#long term truck hire

[truckhire]

Efficiency Unleashed: Benefits of Long Term Truck Hire for Industrial Transportation Needs

In most industrial organisations, long term truck hire is essential for the safe transportation of heavy equipment and freight. The best thing about semi-cranes is their capacity to raise objects and hold them on the rear of the trailer. Additionally, a lot of firms understand that renting these vehicles is more cost-effective than buying them because of their high cost of acquisition compared to renting in the long run.

Services of Top Transport Solution Companies at a Glance

Franna Crane: Since they are the best option for transferring large things in industrial and construction situations, short term truck hire in Melbourne is a popular choice. Instead of spending so much money on such expensive cranes, businesses and companies frequently hire these cranes on an as-needed basis, allowing them to use their money for other purposes. The best rental companies offer outstanding maintenance services, so you can hire the best Franna cranes from them.

Crane Mounted Rigids: Steel, rods, and other commodities are frequently delivered by these trucks in industrial complexes. Depending on their demands, businesses may rent these rigid vehicles when required.

Forklifts: Since they are the best lifting and moving option in large warehouses where many things are housed on pallets, forklifts are a must for warehouses. Acquiring a forklift is not a financially prudent decision since storage becomes an issue when it is not in use. Instead of purchasing a forklift, one can leave the bother of maintenance to the rental company.

Container Transport: Since containers are the foundation of the logistics industry, top transport solution providers also offer this service. Prominent businesses ensure that the vehicles they employ for product delivery are of the best quality to avoid mechanical failures. Each company ships a different collection of goods in containers, thus this service requires a highly customised product based on customer requirements.

Trailers: Standard flat and extended trays are the two basic types of trailers, and one can select one according to their requirements. While trailers are often designed to tow heavy cargo, they may also be used for the transportation of specialist machinery and other industrial equipment.

Today, most businesses depend on transportation solutions since most goods need to be moved from one place to another. To obtain an estimate for the necessary transport service, get in touch with the leading business.  

Source

[tranto]

Long Term Rental For Trucks

Are you looking to grow your fleet? Are you tired of not being able to place bids, because a job is too big and you lack proper machinery, trucks, or equipment? Not only do we provide machinery, trucks, and equipment for Dry Hire, but we also can help with financing your next vehicle.

[raeathnos]

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[enviedear]

jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

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[changingplumbob]

Villareal: Chapter 6, Part 4

Devin and Luna finish their date while Joey has a night on the town.

CW: Moderate sim spice. Content Warning Guide

Luna and Devin use some German and Italian. Amore (Italian) Love Schatz (German) Treasure

Devin: I love seeing you happy

Luna: Me to schatz. Now, do we need to do anything about the dollhouse

Devin: I fixed it

Luna: Yes but Rilian lied to me about it and Alfred smashed it in the first place

Devin: I guess we’ll need to talk to them about lying eventually but I don’t want to be too hard, after all he was only trying to cover for his brother. The destructive toddler is more tricky

Luna: Lies and cheating are normal for kids their age I suppose. And if I think, it’s unlikely Alfred means the destruction maliciously

Devin: We can afford to replace whatever he breaks but I don’t think that’s a good way to raise him long term. When will they be able to understand consequences

Luna: They’re old enough to start noticing cause and effect but consequences don’t make sense unless they immediately follow the action so… not yet

Devin: I’m so glad I got a smart wife

Luna: It’s basic developmental psychology

Devin: Amore mio, nothing about you is basic

Luna: *laughs* Thank you

The waiter returns, placing their ordered food and drinks in front of them.

Devin: This looks good! Not as good as your placemat but still

Luna: I guess it’s time to see if they are any good here

Devin: I don’t know, that host could use some practice at her role

Luna: Maybe she’s just nervous talking to all the celebrities

Devin: Maybe. She could take some acting classes though, I mean this is Del Sol Valley. There’s so many actors here, how did one of them not get hired

Luna: Not sure, maybe they were afraid of the indoor pools

Devin: What, the fountains?

Luna: They’re too deep for fountains I think. Plus over there some patrons are actually jumping in

Devin: *raises glass* To those brave enough to pack swimwear under formal wear

Luna bursts into a fit of giggles and the pair take turns having a bite off each other’s plates.

Devin: This is not as great as it looks. It looks so good but the flavour is just… not here

Luna: You sure that’s not just your refined palate talking

Devin: Amore, far more than my palate is refined

Luna: It’s your own fault really for making excellent pasta

Devin: And you and Joey for making excellent baking

Luna: Oh, that reminds me, when you were out on your run the twins were playing with their food truck stuff, it was adorable

Devin: Aww! Did you take a photo

Luna: Better, I got a video

Devin: Yes! Show it to me when we’re home okay? I don’t see any of my friends with cameras but you can never be too sure

Luna: Are the paparazzi our friends

Devin: They agree not to post any photos of the kids so I’d say so. You know some places there are no social norms against it

Luna: Really?

Devin: Yeah. Some paparazzi will battle it out for shots of babies and toddlers to put in magazines. Some places have had to make it illegal to take photos of a minor. Thank the watcher Del Sol Valley is not that kind of place

The pair finish up their meal, pay their bill and get set to head home. Technically they still have Joey on babysitting for another half hour. They decide to sneak to their bedroom for some alone time before Joey hands back the twins to enjoy his Saturday night.

Having browsed the profiles in the area Joey has found one he’s intrigued by. As normal he only goes for profiles of women that indicate they don’t want anything serious or long term. This one is a bit older than the average women he’s with, but something about her makes him accept the match and agree to meet at the local nightclub.

Joey: Marianna?

Marianna: Joey? I didn’t think you’d be as young as your profile picture. Most people on here use an older photo. I once had a “35 year old” who turned out to be 50!

Joey: I hope I’m an improvement. You look every bit as good as your picture

Marianna: Flattery will get you everywhere. Although I am surprised you accepted my match, I figured I’d be too old for you

Joey: Age is just a number, normally one not too tied to experience

Marianna: *laughs* Well I’ve certainly had experience

Joey: I’ll do my best to keep up

Marianna laughs as a blush spreads across her cheeks. For a moment Joey wonders if it’s all of her that has blushed as she almost looks like she’s in a pink haze. That idea seems to be pushed from his mind as soon as he thinks it though. He shakes his head to try get his bearings back.

Joey: Marianna, we are at a nightclub. Would you care to dance?

Marianna: I’d love to

The pair head inside and Joey feels himself relax. He’s a bro, places like this are a second home for him. Initially the two dance around each other but following a few drinks Marianna pulls Joey over to one of the small loveseats surrounding the floor to give him a dance of his own. Joey thinks she’s glowing in these lights, and again that though disappears as quickly as it appeared.

Marianna: Forget small talk, let’s find somewhere quieter

Joey: Are you sure? We could go back to my place

Marianna: No, I don’t want to wait that long

There’s plenty of small pockets of space snaking off the dancefloor and Joey and Marianna find one that’s quiet but where they can still hear the beat of the DJ booth. Marianna pulls her top off and Joey stares at her chest in delight. Before he can make a move however she jerks his chin up and looks him in the eyes. He feels his mind sharpen.

Marianna: Are you okay with us doing this

Joey finds himself thinking back on his past hook ups, few of which could be called conventional. Yeah, he wants to do this. He’s just about to start explaining that he’s aromantic and absolutely consents when Marianna smiles and leans in to kiss him deeply and passionately. Almost like she’s read his mind. The focus goes away and again he’s swept up in his desire.

Joey is glad of the chance to feel her properly. Despite the age starting to show on her face she obviously kept herself fit.

Joey: You are beautiful

Marianna: And you are hard

She presses down firmly causing him to jerk up in response. Watcher he wants her so bad. As if in a dream he watches her undress fully and finds himself wondering if they’ll be seen, but again that thought vanishes. Marianna removes his pants and Joey is glad to find himself unconstricted as she turns and slides on to him. Joey thinks all kinds of words that his parents would scold him for using as she moves herself back and forth. All he can utter however are moans, getting more and more lost in the moment. He opens his eyes at the change in pressure only to see Marianna smiling between his legs. When she’s finished Joey pulls her in for a kiss. Before he can thank her he feels his senses dull and his vision go black.

Hi friends! You may be confused but since it's a semi cliff hanger I'd just like to assure you Joey consented to that woohoo and he is not going to get assaulted in the next part so... try not to freak out even though he's unconscious.

Previous ... Next

[louisupdates]

The Habit He Can’t Break 3/4

IQ 123 | Gordon Masson | 9.11.2023

We Made It

Making sure that the Faith in the Future tour delivers Tomlinson to his growing legion of fans, PM Sherwood’s first long association with the artist manager, Vines made him the obvious choice when the artist first began his solo career.

“I remember doing a lot of promo dates around the UK and US before we started touring properly,” says Sherwood of his work with Tomlinson. “In fact, one of the first shows I remember doing with Louis was in Madrid when he played in a stadium, and I could see it was a taste of things to come.”

The partnership between Sherwood and Vines is crucial. 

“In terms of the show growing, our biggest challenge is keeping costs down, because we’re extremely cautious on ticket pricing,” says Vines. “We don’t do dynamic pricing, we don’t do platinum ticketing, we don’t do paid VIPs, we don’t increase ticket prices on aisle seats – all those tricks that everyone does that most fans don’t know about: we don’t do any of those.”

“So, when it comes to the production side of things, we need to be incredibly careful. But I’ve been working with Craig for a decade, and he knows the importance of trying to keep costs as low as possible. For instance, we’ll run the show virtually a number of times, so Louis can watch it with the show designer, Tom Taylor, make comments and tweak things. Then we’ll go into pre-production. But we try to do as much in virtual reality as possible before we take it into the physical world.”

Sherwood states, “Basically we started out with two or three trucks, but now we’re up to nine, and things seem to be getting bigger day by day.”

Thankfully, Sherwood has amassed a vastly experienced crew over the years, allowing them to handle even the most unexpected scenarios. “I’ve been touring since the dawn of time, but the core crew I work with now has been together since about 2010, and I trust them implicitly, so I’ll leave it up to them who they hire, as long as they think I’m going to like them, and they all get along with everyone. So far, it has worked well,” Sherwood reports.

And the veteran crew has dealt with some terrifying weather extremes on the current tour, including a show at Red Rocks in Colorado, where the audience were subjected to a freak, storm with golf ball-sized hail stones injuring dozens of people. 

Elsewhere, the crew has had to act quickly when the threat of high winds in Nashville caused problems on that outdoor run. “We didn’t want the video screens blowing about above the heads of the band, so it must have been amusing for the audience to see us taking them down,” Sherwood reports. 

Indoors in Europe, the environment has been more controllable. The production itself involves an A-stage set 180° across the barricades, although Sherwood says that on occasion, a catwalk is also used by the perimeters. 

“It’s a great lighting show and fantastic for audio, as we have phenomenal front-of-house sound engineer – John Delf, from Edge Studios – who makes life very easy for the rest of us,” says Sherwood. He also namechecks Barrie Pitt (monitor engineer), Oli Crump (audio system designer), Tom Taylor (lighting designer), Sam Kenyon (lighting technical director), and Torin Arnold (stage manager), while he praises Solo-Tech for supplying the sound, and Colour Sound Experiment (CSF) for taking charge of lighting, video, and rigging equipment.

Indeed CSE has 10 personnel out with the Faith in the Future tour. “We have eight screens on the road – six on stage plus two IMAGS that we use wherever appropriate, the company’s Haydn Cruikshank tells IQ.

“We need to tweak the rigging on a daily basis, as we move to different venues, but other than that, it’s a fairly smooth process thanks to Craig Sherwood. He is old school and planned and worked on the production very far in advance, which is a great scenario for all involved. Craig is definitely one of our favorite production managers to work with.”

Garry Lewis at bussing contractors Beat The Street is also a fan of PM Sherwood.

“Craig split the European tour into different runs. So, from Hamburg to Zürich, we had two super high decker 12-berth buses for the tour party and two 16-berth double-deckers for the crew,” says Lewis. “After the show in Athens, we still have the two super high-deckers, as Louis knew them – he prefers to spend time on the bus, rather than in hotels – but we also have two 12-berth super high-deckers for the crew, as well as another crew 16-berth double-decker.”

Lewis continues, “We’ve worked with Craig for a good few years, and we have a great relationship with him. He plans everything way in advance, so it means it’s all very straightforward for us with no issues. So, we use single drivers for each bus, except on the longer runs, or when our drivers are scheduled for prolong breaks, and then we’ll fly an extra drivers as needed.”

1/4, 2/4, 4/4

[brian-in-finance]

Instagram

GIVING CREDIT

Saluting the behind the scenes talent making movie magic

Rob Youngson is a unit stills photographer for film and television. He's captured images for Belfast, A Haunting in Venice, The Great Escaper, Heanstopper St and Atlanta S3. He also shoots stills for posters. 'An effective still image has to communicate a lot in a single moment. An onlooker should know the tone, the genre and who stars in the production within a few seconds. It should leave them with a question: what happens? The answer to which is always, to go and see the film. It's the visual equivalent of a hook in pop music.'

How would you describe your job in simple terms?

I work with the cast and crew to capture striking still images during filming - without being a distraction or affecting the schedule.

I work with the publicist to ensure I get the images needed to publicise the film. I also capture behind-the-scenes images, which highlight the collaborative process and anything unique about the production. I may work with the props department to take period-accurate portraits for set dressing.

I've also consulted actors on how to use old-fashioned prop cameras convincingly.

How did you get into set photography?

I trained and worked as a theatre lighting designer while photographing bands on the side. Then I discovered that this job existed through an article in Nikon Owner magazine.

It was an interview with Kimberley French (Brokeback Mountain, The Revenant). I knew straight away I had to do this. So I went to work at one of the rental companies that hires cameras and lenses to productions.

I cleaned the kit, loaded the trucks and got to know people in the industry. used any leave to work on short films and then went freelance. Early on, I assisted an established unit stills photographer on some studio shoots. He then recommended me for a job he couldn't take and that put my work in front of the right people to get hired again.

What's the biggest misconception about your job?

That still images are screen grabs from the film. This is a widespread misconception, even within the industry. It doesn't work for two reasons. The technical reason is that the common shooting frame rate of 24fps doesn't freeze motion enough for those screen grabs to be printed at billboard size.

The second and most important reason is artistic; what works well for a moving image doesn't necessarily make a strong still photograph. Another misconception is that actors are difficult to work with. They are usually lovely. Actors have to step into a vulnerable place while surrounded by noise and crew and kit. They have to keep going to that place again and again for different camera angles. Part of what makes a good unit stills photographer is respect for the acting process. Sometimes my job is knowing when to step away and allow the actors space to work.

What's been the most memorable moment on a film set?

Watching Judi Dench and Kenneth Branagh make each other laugh on day one of shooting Belfast. We had all been in lockdown for so long, it felt like a new beginning. It felt like photographing love and hope and friendship.

What's the worst thing about your job?

Missing time with my family because I'm working away. Sometimes standing in a field on a night shoot, in February, in the snow, I start to question it. Those moments can feel tough. But a lot of the crew are in that same situation with you. Working on good scripts with nice people makes the time away from home, the long hours and driving, a lot easier.

What's the best thing about your job?

Knowing that my images help stories to find an audience. Stories that take years of hard work and hundreds of people to get told. On set, the best thing is being witness to incredible acting, from both legends and up-and-coming talent. Seeing what the Heartstopper cast are doing for LGBTQA* representation right now is special. I'm also currently working with two incredible young actors. I am so excited for more people to discover their storytelling potential.

If someone wants to do your job, what's the best route in?

Get on to set any way you can, in any role. Take photos across all genres of photography. Welcome honest feedback on your work. Don't sweat the kit you haven't got. You'll get hired for your eye and how well you get on with people, not what's in your bag. The necessity to work on low/no-budget jobs early in your career is a barrier to many, especially as a lot of opportunities centre around expensive cities. Screenskills and BAFTA have resources for helping bridge that gap - seek those out. Go and see as much art and as many films as you can.

Remember… (most memorable moment on a film set) Watching Judi Dench and Kenneth Branagh make each other laugh on day one of shooting Belfast. We had all been in lockdown for so long, it felt like a new beginning. It felt like photographing love and hope and friendship. — Rob Youngson

[tsunflowers]

feeling a little concerned about my job security bc we’re underperforming pretty significantly compared to last year’s sales and the wholesale manager is leaving at the end of july. but then again if I remember correctly the wholesale manager at the time and another long term employee both left within a month of me being hired and the company obviously kept on trucking after that

[kabillieu]

Because being in a military family means moving all the time, the Air Force hires movers to pack our things and load a truck. We're doing a partial move this time to help facilitate the sale of our house. So movers are here packing 80% of our things today and tomorrow, and then they'll load a truck and put our stuff into storage on Friday.

That will leave the weekend to rearrange what we have left, and then on Monday and Tuesday a painter and handyman will stop by to freshen up our paint and fix a few things. Then we'll get photographs and list the house.

I have never sold a house before, so I'm trying not to be the world's most miserable person through this process because I know it's awful for everyone, and we have people who are doing a lot of the work for us. The reward on the other end is a downpayment on our (hopefully) new house. It's amazing to see how investing (in the loosest sense of the term) in property is truly wealth-building. We bought two houses with VA loans, which means we didn't have to have a downpayment for either house. Now we're selling one and buying another (is my life Monopoly?) and because we have a lot of equity in the house we're selling, and because the house will likely sell for a lot more than we bought it, we'll have a nice-sized downpayment for this house we're buying in Alabama. Of course, the market is also much more expensive, but that doesn't change the fact that because we were able to buy one property, we can buy another, and so on as long as nothing disastrous happens to the housing market.

So many things about military service exist to give service members ladders into the middle class or even upper middle class. It's one of the last "companies" in the U.S. that you can use to facilitate an upward progression of socio-economic mobility. I really hitched a ride as spectator to this, even though it affects my life too obviously, but Dominic was a college dropout with no family money or support who enlisted in the late 90s. Through military programs he was able to finish college, commission as an officer, and get two graduate degrees. Through the GI Bill, he's paid for some of his college, and the rest he can transfer to family members. When we bought our first house (the one we're now selling) we were poor and had no savings, but using a VA loan meant we didn't need a downpayment. And just like that we got our foot into the door (haha) of the housing market.

There's a lot to criticize about the predatory way the military can behave with poor, oftentimes people of color who feel like the military is a last resort, but I've also seen how the structure of the military can take someone bright and ambitious like my husband and give them the tools they need to be very, very successful. My spouse did not grow up with people who had the resources to give him a leg up. I did. But he didn't.

Anyway, now I'm just rambling, but I'm constantly amazed by how an institution I find so problematic can also be a shining example of American progress. It's very socialist! The U.S. military is THE most socialist institution in this country imo--or at least the biggest.

[wordsbyt]

When I think about it, I ask myself why I am thankful?

I am, but not because of all I have been given. That’s been a lot, but I am also thankful for what I wasn’t given.

For not being given everything I wanted as a kid. I learned early on to enjoy the simple things. The small gifts and pleasures. That a bag of chips was a big deal. People singing in your backyard was better than anything you could watch on 1000 TV channels, besides, there was only 3 then....

For not being given the gift of being a great looking guy. Learning that doors don’t open just because I was standing in front of them. I had to knock. I had to use my wits to get what I needed, and it made me earn my way.

For not getting a loan co-signed to pay for my 1st car ( a truck ). So I didn’t get that car ( a truck ). I got a bicycle. And I rode the wheels off of it. And when I did get my truck, I took care of it like it was a girlfriend. I appreciated what she could do for me, and I showed her love.

For my girl, now my wife, saying no to me when I asked her out. I was determined to make her mine and I never gave up. And I never quit asking. I wore her out, and 40 years later, she is still tired of me.

For having to raise my kids with very little help. And by that I mean not with the help of babysitters because I am boring and don’t go out very often. So we bonded in a way that made us friends as well as family. I taught them bad songs, bad jokes, and bad language. And it was all in good fun.

For not being able to go to college because I had no money. So I had to go to work. I went to a motorcycle shop, because a friend told me “ they’ll hire anybody “, and 10 years later I was the manager of the dealership, without ever getting a M/C license. Hell, I never even knew anyone that owned a motorcycle prior to that job.

For not being the best at art. I have the ability to draw things that I see. But, I was always told someone was better, or why don’t you do this or that. Then i learned, I am the artist. It is my paper. I own it. And so I was determined to show that I was good. Good enough. And I found out I am.

For my coaching, which I never felt I was really good at. But, I feel like I was really good at reading people. At figuring out what moved them. At helping them get better mentally as well as physically. That showing them my weak sides made them see that it was okay to have small setbacks. The goals are long term. To see the light at the end of the long, dark tunnel. To realize that dreams can come true.

For a family that kept me grounded. We never had “things”, but we had enough. We never got what we wanted, but we never wanted because we had everything. I learned early on that a bowl of bean soup at the table with about 10 friends and your mom could beat out any club. That a picnic table in the backyard or the side lot under a tree, could attract more people than any concert or black Friday giveaway. That a dad that can fix a washing machine or a water heater is a lot better than a dad that can buy you one. That a mom that laughs so loud with her sisters at your Mammaws, is sweeter than any dessert. That sisters are there when you almost die, and when you live your greatest moments.

So, yes I am grateful.

Grateful for everything I have been given, because by not giving me everything, they all have given me everything I am.

[truckhire]

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Source

[ur-stepdad]

the butchest woman i knew when i was a kid was my Aunt Hazel. she was my great-aunt, the sister of my mom's dad.

whenever i bring up Aunt Hazel to my mom, she always feels the need to say that she wasn't a lesbian, she liked men, and she wore very feminine pajamas when she was at home. she died a few years ago, so i have no way of knowing how Aunt Hazel saw herself or the way she wanted to be seen by others.

i only ever knew Aunt Hazel as a tough old broad. she spoke loudly and took up space. i remember her as she was in her 60s - heavy, short gray hair, big glasses, always wearing men's clothes. she said "goddamn" a lot, and i'm realizing now that that's a term used much more often by men than women where i'm from.

she was a greeter at walmart when i was a little kid, but i knew that she used to be a tow truck driver. i asked my mom what decade Aunt Hazel started driving her truck. she said that she was doing it by the early '80s and worked that job for a long time, but walmart had better benefits. i always thought it was awesome that my aunt was a tow truck driver.

something that i did not know about my Aunt Hazel until I was older was that she had been married to a man who abused her when my mom was a kid. for some years in the late '60s to maybe mid '70s, Aunt Hazel was in prison for killing her husband.

my mom says Aunt Hazel didn't always wear men's clothes, and probably started when she was driving the tow truck. i realize now that this means that she started wearing men's clothes after she was no longer married to her husband, and after she had been incarcerated.

i'm pretty sure that she was let out early because it was eventually determined by the court that she had killed him in self defense. she got her kids back, but i assume she didn't regain full legal freedom with her record. i would imagine that as a convicted felon, a male-dominated blue collar job was one of the only places that would hire her. or maybe she took the job because it's what she wanted to do. i can't ask her now.

i'm glad that Aunt Hazel was in my life and i've been thinking about her on this Butch Appreciation Day.

i'm also thinking about all the other butches who are tough old broads, who have survived domestic violence, who work blue collar jobs, and who are or have been incarcerated. i'm also thinking of the butches we've lost to domestic violence and incarceration. the butches who never returned from women's prisons, men's prisons, and psychiatric institutions.

[sequinsmile-x]

Home Is Just Another Word for You

The Hotchners move house.

-x-

Look, I think we all know I owed you some fluff. So consider this your fluff tax.

-x-

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Pregnancy, brief references to infertility

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily hated moving.

She was good at it. Ruthless in disposing of her belongings that she felt she no longer needed, something she knows somewhat horrified her husband when they went through their shared office. He’d watched her wide-eyed as she threw away things once she determined they had no real long-term purpose whilst he struggled to do the same, his ‘keep’ pile twice as big as hers. 

She could pack a box like a pro, excellent at finding spots others would say were too full, which is why she knew on some level Aaron had left her to pack away their 12-month-old son’s belongings, although she knew the majority of his reasoning was because he didn’t want her carrying anything too heavy. 

The team were helping them pack everything away, yet again bribed with the promise of beer and pizza just as they had been a few years ago when they moved in here, and she could hear them all downstairs, helping Aaron and the movers they’d hired get everything into the moving truck. It’s how Emily finds herself in Harrison’s nursery, the baby sitting on the floor with the few toys they hadn’t packed away, as she finished sorting through the last of his things. 

She was good at moving, but she hated it. 

It always reminded her too much of her childhood, how there were always some boxes she would never unpack because she knew there was no point, that they’d be taken from her room by someone she had never met before and put into storage or flown somewhere new. Even now, even when she knew moving was a good thing, the next step for their family, the thought of it brought back memories of a time she’d never quite be able to escape. It was something she knew she didn’t want for her children, a cycle she wanted to stop, and the concern that she was continuing it when they first started to discuss moving half a year ago had burned at her insides. 

Aaron had reassured her without her even putting her fears into words, a soft smile on his face as he told her it wasn’t the same thing, that they were moving because it was the right thing for their family.

Their growing family. 

She smiles as she places her hand on her stomach. She was three months along, and whilst the tiny bump under her hand could still be mistaken for bloating it was more distinct than it had been at this stage during her pregnancy with Harrison. The idea of moving first came up when they started discussing having another child when Harrison was 9 months old. Emily knew she wanted another baby and that time wasn’t necessarily on their side. She loved their current, soon-to-be old, house but they needed more space. A bigger yard. Things that hadn’t been part of their consideration when they initially moved to this house. 

Emily had been told in Paris that having children was something that was unlikely to happen for her as a result of her injuries, something that, she had since learnt, was obviously incorrect. At the time, it had broken her heart, left her muffling her sobs into her pillow in a nondescript apartment as she mourned yet another thing she believed Ian had taken away from her. She’d quietly admitted it to Aaron when they first got together, sure that it would be a dealbreaker, but he’d been nothing except understanding and loving as he kissed her, his explanation that he loved her and nothing would change that soft against her skin. 

In the end, they found their first house together quickly. A perfect home that matched all of their specifications that Penelope had found for them. Emily and Aaron had silently agreed not to ask too many questions about how she had done it, not wanting to pull at that particular thread and find out something they didn’t want to know. She remembered moving in, thinking it was perfect and picturing herself living there forever. 

The moment she found out she was pregnant with Harrison, the test something she took purely to absolutely rule it out because she knew it was the first thing her doctor would ask, was something she’d never forget. The shock had briefly paralysed her, her eyes wide as she shook the test as if it would change the result. She’d called Aaron into the bathroom with her and then forced him to go out to buy more tests, convinced that the positive result in front of her was wrong. 

She still made gentle fun of him even now at the number of tests he came back with, boxes and boxes of them that she knew the poor clerk at the pharmacy must have raised an eyebrow at. It felt oddly fitting that it was one of those tests she’d used to confirm her current pregnancy. 

The thought of it was still overwhelming at times, even weeks after the doctor confirmed she was pregnant, again, and that she was having twins.  They were going to have three kids under two and a small part of her worried it meant she wouldn’t be able to give Harrison everything he deserved from her. 

She wished she could go back to her past self, to the broken woman who was dead to almost everyone who knew her, even herself, and tell her what she had ahead. 

As if he somehow knew she was thinking about him, Harrison squeals for her attention, the mostly nonsensical babble that he used to communicate filling the nursery. Her, Aaron and Jack understood the 12-month-old, the three of them the only people who could make sense of what he wanted, but he still hadn’t said his actual first word. It had become a family debate over what it would be, and Emily was pining all her hope on it being ‘Mama.’  She looks over at him, smiling as her eyes meet his from where he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by toys she knew would be some of the last things they packed away, thrown into her purse so she could easily locate them when they get to the new house. He lifts his hands up and grasps his tiny fists in the air, a silent request for her to pick him up. 

She doesn’t need asking twice. She abandons her task immediately and she walks over, already speaking to Harrison as she picks him up. Aaron always said he looked like her, and the little boy had certainly inherited the deep dark brown of her eyes, but to her everything else was Aaron. She’d somehow given birth to a mini version of her husband, and whilst she loved that, she secretly hoped that one of the babies she was currently carrying would end up looking at least a little bit like her. 

“Hi Harry,” she says, resting him on her hip as she kisses his forehead, he rubs his eyes and presses his face into her chest. A sure sign he would need a nap soon, “You tired, sweet boy? Moving is boring, huh?” 

She was glad they’d managed to have his first birthday in this house. The place they’d brought him home to from the hospital, his nursery a room that they had initially decorated as a guest room. The first year of her little boy’s life had been bookended by a house full of people who loved him. It made her sad if she thought about the fact he wouldn’t have any memories of this house, of the rooms she’d paced with him in her arms for countless hours as he refused to sleep. 

“We’ll get a nap sorted for you soon,” she whispers, shifting back and forth on the spot out of habit, rocking her son in her embrace, “You might have to sleep on Mama though,” she says, looking at the deconstructed crib, already taken apart by Derek, leaning against the wall. 

“You say that like it isn’t his favourite place in the world to sleep.”

She turns to face the door and smiles at her husband, “True,” she replies as he walks towards the, dropping a kiss to their son’s head before he kisses her, “Although he’s going to have to learn to share soon.” 

Aaron smiles as he places one hand on her stomach and the other on the back of Harrison’s head as he snuggles deeper into Emily’s embrace, a familiar sleepy look on his face, “Are you ready to share Mama?” 

“Mama.” 

It takes a moment for it to register, for her to realise the sweet little voice she’d heard was that of her son. She freezes on the spot before she tilts the little boy far enough away to look at his face. 

“Did you say, Mama, sweet boy?” She looks up at Aaron who was similarly frozen in place, his eyes wide, “Did he say…” her voice trails off as it gets tight, tears she knows she can’t entirely blame on her pregnancy hormones immediately flooding her eyes, her vision blurry as she looks back at her son. 

Aaron nods, kissing her temple before he leans into their son, his own eyes shining as he talks to the little boy, “Who’s this Harry?” Aaron asks, his hand sneaking around his wife’s waist to pull her closer, “Is this Mama?”

There’s a moment of silence before Harrison snuggles into her chest, rubbing his face against her as he mumbles, “Mama.” 

Emily’s breath catches in her chest and it escapes her as a sob, unable to process her pure joy in any other way. She holds her baby impossibly closer and kisses his dark hair, inhaling the comforting scent of his shampoo. She’s glad it happened here, that his first word took place in the room where she learnt how to be a mother to a newborn. In the house where thats what she became for Jack too, just down the hall from where he’d tentatively asked her if he could call her mom. 

“Mama loves you so much sweet boy,” she says, leaning into Aaron’s embrace as he wraps his arms around her, she turns to press her face into her husband's shoulder, “Oh my god these kids are going to be the death of me.” 

Aaron chuckles and runs his hand up and down her arm, “Harry and Jack love you, sweetheart,” he shifts so he’s looking at her look at their son, “And you’re this one’s favourite person in the world,” he places his hand back on her stomach, “Hopefully I’ll be the favourite of one of these two.” 

She chuckles, removing one hand from their son’s back to wipe tears from her cheeks, “In your dreams, honey, if they come out of my body I have to be their favourite,” she quips, her lower lip trembling with the overwhelming emotions of the day, “It’s in the rules.”

He winks at her, shrugging one shoulder as he replies, “Well we’ll just carry on going until one of them prefers me.” 

She laughs loudly, shaking her head at him. She was well aware that if it was up to him they’d have as many kids as they could, his love for her and their family one of his main driving forces these days. Whenever she saw him with Harrison, the baby she was told she’d never be able to have, it reminded her of the conversation she had when she told him that this was something that wouldn’t be possible. 

She knew they would have been happy without what their life had unexpectedly turned into, that the three of them, her, Aaron and Jack, would never have felt like anything was missing. But she was beyond grateful that this is what they now had. The little boy falling asleep against her chest and the two additions they’d have later in the year were parts of the puzzle that she couldn’t imagine her life without. 

She shakes her head at him, “You’re insatiable.” Any further conversation is cut off by a crash downstairs, followed by Derek yelling at Spencer, and she groans, “Those idiots better not be breaking my furniture.” 

___

She releases a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding when the team leave, the click of the front door indicating she and her family were alone for the first time since they’d walked into their new house with the keys clutched in Aaron’s hand. She takes a few steps into the house and looks around sighing at the amount of work that was left to be done. The furniture was in place and there were boxes everywhere. All of the photos and trinkets they usually would have on display still packed away. 

Despite that, despite the blank walls and lack of a personal touch that she knows will slowly come over the next few days, it still feels like home already, because she knows that feeling has nothing to do with the walls that surround her or where she wakes up in the morning, but everything to do with the two little boys asleep upstairs and her husband. She’d found in them what she’d always been looking for, everything she’d been through on her journey so far another step towards them.

She smiles as she feels a familiar presence against her back, and she leans into Aaron as he wraps his arms around her from behind, his hands on her belly. 

“You three doing ok?” He asks, kissing her temple. She chuckles and places her hand over his on her stomach as she links their fingers together. 

“Hungry. But we’re ok,” she replies, turning her head to look at him, capturing his smile in a kiss, “Of course that’s mostly because you’ve barely let me do anything all day.”

He kisses the tip of her nose, laughing when she scrunches it up in response, “Because you’re pregnant, Em. With twins.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and stops herself from replying that she’s aware of that, the expanding stomach and sore boobs more than enough to ensure she never forgot, and instead she looks around their new house. She can picture their family living their life here, the currently quiet rooms filled with the laughter and happiness she realises she’s been chasing her whole life. 

“I’m glad we did this,” she says, leaning further into his embrace, “It’s a beautiful house.”

He hums and kisses the top of her head, one of his hands rubbing circles on her stomach, “It’s gorgeous,” he says, shifting to kiss her neck, “Lots of spare bedrooms.” 

It takes a moment for his words to register, for the not-so-hidden meaning to sink in, and she scoffs, pulling away from him with a look of outrage on her face. 

“Fucking hell, Aaron at least let me give birth to these two first,” she smiles, giving away that she was amused, not angry, and she playfully narrows her eyes at him, “You animal.” 

-x-

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[magnetictapedatastorage]

“Ask me to kill for you.” “No(t at that price)”

i have fem sniperspy thoughts. okay. the first time that spy hired sniper was the most satisfying mission of sniper's career. and now shes got an itch she can't scratch because for some reason, little miss ive-got-enemies doesn't want any more of them shot in the head! or, at least, she doesn't want them shot at the price sniper is charging. it would be idiotic to lower the price. unprofessional. needy. really, it's not that much lower. honestly. same number of digits.

it's hot in the Maldives, even in the shade. she barely remembers the way the way the target's greasy, balding, sunburnt head split like rotting fruit. instead she remembers the hotel phone, heavy in her hand, sweat dripping down her back in the freezing air conditioned room. it was barely 36 hours since she'd received a single black and white photo, and the entire time, she'd worked like a woman possessed, until he was dead. shot in the middle of one of his company's fields, while the farmhands were busy elsewhere.

"ma tireuse, perhaps I can find more work for you, if you are always to be so..."

when the silence stretches on in lieu of a compliment, sniper tries to complete the sentence, by offering "efficient." her voice is strained. she feels halfway suffocated by some kind of emotion, but she doesn't want the feeling to stop.

there is a sound not quite like agreement on the other end of the line, but the words give her enough of a rush to live off of. "Yes, efficient, you were certainly faster than I had expected." Sniper breathes a near-silent sigh of relief. The bed she's sitting on is still made, from when she checked in yesterday morning, before spending all day and night on the stakeout. "Nonetheless, there are, shall we say, economic concerns. I'm not asking for a bulk discount, nothing of the sort, but if you're to become my on-call, I cannot be forced to keep such a conspicuously liquid account in order to access you."

It takes sniper nearly a full minute to try and parse all of that, especially with the way her client's voice seemed to drip like honey over every word. and how tired she was from the heat. but sure, she can go a little cheaper. nothing crazy. "What kind of budget limitation are we talking about?" she steels herself for a crushingly low number. somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows she'd accept almost anything.

"ma tireuse you misunderstand me. I am giving you full access to my account. I trust that you will be able to control yourself."

the change is so fast, she feels lightheaded for months. no matter where she goes, what hotel she books, she is simply never billed. and far from needing to buy ammo in cash out of the back of a pickup truck in the middle of nowhere, she's shaking hands with the 5th-in-command of the Sicilian mob, and taking home a rifle in a bassoon case.

spy made the calculation that she was worth more as a loyal, long term investment than as an exploitable source of cheap kills.

sniper is living in an apartment for a month or whatever, there's down time while spy is under the radar for a very delicate plan. sniper goes to bed alone. she wakes up alone. but in the middle of the night She Was Not Alone. 

and it's not like spy had to break in or anything. technically it's her apartment. she's the one paying for it. she'd been a bit surprised to find herself so thoroughly wrapped in long limbs, and it had been a challenge to extract herself, but she slipped away eventually, and long before the woman awoke. it was an acceptable way to spend the night, and to lose the tail that had been following her the past few days. 

sniper awoke fully wrapped around her pillow, as if she'd been afraid of it trying to escape. and the coffee machine was on.

she'd never take a trophy while out on a job, but she does take the bullet casings home (more out of hiding her tracks than anything). and if those casings make their way on to spy's desk on a regular basis than who's to say what that's all about.

[alexacyoung]

Defamation of Harvard students and death threats...a new American McCarthyism against Gaza supporters

A few days ago, in an opinion article in the Wall Street Journal, Stephen Davidoff Solomon, a professor of commercial law at the prestigious University of Berkeley Law School in California, warned companies and employers against hiring his students, accusing some of them of being anti-Semitic. Solomon claimed that some of his students promoted hatred toward Jews and therefore should not be given jobs. “My students are very good academically and are willing to learn quickly, and I regularly recommend hiring them to different companies,” Solomon wrote. “But if you don’t want to hire people who advocate hate and discriminate, don’t hire some of my students.” The professor, who advises the Jewish Law Students Association, made the serious accusation against his students after the outbreak of the conflict in the Gaza Strip and the spread of pro-Palestinian student demonstrations calling for an end to Israeli attacks on civilians.

Before that, the law firm Winston and Strawn canceled a job offer to three students at Harvard University - the best American university - after they signed a statement condemning Israeli policies. Before that, MSNBC quietly suspended three of its Muslim broadcasters - (each of whom had an hour-long program presented by himself daily) - since the start of the Gaza crisis on the 7th of this month. The three: Mahdi Hassan, Ayman Mohieddin, and Ali Velshi, appear as commentators on the events only. Lenox Hill Hospital, in Manhattan, New York City, also fired the emergency department doctor, Dana Diab, for allegedly praising what Hamas did and rejoicing in the tragedies, after a complaint from the “Stop Anti-Semitism” organization.

""Congresswoman Ilhan Omar said she received death threats following the Hamas attack on Israel on October 7. She and other progressive lawmakers critical of Israel also received a briefing by US Capitol Police, warning them of potential threats.""

Israel and its various lobbies and organizations spread throughout the United States, silence any voice that exposes the broader and historical framework of Hamas’ attacks, or condemns the Israeli attacks on the residents of the Gaza Strip, or even those calling for a ceasefire. After a number of student associations at Harvard University published a statement in which they condemned the Israeli aggression, demanded an end to the attacks on civilians in the Gaza Strip, and attributed what was happening to the continued Israeli occupation of the Palestinian territories. Billionaire fund CEO Bill Ackman and several other business leaders responded with a tweet on the “X” platform in which they demanded that Harvard University publish the names of the students who signed so that they would know so that they would not hire them in the future. One of the pro-Israel non-profit organizations even arranged to display virtual billboards bearing the names and faces of students who support Palestinian rights, under a banner that read: “Anti-Semites at Harvard,” and they were placed on a truck that moved around the campus area. With the aim of defaming these students, intimidating them and their supporters.

Some warning voices came out about what is happening, and Lawrence Tribe, a legal researcher at Harvard University, criticized the attempts to defame the students, and he told CNN: Naming and defaming the students, in addition to “describing them as anti-Semitic, is much more dangerous than useful... "We must not repeat the excesses of the McCarthyite era." All of the above is reminiscent of the climate of the McCarthyism period in the 1940s and 1950s. This period was characterized by political repression and persecution of left-wing individuals amid a campaign spreading fear of the alleged communist and Soviet influence on American institutions. The term is named after Senator Joseph McCarthy, who became the most famous and visible public figure through his widely publicized allegations of communist infiltration in branches of the US government. McCarthy's accusations were based on unsubstantiated accusations and insinuations, and were described as demagogic and reckless. However, his tactics were effective in creating a climate of fear and suspicion, and many people were blacklisted or lost their jobs as a result of his accusations. Yes, the McCarthy era ended in the mid-1950s, yet the legacy of McCarthyism is still keenly felt in American politics these days. Unlike some European countries, opposition to Israel in the United States is a right protected by the Constitution, and all individuals or groups are free to express their opinions on this issue, or any other issue, without fear of any legal consequences, as the First Amendment to the US Constitution guarantees freedom of expression and the right to Peaceful protest or demonstration. However, it is important to understand that taking a stance against Israel or its policies can in practice lead to various forms of social, political, or economic consequences, depending on the circumstances and level of opposition.

The lion's share of the attack by Israel's supporters was directed at human rights organizations, such as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, anti-war activists, progressive political groups, pro-Palestinian activists, academics and many intellectuals, religious groups that reject wars, some members of Congress and many others. University students. For decades, the American people have maintained their support for Israel, and generally remain supportive of it. However, this support began to decline in recent years, and in response, the percentage of support for the Palestinian cause among young Americans, especially university students, increased. The slogans: “Israel’s right to exist,” “strike the terrorists,” and “anti-Semitism” no longer alone dominate the American scene, and are now competing with slogans including: “Apartheid,” “genocide,” and “ethnic cleansing,” especially among Among American youth. Supporters of Israel fear the consequences of holding many demonstrations opposing the attacks launched on the Gaza Strip in various American cities, compared to those supporting the Israeli side, especially as the numbers of American Jews continue to decline, compared to the increase in the numbers of Arab Americans and Muslims. Attempts to silence voices also extended to members of Congress, and progressive Democratic female representatives in the House of Representatives, known for their criticism of Israel, faced a violent reaction from their Republican and Democratic colleagues as well, in addition to Jewish organizations, because of their statements after the start of Operation “Al-Aqsa Flood.” The most important of these representatives is Ilhan Omar from Minnesota, Rashida Tlaib of Michigan, Cori Bush of Missouri, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York. Condemnation of violence and demands for the necessity of working to achieve peace and a ceasefire dominated the MPs’ reaction to the events, but that position angered supporters of the Israeli side who only wanted to attack and condemn the Hamas movement without addressing the suffering of the Palestinians, or the violence practiced against them. Congresswoman Ilhan Omar also said that she received death threats following the Hamas attack on Israel on October 7, and she and other progressive lawmakers who criticize Israel also received a briefing by the US Capitol Police, warning them of potential threats. In conclusion, the United States emerged free from the restrictions and burdens of the European continent, especially with regard to its identity, nationalism, religion, and the conflicts associated with these dilemmas. Despite this liberation, many today call for nationalist, racist, and fascist slogans. The American media's continued heavy-handed demonization of the Palestinian people, in addition to President Joe Biden's ill-advised speech in standing by Israel without calling on it to stop its attacks or stop bombing civilians, has fueled feelings of anger and extremism among many members of the American people who do not know the details of the Middle East conflict.

After returning from his quick visit to Israel, Biden condemned the dangers of Islamophobia and anti-Arab racism, but the American president’s words are not supported by any convincing practical political positions so far.

by Alexa C.Young

Master Yale Un International & Global Studies.|Foreign Policy Analyst & Researcher|Consultant|Writer|Real Estate Investor.