Basement Waterproofing Boston, and Stone veneer Installations Boston. By following the secrets revealed in this article, you can achieve top-rated results and create a strong, visually appealing, and enduring structure. Remember, consulting with professionals and investing in high-quality materials and techniques are vital steps towards ensuring the success of your project. With the right approach, you can build confidently, knowing that your foundation is solid, your basement is dry, and your Stone veneer Installations Boston exude timeless elegance. Embrace the secrets, unleash your creativity, and make your mark on Boston's architectural landscape!

[zanderply]

The type of doors you choose can significantly improve your home's aesthetics and functionality. Membrane doors are one of the many options that are available, and they have greatly increased in popularity recently. Membrane doors have established themselves as a go-to option for homeowners looking to improve the interior appearance of their homes thanks to their versatility, elegance, and durability. The many advantages of membrane doors will be discussed in this article, along with the best membrane door manufacturer in India.

Design Flexibility: The design flexibility of membrane doors is one of their main features. These doors are made by covering a solid foundation material like MDF (Medium Density Fiberboard) or HDF with a specialised PVC film, also known as a membrane. There are many different design possibilities made possible by this method. Membrane doors can be tailored to fit any interior concept, whether you want a sleek, contemporary appearance or a timeless, traditional style. You have the freedom to design a really distinctive and personalised appearance for your home thanks to the variety of colours, patterns, textures, and finishes that are readily available.

Elegant Design: Membrane doors are well known for their beautiful design. The PVC membrane offers a flawless and smooth surface, giving the doors a modern and chic appearance. Their general aesthetic appeal is boosted by the lack of obvious joints, screws, or flaws. Membrane doors emit a sense of sophistication that can quickly improve the ambience of any room, whether you select a glossy or matte surface. They are the perfect option for both more classic and modern rooms because to its seamless design and elegant lines.

Maintenance requirements are quite low, and membrane doors are extremely durable in addition to being attractive. The PVC membrane coating serves as a barrier, preventing fading, dampness, and scratches from damaging the doors. This guarantees that even in high-traffic areas, your doors will maintain their spotless appearance for years to come. Membrane doors are a great option for busy households because cleaning them is straightforward and only requires a quick wipe with a damp cloth to remove dust and stains.

India's top manufacturer of membrane doors: Choosing a trustworthy and reputable manufacturer is essential when buying membrane doors. One of the top brands in the sector in India is Zander Doors. zander Doors is known as the top membrane door manufacturer in the nation thanks to its dedication to quality, craftsmanship, and client satisfaction. Every door they manufacture satisfies the highest standards of excellence thanks to their wide selection of designs, top-notch materials, and meticulous attention to detail.

A wide range of membrane doors is available from Zander Doors to accommodate different needs and preferences. Their team of highly trained experts and artisans combines traditional craftsmanship with cutting-edge production processes to produce doors that are not only aesthetically pleasing but also long-lasting. You can be sure that by choosing Zander Doors, you are making an investment in premium membrane doors that will improve the appearance and usefulness of your home.

[concretesuppliersmelbourne]

Use Premium Quality Waterproofing Agent for Concrete to Ensure Buildings Structural Integrity

Trustable concrete suppliers offer various concrete related products such as waterproofing agent, concrete bonding agent more at reasonable pricing. They assert that their waterproofing agent for concrete work is intend to position beneath tiled finishes so that it can handle expected structural shifts. They promise that their bonding and waterproofing additives will make your concrete mix tough and long lasting. These supplies offer a range of concrete bonding agents and waterproofing agents to meet your specific needs. They can deliver on the same day as well.  When the substrate moves, their waterproofing agent will expand and contract because of its great flexibility and high film strength.

These bricklaying tools suppliers supply a wide range of top quality brick laying tools and materials you need to get the job done efficiently. They use brick trowels, string lines, bricklaying rollers, and other equipment for laying bricks. These companies offer all the goods you require, including bagged cement products and brick sands, in addition to stocking the top bricklaying materials. They claim that because they function as a permeable membrane and can increase a home's energy efficiency, their roof and wall wrap solutions are perfect for bricklaying projects. Under timber window frames, doors frames, and other locations, their Dampcourse serves as a moisture barrier and a covert flashing. Their trowels are a need for every construction project involving brick laying work.

Importance of Using Waterproofing Agent for Concrete Work:

According to confirmed studies, waterproofing agents for concrete work can quickly apply to both vertical and horizontal surfaces.  By waterproofing them, concrete and cement-based items can make more robust and long lasting. Whether you want to preserve a cinder block wall, a concrete floor, or poured concrete walls, keeping water out of concrete is an excellent first step towards longer lifespan.  Waterproofing is second in importance to structural integrity in architecture and construction. In order to ensure long-term structural durability, surface protection, limit the growth of mould and mildew due to moisture, and ultimately improve occupant comfort in buildings, waterproofing systems prevent water penetration.

In summary, concrete suppliers offer various products such as garden & landscape supplies, building supplies and more.  Anyone searching for these products should contact a local concrete supplier.

Source

[healthbayaesthetics]

Best Health Care Facility In UAE

We are among the top medical facilities in the UAE. From routine checkups and preventive healthcare to specialized treatments and surgeries, we provide a wide range of services. To guarantee that you get the finest care possible, our committed group of highly qualified specialists uses the most recent technologies. Our team includes doctors and nurses, as well as specialists in various fields. In order to give you precise results, we also have a committed staff of laboratory technicians and diagnosticians.

Our Specialities

Plastic Surgery

To help you look and feel your best, HealthBay Aesthetics offers the entire range of cutting-edge cosmetic, reconstructive, and restorative procedures. With the most up-to-date tools and a highly skilled group of plastic surgeons, we assist you in getting the most polished and natural results.

Dermatology

To properly diagnose, treat, and manage the complete range of your skin care needs, HealthBay Aesthetics offers Best Dermatologist In UAE. Our mission is to promote your skin's health and glow from the inside out, providing you with clear, healthy, and youthful skin. This includes general and pediatric dermatology, skin cancer prevention, and treatment. Acute and chronic disorders of the skin, hair, and nails have been successfully treated by our board-certified dermatologists.

Laser

Modern laser aesthetic procedures from HealthBay Aesthetics will make you feel beautiful and confident in your own skin. In order to treat wrinkles, acne scars, hyperpigmentation, improve skin texture and tone, and get rid of unwanted hair, our highly qualified professionals use laser, light, and radio frequency therapies.

Anti -aging

Keep looking young for longer with our cutting-edge anti-aging treatments, which combine cutting-edge technology, minimally invasive procedures, and the trustworthy knowledge of a top-tier team of renowned professionals. At HealthBay Aesthetics, we create individualized treatment plans by getting to know your specific requirements and goals in order to maximize the outcomes and go above and beyond your expectations.

Aesthetics Gynaecology

Menopause and postpartum are regarded as significant life transitions for women, yet they are accompanied by a number of common diseases, including vaginal dryness, burning or itching, painful erections, and minor incontinence. Atrophic vaginitis is mostly brought on by a lack of estrogen since it lowers natural defenses and causes mucous membranes to shrink, fray, and become less elastic and lubricated, as well as changing pH.

Cosmetology

HealthBay Aesthetics sets a new bar for the quality standards of cosmetology services with cutting-edge technology and modern equipment. Through treatment regimens that are especially tailored to match your needs, our reputable cosmetology specialists help you realize your aesthetic goals.

Functional Medicine

Our experts focus on addressing the underlying causes of your symptoms rather than just masking them with medicine in order to retain your wellness and youthful glow. We address common cosmetic concerns, including acne scars, rosacea, and the best Wrinkle Treatments in Dubai.

Our team of experienced functional medicine specialists, medical dermatologists, cosmetic surgeons, and cosmetologists collaborates with you to gently enhance your attractiveness from the inside out. We work hard to exceed your expectations so that as soon as you step through our doors, you know you have chosen the appropriate experts for the task. We constantly put your best interests first and uphold the strictest level of secrecy as your dependable partner in wellness and aesthetics.

[wateroutphonesblog]

Remove Water and Dust from Speaker - How to Keep your Home Clean and Running Like a Pro!

Introduction: Your home is your office, and you deserve the best of both worlds. That’s why it’s important to keep your home clean and running like a pro. Dust mites, water droplets, and other debris can all defeat the purpose of keeping your home spick and span. To make sure your speaker stays clean and performing at its best, take these steps: - water removal sound

How to Remove Water and Dust from a Speaker - a Basic Guide.

A speaker is a device that amplifies sound. When it comes to removing water and dust from a speaker, there are a few things you must take into account. The speaker should be clean before beginning the process. If it is not, the dirt and water will mix and create an unpleasant smell.

The purpose of a speaker is to amplify sound, so if it is not clean, it will not be able to work correctly. It is also important to note that if the speaker has been wet or dusted in any way, the dirt and water will mix and create an unpleasant smell.

In order to remove water and dust from a speaker, begin by taking off the cover. Remove all screws that hold the cover in place. Once the cover has been removed, you will see two stands at either end of the unit. These stands need to be detached in order to access the interior of the speaker.

Remove all screws on one side of each stand until they are free from the housing (this could take some effort). On the other side of each stand, remove two screws that secure the input/output cables (if present). Be sure not to damage these cables!

Once all of these screws have been removed, you can start by lifting up one end of the stand with your hand while holding onto another end with your other hand. You should now be able to pull out both speakers completely!

Nowadays, many speakers come with built-in Dust filters which can help you remove water and dust particles quickly and easily without damaging your device or causing any problems for your audio quality. However, if you do not have such a filter installed on your speaker yet, you can purchase one online or at most local stores.

How to Remove Water and Dust from Speaker - A Step-By-Step Guide:

Disclaimer: This article is for informational purposes only and should not be used as a replacement for professional advice from an audio engineer or home theater specialist."

1) Remove any trapped moisture by using Q-tips or boiling water 2) Disconnect all power cords 3)Turn off any lights 4) Open door slightly so room air can enter 5) Lift top cover off 6) Take out dirty old speaker 8) Put new Speaker in same position 9) Screw back into old Stand 10) Plug in power cord 11) Wait untilStand starts warming up.

How to Remove Water and Dust from Speaker - Instructions for Every Use:

"This article is for informational purposes only and should not be used as a replacement for professional advice from an audio engineer or home theater specialist."

How to Keep your Home Clean and Running like a Pro.

If you’re looking to keep your home clean and running like a pro, following these easy steps will help. First, make sure you have all the necessary supplies: water and dust filters, cleaning supplies, and a work surface. Next, try out our step-by-step guide on how to remove water and dust from speaker membranes. Finally, read our instructions for every use to ensure your speaker is sparkling clean!

Tips for Successfully Cleaning Speakers - a Comprehensive Guide.

Water and dust can build up over time on your speaker, making it difficult to hear the audio clearly. To remove these pollutants, follow these tips:

-Wash the speaker using hot water and soap.

-Remove any dust and water from the speaker by using a duster or cloth.

-Keep the speaker clean by regularly cleaning it with a duster or cloth.

Conclusion

Keeping your home clean and running like a pro is easy with the help of some basic steps and tips. By following these simple instructions, you can remove water and dust from the speaker in no time. Additionally, using the right tools and always keeping up to date with maintenance can help keep your speaker clean and working perfectly.

For More Info: remove water from speaker

[local-roofing-news]

Residential Roofing Services in Syracuse NY

Residential Roofing Services in Syracuse NY Syracuse Roofing Company is a family-owned company that offers residential roofing services in Syracuse, NY. Their crews are experienced with a wide range of roofing materials and will install new roofs or repair old ones to maximize your home's aesthetic appeal. They also provide interior remodeling services such as deck restoration, window and door installations, and flooring installation. TopTier RoofingIf you are looking for a company that can provide residential roofing services in Syracuse, NY, you've come to the right place. Custom Quality Contractors Inc. has been serving the community for 45 years, and they offer a variety of services for both residential and commercial clients. In addition to installing roofs, they also install seamless gutters, skylights, and siding. Syracuse, NY is home to a number of roofing companies, including TopTier Roofing, LLC. This family-owned company provides roofing services throughout the Syracuse area and surrounding areas. Their crew members use industry-standard solutions to meet their clients' needs and budgets. They also offer a variety of other exterior improvement services, including painting and deck building. J. Lindsley RoofingIf you're looking for residential roofing services in Syracuse NY, you've come to the right place. J. Lindsley Roofing is a local roofing company serving Central New York, including Syracuse, Cicero, Liverpool, Baldwinsville, Onondaga, and Oswego Counties. Whether you're in need of a new roof, or just need to get a roof repair, we have you covered. Whether you're looking for residential or commercial roofing services, you can rely on the professional team at J. Lindsley Roofing to provide top-notch workmanship. The company has been in business in Syracuse for over 15 years, and its team is experienced in installing all types of roofing systems. This includes flat, pitched, metal, and rubber membrane roofs. They'll make sure that your roof is properly installed and looks its best. Forte RoofingForte Roofing is a Syracuse, NY roofing contractor that offers professional services at competitive prices. The company specializes in new roof installations and roof repair. Our experienced roofers will make your roof look beautiful and last for years to come. Contact us today to schedule a free quote. With over seventeen years of experience in the Syracuse area, Forte Roofing has a proven track record. The company has completed projects for residential and commercial buildings. All of their technicians are trained to use GAF-certified materials and are trained to adhere to EPA and OSHA safety standards. In addition to residential and commercial roofing, the company provides siding, window and door installation, insulation, and more. Onondaga County ConstructionResidential roofing is an essential part of your home, especially in the Syracuse area. Without a reliable roof, you'll find yourself spending hundreds of dollars a year on repairs and maintenance. Onondaga County Construction can help you save money by providing quality roofing at an affordable price. A new roof will improve the value of your property, too. Whether you're planning a complete home renovation or a simple patch job, Onondaga County Construction can provide you with a custom roof. This company has over 45 years of experience in the Syracuse area and works with CertainTeed products and warranties. They can also perform repairs and replacements of siding, windows, and insulation. CNY Roofing Co.The Syracuse, New York-based CNY Roofing Co. is a family-run business that provides residential and commercial roofing services. The company's team has more than 25 years of combined experience, and they can help you install a new roof or make repairs to your existing one. They are skilled at installing various types of roofs, including flat and pitched roofs, metal roofing, and rubber membranes. They also provide routine maintenance services, such as removing snow from their clients' properties.

Capital Home Improvements, located in Syracuse, has been serving the area for more than 45 years. They specialize in installing new roofs and are certified by OSHA. They can also assist with siding and window installation, and they can repair damaged chimneys. CNY Complete Contracting L.L.C.CNY Complete Contracting LLC offers exceptional services throughout Central New York. Their expert team has over 17 years of combined experience. They combine expertise with a commitment to quality, and consider no job too complex. They are fully licensed and insured and strive to build long-term relationships with customers. CNY Complete Contracting is a Syracuse-based family-run business that specializes in residential and commercial roofing services. They provide expert service and installation of a wide range of materials, from asphalt shingles to metal roofing. Their team also provides routine maintenance for shingles and other roofing materials.

[zanderplysblog]

Looking for a new front door that will make a statement? Zander has a wide selection of steel doors to choose from. Our steel doors are not only stylish but also secure. They are perfect for protecting your home from the elements and intruders.

[utkaldoor]

Utkal Door, Your Entrance to Luxury

A door often becomes the identity of a house. A beautiful door reflects warmth, craft, and subtle positive vibes. Homes become lovelier when they have doors that ooze life. Utkal Door are an expert in impeccably manufacturing and installing the most aesthetically vibrant and functional doors in various residential units and business offices.

Who are we?

We, Utkal Door, are a top-rated company with specialization in crafting and implementing the most reliable and fascinatingly designer door solutions. As professionals, we never compromise with quality standards and perfectly meet the specific requirements of our esteemed clients. The make, appearance, and functional robustness of our doors evolve as we constantly strive for excellence. We are based in Bhubaneswar, Odisha and have earned a good reputation in the recent years.

What are our primary products?

Utkal Door is the brightest name in the world of door-making. We offer three broad door categories to our beloved customers. Our experts assess the architectural details of your house and office, and accordingly help you to select the best range of doors. You never face any issue in the selection of the most suitable doors for your property units. Here are our primary products:

• 3D Lamination Doors – The doors essentially have distinct 3D lamination features, complying with the exciting marketing trends. The quality standards are superlative. • WPC Doors and Frames – The doors are remarkably resistant to distortions. They have a spotless finish. The durability of the frames is unquestionable. • Membrane Doors – The doors are classy and ooze elegance in style and appearance. Moreover, they are efficiently resistant to sound, water, and contaminants.

Why you will choose our doors?

If you are wondering about the reasons to choose our doors, there are plenty of factors that work in our favour. Have a read:

• Our doors are hardy and incredibly durable • They last long • We manufacture and sell certified doors • The doors resist casual use • The doors are resistant to water • They can filter noise and minimize the sound effects • Top-quality materials are used to manufacture the doors • The doors add more value to the aesthetics of your property unit’s interiors

Our attributes as a professional door maker

You would be delighted to know the good range of our qualities as a door maker. You can confidently rely on our prolific expertise.

• We have many years of rich industry experience • As professionals, we are trained • We believe in innovations • We implement trendy designs, patterns, colours, and textures to our doors • We are friendly and promptly address your queries • As experts, we know about how doors can alter and enrich aesthetics • We provide a warranty on our doors • Our approach is 100% professional • We never fail to meet even strict deadlines

We offer competitive prices

You don’t have to worry about the product rates. We offer the best prices for our doors. The budget remains reasonable for the customer. You would be happy with the expense. There are no hidden costs.

Give us a call Feel free to call us and know more details about our doors. We would be glad to answer your questions.

Blog source: https://www.utkaldoor.com/utkal-door-your-entrance-to-luxury/

[inklore]

love me by the night.

part two | masterlist

premise: the relationship shared between you and bruce was anything but perfect. it was raw and caked with blood and pain, but it worked.

pairing: bruce wayne x (f)reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: unprotected sex, pain kink (just a little taste, more or less emotions wise), toxic relationships, blood (wounds, cuts, and bruises mentioned), needles mentioned, tragic pasts (readers family life was crap and domestic violence is mentioned briefly), arguments, angst, scratching, probably slightly unrealistic when it comes to certain things lmao. 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

etc: i swear i’ll stop writing shitty angst after this lmao. obviously there’s no spoilers and this leans more towards au since we don’t know too much about the batman and his characterization just yet, i literally took what i’ve seen in trailers and ran with it. let’s hope this doesn’t flop and here’s to all of us becoming completely whipped by robert pattinson this month <3

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

You’re not sure if it’s the low hiss that shakes through him as you pat the disinfecting cloth to one of the many open wounds littering his back, his body's instinct to shake and move away from the sting—no matter if it's helpful or not—clearly being fought off by its host. As if proving, to no one, that a little antiseptic was not a big deal. Especially with gashes as deep as these. His ability to hide any sort of pain he may, or may not, be going through being one of his least rewarding qualities. In your opinion.

Or maybe it’s the gashes themselves that has your stomach flip flopping, jumbled with nerves, and in the trenches of an all too familiar feeling, from an all too familiar scenario—much like this one—playing through your head the minute you saw Bruce Wayne clad in his batsuit, cuts and tears distinguishable from a mile away. Coated in that dark crimson that looked tar black when it laid upon his suit—stood at your balcony door, having let himself in like he did most times he would find himself out of options or needing a quick stitch.

And sometimes for other reasons.

It had become an old song and dance you wished you could stop moving to. Wished that that year ago when you had let your journalist drive get the best of you, had peeked your head into a world you truly knew nothing about, but labeled as ‘your big break’—your promotion to the top. If you could have taken back that drive, that need for power in a dying industry: you would have.

Would have taken back being in the wrong place—or right one your boss would have said—at the wrong time. Would have stayed home that night and had a glass of wine, read a book, laid in bed daydreaming about an unobtainable future—any of that was better than getting in the mix of Gotham’s savior doing what he did best and you getting caught in the crosshairs. You know it would have saved both yours, and the infamous Batman’s, time and energy. Would have saved you a deep purple spreading along your eye socket and a rusty knife to the ribs for him. But you were there and had made the wrong call.

You had all but disclosed that your mother was once a nurse and you knew how to tend to wounds thanks to her—not disclosing that the only reason she had taught you was because you had a meaner than a skunk father when he was drunk and had once beat your mother so badly she needed stitches. Those stitches coming in the form of her sitting shaking and bloody on the side of the tub while she taught you, at the mere age of ten, how to sew up a wound—Another recurring event in your life you wished you could have missed out on.

The two of you finding yourself in your dingy studio apartment, your thoughts more than hyper aware of the judgment that could possibly be flashing across The Batman's face. An assumption that was more than delirious as the pounding in your eye had made its way throughout your entire membrane, the pain shooting through your body as if it was more than just your eye that took the beating—and like most of Gotham’s population, and why you were tailing him—you knew next to nothing about the masked savior, so maybe he had lived in a bigger dump than you.

An incorrect fact you eventually learned by the many recurring visits that had him ending up on your doorstep, apparently your first encounter not going as botched as you yourself thought; the dead silence as you fixed the wound at his side, patched the material of his suit the best you could. The low and husky thanks, his gloved fingers flinching and flexing tightly as it looked as if he might, or wanted to, reach out and check your eye, but didn’t. And he quickly left without another word.

The journalist part of you wanted to grab your laptop and type away at what you were sure was going to be the juiciest story of The Batman to date, but instead found yourself having zero desire to share the time, and humiliation on your part, the two of you had spent together. Because in reality it was nothing. You stuck your nose where it didn't belong, got hit, got the Bat stabbed, and you dressed his wound. If anything people would, most definitely, call you a liar or add you to one of those crazed Batman fan sites. Neither things you wanted. So you kept your mouth shut and moved on to other projects.

And maybe it was that fact, that you had kept your mouth shut, that had him coming back to your apartment the second time, the third, the fourth, and then the fifth.

Blood had caked around his mouth and jaw, a visible trail of where it could be coming from—under his mask—apparent. The wheeze in his breath an indication that he could, and most likely, had broken ribs, falling on deaf ears as he barely made eye contact with you. Had barely said more than three words to you as you began to locate each wound and patch it.

It didn't take a genius to know that The Batman didn’t want to be known, was not meant to be known, his identity seeming more important than the actual ‘saving’ he did. You knew you couldn't have just asked him to take the mask off and that would be it, that the frigid man sitting upon your couch—most definitely staining it—in his bulky suit would just comply. But you figured you’d try. So you saved it for last. Put antiseptic here and there. Pressed cloths to deeper wounds to stop the blood. Stitched a knick on the side of his jaw. Until the elephant in the room became too big and the blood on his face too harrowing.

You didn't really even have to ask. One look, one stare, the shift of your eyes as you kept looking back at the blood on his face, at the mask that covered half of it. You were sure he knew already, had tensed so much because he could feel it coming, could feel the request, the dare, the speculation that he would actually take off his mask for you.

But you still asked, adding that you wouldn't tell—which was as cheesy to say as it sounded, so amateur of you, it holding no solidification in the grand scheme of ‘everyone says that and you're a journalist so why should he believe you’. And that's exactly how it went. His ‘no’ coming out more of a grunt as he stood up and headed for the door.

And maybe it was your curiosity, or maybe it was because you felt actually needed by Gotham’s own little celebrity of vengeance. And it felt good to be needed, a feeling you didn't quite get writing boring columns and non-break through stories. “I wont look!” You declared as he reached the threshold, “I’ll keep my eyes closed, I even have a sleep mask I can cover them up with if that will make you more comfortable.” You felt stupid for even suggesting, he was clearly done with your help, probably for good now that you’d attempted to unmask him.

“You can just guide my hands where they need to go. I’ll feel if you need any stitches, or antiseptic. I won't peak.” You were surprised to see him stop in his tracks, his back turned to you for a beat longer, your heart in your throat from nerves, before he turned and gave you one quick nod. A small smile had spread across your lips, a feeling of triumph that–may have had no right being placed—lingering in your bloodstream.

And you kept your word, had let his gloved hand wrap around your wrist, your two fingertips brushing his skin; along his temple, his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose—his grip tightening so hard on your wrist as your fingers scraped against the culprit for all of the blood on his face. The wince you let out from the heavy strength of his palm squeezing your wrist dredging up a gravely “sorry” from his lips. It had all been oddly romantic now that you had looked back on it—fucked up none the less though, as you held a needle to his nose and tried to sew up a wound you could only feel with your fingertips. The heat from his leather gloves burning your skin. The hot puffs of air he would sometimes let out, or the twitch of his own wrist as he moved your hand in the right direction so you wouldn’t impale a piece of him you didn't need to.

You think that had been the turning point in the fucked up relationship the two of you had. What had completely solidified whatever the hell the two of you would grow on to have, to become. And the night he finally let you see him, had taken off his mask, had given you the darkest look of both trust and distrust all in own brooding glance; his eyes darker than his suit, the permanent scowl that you've come to know so well. It had started a fire inside of your belly that leaked into your veins to the point of succumption. And you knew then that no matter what time it was, how dangerous it was, or how stupid it was for you to do a real doctors job, half as good as them; you’d always let Bruce in.

Even if he didn't do the same.

Him proving that in tenfold along the way in more ways than you had fingers and toes to count. You had lost count of all of the ways Bruce Wayne—The Batman—had broken your heart, and had seemed to do so without any deep reflection of the fact in his zero attempts to fix said broken heart. Or acknowledge it. The turning point of your relationship slipping into something more than just you tending to his wounds, into the two of you also sharing a bed some nights—not the full night though, he had always refused to stay and you had grown tired of asking him to. Of offering him more than being his on call nurse and another warm cavern to sink into.

And maybe it was your own doing, your own foolishness for falling for such a man; mysterious, frigid, thinking he needs to prove something to himself, to put his mind at an ease you don't think you'd ever really understand because Bruce wouldn't let you. Wouldn't let you see into the dark crevices of his mind that you knew would explain all, tell all, bring you closer to this man you (unfortunately) loved.

The hopeful part of you wanted to believe that it was because you were a journalist, that that's why he was so closed off with you. He still had doubts that you wouldn't rat him out and get famous off a story you've swore time and time again you'd never tell. But the part that knew that that was just Bruce, that he had conditioned himself into this hard brute on both the inside and out, a loner billionaire without parents who no one really knew, and would never get to know; a man stuck on the hopes of vengeance and violent acts being more of a warm blanket, a warm home, more than you could ever be. It was just Bruce. How he was. And maybe, sometimes you think, with the way he would look at you, the way he would try to open up, that he had wished he could be more for the both of you, but this was him.

And despite your broken heart you'd accepted that, accepted him. That didn’t mean it hurt any less though, that you didn’t have doubts and fears.

But it’s the reasons why it was not a surprise he showed up at your apartment tonight, and it wasn't a surprise he was stripped down to only a pair of pants, cloths stained with blood littering around your bed, winces of pain as you stitched up wounds, touched bruises, and tried not to be angry at the fact that another set of your sheets were now stained because of him.

“How many were there?”

“Less than you think.”

“Mmm,” you hum as you press the needle into his skin one last time, the ends poking through him easier than leather, the string pulled tight, the wound closed, and then wiped. Bruce barely flinching now that, you were sure, his back had become numb to the needle. But not your fingers it seemed as you ran the tip of your index along one of the deep purpling bruises in the middle of his back, his torso flinching slightly in contortion. It was hard for you to tell when Bruce was lying, even after all the time the two of you had spent together. And instances of you probing and it ending in a fight had stopped you from fully questioning when you get the suspicion of him lying. But you knew he was lying about this. You didn't get this many cuts, bruises, and chunks of flesh opened from there being ‘less than you think’.

“I understand why you do it,” and you did, to a certain extent. “I just wish that-”

“Don’t.” It’s authoritative, threatening and stings all the same. It's a tone you've grown to hate, but know it's like poking a bear if you go against it.

And maybe the two of you have been doing this dance for so long now that you didn’t care, because it does little to deter you. “Right.” You stand from the bed, your chuckle is anything but humorous, joyous, having any good sentiment of what it's supposed to, without a trace. You grab the used rags and cloths from your sheets, ignoring Bruce’s eyes on you as he turns towards you. The wince from the stretch of doing so is heard before he can swiftly hide it.

“Thank you.” Is all he says and it makes your blood boil. Makes you stop your actions and scowl at him, because you’re so sick of hearing those words from him. Sick of them being the only true sentiment you can dredge up from his dark soul.

“For what, Bruce? For stitching you up for the millionth time? For dressing a wound that may get infected because I'm. Not. A. Doctor. That's who you really should be seeing, not me.” You laugh. You throw the bloody remnants in your hands in the trash beside your bed, turning back to see him no longer looking at you. His eyes cast across the room. “What if you show up here one night and I can't help you?” Your arms cross around your chest, your frustrations more than prominent in your tone, and of the heavy thud of your heart you can feel against your flesh. “What if your wounds are so bad that you bleed out on my floor? What then Bruce, you still going to tell me thank you for trying to save you. For staining my hands with the blood of someone else's that's mixed with yours to the point of it being caked on your body? To the point where I have to rub your skin red and raw to get it off, is that all worth a big thank you to you? Is that all its worth to you?” You chew on your lower lip, can feel your breath pick up from the octaves of your voice going up, and to a tone you hate using. To a point of boiling in your veins you hate reaching. “Is that all I'm worth to you…Is a thank you?” You hate yourself for even asking, knowing it’s just going to escalate into something more vicious between the two of you—or worse he’s going to ignore it. “More importantly, is that all your life is worth to you? Going after these men, getting hurt, being stitched up by some woman you sometimes fuck; is that worth it to die on my fucking rug?”

“That's not important to me.” His eyes burn into you as he turns, his pupils filled with fire and rage—a look you've grown to wonder if it's the last one his enemies see, if this is the only time you'll get another glimpse into the dark world of his alter ego. “My death has no meaning when the bloodshed from it is more important.”

Your heart would break if you weren't expecting such a response. But the one thing you did know about Bruce is his one track mind on the reasons he does what does. The reasons he doesn't care who he has to hurt or get back at to get his message across, to achieve what needs to be done. To itch a sad sadistic ache from the wound the death of his parents left.

“It's important to me. I don't want to watch you die on my floor, this apartment is shitty enough.”

“I wouldn't-” he growls, “I wouldn't come here if I knew that's how it was going to end, if there was a chance that you'd be a part of that I wouldn't-”

“You’d die in some cave? A back alley? Some psychopaths fucking lair? That's how you want your story to end? The legacy of the infamous Batman, the great Bruce Wayne unmasked and found bloody and beaten, his fortune and birthright torn through the mud because-”

“Because what? Because I chose to do something? Because I am doing something?”

“Just because you’re choosing to do something doesn't mean you’re choosing the right reasons to do it!” A thud comes at the other side of your wall, your neighbors voice muffled but understood enough to know that a noise complaint was a sure thing. You close your eyes, breathe through your nose, out through your mouth, give yourself five seconds, ten, fifteen, before you open them again and Bruce still has his eyes on you. His expression withdrawn, as always. “I would never ask you to stop being The Batman, I’m not your keeper, Bruce.” You laugh, “I'm not even your girlfriend.” This gets a reaction from him, for the ten seconds he lets it swim across his face before he's looking down into his lap. “I’m just saying you’re wrong about your death not being important. You're wrong about not caring about your own life as both of these…people, things.”

You swallow back the emotions that are begging you to let out, the tears you know you could shed but refuse to let be seen by him, be shared between the two of you. An intimacy you're not sure will ever be shared, as much as you would be okay for it to be. But it's hard to throw your emotions at someone who is never willing to catch them, to hold on to them, to grasp them with open and returned devotion, care, love. You never doubted that Bruce cared for you, he had to, even if it was a little bit. You knew he wouldn't have shown his face to anyone, keep showing up at anyone else’s doorstep—unless he was there to take his so-called vengeance. So you knew he cared, just not as much as you for him, or the way you deserved, in reality. And if he did, if your assumptions were wrong and those of a toxic mindset; you knew you’d never know because he would never let you see it.

“No one can make you care about your own life. Only you can do that. I just wished you’d leave me out of it, because I cannot go another day wondering if you're going to show up worse than before, I” you swallow, take a deep breath “I can't deal with it anymore, Bruce. I’m sorry.”

He doesn't go to answer and you don't wait for him to. Distracting yourself from letting the tears that are burning your ducts fall in front of him, with picking up the rest of the medical contents on your bed and putting them away. Taking a moment to grip the sink in your bathroom, to let the few tears you actually do allow yourself to shed for him to fall, to help ease a part of your heart that’s screaming for you to have a breakdown right now. Before wiping them just ask quick as they had fallen, righting yourself, and walking back out into the main room. You expect to see him gone, he usually leaves promptly after arguments like this. A bad habit the both of you have; yelling, declaring avoidance, Bruce disappearing for a few days, your heart aching more than it does when he’s actually around, and then he’s back and you’re forgetting your past declarations and letting him.

The song and dance you need to give up. Are going to give up because you’re sure about it this time.

You were not lying when you said you were done with the caked on blood you have to scrub from your fingers every other night. Or the scent of metal that you can't get out of your couch cushions. And the many nights you've gone to bed and woken up with him sitting at the end of your bed barely breathing and cut all over.

But if you didn't do it, who would? Alfred? Perhaps. That had been the only part of Bruce’s life he had told you about, had shared with you the bare minimum of information. No thanks to your prompting. But if he had neither of you, trusted neither of you any longer than who did Bruce Wayne have? A lot less friends than Batman did. A lot less people who loved him.

Because yes, you loved Bruce on the same bitter vine of fruit that you hated him. The two forging together into something ugly and overlooked, something no one would want to even buy, touch, let alone sink their teeth into. It was a fruit you needed to give up. A dance you needed to stop moving along with. A love you needed to get over.

Bruce could darken someone else's door and heart because yours was closed off to him.

For good.

A notion set in the stone of your brain, carved with the broken pieces of your heart; sharp and cutting your chest open like shards of glass only meant to cause pain and bleed you dry until that satisfying, sickly, numb sets in and you forget even why you were hurt in the first place. Why you even cared. It being why you would never let someone into that now dark cavern of your chest cavity again because you didn't want to feel that numbing pain again.

But as you walk past him, his reflexes faster and stronger than yours, giving you little time to wrench yourself away; he grabs your wrist, the warmth of his skin burning that stone, that notion, into molten pieces that forge your heart back into something misshapen and even more fragile than before. Your brain singed by the very heat as your heart is the only thing that calls out to the warmth of him, pulls you into the warmth of him, begs you to take back every word and to just love this man. To ignore the bad and succumb to the good that is there, the good that does show itself. To the way Bruce’s eyes are soft as they look up at you. As he pulls you between his legs, as there's a sorry on the tip of his lips but he can't seem to get it out. Can't seem to get past anything other than the twitch of his bottom lip and the heavy swallow breaths of emotion that he's not used to feeling. Or showing.

It’s all such an overwhelming feeling of everything that you don't have the will power to fight it, because fuck this man, fuck Bruce Wayne and fuck the way he made you feel, fuck fuck fuck.

Bruce cups the back of your neck pulling you down to meet his mouth in one quick motion, before either of you can think differently, can pull away or scream, or remember why you shouldn't do this, again. Why he should walk out of the door and out of your life for good, and why you should let him. It's all washed away, torn and shred, by the penetrating tongue slipping into your mouth, an unspoken apology written in the way your mouths work together. As Bruce’s lips burn against yours, as his teeth nip at your seams of lust and love and forgiveness.

He pulls you onto his lap, your knees finding a home on either side of him. Both of his hands resting on your neck, holding you steady, close, in a grip that says he's not letting you move. That even if you kick him out after this, if the two of you actually follow through, that he’s taking this moment to have you. Close. And moaning into his mouth. It's almost primal the way Bruce can be sometimes, the way he kisses you with such fervor and hunger, the way he strips you bare as quickly as he can, as if if his palms didn’t touch your bare skin, cup your breasts, run along the seams of your body soon, that he might go mad.

Your hips stutter against him, the cotton of your underwear the only thing between you and his covered cock. The barrier that drags along your growing ache the more he pulls you close, the more you gyrate your lower half, rubbing against his growing cock. The sighs of pleasure falling from your mouth into his, Bruce swallowing them down with a low hum. Accepting them like a precious meal.

Once your shirt has been discarded to the floor and the two of you have switched positions; Bruce hovering his weight above you, your legs spread for him, his body just as naked and bare as yours, the heat from his cock warm and throbbing between your thighs. Only ever scraping lightly against your slick slit, enough to have your hips chasing after it, and needy whimpers vibrating against his tongue. Your lips already feeling swollen and bruised from his relenting mouth, his devours; the words you know he can't say swallowed down and settling into that hopeful part of your pathetic heart.

“Please, Bruce,” you whine as his mouth trails wet kisses and nips down your chin, to the junction of your neck, to your breasts where his tongue draws a slow circle around one of your nipples. Making your intake of breath burn your throat as your chest pushes up into him, your cunt throbbing even more as he takes the other one in his hand and squeezes. You had never understood how good it could feel to feel the warmth of someone’s mouth sucking on your skin, your breasts. The shot of desire and burning aching lust that shot through you when their teeth grazed your nipple. Not until Bruce. He toyed, sucked—and even fucked—your breasts with a type of worship that made God himself jealous. The times you would look down and his eyes would be staring up at you in awe. Like watching you wither in pleasure and the taste and feel of you in his palms and mouth was like drinking from the rivers of Eden.

He ate your pussy the same. Some nights it's all he would want to do. You’d finish patching him up and he would drop down to his knees and fuck you with his tongue until his hair wasn't just sticking to his forehead because it was wet with sweat. Like all things Bruce did he did it with vigor, with devotion to the cause, and like it was going to fucking kill him in the end and he was okay with that.

But tonight all you wanted was to feel him inside of you. To be fucked so good by him you forgot everything, all the bad gone, all the heartaching pains. You just wanted to feel Bruce’s breath against your neck and his cock against your walls, fucking you so deliciously raw and hard that he was the only thing you could feel, could reach out to, could wrap around in excruciating ecstasy and pain.

You pull him up by his chin, pull his mouth from your body, your breaths mixing as you bring him inches from your lips. “Fuck me, Bruce,” you pant, whine, beg. Looking up into his eyes you can see the dark fire of lust and want burning in them. And it's all you need to ask of him because in his next motion he is grabbing his cock, rubbing it along your wet folds, the head of his cock rubbing against your needy throbbing clit, watching your mouth as it hangs open in a gasp. And he doesn't stop staring as he pushes into you, so slow, so gentle, dragging it out so he can watch the emotions of relief on your face contort in pleasure. Swallowing down your breathy moans when he presses his lips back to yours.

The pace of his thrusting hips against you slowly pick up, once you’ve gotten used to the girth of his cock stretching your walls. The pain from it always one of your favorite parts about Bruce fucking you, you think. As fucked up as it sounded. And maybe that's why you kept letting him, into your apartment, into your heart, into your cunt; because while his words, and lack thereof, had pained your heart, his cock had been the sting of the salve to put it back together. His mouth and his hands had been the words he couldn't speak. The look of pure devotion in his eyes as he told you how pretty you sounded as he fucked you, the bandage to hold it all together.

It was a fucked up relationship the two of you had. A fucked up tune for a fucked up dance. But deep down you knew there was no stopping in sight.

Not when it felt this good. When you loved Bruce like this. When the world got to see the gruesomeness of the Batman, and you got to see the aftermath, the tiredness in his eyes, the aching muscles, the torn skin and soul from his alter ego; and then help put it back together.

His breath is hot against your skin as he fucks you harder, one hand gripped above your head in the pillows, the other wrapped around the column of your neck. The slap of his hips against your thighs, your loud moans, his low heavy grunts deep and vibrating against your chest are the only sounds in your dingy apartment.

Your nails dig into his back and the gravel of the hiss of pain he lets out makes your stomach twist. Your mind too clouded with sex and lust, and him, that you forget that he is in fact still hurt. You open your mouth to apologize to move your hands to cup his face, but he quickly stops you with the lift of his chin. With his lips devouring yours with that same heat and hunger and the low mumble of, “do it again.” He grunts, “hurt me the way I hurt you. Show me your pain.” If you had a sane mind, if his words didn't make something burn in your lower belly adding to your arousal, to your lust; you'd know his words would have cut you differently. Would have brought something new and aching to the pile of your already severed heart. But it doesn't. It makes you whimper, it makes you want to pull him closer and drag your nails down his back, reopen his wounds, show him that pain so you can both wallow in it, feel pleasure from it, bask in it, drown in it; because that was your love, that was your devotion to each other in the end; pain. Desirable, lust filled, pain.

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

A piece for TaDa ~

—

His hand lifted without him knowing it, struck by a small bag. The jangle of coins tickled his palm through velveteen cloth. Well, more than his palm was tickled. Ears pricked, fingers threading between the soft edges of yuan to estimate a figure; his free pointer and thumb undid the lace, spilling the loot over the scarred table.

The woman was shooting off an apology, mid-way through something about her meaning to aim for his lap, before eye contact drew her up taller. Her shoulders pressed so close together they might have seemed bony under the casual clothes, but he was aware she packed many surprises. Some from herself.

Lu Da entertained the thought of how she’d twist into knots recalling the eyes that scaled her arms when the sleeves were rolled and limbs loose. A shine about her as she reigned undefeated in the tavern, until midnight, when the pirate tugged her out back to empty her palate. That sloppy yet retained grace, hair like flaming wisps in the pub’s backlight... lips tinged with her third - fourth? - quart and a low-voiced promise to do something. A lady of her word if there ever was one.

Was this that something?

“I know... your debt...” The wind that whistled through the door to the open deck swallowed her curt explanation. Twilight bathed the tied, gentle rocking of the quaint junk, a small source of pride.

“This should be enough to cover it.” Her heels clicked together on a stiff turn, a hand resting on the frame. “Let me know if they... insist on causing you trouble.”

Before she could swoop out of sight, before he could refuse, Lu Da plunged a knife into the familiar grain of the table. Thump. “And how does a woman of your talents come across this amount?” He circled the hilt’s end, his own assuaging habit.

The soldier smiled. His finger paused without him knowing it.

“It was the least I could do.”

She resurfaced weeks later, rope made from the sturdiest fiber he’d ever touched strung around one shoulder, sailcloth she’d patched herself to weather the monsoon wrapped in her arms. And the time after that, clean clothes bundled in her sack, a signet ring that would let the bandit slip unquestioned into upper echelons to thieve from bigger thieves... entrusted with the honor to put any winnings back into the world. Every visit, flirting with the law’s edge, cards held close to the chest, a nonbender dipping her toes in kerosene.

Some homemade cream for his ink to withstand the punishing sun, then an arm in thick bandages after she took an arrow in his path. Unpredictable. Fire with all the glow, none of the searing heat that evaporated the top membrane of his eyes. Ta Ming, he could run over with thoughts and clever hands for hours... She burned in ways that put his best employer’s stint to shame.

A book of haikus on top of a basket of moon peaches. Her shy admittance to testing words of her own on paper, while all he’d been able to do, teeth tearing into the skin of the fruit, was stare, boggled - when it finally, finally hit him.

Damn it all.

He’d go down as the famed shapeshifter that vexed unlucky lovers in children’s stories: Lu Da, half man, half badgermole, blind in both forms.

Their next meeting was at his insistence. A grander setting than a junk, on the unsteady surface solid earth would never hold a candle to, plucking her hand from the ropes to help her over the last step. Her dress was plain, and every edge of her glittered. He ushered Ta Ming to her seat, banished the crew to third-class views as the sail - her patched sail - was unfurled.

“That - whatever magic you worked into it - has served me in many a storm, milady.” He added with a doff of two fingers as he lowered beside her. She moved as if a string pulled her straight up from the spine, flush with satisfaction, or like his gesture was a salute. She asked the appropriate question,

“What is this? All of this, I mean.”

“It’s... well...” The cook chose an apt moment to descend between them, like a prop from a dream. A steaming delicacy of moon peaches, baked into heavenly filling. “It’s you.”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh, you remember a basket of these?” His lip twitched, stooping over his side of the plank and barrels that framed their nifty wood couch, and set a large metal lantern in front of them. “Remember that debt you paid off? This trinket here caught my eye in Jurna.” Beautifully engraved, and still dark, unlike the match that flickered in Lu Da’s fingers.

“No Sparkies on this ship, and good thing, too. I have most of the effects covered.” He uncovered the lantern’s shade, lit the oil, and affixed the cap back on. Ta Ming noticed between slow blinks that it was loosely screwed, made to rotate. “Course, they’re all here because of you, aren’t they? Or did you forget your help has been as much as I could ask of any merry bloke around here?”

“Ah, well, I only-” She glanced around in rapid assessment as bold shadows splayed over the deck, walls, and reformed sail. They enveloped the surroundings, and when the pirate sent the lantern spinning with a flick, the walls gained movement. Shapes coalescing, colliding, a whirlwind like a fire duel from a safe distance. Sailing while they hadn’t moved an inch from the shore. “Oh...”

“Listen, Pointy Boots. We got off on the wrong foot plenty of times. I don’t think we were meant to meet any other way. I’ve been reading your poems, sailing your sail, doing jobs without a lick to show for it - because you’re there.”

“I made new friends, Pointy. Friends who want my teeth in a shiny white necklace.” His smile grew softer, firelight ensnaring the tracks of ink that belonged on one dashing oni. “But I don’t think a man is lucky enough to get to meet two of you.”

Ta Ming was absorbing each word in quiet bliss, a pink tint to her cheeks, though the urge to point out his error was compulsive. “Military-issue footwear are not boots. They’re shoes.”

You’re proving my point, his tattooed brow arched, gaze holding hers in the flickering light, shadows in chase. “Swear me this, if this is where... we start off. Don’t put yourself on the line if you won’t let me lay down on the next wire. You have a way of needing and never asking. It’s daft. Get scary. Ask me to haggle for pretty jewelry, to juggle fire rings, to get on all fours in private - you get the picture. Get in the picture.”

A short laugh, with a note of disbelief, as if the quality he’d picked apart was an unbidden one. She crimsoned just a shade further at all fours. “Aye aye.”

“Good. Now sit back, and let me handle the evening’s entertainment.” Lu Da kicked the lantern into motion again. A generous helping of moon peach goodness was presented to the lady, and as Ta Ming bit in, he unsheathed his hands. Their large cast on the mainsail dove and transformed: one scene melting into another, animal to animal, a low prowl to outstretched flight. The pounding buzz in the soldier’s head gave way to his enunciation, a mellow, silvery timbre as the rogue recited entirely from memory... The haikus she had studied and those she’d penned in embarrassment, breathed across the billowing sail with a life of their own.

She tripped headfirst into love without him knowing it.

[amethystpath-writes]

Secret Caretaking

Tumblr is acting extremely dumb so there's a high possibility that this will post twice now.

@badthingshappenbingo

Original Work

Secret Caretaking

Angel and demon whump, anyone?

@whatwhumpcomments

******

The halls changed as Angel walked through them. She did this often, walked, and watched what her Holy Land provided her with- what she desired. It was such a delicate system, one always so soft and comforting, but one that only ever served as a happiness while you explored it.

Usually she saw Earth's puppies and baby alligators- goodness she loved the alligators. All of the other angels disliked them- didn't hate them, but weren't particularly fond either. In any case, Angel loved them.

There were other rooms, of course.

Another room she loved passing through was the cloud rooms. Sometimes the clouds were painted with an early sunrise. Other times they were sunset. And the remainder of the times were solid colours that made the clouds look like something the humans would make with cotton and the coloured bulbs they created.

The Holy Land knew her well. Of course it did. It knew every angel inside and out.

Today, the land brought Angel something it never did before. As she walked through the ever changing hall and forever open doors of glorious joy, she spotted a closed door, one black and with a slit at the top with thick metal bars.

Angel stopped, peering at it from a few feet away. She...well, she didn't really like that door. It kind of frightened her. Why was the Holy Land giving her such a dark door? Angel didn't understand. But the Holy Land always knew what she wanted. Surely whatever was inside could be deemed relevant to herself.

With a deep breath, she collected herself, straightening her spine, lifting her chin until it was parallel with ground. This was how Angel walked when things were normal, and this- this completely normal door- was normal. Normal, normal, normal.

There was a handle, one that looked like old, rusting iron. This is normal. This is meant for me. Angel gripped the handle and pushed it forward until she was stepping and sliding through the crack. She watched her feet, careful not to trip over them.

When the door shut, she looked up to see her own light illuminating the room- more than that, she was illuminating a-a form. She didn't dare think the real word, even as she squealed in a sudden fear and let her back slam against the door she'd just slipped through.

"Ah, another of you."

Angel's light dimmed to almost match the pitch black the room had been before. But her light could never be dimmed all the way, especially in her silky white hair which glowed with a faint yellow-orange. Angels couldn't shave their hair, or else they lost their purity. It's why the man in front of Angel terrified her so. His hair was cut short- previously shaved, but now fuzzy, and no longer white or glowing. His skin was the colour of ash- grey, black, and white, like a fire burnt out. He was Fallen.

"You shouldn't be here, y'know?" His voice was barely a whisper. It made Angel wonder how it was so deep, how it penetrated her absent mind so easily. She was usually so good at blocking things out around her. Right now, Angel couldn't even think passed the fallen man's voice, the way he was stretched out before her, wings spread with rings punched into the thick leather and then attached to the walls on either side. She imagined those rings in her own wings and let out an involuntary whimper.

Her hand reached for the handle. She would pull herself up and then open the door and walk out. Simple. But it wasn't so easy as that. Her whole body trembled, shook like when Earth's tectonic plates shifted over one another.

"Come now. Won't you say anything?" The fallen man paused, waiting for a response of any kind. Then, when he received none, he said, "I may be in no position to tell you to leave, but maybe I could scare you out. That is, if you don't give me proper company. You did intrude. It's only polite that you give me your name."

His voice pinned Angel where she was. She wouldn't look up at him, not again. He seemed so large. Was it because she was cowered on the floor or was he really so big as that? She swallowed, still trying to clutch and pull herself to her feet.

"Alright, then."

Angel screamed and hid her head behind her clutched knees as the fallen jerked his wings forward. There was a persistent, but not quite repetitive, sound of something being pulled tight- a chain maybe. He was flapping his wings wildly and with each thrum and pull of it, Angel's body clenched tight like she was preparing for the man-thing to break free and hold a hand against her throat.

She didn't realize she was crying until the fallen stopped moving and told her, "You shouldn't be crying. I'm the one shredding myself over here."

"Shredding yourself?" Her voice was quiet. She hardly even heard herself. With closed eyes, Angel focused on her breaths. When she felt her limbs finally relaxing just a bit, she opened her eyes and looked at the wings before her. She didn't dare look at his face; she was too afraid of what she might find there, but his wings- his wings were destroyed, a torn line down each one from the rings he just hurt himself with. Angel stood in an instant.

"Why would you do that to yourself!" She clamped a hand against her own mouth. Angel spoke to the fallen man. She said something to him. There was no rule against it, per say, but- well, angels didn't talk to the fallen. Maybe it was a fear that, despite there being no rule, if they talked to one of the fallen, they would fall themselves. Maybe they would accidentally introduce themselves to the fallen- and therefore doom themselves.

Even with this terror in mind, Angel touched the bat-like, membranous wing in front of her. She stood at the right wing, shaking her head when her finger made contact and as a shudder traveled through her. Angel breathed shakily with the shudder, stiffening with eyes rolling back for a moment. She withdrew her hand.

"Will you heal?" Angel croaked.

"Of course I will." His voice was louder than a whisper now, but still quieter than his regular volume, Angel could tell. "Just not as quickly without your light."

"I won't give you my light," Angel said, dead-panned.

The fallen man laughed, and Angel watched the wing in front of her bounce as he did so. Her legs were still tensed as she stood. Damn him- literally- for getting her to speak by hurting himself.

"Oh no, no, no, no, dear angel. You would never give your light to my kind. But you would lend it, wouldn't you? Lend it if it were put to good use?"

Swallowing, Angel turned her head towards his own. Her tongue was pushed against the roof of her mouth.

His eyes were like fresh embers.

"You can still be saved," she observed by the glow of his eyes. Without herself realizing it, she took steps closer to his center mass, reaching a hand towards his face. His teeth snapped at her fingers and she yelped, retreating her hand. "You seem perfectly demonic to me. The Holy Land can't possibly see any angelic qualities in you."

"Now, if that were true, you wouldn't be here."

"And how would you know?"

He chuckled at Angel, and she hated the way his eyes glowed brighter when he did. She hated the beauty they portrayed. His eyes were the equivalent to Angel's hair.

"Did you forget I was an angel once, too? The Holy Land led you here. I take it it's because you desire to feel helpful." His eyes dimmed; he was manipulating her and she knew it. Still, he was right. All she ever did was wander around her halls and rooms. She was useless. But- "You could heal me, y'know? It's about the only way you'll feel any fulfillment in this hellhole you call heaven."

Angel thought about it, disregarding his aversion to her home. He had no right to be calling the Holy Land a- a...the word he said.

"Healing you might cause me to fall." Her voice was quiet, but seeing as she was directly in front of the fallen man, he heard her.

"The Holy Land would lure you into a trap?" He smirked, and she knew what he was implying. How holy could the Land truly be if it deceived its own angels?

"Well, yeah. You were tempted, weren't you? The Land is testing me. You- you're a test to me." Which also meant-

"If you walk out of here now without doing anything to help, I'll be hurt worse for attempting to escape." His eyes flared with an orange-red colour again. "I have a feeling they won't make you my tormentor. So, walk out and forever know you're a failure to yourself. Or, satisfy your one and only desire and heal me. Help someone real, even if it's a Fallen One."

He's right. You know he's right, she said to herself. As lovely as the puppy rooms, alligator rooms, and rooms of colourful clouds were...they would never be enough for her. Because she did want to help. It was all she ever wanted, to be a true angel, not just an emergency one- one that stepped in only when there weren't enough angels to help with a catastrophy on Earth with the humans.

"What if-" Angel turned her gaze down, ashamed that she was even thinking about doing this. But...but it was the only way she could feel eternally happy. She needed to be useful. "If I just heal you and leave, they'll know. Because if this is a test, they'll be waiting for me to come out of this room. And if you're healed, they'll know. They'll see my light in the once damaged parts of your wings."

The fallen man hummed as she spoke, agreeing with eyes burning something hot. He didn't feel it, of course, but his vision was always clearer when his foolery and trickery were in play- and succeeding.

"I'll heal you, and you can use the same light to make an illusion that the light is gone. A cloak. The fallen can still use light if they can still be saved. Your eyes reveal your cunningness, which means the Holy Land still accepts you enough that at least one angel will know to help. And I will. I'll help you, if you help me, too."

"You'll have yourself a deal if-" The fallen's lips curled and split to reveal yellowed and dirtied teeth. Four of them were sharpened, like a wolf's. Two on top. Two on bottom. The other angels said the Fallen used them to feed on their light so that they could return. It was terrifying to say the least, but even with teeth like his, the Fallen were beautiful creatures. Angel hated them- hated him, but he was her ticket to true happiness. "-you give me your name."

"What?"

His shoulders lifted and relaxed. "You heard me. I want your name."

"No." She shook her head. "No. No, you know I can't do that."

"It's the only word I'll trust of yours. Your promise, your word...it comes with your name. It's the only way I can trust you'll come back and heal me when the others inevitably torture me again."

Angel felt a fury she never felt before. Holy Land, she didn't even know what fury was. Melancholy, yes. Anger, no. "You don't need my name," Angel seethed. "The only thing you could ever use it for would be to- to return to Holy Land as an angel yourself and- and damn me in the end. Angels aren't allowed to give their names to the fallen. But you know that."

There were too many conflictions in this all. If she left the near-demon here without healing him, she'd never be content. But if she healed him and walked out without giving him her name, he wouldn't cast the illusion to save her skin. And if she did give her name, well he could use it at any point against her, to condemn her to Hell.

"How do I know you won't use my name the moment you learn it?"

The fallen man rose a brow, slid his jaw askew. "You think I want to be an angel even after they casted me away. No. But if I have to choose between being an angel and being tortured by them, I'll take the former unless I can escape- which you are going to help me do."

"But you didn't say-"

"It should have been a given, dear angel."

"I'll damn us both," she said, crossing her arms. It was cute. Wrath and cunning didn't match her features or personality. "I'll heal you for my satisfaction and if you won't cast an illusion to save me then your one chance at escaping will be gone because they'll take my feathered wings. I'll be fallen like you and you'll still be in this room being tortured."

The Fallen One sighed in a dreamily way. "You won't let yourself fall. It terrifies you. I wouldn't know it as well as I do lest you had reacted differently when you realized what was behind that door when you walked in. And again when I flapped my wings. You. Flinched. Every. Time." He laughed. "But here's the thing. You aren't afraid of me. No, you're afraid of becoming me. You're going to give me your name. And you're going to hope with all your angelic being that I'm an honest 'near-demon', as your kind likes to call my own, wishing for God or the Devil's good grace."

Angel blew her nose like a bull, a huff more-like. "I shouldn't," she whispered to herself. "I can't." But the Holy Land says he can be saved. You have to try, Angel.

With a deep breath, she got to work. The glow in her hair gathered into her scalp before sinking into her blood. "My teeth aren't sharp enough to pierce flesh," she said, and swallowed like so many times before while she'd been in this room. She needed to wipe her light on his wings to heal him, but she couldn't get to her light on her own. "I- I need you to..."

"To bite." The Fallen One smiled, on corner of his upper lip lifting further than the rest. "Gladly," he said, and licked his teeth, lip curling a little too long on his sharpest ones.

Angel shook her head, took a shuddering breath, and hovered her index finger in front of the near-demon's mouth. He bit, closing his lips against her finger. Angel gasped, feeling the way his tongue lapped against her skin. "No. No, please! Stop!" But he wasn't stopping. He was going to steal all of her light. "My name is Angel!" His mouth opened. She stole her hand back, clutching it to her chest with her other. Angel nearly sobbed with relief, and also dread as she had just exposed herself to the Fallen One.

"You thought you were clever." His tongue wiped across his teeth where a bit of Angel's blood remained. "You thought with your little ramblings, I'd forget you never told me your name. Angel," he drawled. "Almost as delicious of a name as is your light. No matter. I have the light I need. You'll come back every week to give me more, or else I'll introduce you to Dear Ole Luci."

Angel took a step back, nose scrunched. "You can't be saved," she spat at him.

He sighed. "Didn't I already tell you I didn't want to be saved?" The Fallen One hummed. "Is that more light I see coming through the slits in the door? Looks like you're running out of time to leave my cell, Angel. I'd be scurrying along now."

She had to suppress the urge to scream and tear into him, not only because she might be caught, but because thoughts like that would earn her a ticket to Hell more quickly than what the other angels could tear her wings and throw her there themselves. "If," Angel stressed this word. "If you trick another angel into this evil bidding, I will sacrifice my wings in order to rip your own to pieces."

"Feisty," he mused in return. "Go on, now. I'll look forward to our next visit."

One last huff and she rushed out of the door. Damn him, she thought. And damn me for being fooled so easily.

******

If this weren't for a prompt, I would have split it into two 😬

[dionysuscrysis]

Hello, @invader-zim-week​ ... How about some fluff? And by fluff, I mean angst...

The frantic pounding on Gaz’s door was pretty standard for 11 P.M. on a weeknight. In fact, Gaz had learned how to predict the nature of Dib’s impromptu visits based on knock quality alone. She knew the loud, regular set of knocks that meant Dib intended to rant about whatever dastardly scheme his dumb cat had most recently attempted. She also recognized the faster, lighter pattern that signaled Dib was about to try to rope her into a countermeasure against one of those plans.

Tonight’s door-shaking knocking was in a league of its own. Gaz went so far as to pause her platformer to deal with it.

As soon as the door unlatched, Dib threw it open, nearly falling into the apartment with his momentum. 

“GAZ!” Dib’s voiced cracked. “Where’s Gretchen?”

Before now, Gaz wasn’t sure Dib even knew she had a roommate, much less that roommate’s name. Before she could make a snide comment about it, she noticed the wadded coat in the crook of Dib’s arm, and the limp, unmistakably green tail that drooped from it.

She stood aside and gestured for Dib to enter.

“Not on my...” 

But it was too late. Dib had already deposited his bundle onto her couch. He sank to his knees in front of it and began unfolding his coat.

The door to Gretchen’s bedroom creaked open down the hall. “What’s going on out here? Is everything OK?”

Dib twisted to see her, and Gaz got a better look at his pale, sweat-slick face. “Gretchen! I need your help!”

“Dib? Um... OK? What exactly...” Gretchen - sleepy-eyed and decked out in her finest button-up PJs - froze as she entered the living room. “Oh my gosh...”

Zim looked even smaller than usual within the black sea of Dib’s jacket. His fur stood at odd angles, bunched and sticky in places with darkening blood. His eyes were closed, and if not for the rapid pulsing of his ribs, Gaz would have taken him for roadkill.

Her stomach churned. “What did you do.”

Dib turned toward Gaz. “I didn’t do anything, I swear. I... I couldn’t do something like this. He’s EVIL, but he’s not... He’s just a...”

Gretchen pushed her way past Dib, taking his place in front of the couch with a mumbled apology. Her hands hovered over Zim’s body as she assessed him.

“I need the first-aid kit from the hall closet,” she said. “Um. Please.”

“Start explaining, Dib,” Gaz instructed as she fetched the kit.

“I don’t really know what happened,” Dib said. “Zim didn’t come home this morning... I knew he was up to something. His tracker pinged at Dad’s lab, where I know he’s been stealing stuff. Dad insists he would know if Zim were breaking in, but he doesn’t even believe me about-”

“What happened, Dib?” Gaz’s question came out more like a threat as she handed the box of supplies to Gretchen.

“I’m getting there...” Dib paused, watching as Gretchen donned a pair of medical gloves and began carefully smoothing Zim’s tattered pelt, searching for the source of the blood. “Like I said, I don’t know what exactly went down, but I tracked Zim into the lab’s parking lot. He was... I thought maybe he was hit by a car...”

Gaz crossed her arms, scrutinizing her brother’s face. Ever since Dad had given him his little reject science experiment, Dib had appointed himself as the defender of humanity. He was convinced that Zim and the other cybernetically-enhanced creatures Dad was manufacturing were bent on world domination. And sure, maybe Zim was, but Zim was all of nine pounds soaking wet, and despite possessing hyper-intelligence and a multitude of tools built into his PAK, somehow always failed in his efforts to make mischief. 

“He was hiding under a truck. I had to pull him out. I was scared he was...”

Gaz blinked, surprised by what Dib was admitting to.

Gretchen broke the silence. “These are puncture wounds... All pretty shallow, fortunately. They look like bite marks.”

Dib’s brows furrowed. “What? Zim has access to actual lasers. There’s no way he got jumped by a stray or something. He’s a tiny, awful little gremlin, but he’s not helpless.”

Gretchen shifted uncomfortably and fidgeted with a bandage spool. “Maybe he didn’t fight back.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Dib said. “Zim’s favorite thing in the world is picking fights.”

Gaz hardened her expression. She saw where this was going. How could her conspiracy-theorist sibling miss it?

“Before I quit the lab, Professor Membrane was training those two PAKked dogs... I assume they’re still there...?” Gretchen chewed her lip as she dressed Zim’s wounds, pointedly avoiding Dib’s gaze.

“Red and Purple? Of course they’re still there. Those two monsters are the masterminds behind the PAK uprising,” Dib scoffed. “Zim basically worships them! You’re not implying that they’d...”

He stopped, his focus drifting toward Zim’s body. The cat’s breathing had steadied, but his eyes remained closed.

Gretchen cleared her throat. “It’s just a thought, really. And I know it’s none of my business.”

Gaz inclined her head toward Zim. “Is he going to be OK?”

“I’ve covered the worst of the bites and the PAK is stabilizing him. I think he’ll be alright. Normally, I’d tell you to take him to the lab just in case, but maybe in this circumstance...”

When Dib didn’t respond, Gaz rolled her eyes and stepped in.

“Thanks, Gretchen. You have class in the morning, right? Go back to sleep.”

Gretchen glanced between the Membrane siblings. “You sure?”

Gaz nodded.

Gretchen stood and awkwardly straightened the buttons on her colorful pajama top. “OK. I’ll be in my room if you need me. Um. Obviously. OK. Goodnight.”

“So you’re staying here tonight, then?” Gaz asked Dib as Gretchen’s door closed behind her.

Dib grunted in the affirmative, his eyes still fixed on Zim. 

Gaz chucked a throw pillow and a spare blanket at her brother. “If he ruins my couch, you’re paying for it.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Gaz headed for the hall, but stopped to look at Dib one last time. “Hey.”

Dib tore his attention away from his unconscious nemesis. “What?”

“I’m glad you found him.”

Dib sighed. “Yeah. Me too.”