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[stusbunker]

A Gentlemen’s Agreement Epilogue

A Supernatural Denny AU Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny Lafitte

Other characters: Pamela, Jesse, Caesar, Crowley, Balthazar, Meg, Jo, Lee, Lisa, Sam (mentioned), Drea OFC, Robbie and SJ OMCs, Deanna OFC

Word count: 2340

A/N: Enjoy! xoxo Stu

Brunch

    The sun was bright, but the air was crisp. The remnants of the early snowstorm had left soggy lawns and damp sidewalks. Benny pulled up to the restaurant and parked on the curb, smiling over at Dean. He waited patiently. 

    “You sure this is a good idea?” Dean squinted in the midday light.

    “Been dying to meet ya. Figured it’s only fair, I met your folks, you can meet my people too,” Benny said simply. “But I’m not gonna force ya.”

    “I just, I’m not used to being out in public. In numbers,” Dean sputtered.

    Benny raised a single eyebrow at him. “Well, I guess this is your best shot to try it out, dontcha think?”

    “What if they don’t like me? I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your friends,” Dean explained the root of the problem.

    “I like you, they will too. Just relax, be your charming self and if you don’t know what to say, you can just keep eating.” Benny put his hand on Dean’s thigh, squeezing just so.

    Dean growled out a sigh. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

    Like that could make an uncomfortable situation worth it. Benny smirked at Dean’s logic, waiting for his face to soften from grouchy to amiable. Once Dean relaxed, Benny kissed him, just long enough to keep him flustered and climbed out of the truck.

     They approached a large round table midway along the heated patio, where four people were already seated.

A raven haired woman waved them over. “My good Benjamin, did you bring a straight boy to brunch, just for me?!”

“Pammy!” Benny leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Hate to disappoint ya darlin', but ain't nothing straight about this'n."

 “Hey, now! Can’t a guy speak for himself?!” Dean snipped defensively as he sat in the spot beside Benny.

Everyone laughed. Pamela raised her eyebrow in question.

Dean licked his lips and put on the smolder, “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m taken.”

“Wait, this--- THIS is your sassy mechanic?!” Crowley leaned forward, extending his hand, his English brogue gruff and pandering. “Nice to finally meet you, handsome.”

       Dean gave Benny the side eye and all Benny could do was shrug coyly. Dean shook the man’s hand, trying not to show his discomfort from his lingering glances. Benny made the rest of the introductions, Jesse and Cesar were also a couple, but had been married for a few years. They seemed to be waiting on someone before they ordered. The group sipped their cocktails with a fresh pitcher of Bloody Mary in the center of the kitsch tablecloth.

Benny poured Dean a generous portion of the red drink and slipped seamlessly into the conversation. Dean sucked the palmeto out of an olive and listened casually, not too sure where he fit in this part of Benny’s life.

Twenty minutes later a rail of a guy swaggered in, with oversized aviators and a black linen suit. 

“Oh, thank Christ for booze,” he huffed, grabbing Dean’s glass without even acknowledging Dean was there. The blonde chugged the entire drink, before breaking for air. “I just had the worst hook up of my life, no, well, the year at least. He took me to his mother’s house. She tried to make me breakfast. I was simply mortified. I just left. What could I even do at that point, honestly?!”

Now that his audience had his attention back, the man gawked at Dean. He even pulled down his sunglasses for a better look. “Now who the fuck is this? Is it show and tell?! Because I am not prepared in the least.” 

He casually patted at his hair and eyed Dean from top to toe. Benny chuckled, but Pamela was the one to make the introduction.

“Balthazar, our regular hangover diva. Meet Dean, Benny’s boy toy,” she deadpanned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh you can’t be serious,” Balthazar lamented, looking from Pam to Benny to Crowley and finally at Dean. “Fuck you southerners and your goddamn accents--- always gets the hotter ones,” he muttered defensively as he threw himself against the armrest of the chair, crossing his legs.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Cesar ended the dramatics concisely. “Maybe somebody should find our waitress?”

Dean looked at Benny confused. “We’re always here for a while, she doesn’t bother us until we’re actually ready to order. Tend to annoy her otherwise.”

Crowley volunteered as he needed to head to the men’s room anyhow. Five minutes later he arrived with an obviously surly waitress.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Meg’s smokey voice broke through Balthazar's latest story. She centered herself between Cesar and Crowley’s seat and cocked her hip, tongue firmly in cheek as she waited for Dean to take her bait.

“Heya, Meg,” Dean sighed. The inevitable caught up with him after all, they just had to run into someone he knew.

“Oh, this has got to be good, now, pray tell, how do you two know each other?” Crowley probed.

“Oh me and this schmuck? We go way back.” Meg smiled without teeth.

“Is that so?” Benny tested the waters.

“Not like that,” Dean grumbled. “Meg, here, took my little brother Sammy out for a few spins, back in the day. Didn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? It was high school.” Meg let her indifference coat her entire being until curiosity sparked to life in her eyes. “So what are you doing with this crowd, or did they bring you in just to add a new level of torture to my Sunday shifts?”

“Well---.” Dean swallowed, looked at Benny for clarification and got mild amusement instead. “I think you’re stuck with me now.”

“Joy,” Meg bristled before taking their orders, knowing most of the table’s usuals before they even opened their mouths.

News

    Benny rushed into the customer entrance of the shop, the wet October air had kept the service doors closed for the past week. He leaned against the counter, decorated in local business cards and charity fliers, anxiously waiting for someone to talk to. His chest was so tight he worried he’d pass out from excitement. He just needed to see him was all, once he saw Dean it would be easier.

    Lee sauntered in from the service bay, they both had drawn the short straw it seemed.

    “Hey, mind getting Dean for me? It’s important,” Benny asked, unable to keep the burning smile from his face.

    Lee eyed him curiously but nodded and headed back the way he came. He didn’t shout, not really. “Dean-o, your boyfriend’s looking for ya.”

    Dean unfurled himself from the engine he had been tinkering with all morning and glared at Lee.

    “Husband, whatever, seems urgent,” Lee acquiesced. Dean nodded and wiped his hands off on the closest rag. Dean pulled his wedding band out from his undershirt out of habit more than anything. He couldn’t wear it on his hands at work, but he didn’t want to lose it so Benny made him a braided leather necklace once they got back from their honeymoon.

    Dean ignored formality and walked straight into the waiting room. Once he saw the look on Benny’s face he knew what was happening.

    “It’s go time?” He asked, shock and exhilaration sparking his instinct to move.

    “It’s go time, cher. Lisa called me on the way to the hospital. Sam’s driving her from the office. Her water broke about 9:30,” Benny explained, the nervousness slipping into his cadence.

    “Alright, I’m gonna clean up, you want me to drive?” Dean asked, gauging the unsteadiness in his usually stalwart husband.

    “That’s probably best, yeah,” Benny agreed. 

Dean leaned in and kissed him firmly, resting his forehead against Benny’s temple before pulling away.“Hey, we got this, alright? That kid is gonna be so spoiled having you for a daddy, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking, gonna have you wrapped around their finger before they can even crawl,” Benny teased back, inhaling with contentment.

Dean headed back to warn his coworkers that he had a baby on the way and to clean up enough to be allowed into a hospital. Jo followed Dean out into the lobby. Quickly, she hugged Benny before demanding regular updates to the group chat.

“Alright, get out of here, we’ve got you covered for the rest of the week. Let me know and I will put in paternity leave as soon as everyone’s home, okay?” Jo got all professional about things as Dean left.

“Oh, right, shit. Well, I guess I’ll let you know when you can come over and---,” Dean started before Benny pulled him by his elbow.

“We should be goin’” Benny urged. Dean looked at Jo one last time and nodded.

This was it.

   Dean held Benny’s hand the whole way to the hospital, their grip tightening every so often, grounding them both. Because Lisa was a friend and the surrogacy was looser than most circumstances, both Benny and Dean were allowed in the delivery room. They were the best cheerleaders a birth mom could have ever asked for. Seven hours later, one chubby baby girl entered the world screaming to high heaven and splitting her fathers’ hearts open for an entirely new level of love and devotion.

    Mary Andrea Lafitte-Winchester, or Drea for short, was a happy and healthy little girl. And an overprotective big sister to her twin brothers, Samuel Joel and Robert Fergus, who came along four years later.

Sunset

    They’re old men now. Dean is five years retired, while Benny works the register for their sons on the weekends. Both of their hands aren’t what they used to be. But they keep busy. Drea is bringing the kids round tomorrow, it’s the start of summer break and Dean’s been dying to teach her kids to fish.  

    Dean went grey after he turned fifty, but it hasn’t changed since, in color at least. Benny’s beard is as white as Santa Claus and he hides what little hair he has left under a cap. They’re both a little rounder, a little lower to the ground, but they got that way together and neither of them notice it on one another anyhow.

       Every year they visit Jesse and Cesar in Arizona for New Year's. Though they fly more than make the drive these days.

        They still take turns cooking the meals and the movie nights from their early days resurfaced into movie afternoons when their kids moved out. Dean can’t hear for shit anymore and, naturally, Benny makes fun of him for it. But Dean’ll put in his hearing aids if company is over.

 It’s early evening in the beginning of June and the bugs are orchestrating quite the soundtrack to their time on the porch. Dean pours his whiskey. Benny’s already sipping his sweet tea, his medications don’t let him drink much anymore. Jo’ll come by on Sunday, along with SJ and his wife and Robbie. Sam and Jess usually make it to every other dinner or so.

    “Hey there, handsome. Mind if I join you?” Dean teases, once a flirt always a flirt.

    “Not at all, cher. It’s a helluva view,” Benny glances at his husband, watches Dean take in the peaches and pinks kissing the slopes of the fields. They sit like that for an hour, until the dark is too thick to see through. Groaning and creaking they stand in turn. Dean keeps his hand on the small of Benny’s back as they head inside for the night, steadying them both.

    They moved their bedroom to the ground floor after Dean’s heart attack, a lot less worry about making it upstairs that way. After being married forty years, Dean still makes jokes about it being Benny’s place. But it’s always been his home. He kisses Benny goodnight, makes it a little saucy because he can. He’s the first to close his eyes.

    In the morning Benny makes waffles and tofu bacon. Dean pretends he can’t taste the difference, fooling no one. They make out while the sink fills for the dishes, too few to run the machine. Benny gets handsy first and Dean tries to squirm into the upperhand. They’re interrupted by a car pulling in the drive.

    “Busted,” Benny whispers.

    “You’re the one who wanted kids,” Dean grumbles against Benny’s neck, an old, unfounded retort.

    “Yeah, but the grandkids---,” Benny starts.

    “Were made to be spoiled,” Dean finishes and kisses Benny once more. Drea’s yelling at her kids to slow down before her dads even make it outside to greet them. Her eyes, blue as her daddy’s are tired. They don’t envy her the school aged years. Dean bends down as baby Deanna, who’s nearly four, comes crashing into his arms. He pulls her up and holds her tight, reminds him of her mama and he can’t help but get a little weepy over the passing years. 

    “It’s so good to see you, baby girl.” Benny pulls his daughter into a hug before helping with their bags. The older kids don’t come inside until it’s time to eat, climbing through the barn and splashing in the creek until they’re soaked. But Deanna sticks with her Grandpa on a simple stroll, while Pappy and Mama catch up.

    Dean still has the jacket he bought from Benny, though the pants are long gone. He’ll leave it to Robbie when the time comes, when his son finds himself a stud that’s worth settling down for. If that’s what he chooses. 

    For now, Dean lets his granddaughter pick up every rock and stick she finds and examines it to the nth degree. He explains what he can about each one. She’s very curious. He even lets her wipe her chubby little hands on his pants’ leg when she needs to. They get back to the house just in time to start dinner, but before they go inside Dean takes a mental picture of his husband on the porch, their daughter beside him and his granddaughter running past him.

   It is a helluva view after all. 

Tell me what you think?

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[thetranquilteal]

Tethered - A One Shot [AO3] by @thetranquilteal

Being tethered can be both a blessing and a curse. It all depends on your point of view.

Modern Day Firefighter AU. One-shot. Inspired by personal feelings of anxiety and helplessness this Australian bushfire season. 

A/N: I had just settled myself down in front of my computer with the intention of editing Part II of The Gift when the news caught my notice. For many Australian’s like myself, bushfires are not anything new. Every year hazard reduction burns are conducted (weather permitting), friends and family who volunteer with local fire brigades are likely to get called out at unexpected times, we pay attention when the State Department issues a Total Fire Ban. But the news that day was worrisome. It was alarming. It was downright anxiety-inducing. A literal state of emergency. I looked down at the story on my screen and asked myself… What would Claire and Jamie do in this situation? The answer, I found, was easy: they would be right there in amongst it. Fighting. Healing. Doing anything and everything they could to help the cause. Then I began to wonder… what if Claire was in my situation? What if she, too, was a primary carer who had little ones relying upon her, who had little to no extended family to provide support, who couldn’t simply walk out the door - no matter how much she wanted to? After much thought, I came to understand that - just as there is strength in staying to defend and strength in leaving everything behind - there is strength in going in headfirst and strength in staying behind. 

That being tethered can be both a blessing and a curse. It all depends on your point of view.

She was tethered.

And all she could do was worry.

Claire's hand hovered over her phone sitting on the kitchen bench and she caught herself, purposefully pulling herself away and over to the sink where a pile of dishes were waiting. 

Reading the news would bring no relief, she knew, only reports of more people evacuating homes, an ever-increasing number of people missing and warnings of extreme weather forecast for the days ahead, all guaranteed to intensify the sense of helplessness that had been hovering over her ever since Jamie had left.

It was a feeling as hot and sticky as the heat itself - and one she had come to hate. 

In all her thirty years, she had seen and done many things. She had served with an army, graduated medical school and worked in the most adverse and trying conditions with Doctors Without Borders. She had been arrested during protests, been beaten, wounded, patronised and, at the worst of times, betrayed by those she relied on most. Most recently she had relocated to a new country, become a foster mother and survived childbirth twice.

Yet nothing compared to staying behind while Jamie went with the Rural Fire Service to the front line. 

It had to be the hardest thing she had ever done.

Even now, two weeks after Jamie had received the call, she was itching to move. To take action. Drop Fergus, Faith and Brianna off with trusted friends and head for the hills. Literally.

She looked down at her gloved hands, covered in soap suds and clenched them tightly before opening them again to look at them plainly. There was so much more they could be doing - should be doing - other than washing multicoloured milk stained cups and jam smeared plates. 

Respiratory problems, minor burns, heat exhaustion and dehydration, for example, were things she was well trained and equipped to deal with. But staying at home to look after the house and the children while her husband, friends and colleagues risked their lives during a state of emergency? Not so much.

Welcoming Fergus into their home had been both simple and easy. As an 8-year-old he had been happy to go wherever she and Jamie went, be it home or away, on a schedule or travelling across land and sea at only a moments notice. So much so, in fact, she had caught him attempting to stow away in one of the RFS trucks, adamant that he was not only old enough to go with the men but it would be beneficial for the team to have someone as small and fast as he around to help them.

Having Faith and then Brianna, however, had been something else entirely with periods of enforced bed rest, a near-death experience during birth and now being on maternity leave during a crisis challenging her in ways she had never expected. 

She let out a sigh and pulled the plug out of the sink, deciding to leave the now clean pile of dishes to the elements in favour of giving in and scanning her phone for updates. Again.

‘Too Late To Leave’ the latest headline read and, just like every other time she came across those words, a shiver ran through her leaving goosebumps along her skin in its wake. Her throat tightened at the thought of something happening to Jamie or any of his team members and tears welled up in her eyes, from frustration or despair she didn't know. 

Perhaps it was a mixture of both. 

Not a moment too soon, Faith bounded through the kitchen door, hands full of colourful flowers pulled from the garden. 

"For Mrs Cook!" Faith announced, holding out the bouquet proudly, her both smile wide and innocent, as Fergus joined them notably red-faced and out of breath.

"For Mrs Crook?" Claire corrected with a smile of her own as she reached for one of the clean cups behind her.

More than once she and Jamie had expressed to their foster son that caring for the little ones was not - and never would be - his responsibility yet the 11-year-old could always be found nearby actively looking after them, be it redirecting Faith’s attention when her antics turned dangerous or rocking Brianna’s crib when something startled her from slumber. 

The least she could do, she figured, was refuel him at any given opportunity. 

"Aye! Mrs Cook!" Faith repeated unfazed, her red curls bouncing eagerly.

"We haven't gone down to see Mrs Crook nor Mr Martin since the day before yesterday,” Fergus paused to gulp down half the cup and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “We were thinking to take them some iced tea -” 

“And flowers!”

“- and some flowers," Fergus added clearly, his eyes sparkling.

"That's a wonderful idea,” Claire agreed proudly. The days had been warm and at times the air so thick with smoke the normally busy roads were abandoned in favour of air-conditioned residences and she had made a point of regularly contacting their most at-risk neighbours just 'in case'. Such thoughtfulness from the children warmed a part of her, somewhere deep within her chest, that she hadn’t realised had grown cold. “I’ll get Brianna ready while you collect the fresh jug from the refrigerator."

On her way out of the kitchen she picked her phone up off the counter and slipped it into her back pocket before scooping Brianna up out of her bouncer and following the elder two children out the door.

"Come home to me, soldier," was the last thing she said to Jamie. 

She would have to trust that he would.

"Keep the bairns safe," was the last thing he said to Claire. 

He would have to trust that she would.

There was no point in worrying about things he had no control over, he knew. Not when the ash beneath his feet was like snow, covering every surface the eye could see, and flames in the distance reached heights he never imagined possible, producing smoke so thick it threatened the sky's existence. 

To consume the very air they breathed.

Jamie pulled up his visor and wiped the ever-present sweat off his forehead with a dirty sleeve.

With moderate temperatures and low winds, they had expected to spend the day reinforcing containment lines in preparation for the days ahead, a much-welcomed respite from the gruelling 16-hour shifts they had been partaking in so far. 

Just halfway to their assigned location in the National Park, however, they had received an urgent request for assistance in the Valley where a spot fire had taken the local crew by surprise. Together they had managed to protect all nearby buildings - including one he later found out was heritage-listed and an important part of local history - and were taking a moment to rest before getting back on the highway.

"Hey, Fraser! Catch!"

Jamie turned and caught the bottle of water in his gloved hands smoothly. He tucked it under his arm to take off his gloves before opening the bottle and lifting it to his dry, chapped lips. 

"Taing," he called back, his voice still scratchy but strong, and lifted the now mostly empty bottle in a show of gratitude.

Left to his own devices for a moment more, he took the opportunity to look around as his heart rate slowed to a more reasonable beat. Except for their fleet of three trucks and two utility vehicles, each strategically parked to form a line of defence, the road was barren and the lack of wildlife combined with the eerie orange glow filtering through haze left him with an unusual sense of unease. 

The very first time he had signed up to volunteer with the local brigade, he had been a young lad living in the Scottish Highlands, determined to follow in his late father’s footsteps, and in the years that followed learned from some of the toughest and most experienced senior members not only how to deal with the myriad of things they would undoubtedly encounter but what it truly meant to be a firefighter and part of a crew. 

For some years now, he had considered himself both highly skilled and well informed, worthy of the seniority bestowed upon him and prepared for anything that would fall across his path. Yet, in all his years fighting fires, he had never experienced a summer like this.

It wasn't just the challenging terrain, unprecedented severe weather conditions or the growing number of losses that settled upon his shoulders, as heavy as the equipment they carried on their backs, that was testing him - threatening to push him beyond his limits. 

It was also the first time the job had taken him so far away from his family. And for so long.

The first day or two had been easy with specialist reports, numerous briefings, allocation of equipment and the challenge of building a team under extreme conditions taking most if not all of his time and energy. But as they became familiar with the situation and settled into a somewhat regular routine, he found himself thinking of his family more and more. It was not uncommon for him to lay on a makeshift bed on the station floor in the wee hours of the morning, his body exhausted to the point of collapse but mind not yet following suit, and find himself wondering how they were or what they had been doing in his absence. 

Even on their busiest days, when they stood on the front line, feet planted firmly on the ground, sweat running down their backs and hearts racing in their chests, they were there, not so much in conscious thought but a subtle sensation. As though something was pulling on him, reminding him that their mere existence provided him with purpose.

A purpose to fight, yes, but also a much newer purpose to come home.

At the signal of their Crew Leader, he drained the last of his water and climbed up into the cab of the truck.

Right now, they were headed into the unknown, their uniforms blackened and scorched in places before they had even truly begun. He didn’t know what they would come to face in the next few hours, how long this beast would rage or much damage it would ultimately cause. 

All he knew for certain was that none of them were invincible, that what they were facing here - yesterday, today and tomorrow - was bigger and stronger than he and the crew would ever hope to be.

And he also knew he needn't worry.

He was tethered.

[deans-baby-momma]

Rebel Without A Cause-Ch 4

A/N: I want to take this time to send a big THANK YOU to my two betas, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ and @tmnt-bucklover​ for helping me make sure this story didn’t suck. LOL

Throughout their set, Dean's eyes meet with their manager's a few more times. As the final tune of the night begins, Dean smiles to himself, proud. The randomness of his choices for the afterparty is sure to hook each of them a good fuck. Well, except for Cas and Meg. They’re married to one another but that doesn't stop the wedded pair from participating in the activities. Hell, they have even let Dean accompany once or twice.

FLASHBACK

Meg Novak is a dirty, kinky slut who likes to watch and direct her husband as he sucks down the singer's dick. As Cas takes Dean down his throat, Dean's gaze is on the fingers of the band's keyboardist as she sinks them into her soaked pussy. 

"How's that big cock taste, Clarence?" Meg inquires, using Cas' given name. "I bet it feels good sliding down that hot throat, huh?" Cas moans his response around Dean's length, causing it to twitch and jump in his mouth. 

"Fuck Meg," Dean gripes. "You keep making him do that and I won't last long enough to ram this big cock in that tight ass!"

That shuts Meg up as she slides her cum-soaked fingers down to that very place. "You mean this one, big boy? Huh? What makes you think-" she is interrupted as the blonde, one of their few crew members Sam is fucking into, cries out from the other side of the  room, "-you get this? Huh, sweetcheeks?" She glances over at the door as a cacophony of moans erupts again. "Sammy, baby, sounds like you're fucking her good! Keep it up!" she yells with a chuckle.

Dean watches as Meg's middle finger circles her ass and then slowly slips in. "Oh, yea.  This ass is nice and tight for you buddy. Cas, get on the bed. Let me ride you."

Cas promptly takes his mouth off Dean and climbs onto the king-sized bed, falling back until he is prone in the middle. Dean watches as Meg saunters over and climbs up beside her husband. She throws a leg over his crotch and rubs her pussy up and down her husband's length, getting him prepared. As soon as she can, she lifts her hips and lets his tip notch at her entrance. "You watching or joining?" she asks Dean, not taking her eyes from her husband. Dean jumps into action, taking his place behind her between Cas's legs. He guides her hips as she sinks down on Cas' dick. Keeping his hands where they are, Dean helps as Meg begins bouncing on Cas until they get a nice rough rhythm and then he takes one hand away, wrapping it around his cock. Who knew watching a married couple fucking could be so intense,  Dean thinks to himself. He begins jerking off to the same pattern of Meg's bounces. After a few minutes, Meg leans over Cas' torso and looks at Dean over her shoulder, giving him a wink. Dean knows what that means; it's time for him to join. He crawls up behind Meg and pulls her asscheeks apart. From this view, he can see his friend's dick being swallowed by her wet heat. Dean groans at the sight and gathers saliva into his mouth. He bends down and spits right on Meg's hole and rubs it around with his thumb, making sure to lube it up good. Once satisfied, Dean guides his dick into her back hole and slowly enters. 

END OF FLASHBACK

That is also the same night Dean and Benny ended up high as kites with Dean sucking off his best friend. And the beginning of the after-concert debauchery that has only grown with time, now including others, not just the band members and crew.

Crowley MacLeod has always had his hands full with the musical acts he represents but the Winchester Sex Bombs are quickly becoming his kryptonite. 

He had discovered them about three years ago in some run-down dingy bar scene on the outskirts of Lawrence, Kansas. The group of five had potential so after one of their sets, he approached them and offered to get them out of the small-town scene and onto billboards and packed arenas but that promise had yet to come to fruition. He had gotten them a tour across the country but no national recognition yet and with the unflattering news reports and arrests they have accumulated, there weren’t any indications that it ever would. 

Although he has never prohibited their after-show shenanigans, he’s never prevented them either. He knows what goes on behind closed doors and all parties are consensual but it was the venues that complained and ended up calling the law. The latest escapade though is all Dean and Benny. They had been arrested for lewd behavior and indecent exposure. 

Crowley is livid when he gets the call at 4 a.m. but he decided to teach them a lesson and let them stay in jail. He only calls his lawyer at 9 a.m. when he awakes again. 

Now, here he is, sitting at a table with the other members of the band awaiting the arrival of the lead singer and the drummer, along with the lawyer. 

As soon as the familiar vehicle pulled into the parking lot, Crowley excuses himself and steps outside, passing the two remorseful bandmates.

Crowley can not stand the short, pompous man who represents the band but when he had chosen his cousin's firm, Chuck had appointed them Gabriel. Crowley wasn’t happy with the appointment as much as Gabriel was agitated with the assignment. Crowley and Gabriel have never gotten along, but with family sometimes you just have to grin and bear it.

“Fergus,” Gabriel greets the manager, using his given name. “We need to discuss the band’s extracurricular activities.” Crowley can tell from the tone of Gabriel’s voice the man is not happy with having to come to Windsor and work his magic to get the charges against his band repealed. 

“I know. I plan to,” the robust man replies. “As soon as we get bigger gigs than these backcountry, rundown bars, I’m going to have a talk with them.”

“You better do it before that or those bigger gigs aren’t going to be coming in,” Gabriel reminds him. “I can only do so much, Cousin. Word on the street is Winchester Sex Bombs are more trouble than they’re worth. So you better get a rein on your boys or there’ll be Hell to pay!”

“What are you talking about?” Crowley huffs as he looks at the man in front of him skeptically. 

“I mean, get a handle on them or I’m going to tell Dad to drop you as clients. We’ll quit defending them and then let’s see how long it takes before the tabloids crown them as the bad seed of the business.”

“This is the entertainment industry, Cousin,” Crowley sneers, as he hands over an unmarked envelope, payment for Gabe’s services. “Sex, booze, and rock and roll.”

“Well I have a little thing called integrity that I’d like to keep intact,” Gabriel replies, taking the envelope from Crowley’s hand. “Remember what I said. The family can only take so much.” 

And with that, Gabriel climbs into his vehicle and pulls away, leaving Crowley in the parking lot of the local diner. The manager looks through the window of the diner to see the five band members laughing and carrying on. He shakes his head as he heads inside to join them.

@pink1031 @spnbaby-67 @winecatsandpizza @joseyrw​ @kricketc28​ @tftumblin​ @markofdean79​ @tmnt-bucklover​ 

[shitweputupwith]

The accountant with a negative ledger

So another high profile male has been discharged without conviction due to the restrictions a record would create for his ability to travel.

Given it’s September 2020, and travel is, well, off the table for goodness knows how long while the rest of the world battles with COVID-19, that excuse doesn’t really wash.

Plus, he’s an accountant, travel as part of his business, um, really...

So what did he do to land in court?

He and his now ex-wife had been arguing.

His ex-wife retreated and was lying on a bed and crying when he came into the room and told her to “shut up”.

And this is where it gets dark and twisty.

He then put one of his hands over her mouth and the other on her neck and threatened to punch her if she didn’t stop crying.

When she began to cry louder, he punched her in the eye.

She ran to a friend's house nearby for help.

His punch left her with bruising to her right eye and a broken nose. 

Clear assault and clear evidence, case closed right.  Wrong.

He was found guilty of injuring with reckless disregard and not guilty of two charges of male assaults female, after a five-day trial at the Auckland District Court.

 And the Judge also noted that her previous surgery may have left her nose “somewhat weakened”.  Yeah, okay.  (If you didn’t know, Judges are renowned for not only being legislative experts, they also class themselves as medical experts too and yes, that’s a perfect tui ad.) 

His excuse was “the punch had been in the heat of the moment.”

The Judge gave him credit for his previous good behaviour, noting he had done work for charity organisations.

His lawyer, a prominent QC (whom I refuse to name mention as I’m not giving out free airtime for her services) applied for a discharge without conviction for her client, arguing the consequences of a conviction were out of all proportion to the seriousness of the crime.

She filed 39 references from his friends and business associates.  He had also attended Man Alive, Reducing Harm and the Community Drug and Alcohol Service.  He had also seen two psychologists, one of whom assessed him as being a low risk of re-offending.  His lawyer also filed an affidavit from an immigration lawyer who described his ability to travel with a conviction as “complicated and time-consuming”.

Judge Field agreed.  :epicfaceplant:

And here’s where the violins play, poor little itty bitty man, lost his temper once and all this court activity has blown everything out of proportion.  Wrong again.

So who is he?

His name is Fergus Cleaver, he is a principal partner at Cleaver Partners. His quick bio on the his website states:  “His clear and forthright approach to communications expertly guides his clients’ and business associates to better financial and business decisions.” 

And he Has FORM.

In fact, way back in 2010, over 10 years ago, he was hot water and his despicable actions against women were reported in the media.

An executive, told a woman asking for sponsorship for a gig at an Auckland nightclub that she couldn't support it. She wished her well and sent the response to her and to Cleaver, an employee of Cleaver Richards Accountants who had been party to the original email. She received a reply from Mr Cleaver's email account a few hours later that said: "whore".

Lucky for her, she simply wasn’t accessible for him to take his anger out on, and rightly so she replied to Cleaver.  "Thanks for your intelligent response. You'll notice I've copied in the key members of the brand marketing team as well as our friends at Pernod Ricard, Lion Breweries, and Pead PR so best of luck with future events and gaining sponsorship for these." Being outed, Cleaver rang her and apologised for any harm caused - but not for the actual email because he said he did not send it. He said “his email had been tampered with".

What I have found with rich white privileged males over the years, is the act they get caught out on, isn’t their first or a misunderstanding, it is intentional, they mean it and they do this behaviour, in the same manner that normal people eat weetbix for brekkie.

I also know that rich white males in a Court of Law, normally get slapped with a wet plus ticket from a Judge.

Don’t believe me, check out the following sample of cases:

1.  MN v SN 2017 A woman’s protection order was cancelled because a Family Court Judge did not think she needed it. The Court of Appeal has reinstated it. https://www.newsroom.co.nz/catriona-maclennan-dva... 2.  Crown v (unknown) 2017 A man who saw red when he discovered a text between a friend and his wife, declaring their undying love for each other, has been discharged without conviction on charges of assaulting the man, the defendant's wife, and one of his children (This was appealed due to public outrage and the conviction was reinstated) https://www.rnz.co.nz/.../appeal-judge-convicts-man-over... 3.  Crown v NM 2018 Top architect successfully appeals arson conviction to keep career https://nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1... And if you speak up, the establishment will do this to you. 4.  https://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1...

These cases are a smattering of the ones I know that go on behind closed doors.  Since when is a right to travel valued above a serious assault which is then trivialised by a Judge.  It wasn’t just a I pushed her, she fell and broke her nose, her crime was crying in a room by herself, where he then held her down, attempted to strangle her and then assaulted her point blank.  An assault like that can kill you in an instant.  And yes I can say that, as I have a medical background. 

Is that really OK New Zealand, is it okay for our justice system to value travel over a life?

Maybe normal people need to be Judges, because, I for one, would’ve sentenced him to jail time.

Perp:  Fergus Cleaver Firm:  Cleaver Partners Advice:  Do not use his firm and if you do, leave, because supporting them, means you believe violence is okay.  

A discharge without conviction does not make him innocent, all it says is his lawyer has the ability to skirt around the law and to have a little chat behind closed doors with the Judge to ensure her client wins.

But the New Zealand public has the ability to walk with their feet and I suggest you do so.

[purewhitepages]

Desert Heat Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: First day on the dig and Claire is already feeling the heat

A/N: Thanks so much for the support on the last chapter. In case you’re out of the loop, I’ve started a side-blog specifically for fics to try and make them more visible among all my shit postings (hence why the previous fic is on my main blog). I’m also slowly figuring out how moodboards work. You’d think I was new to this site with how bad I am at everything.

Useful Info: “Petrie” refers to Flinders Petrie, one of the most famous and prolific Egyptologists ever. The poem is borrowed (with love) from Crocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth Peters. It’s one of my favorite books and partially inspired this fic. 

It was always necessary for the company to rise early while on digs in order to get as much work done before the noon sun stifled and shriveled them up. It was necessary, but that did not mean Claire did not resent it. She tried to suppress yet another yawn as she worked to delicately unearth the stone under her.

Her dreams the night before had been hot, though she could not remember any details beyond the burning sensation in her chest and belly, as well as waking up in a sweat. She tried to brush it off as nerves and the heat. Even in the dead of winter, the Egyptian sun was unforgiving.

For now she tried to focus on the task at hand and the sound of the diggers, whose work was supervised by John across the site. Lamb’s notes had proposed that there should be some sort of cellar--albeit crude--below the main level of the house. He had posited the entrance to be along the south-side of the building, where John and the diggers were currently working. Meanwhile, she and Fergus were carefully examining the rest of the building, even if just to see how much of Lamb’s notes had been correct.

“Milady, you need to stop looking over at the other camp,” Fergus warned as Claire yet again pulled her attention away from the other workers less than 100 yards away. She needed to get a grip and get over it, the choice had been made.

“I’m sorry, Fergus.” The words felt heavy on her tongue. The choice had been made, yes, but had she even considered the others around her? Fergus and John? Should they not have such an honor in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? She had never been good at making decisions outside of her medical kit. Those choices were easy: this leg is broken, set it; this child needs medicine, give it to her; this man is dying, save him. But when people’s way of life and reputations were on the line? The choice should never be up to her. 

Fergus seemed unaware of her internal struggle. “Don’t worry about it, and try not to think of them. We have much to do here.” He was squatting in the dust next to what Lamb had posited to be the easternmost wall of the structure.

She nodded and crouched down beside him. Fergus flourished the brush in his right hand expertly, using his left, false hand to steady himself on the ground. Claire had never been quite sure how it had happened, and Fergus had never spoken of it directly, but she could guess. She’d heard of the punishment for stealing in more of the unsavory parts of Cairo. If the rumors were true, Fergus was lucky to still have one good hand left.

They broke for lunch soon enough and took refuge in John’s tent.

“No scrapes for you to tend to yet, eh Beauchamp?” John asked with a smile as he handed her a glass of whisky less than a finger-full. “To breaking ground?”

She raised her glass and nodded, taking a sip. John sat at his desk next to the cot where he slept, his back to Claire who sat in a chair across the tent.

“How’s the papyrus coming along?” Claire asked.

“Hmm?” John asked, clearly distracted. “Oh, it’s coming along. Slowly.” John’s voice sounded far away.

During the war, John had met a man named Hector Dalrymple who had, in John’s words, “inspired him” to study antiquities. He had died the year before John had been hired by Lamb. John had taken up the work, translating the papyrus Hector had picked up in Luxor before the war. It had mostly been love poetry. It had been a little more than a monthly ritual for Claire to find him drunk off his arse and crying over the ancient scraps of paper. She was not so naive to assume that these antics were brought on by scholarly frustration, but if John didn’t want to talk about it, she wouldn’t push it. She just carefully laid the papers into a drawer, put the glasses away, and led John to bed, forcing him to drink some water before tucking him in.

It had been quite a change for their roles to be reversed in the past few months. Though, John had never punched her in the nose while she tried to wrestle him into bed. And it was in that moment--looking at him from across the tent--that Claire realized she and John were both fulfilling the dreams of their dead loved ones.

Quite the pair we make, she thought to herself as she sipped her drink.

Despite it only being the first day of the new season, Claire’s thoughts drifted to the next year and the one after that, if only abstractly. If not for Lamb’s extensive notes, she would have been at a loss for where to dig this season. What about next year? The Antiquities Department had made it very clear that if no major finding was discovered at the Behribu site, it would most certainly be closed from further excavations. Lamb himself had scoffed at this notion.

“It’s all stuff and nonsense, my dear. What does St. Germaine care where I decide to play in the dirt?” He had said. But it had been easy for Lamb to say that, he had acclaim and connections to the British Museum as well as the Egyptian Antiquities Department. They had allowed her this one year in memory of him, but what of next year? Would she even be able to secure a site?

Or, more accurately, would John be able to secure a site and let Claire tag along. What if John didn’t want to go next year? Surely he would be able to move onto anything now that his mentor had died. Fergus too. She felt lost, quite literally, in the middle of the desert, with only the faintest hope for water behind the next sand dune.

A throat cleared and she looked up to see a young woman standing at the tent flap. She wore a button-up dress belted at the waist with trousers beneath and brown boots. A large straw hat with a brim sheltered her face from the hot sun.

“Excuse me,” she said. “But I’m lookin’ for a Miss Beauchamp, are ye she?”

It seemed almost comical to even ask, as they were the only European women most likely within 100 miles. 

“You must be Miss MacKimmie, you may call me Claire, please. Come in and close the tent flap behind you.”

The young woman eyed the other two adults carefully and stepped in. John had looked up when she came in, but had returned to his work. It was unlike him to be so unsociable, but Claire assumed he was onto something with his papyrus. Lamb often got into similar moods, sometimes even for days on end.

“That’s John Grey over there,” Claire explained as she produced a chair for the young lady to sit on. “You must excuse him for shunting himself in the corner thus, he is in the middle of unearthing the dead.”

John snorted at her from his place in the corner but otherwise did not respond.

“What can I do for you, Miss MacKimmie? We were just about to have lunch, Fergus should be back any moment now with it, will you eat with us?”

The young woman colored at her words and shook her head. “Ye needn’t trouble yerself, I just- well-” She wrung her hands. “Mr. Fraser was kind enough to say I could come to you if I needed help and-”

“Do you need medical attention then? My kit is in my tent but I could-”

“No, please, I just needed to get away from the other camp is all. And, well, there isna much else to go, is there?”

Claire nodded but quirked an eyebrow. “What is it about the other camp that you need to get away?”

She blushed and looked down. “The men,” she said bluntly. “Not all of them, mind ye. Mr. Fraser is very kind to me, he’s my cousin, ye see. But-”

“But he cannot always be around to guard and guide you?” Claire finished, all too aware of what some men could be like on digs. She wasn’t sure if it was the sun or the low proximity to civilization that caused men to lose all sense of propriety and manners, but it had always been a problem too big to correct.

She nodded demurely.

“Well, I don’t see a problem with letting you take refuge here for now. It’s only us three and the diggers in our little camp.”

Just then Fergus returned, laden with plates for the three of them. Miss MacKimmie shot up to her feet like a lightning bolt when he entered. Claire stared at her and then back to Fergus.

“Ah, I was not aware we had a guest.” He placed the plates on the table where Claire and Miss MacKimmie sat, and brushed his hand on the front of his pants before offering his hand. “Fergus Beauchamp, at your service, madame.” She noticed Fergus moved his left arm behind his back.

Miss MacKimmie seemed incapable of speech so Claire stepped in.

“Fergus, this is Miss Marsali MacKimmie, she’s the illustrator for the other camp. She’s come here to get away from unsavory male company.”

“Not that I find all male company to be unwelcome!” Miss MacKimmie seemed to have found her voice quite suddenly. “Just- some.”

Fergus nodded good naturedly. “I will go get another plate, you may have mine. Please, do not wait on my account.”

As he exited, Miss MacKimmie fell back into her chair. Claire happily began to dig into her food, eyeing the young woman.

“I’ve always found an accent to be quite attractive in a man, if you don’t mind me saying Miss MacKimmie, now that it’s just us girls.”

The young woman’s eyes trailed over to John at her words, but Claire kept talking. “My first love was a Belgian lad when I was twelve. Something about that French accent. What do you think, Miss MacKimmie?”

“Oh leave the poor girl alone,” John called, teasingly. “Some of us have not grown as hardhearted and cynical as you.”

“Are you going to eat with us or are you going to continue to moon over ancient love poems?”

“I don’t moon, and I’ll be there in a second.”

The tent flap rustled and a deep voice cleared their throat. Claire glanced up and then straightened up at the site.

“Marsali, what the devil do ye think ye’re doing here?” Mr. Fraser growled, casting a glance at the women seated at the table, to John at the desk, and finally to the two cots lined up across the tent. “It isna proper for ye to be in a man’s tent. Even with- another woman.” His voice faltered.

She hadn’t even considered the propriety of Miss MacKimmie’s presence--or even her own--in what was essentially John and Fergus’s room. Perhaps she was too quick to judge men’s actions in the middle of the desert.

“You must forgive us, Mr. Fraser,” Claire finally said. “We do not have a common area tent and prefer to eat together out of the hot sun.”

His gaze fell on Claire. “Then ye must set up an umbrella or awning for an eating area.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt, quite the big spender, what do you say John? Should we buy food next time or an umbrella big enough for the three of us to eat under?”

John grunted and Claire rolled her eyes.

“While you’re here, Mr. Fraser, would you be so kind as to lend your linguistic abilities to our man John so he can eat before going back under the hot sun, Doctor’s orders.”

Mr. Fraser seemed like he was about to protest before she mentioned linguistics. “What does he require help with?”

John glared at her. “A number of years ago I acquired some papyrus. There is no rhyme or reason for the various hieroglyphics between them. I have a hunch they were looted from various tombs before they finally ended up in my hands.”

“Well, I’d be delighted to take a look if ye’d like.”

“It really isn’t necessary, Mr. Fraser-”

“Mr. Grey, it would be my pleasure.”

John seemed at a loss for words and nodded. “Alright, I must admit a few of the cartouches are a bit out of the ordinary.”

Mr. Fraser smirked good-heartedly and nodded. “Allow me to lend my expertise, but later, if ye wouldn’t mind. Perhaps at suppertime? I have a few volumes I could bring with me, Petrie and the like. For now, we must be goin’. Come, Marsali, Dougal was lookin’ for ye.”

Miss MacKimmie exchanged a glance with Claire before standing and walking over to her cousin.

“Good day to you both,” Mr Fraser bid them as they left.

Claire jumped up and went to the tent flap, lifting it up.

“Mr. Fraser!”

He turned back, the heat seemingly making the air around him waver. His tan skin gleamed in the sun and his blue eyes seemed all the more striking underneath his hat.

“The invitation for supper extends to both you and Miss MacKimmie. We shall expect you both after the work is done, here, in this tent.”

He glanced at the young woman beside him and nodded before turning away to the other camp.

Claire stared at the two men hunched over the bits of ancient paper, eyes peering across the rim of her glass of whisky. She had tried to engage in conversation with Fergus and Miss MacKimmie, but had soon realized that they were not inclined in doing anything beyond polite comments about the weather and stealing glances at one another. She had noticed the young woman’s eyes lingering on Fergus’s left arm, but if she was at all disturbed by the false appendage, she made no mention of it. Between them and the scholars in the corner, Claire found herself quite alone.

She soon got up and crossed the room, peering over John’s shoulder at the work.

“Any progress?” She asked. 

“See for yourself,” John said, handing his open journal over his shoulder to her, his finger marking the spot.

Claire read over the lines and nodded. “It’s very...well, perilous, wouldn’t you say?”

“Read it out loud, if it pleases ye.” Mr. Fraser turned back to look at her, leaning back against the desk. “Poetry deserves to be read out loud, does it no’?”

Claire smiled and nodded. She took a step back, dramatically and held the book out as if she was preparing to read a dramatic monologue from Hamlet.

“The love of my beloved is on yonder side

A width of water is between us

And a crocodile waiteth on the sandbank.”

Mr. Fraser’s eyes did not leave Claire as she spoke, the glass of watered down whisky at his lips to hide a small smirk. She glanced back up at him over the book, his eyes washing over her and causing her stomach to churn. She wondered to herself whether his was the gaze of the beloved or the crocodile? And which one would she have feared more.

John threw back the rest of his drink and held out his hand for his notebook, breaking the spell. She handed it back to him.

“Do you think that’s the first time that poem has been read out loud since the time of the Pharaohs?” Fergus asked from across the room.

“What an honor it is then, to be here when it is,” Miss MacKimmie answered him.

“Quite the sentiment,” John’s voice sounded far away.

“What do you think, Miss Beauchamp?” Mr. Fraser asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, our modern interpretation is quite different from what the ancient one would be.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Aye?”

She nodded. “Yes, the crocodile on the sandbank seems to us to make it the tale of ‘forbidden, star-crossed lovers,’ trope. Most would mention Romeo and Juliet.”

“But ye’d beg to differ?” The mirth did not leave his eyes. 

“The Ancient Egyptians, would beg to differ, Mr. Fraser. The crocodile is meant to show the strength of the man, it is implied he will triumph over the beast and is therefore stronger than a crocodile.”

“As ye say.” Mr. Fraser placed his glass on the desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

Claire narrowed her eyes at him. “What? Do you have a different interpretation?”

He shrugged. “It isna in my mind to infer what the words of a long dead man may or may not mean. I merely make the knowledge accessible and let the intellectuals rabble about it.”

John scoffed. “And do you not consider yourself to be an intellectual?”

He smirked. “All I mind is the connection, ye ken? To the man. We often think ourselves so mighty and civilized compared to the ancients. But to see these words and in them the reflections of emotions we too experience.” His words were emphatic, passionate. He looked up at Claire, the strength of his words reflected in the depths of his eyes. “Do we not feel the same yearning to be with the ones we love?”

It was getting late and the two Scots bid goodnight to their companions. Claire walked out with them on the way to her tent. Mr. Fraser eyed her as she dropped the tent flap behind her.

“Ye dinna need to see us out, we ken the way right enough,” he told her.

“I’m glad you think that. I’m not seeing you out, I’m going to my tent.”

His eyebrows raised for a moment before he schooled his features. “Aye, as ye say.” It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she swore she could see some color staining his face as well.

“What, did you think I shared one with Mr. Grey?”

He made a noise in the back of his throat with an eye at Miss MacKimmie, who was doing her best to look like she wasn’t eavesdropping. “I have no right to pass judgement on strangers.”

She scoffed. “It is true that we may ignore certain rules of propriety out here in the middle of nowhere, but a body has a right to privacy, don’t you agree?”

“Aye, I do.”

“And not all of us are so desperate for company of the opposite sex. It takes a great deal more than cheap whisky and ancient scraps of paper.”

The smile that so often graced his features when they spoke returned. As did the heat in her stomach that made her delirious with déjà vu. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Beauchamp.” His eyes sparkled in the low light of the stars overhead.

She all but ran into her tent and closed the flap behind her.

Chapter 3

[usa-trans-america-2019]

From start to finish. Cannon Beach, OR to New York, NY. After the boys received their hero's welcome, we dipped the front wheels in DUMBO, 44 days after dipping the rear wheels at the mouth of the Columbia River by Fort Stevens State Park. Thank you Josh, Julian, Nick, and Steve for being stellar riding partners and making this an experience of a lifetime. And S/O to those who helped us along the way:

Jessica from Patterson, WA for letting us stay on your lawn, the folks at the restaurant lodge in Lowell, ID for letting me use their phone to call my pop on his birthday since we had no service, Shanay for the F-R-E-E laundry detergent in Lewistown, MT, Steve and Deb from Beech, ND for the rides across the Montana border and your wonderful stories, Jean and Pat for the royal treatment (dinner, breakfast, laundry, and beds!) in Fergus Falls, MN, Rod from St. Cloud, MN for your expeditious and creative fix of Julian's bicycle, Tom for driving us to the grocery store in Saint Croix Falls, WI so we didn't have to ride back up those big hills, Lorenna for the ride to Marathon City, WI when my rear disc brake was suffering from "heat warp," Elliot for somehow squeezing four humans (plus himself) and four bicycles and gear in/on your BMW and shuttling us to the Manitowok ferry, Nate for your entertainment and offer for showers in Luddington, MI, Judy and Abby for transporting us over the 69/94 bridge into Canada since the Marine City ferry was no longer operational, Jimmy 'Double Diamond' for giving us clearance to camp under the pavilion in Richfield Springs, NY, my parents for the delicious dinner and party atmosphere in Saugerties, NY, Leslie for taking us out for sushi on our last night, and to the generous folks who offered us donations in Glen Ullin, ND, Avon, MN, Midland, MI, and Livingstonville, NY...I have so many people to thank I hope I don't leave anyone out! Thank you America, and a little bit of Canada for your beauty and generosity and the experience of a lifetime.

[the-roanoke-society]

parts unknown.

alternatively titled: how charlie learned to stop worrying and love the gate.

just a little something for halloween featuring charlie hesketh, or agent zenith, or roanoke, @agent-nova, and technical officers drake, longma and wyvern. also starring the infamous agent andhrimnir.

there are some depictions of injury, gore, and sci-fi-induced stressful situations below the cut. proceed with caution.

... i am very sorry.

seraphim closed the front door behind her with a contented sigh, eyes flickering up to one corner of her specs as she did, checking the time in the u.k. merlin was probably dead asleep already, but she quickly typed out a message anyway: home safe. mission a success. love you. going on a food quest. message me when you wake up. next year i promise we’ll celebrate your birthday on the same continent. she winced as her stomach growled and she unzipped her jacket, hanging it up on one of the hooks by the door.

it had been a second since she’d had just a routine, local exorcism call, especially with twins. she made a note to bring that up with carter and parker at some point. ‘did you know you two have a greater chance of being possessed? you remember that the next time you want to fuck with something you shouldn’t be fucking with, carter—‘ ‘oh my g—it was one time!’

it went off without any major hitches. the bridge of her nose was a little sore, but other than feeling she was about to devour the entire manor, no other adverse side-effects, not even the usual cold chills. she still had the father’s business card in her back pocket—he’d offered the estate free plumbing work for life.

some nights, seraphim loved her job.

and she loved it even more as she walked closer to the kitchen. someone was busy, and whatever they were doing smelled wonderful.

“hey tony. you’re up late, are that many people in and out right now?” she heard agent andhrimnir hum as she grabbed a magnet shaped like a tiny ufo, putting up rory linn’s aaa plumbing service card on one of the shared refrigerators.

“you that surprised given what day it is? besides, i scored a metric fuckton of squash from the market today. thought it’d be a good idea to get started on meal prep for the week, making up a few things people can just grab and heat up.”

“no, guess it’s not that surprising…” seraphim crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her biceps as she walked casually—a little too casually—towards andhrimnir, who just shot her a look as he tapped a wooden spoon against the rim of a giant, steel pot he had in front of him on the massive stovetop.

“… morgan.”

“yes, tony.”

“could i interest you in some mexican turkey and squash stew?”

she feigned ugly sobbing, “oh my god please.”

andhrimnir rolled his eyes. “you are so dramatic, go grab a bowl and i—“

they both jumped at the sound of heavy, quick footfalls crashing by the kitchen opening and then fading away. andrhimnir asked first: “… who the hell was that?”

“i—i think that was charlie? uhm, let me—go check on him, save me some of that, i’ll be right back.” people moving at a full sprint through the manor wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary, but seraphim had only recognized charlie briefly, not who was behind him. what was going on?

behind her, andhrimnir just sighed, shaking his head. boys will be boys… but, given the holiday, maybe a little bit of shenanigans couldn’t hurt. he started humming thriller as he turned back to the stew, grabbing a little bit of cayenne pepper from the spice rack.

as soon as seraphim started walking down the hallway, heading towards the nearest door that went downstairs, she could hear muffled shouting. “—ch it!”

and she walked down the stairwell to the tune of longma, charlie and drake’s voices all chiming something like “catch it!” “don’t let it go over there!” “are you sure this is gonna work?” “we’re going to find out!”

“what on god’s good earth are you three doing?”

drake had a small, ornate box in his hands that seraphim was fairly sure he was not supposed to have, and was flanked by longma and charlie, who all just stared at her like deer caught in headlights. drake was on his knees on the floor by a corner, which looked—unnaturally dark.

“—this was drake’s idea.”

“charlie hesketh you traitorous bastard. this is the thanks i get for trying to show a little innovation and initiative.”

longma shrugged, “bro i think we can all admit that we just really wanted to use the box.”

“yeah, morgan, look, we got this gremlin fucker cornered and—“ but drake turned around and the corner was a lot lighter. “… uh-oh.”

charlie lifted his metal hand in a signal, and all four of them stood, listening.

there was a ten-second stretch of silence followed by a skittering noise that sounded like it was coming up by the ceiling. “ohhh shit there it goes!”

“‘shit’ is right.” now all of them were jogging along the wall, staring hard upwards at a vague blob of a shadow that almost wasn’t there, like cats chasing a laser pointer.

and they were jogging towards the gate.

“woah, woah, woah, stop—“ seraphim managed to grab charlie and longma by their arms but drake kept running froward. “drake get away from there, if it turns the gate on—“

“relax, i got this! crowley brought this back after he and andi were in yokohama like all last month. guess the head of the kingdom gave it to him as a thank you gift—“ drake had his eyes up, and wasn’t watching where he was going. they could still sort of see it, trapped up at a new high angle, and it startled them by chittering, like a squirrel. seraphim hadn’t heard one make a noise like that before.

“fergus said that this could trap anything. don’t you wanna see if that includes these little guys?”

longma scoffed, “yeah, and then told you to leave it alone three seconds later—“

“hey, i don’t remember you arguing with me to put it back twenty minutes ago asshole!”

“oh my god, enough! i literally just got home and am not in the mood to play step-mom!” seraphim pulled charlie and longma back a few more steps, “charlie, watch him, drake, get back here!”

“does this make you step-dad?” “shut it.” “yes sir.”

the chittering was getting louder, more rapid-fire. it sounded like nails falling on glass.

and then a hum.

the gate was on.

fuck.

but seraphim wasn’t the only one who moved forward on instinct to grab drake—charlie did too.

*     *     *

nova and he’d had a—well. he wouldn’t call it a fight, exactly. she was more just a little exasperated. not that charlie could blame her.

“charlie,” she’d groaned, moving his hands off of her waist. “i really, really, re-he-eally, need to get this done for wyvern. he wouldn’t have asked for my help unless it was really important. this math is—hieroglyphic. but i think if we can figure out which of the formulas is the right one, then everything will make a lot more sense.”

“what is it again?” charlie asked, frowning at the endless lines of numbers, figures, scattered across her desk. his hands may have moved from her waist, but they just traveled up to her shoulders. charlie rested his chin against the top of her hair. nova opened her mouth once, closed it, and then just shook her head.

“i’m—i think wyvern’s trying to come up something he called an emergency traceback. probably just as a sort of backup because of all the uh, critters running around downstairs. but this is... sort of some kind of mix of algebraic cartography, divination and like three other kinds of math that i haven’t used in a while.” her voice vibrated through his jaw, before she tilted her head back. “so. i need to concentrate. just—for a bit. okay?”

charlie grinned. “okay.” when he kissed her he was delighted to find that she tasted like the candy corn from earlier—which didn’t give him that good of an impetus to stop…

“mm… charlie, knock it off!” she playfully smacked him. “i just said not to distract me!”

“if you could taste you, you would understand.”

a furious blush overtook her face. “oh my g—go find someone else to bother for a while!”

he’d laughed roughly as he left their bedroom, thinking about going to the kitchen—he was positive that there was some of that oktoberfest craft stuff somewhere, and he’d grown a soft spot for agent andhrimnir, despite his sometimes prickly demeanor—when he had the wind knocked out of by him drake, who slammed into him at what felt like a hundred miles an hour.

as charlie was grunting on the floor, trying to re-inflate his lungs, he could he heard clicking go right by his ear. like a dog running on hardwood. “drake? what the bloody hell—“

“charlie! charlie, my bro, my dude, my buddy, my pal, how would you like to get in on something that i am a hundred percent sure will get us all promoted?”

charlie shook his head, blinking, as longma offered him a hand up.

“uh—why does this sound one of your normal ‘good intentions bad idea’ bits?”

“that’s because it is.” longma answered for him. “but in his defense, it did all come together like magic.”

“uh, yeah, like a gremlin just so happened to be down in the archives, which never happens, and we just so happened to like, rediscover this box that we can use to finally solve this issue? guys.” drake just made a grand gesture with his arms as soon as he stood up. “… it’s providence. like. we have to. it’s like god gave it to us with a big red halloween bow on it. c’mon, charlie, please?”

right at the second that charlie found himself with both the officers looking at him expectantly, he had two thoughts alongside each other.

one was that he hadn’t thought of his own brother in about a week. the stretches of time were getting longer.

the second was that the word ‘brother’ brought only muted images of james to mind now. pictures of drake, wyvern, longma—that is, drake, cody, and jeremy—were much clearer. more reflexive. much in the same way he realized that when he looked at seraphim, or succubus, he thought ‘sister.’ as natural as a rainstorm.

and when he looked at nova—at ellie—the first word was ‘love.’ and that was even more effortless these days.

strange, how this place had sort of rewritten his mental dictionary.

“… all right, i’m in. … what are we doing?”

drake clapped him on the shoulder, and opened his mouth to speak, before glancing and then staring down the hallway.

charlie followed his gaze and his eyes landed on what looked like a tiny puff of charcoal smoke, hiding behind the leg of a side table.

and it would’ve continue to just look like a bit of darkness, until two bits of dim light blinked at him.

“what the fuck—“

“step one,” drake interrupted, whispering. “we have to catch that thing—“

as if on cue, it bolted,

and the chase was on.

*     *     *

the humming got louder, a pitch too deep. seraphim grabbed drake by the collar and flung him backward—straight into charlie, who basically caught him and tossed him.

and tendrils, like normal, formed in the gate’s mouth. but they weren’t the soft white that spawned from a normal jump. they were more of a milky pink, like the whites of an infected eye.

oh, this was bad. get out, get out, get out—

seraphim tried to sprint forward, stuck a hand out and tried to push charlie too.

but they both got caught.

longma and drake watched in muted horror as these pastel strands wrapped around both agents, starting from the base of their chest cavities and moving out in both directions. seraphim could not stop the panic building in her stomach, even as charlie was very gently lifted up and pulled to stand next to her.

they had seconds.

her eyes were wide and focused on drake’s face. he had tears in his eyes.

he couldn’t hear her. but he could read her lips.

go find jeremy and ellie. find us. ... it’s okay. it’s going to be okay.

seraphim wasn’t the only one whose heart was hammering. charlie was visibly trembling, his breath coming out in shaky gasps.

there was nothing they could do now.

“what—morgan, what’s happening—“

so she gripped his hand as hard as she could, as silence surrounded them, and they were torn line by line from home. “brace yourself. don’t let go of me. it’s going to be f—“

snap.

longma and drake stood staring at the spot where they’d been for approximately four seconds before getting up and sprinting to the monitors to try to find their signal in the aether, to try and track them as far as they could.

in the five minutes it took for them to find an estimate of where their exit split might have been—which was surrounded by coordinates that they hadn’t ever even touched—charlie and seraphim landed. and by ‘landed’ it was more ‘thrown into the side of a mountain hard enough to knock them out.’

*     *     *

seraphim wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she opened her eyes, blinking them a few times.

the sensation of an intense, dry heat made it hard to move. it was like she was lying in a tanning bed, or in direct sunlight on some lazy afternoon outside. and she almost closed her eyes and let herself be taken back under until she remembered how they got there. deep breaths. deep breaths.

charlie was lying next to her, blood oozing from his nose. it had formed a small pool by his mouth on the ground. her glasses were cracked, but—

no signal. just power. she grunted, lifting herself gingerly into a sitting position.

she didn’t wake charlie. not right away.

she didn’t want to scare him, so she took a few minutes while he stayed in the blackness to compose herself and try to get the fear off of her face as the weight of it hit her.

she was unable to tear her eyes away from the sky, and as she stared at it, she wondered what merlin would do.

charlie came to slower than she had, and seraphim turned as she heard him murmur, “ellie.”

“hey there big guy.” she prayed it didn’t sound like she’d been crying. “you ready to join me in this waking reality?”

his eyebrows went into a frown and seraphim sighed, feeling sweat form around her hairline. not the voice he wanted to hear. “don’t get up too fast—“

she didn’t have to tell him twice, as soon as he was on his knees he let out this long, low groan, his good hand going to the socket where his metal arm met his flesh. he glanced down at his side, “shit…”

“charlie? what is it?” he shifted around and she gasped.

the exit split had thrown him into the rock and right onto his arm. he hadn’t been able curl and protect himself from the machinery, there hadn’t been enough time. the socket had been driven upwards and inwards, tearing his skin open in places. he had a veinwork of blood going down his side, soaking into his v-neck. “okay… okay.” seraphim said quietly. “on a scale of one to ten, ten being it’s so bad you can’t walk, where’s your pain?”

charlie was taking huge, gulps of air, but it burned all the way down into his chest, and he coughed. “let’s say a very strong seven. i can—i can move. it’s fine. and i—“ there were whirs and clicks as he moved his arm, although he tried to hide from her that his range of motion was a little more limited than he was used to. “—can still use it. not broken. ellie can fix it when we…” his voice trailed off as his eyes lifted to the horizon. “… get home.”

seraphim was calm as he took in where they were.

the rocks beneath them were milk white, aside from where they’d been stained by blood. and they went on and on forever towards the skyline, equal parts rolling and jagged. whatever mountain range this was, they’d landed in the foothills.

if there anything else alive here, it was nowhere near them. the silence was thick.

“it’s—it’s really hot—“ he shook his head, trying to pull himself together, find any kind of solidity in his mind. his hand went to his face, rubbing it, wiping at the sweat. “morgan, are we—are we in hell?”

when seraphim didn’t answer him right away, he turned to her in time to see her gazing upward.

the sky—wasn’t a sky at all.

it was a city, hung upside-down, black, violet, and solid. it glittered overheard like a palace ceiling. a tower spiraled towards them in the center, with rings and rings of buildings going outward from it, mimicking, charlie thought ruefully, the mouth of the gate.

the light they were seeing it by was bright white. it seemed to be coming from the line in between both halves of the world, where they didn’t—couldn’t?—touch.

“no, charlie. we’re not in hell. i uh—“ she didn’t want to lie. “i think we might be somewhere worse.”

*     *     *

drake knew just from glancing at the map that they’d been ripped out of the general continuity. he knew that where they’d gone—time did not flow there like it did here.

they had still been asleep where wyvern came barreling down the stairs, out of breath, with ellie close behind him.

“my glasses went off, what happened?” he demanded, his accent coarse in his panic. he found his anger evaporating when he saw the looks on drake and longma’s faces.

at first, neither of them could speak.

until ellie broke their cautious quiet with a question.

“… drake? drake, where’s charlie?”

[worldhotelvideo]

Rosamar Es Blau in Lloret de Mar, Spain (Europe). The best of Rosamar Es Blau in Lloret de Mar Hotel. Welcome to Rosamar Es Blau in Lloret de Mar, Spain (Europe). The best of Rosamar Es Blau in Lloret de Mar. Subscribe in http://goo.gl/VQ4MLN The common services in the accommodation will be: wifi available in all areas. , golf course (within 3 km) and beach. In the restaurants section we will enjoy: bar, on-site coffee house, restaurant, special diet menus (on request), kid-friendly buffet, packed lunches, snack bar and breakfast options. For wellness the accommodation offers solarium, pool bar, hot tub/jacuzzi, massage, spa facilities, fitness, hammam, sauna, outdoor pool, steam room, indoor pool, swimming pool, spa lounge/relaxation area, indoor pool (all year), fitness centre, sun umbrellas, outdoor pool (all year), pool/beach towels, spa and wellness centre and sun loungers or beach chairs. With regard to transportation, we will find parking garage, accessible parking, street parking and car hire. For the reception we will be able to meet luggage storage, tickets to attractions or shows, 24-hour front desk and ticket service. Within the common areas we can enjoy outdoor furniture, sun terrace and shared lounge/tv area and terrace. The function of the cleaning services have included daily maid service. We will be able to highlight other services like non-smoking rooms, family rooms, lift, air conditioning, heating, and non-smoking throughout [https://youtu.be/5jTUtLyXo30] Book now cheaper in https://ift.tt/2MfS8HA You can find more info in https://ift.tt/2vfP08m We hope you have a pleasant stay in Rosamar Es Blau Other hotels in Lloret de Mar Hotel Sant Pere Del Bosc https://youtu.be/c6lQEfswoWU Aqua Hotel Bertran Park https://youtu.be/GDsUYLHvOYE Hotel Rosamar Maxim - Adults Only (+18) https://youtu.be/PuyhNdfxJTo Evenia Olympic Resort https://youtu.be/GGoTyP_E5bg Hotel Miramar https://youtu.be/rcCheVXMqGk GHT Aquarium & Spa https://youtu.be/mGmeWSZwLcQ Aparthotel Costa Encantada https://youtu.be/5PUJCVIqleU Hotel Anabel https://youtu.be/ePf_an4kHAE Hotel Delamar - Adults Only (+18) https://youtu.be/0bJtQeIO2H4 Santa Marta https://youtu.be/HaXuDXthb18 Alva Park Costa Brava https://youtu.be/boKFPVMzMJ0 Other hotels in Spain Hotel Fuente El Cura https://youtu.be/J9enCLacJEU Hotel Poniente https://youtu.be/ZsFpxzCLaog Hotel Santa Ana https://youtu.be/kw6SbCdArZU Tryp Madrid Plaza de España https://youtu.be/nvLyExQRW2c Fergus Tobago https://youtu.be/N2PIeQFr9fM Cerro de Hijar https://youtu.be/T5ztlTF8BUM Hotel El Bedel https://youtu.be/2i7Gg5izdTg Hotel Rural La Capilerilla https://youtu.be/GSW1cMmE9t4 Balneario de Alicún de las Torres https://youtu.be/WdksDtbFGMo Hotel Ca’n Moragues https://youtu.be/-bQu2rGyJlI Som Llaut Boutique Hotel https://youtu.be/14vbS4-lme8 Hotel Iris https://youtu.be/3aemAl_RzrI Hotel Sa Franquesa Nova https://youtu.be/VqPSdFl2cSo Hotel Miramar https://youtu.be/HNJy-NHIMAY Hotel Arunda II https://youtu.be/hVbUqrH_32o In Lloret de Mar we recommended to visit In the Spain you can visit some of the most recommended places such as Cala Sa Boadella, Church of Sant Romà, Museo del Mar, Dona Marinera, Cat Museum, Santa Cristina Hermitage, Camino de ronda, Playa de Fenals and Iglesia de Sant Romà. We also recommend that you do not miss Jardín Botánico Pinya de Rosa, Jardins de Santa Clotilde, Gran Casino Costa Brava, Parc polivalent Francesc Macià, Marineland Cataluña, Playa de Santa Cristina, We hope you have a pleasant stay in Rosamar Es Blau and we hope you enjoy our top 10 of the best hotels in Spain based in Rosamar Es Blau Tripadvisor Reviews. All images used in this video are or have been provided by Booking. If you are the owner and do not want this video to appear, simply contact us. You can find us at https://ift.tt/2iPJ6Xr by World Hotel Video

[bapheating]

Air Filters in Fergus, ON

Do you have any issues with your air conditioning? B.A.P Heating & Cooling Services is one of the top rated companies providing services for Air Filters in Fergus, ON. We have expert HVAC specialists who can resolve all air conditioning system-related issues. Call us at (647) 250-0619 to know more.

[italiandisheslover212]

For Simone as well as Max Rocha, Family Has Actually Always Provided Motivation

Though they operate in various fields-- she in fashion, he in food-- the siblings share an enthusiasm for craft and cooperation. The developer Simone Rocha and the chef Max Rocha in the back yard of Simone's home in East London. One very warm Friday mid-day in June, the chef Max Rocha, 30, packed a picnic hamper with a pork terrine, an almond tart, some strawberries and also a loaf of fresh baked sourdough bread as well as cycled 2 miles east from his residence in London's Hackney area to that of his sis, the stylist Simone Rocha, 33, in De Beauvoir Town. Given that the lockdown began in the U.K. in late March, he had actually made numerous such distributions to both Simone-- who deals with her partner, the cinematographer Eoin McLoughlin, and their 4-year-old daughter, Valentine-- and also to the brother or sisters' moms and dads, the well known Hong Kong-born developer John Rocha as well as Odette Rocha, who is Simone's company partner, at their house in main London. Accustomed to operating in a hectic kitchen area along with 20 various other chefs at the acclaimed River Café in West London, Max had discovered himself spending even more time alone after the restaurant was compelled to enclose March. Food preparation for his family members, he states, ended up being "a reason to greet." " But we are extremely close as a family members anyway," states Simone. Growing up in a stylish three-story red brick house in Dublin, where their parents frequently hosted parties for innovative pals as well as musicians consisting of the professional photographer Perry Ogden and the film supervisor Jim Sheridan, the siblings were timid and silent as kids, primarily keeping to themselves. They built on their bond in the adult years when Max joined his sibling in London in 2009, not long before she finished from Central Saint Martins and also began her namesake tag. Today, Simone says, "we cross-pollinate all the time." Max has appointed bands to dip into her shows while she pays off the support by developing flower plans for the informal supper clubs Max has actually hosted over the past 2 years. Yet if the lockdown, which has currently reduced in England, emphasized what Simone calls "the requirement of human connection," it additionally gave each of the siblings time to refocus on their very own particular enthusiasms as well as crafts. For Simone, that indicated a lot more hours having fun with her daughter, refining her baking abilities as well as operating in her garden, where she planted peas and also radishes. She additionally rediscovered her love for needlework as well as started hand-stitching presents for friends, including vintage aprons as well as kitchen area towels decorated with their names. "What I do has actually constantly started from textiles and also the hand," she claims of her brand, which is known for its darkly enchanting vision of feminineness as well as deep love of workmanship. "But when you run your very own tag, you realize you don't stitch any longer since you're taking care of money as well as team as well as a million other points. So because feeling, this period has been amazing." Determining just how to develop a collection in quarantine, nonetheless, has been a difficulty. Simone functioned remotely with her studio to create the tag's fall items-- which consist of thick Aran knits and fragile tulle gowns inspired by the Irish author J.M. Synge's 1904 play "Riders to the Sea"-- while likewise making scrubs as well as masks for National Health Service staffers. Performing fittings over Zoom, she says, was particularly difficult "due to the fact that I do not function flat or on a computer however on a stand and also on a version. It's always about the interaction with the female." But she's adapted, and also in various other ways, also. She released an on the internet store 2 weeks into the lockdown, a step necessitated by the momentary closure of numerous retailers and her own shops in London, Hong Kong and New York, as well as she intends to offer her collection later on this month in an exhibit as opposed to an extra conventional runway program. After that you ought to not miss to check out Italian Chef to understand about Michele, if you love italian foods. Max has actually likewise had to alter his strategies over the previous few months. After investing numerous years operating in songs, in public connections and band monitoring, he discovered his true calling at the Australian chef Skye Gyngell's London dining establishment, Spring, where he started as a commis in 2015. "That was the most liberating thing for me-- to enter into a cooking area and not be John Rocha's boy or Simone's brother," he states. After stints working with various other popular chefs, consisting of Fergus Henderson at St. John and also Ruth Rogers at River Café, Max had actually been preparing to open his very own restaurant in East London this year, one serving a classic, seasonally inspired riff on the self-made Irish fare his mom made use of to cook for the family members. Since those plans get on hold till spring, in addition to preparing food for friends and family, he has actually been offering a weekend outing takeout food selection from a record shop in East London with fellow chefs Tim Blanchard and Rosie McBurney, laying plans to organize even more pop-up dinners later on in the year, and also cooking bread to give away to a neighborhood charity that supplies materials to wellness treatment employees. "The factor I entered food preparation to begin with was for my psychological wellness," he states, defining exactly how the physicality of his trade assisted him pertain to terms with his anxiety. "So I intended to utilize my skills to bring favorable energy to the individuals around me." At her house on that particular warm June mid-day, Simone set the table in the backyard with a white bed linen table linen while Max cut the bread and also terrine, offering it with a lot of mustard and also butter. After months of socially distanced drop-offs, this was the very first time the siblings had the ability to take a seat to a meal with each other, as well as it really felt "practically like Christmas," said Max. As they found reprieve from the scorching heat in the lush garden, filled with pale pink roses and sprigs of milk-white cow parsley, Simone reviewed the value of the moment. "There's a feeling of sharing," she said, "as well as collaborating."

[latestmarketreport]

Biosolids Market Profile | Dynamics and Key Players | Forecast To 2028

DUBAI, UAE. 11th September 2019: Biosolids Market is anticipated to rise at a staggering CAGR during the forecast period. Biosolids benefit the soil nutrients since it is considered as an alternative to waste disposal. It enriches the soil constituents by providing nutrients to plants and organic matter. The major form of biosolids used as fertilizers are nitrogen, lime and phosphorous. Other essential nutrients are sulphur, manganese, copper, zinc, iron and molybdenum.

Biosolids are primarily produced via biological treatment of domestic wastewater followed by use of chemical and physical processes as an addition to enhance the biosolids handling capacities. In addition, these processes help in treating waste water solids to regulate any disease from occurring.

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Biosolid market is driven by rise in use of agro-based applications followed by increase in agricultural activities across the world. Manufacturer emphasis on heat generation using biosolids is triggering the market growth. Stringent norms and regulations by the government for carbon emission is helping the market growth. In addition, biosolids are eco-friendly alternatives against hazardous chemical fertilizers further propelling the market growth.

The demand for clean water on a global scale is constantly rising. Hence, there rises the need for efficient waste water treatment plants However, limitations in using technological advancements is a major restraining factor. By application, the biosolids market is segmented as non-agricultural land, agricultural land and energy production. By form, the market is segmented as cake, liquid and pellets.

Geographical segmentation for biosolids market spans North America, South America, Europe, Asia-Pacific, Middle East and Africa. Asia-Pacific dominates the market growth during the forecast period owing to solar energy engagements. North America and Europe is estimated to follow the trend during the forecast period. Middle East and Africa market is anticipated to grow during the forecast period due to use of non-agricultural land for production of biosolids.

The key players profiled in the biosolids market report are Alka-Tech, Biocore Environmental, BCR Environmental, Biodisk Corporation, Cambi AS, Casella Organics, Englobe, Entertech Environmental LLC, Fergus Power Pump Ltd, Merell Bros Inc, New England Fertilizer Company, Noram Engineering and Constructors Ltd, Parker AG Services LLC, Recyc Systems Inc, Sylvis, Synagro, Terratec Environmental Ltd and Walker Industries Inc.

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On the basis of product, this report displays the production, revenue, price, market share and growth rate of each type, primarily split into

• By Class

• Class A

• Class A EQ (Exceptional Quality)

• Class B

On the basis on the end users/applications, this report focuses on the status and outlook for major applications/end users, consumption (sales), market share and growth rate of Biosolids for each application, including

• Agricultural Land

• Non-Agricultural Land

• Energy Recovery - Energy Production

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[worldhotelvideo]

Cassisi Hotel in Milazzo, Italy (Europe). The best of Cassisi Hotel in Milazzo Hotel. Welcome to Cassisi Hotel in Milazzo, Italy (Europe). The best of Cassisi Hotel in Milazzo. Subscribe in http://goo.gl/VQ4MLN The common services available will be: wifi available in all areas. hiking, , , horse riding, , , cycling, diving, tennis court, bowling, and fishing. In the section of bar you can enjoy: room service, special diet menus (on request), breakfast in the room, bottle of water, breakfast options and bar. As far as transport is concerned, we have car hire, bicycle rental (additional charge), shuttle service (additional charge), airport shuttle, accessible parking, street parking, airport pick up, shuttle service and airport drop off. For the reception services we will be able to find luggage storage, 24-hour front desk, express check-in/check-out, concierge service, safety deposit box, private check-in/check-out, newspapers, tour desk and ticket service. Within the common spaces we will enjoy shared lounge/tv area and library. For the leisure of the family we will have babysitting/child services and children television networks. The function of cleaning services include dry cleaning, daily maid service, laundry and ironing service. If you stay for business reasons in the accommodation you will have meeting/banquet facilities, business centre and fax/photocopying. We could highlight other services such as soundproof rooms, higher level toilet, lift, toilet with grab rails, , emergency cord in bathroom, , non-smoking rooms, , family rooms, , bridal suite, vip room facilities, allergy-free room, , , air conditioning, heating, designated smoking area, , facilities for disabled guests, lower bathroom sink and wheelchair accessible [https://youtu.be/Z8qqgFzlq5Q] Book now cheaper in https://ift.tt/2vh28sW You can find more info in https://ift.tt/2OtBZzJ We hope you have a pleasant stay in Cassisi Hotel Other hotels in Milazzo Hotel Milazzo https://youtu.be/m3u3DDnrWgY Other hotels in this channel Hotel Tossal d'Altea https://youtu.be/T1cHBKKigsc Golden Temple Residence https://youtu.be/_R9LBzynvbY Eurostars Hotel Real https://youtu.be/6E0esKJW6lk Norman's Court Resort & Sky Restaurant Club https://youtu.be/ZzNr75oyyaQ Royal Atlas & Spa https://youtu.be/H58WPg7PaCU No 5 Boutique Art Hotel by Mantis https://youtu.be/1y3TFZloC8Q Chatillon Paris Montparnasse https://youtu.be/lva6URULhTA The Presidents'Quarters Inn https://youtu.be/wZ7uBbklDog Hotel S Mujanovic https://youtu.be/gou1QHbljas Limneon Resort & Spa https://youtu.be/BCMoroMt4R0 Qingdao West Coast Zhu Shan Hotel https://youtu.be/DzA-IDktSDY The Vijitt Resort Phuket https://youtu.be/-IcIbM6ElZI Royal Grace Hotel,Optics Valley,Wuhan https://youtu.be/ZpgVDHNnJbQ Destino Pacha Ibiza Resort https://youtu.be/sEqlq9TIWRE FERGUS Bermudas https://youtu.be/SoQqxMauXZk In Milazzo we recommended to visit In the Italy you can visit some of the most recommended places such as Castello di Milazzo, Pool of Venus, Old Cathedral, Palazzo D'Amico, Antiquarium of Milazzo, Castello di Santa Lucia del Mela, Spiaggia Baia Del Tono, Palazzo Proto and Fortino dei Castriciani. We also recommend that you do not miss Azienda Agricola Vasari, Museo Etnoantropologico e Naturalistico (Ican) "Domenico Ryolo", Palace of the Viceroys and Governors, Landscape from Lighthouse of Cape Milazzo, NECROPOLI TARDOROMANA E PROTOBIZANTINA, Museo Etnostorico N. Cassata, We hope you have a pleasant stay in Cassisi Hotel and we hope you enjoy our top 10 of the best hotels in Italy based in Cassisi Hotel Tripadvisor Reviews. All images used in this video are or have been provided by Booking. If you are the owner and do not want this video to appear, simply contact us. You can find us at https://ift.tt/2iPJ6Xr by World Hotel Video