#call center vacancy
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9 ways to Improve quality scores
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#bpo jobs#youtube#bpo interview questions and answers#bpo interview tips for freshers#bpo services#bpo tutorials#bpo interview#bpo trends#bpo#bqm#call center jobs#call center vacancy#call calibration#call center#conference call#pareto chart#six sigma green belt#lean six sigma#sixsigma#six sigma#quality analyst#quality#bottom quartile management#low quality#7 qc tool#quality tools#histogram
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Call Center Operator Job Vacancies 2024 - Nekfa Australia
Nekfa Australia has announced job vacancies for Call Center Operators in 2024. Individuals with GCE O Level qualification are encouraged to apply now.
#job vacancies 2024#sri lanka job vacacnies#lanka career#job vacancies in sri lanka#Nekfa Australia#Call Center Operator
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#egyptian#careers#full time jobs#resume#vacancies#recruitment#online jobs#fresher jobs#hiring#retail sales jobs#call center#customer service
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Deer Demon and The Hunter
Alastor x female reader x Dean Winchester (Sam and others mentioned)
Summary: Alastor flirts with you well by being himself and Dean isn't having it.
A/N- I'll do another part if y'all want and if this does well. Let me know Dean and Alastor are both mu husbands so I would LOVE to write more of the two of them together.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the dilapidated streets of Pentagram City, you followed alongside Dean, with Sam shortly behind. Surprisingly, there was a lot of crime in this hell. It was a different hell that none of you had ever come across before, nor had the Trickster even talked about it as part of his fantasies. The relationship between you and Dean was complicated; you both felt strongly for each other, but due to the life that both of you put your heart and soul into, it just would never work.
After trying to avoid all the killings and other crimes on the streets of the new Hell, you came across a very large hotel. It was so big that you could probably see it from miles away. In fact, almost like a beacon of twisted hope amidst the chaos. Deciding that it was late and you needed to find some vacancy, the three of you walked into the doors of the Hazbin Hotel. As you stepped in, you didn't notice Dean was standing much closer to you than before, as you all took in the very... red... scenery. Putting down your duffel bags, which you had no idea how they got there with you, but they did.
You couldn't help but feel a shiver of apprehension run down your spine. Suddenly, in the shadows, a figure stood. He was much taller than both brothers, surprisingly, because in your world, no one was taller than the two brothers. Standing proud in the center of all the red chaos stood Alastor, formerly known as The Radio Demon.
"Ah, a trio of hunters coming into our LOVELY humbled establishment, which we call a hotel," Alastor said with animated hand gestures as he apporched you all. you noticed the deer features instantly, as did the two brothers. You also noticed the Joker Ish smile that graced his face. In fact, it never seemed to fall. His claws rested on what seemed like a cane, which had a microphone and an eyeball on it.
Dean, the protective one out of the group, shot him a distrustful glare, and he stepped closer to you, grabbing your arm and pulling you back gently to shield you from this thing. He knew you could handle your own, that's how you two met, but he couldn't shake the fact that if anything were to happen to you, he would never forgive himself for it. "We're just passing through," he grumbled, his voice dripping with skepticism. Throughout this interaction, you realized that the deer demon's red eyes were on you the whole time, not even paying attention to Dean's glares. Your heart sank, and you got a bad feeling. Alastor pushed passed Dean and over to you.
"Ah, but a lady such as yourself deserves a warm welcome," he crooned, offering you, his arm. "Allow me to show you around, my dear." You hesitated for a minute, holding out your hand towards the tall man, although accepting his gesture. He then kissed the back of your hand, making you blush. Sam placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. As Alastor led you through the corridors of the hotel, his charm and wit were impossible to resist. He regaled you with stories of the underworld, his words weaving a seductive spell around you.
Dean's jealousy simmered beneath the surface, his jaw clenched as he watched Alastor's blatant flirtation with growing irritation. Sam attempted to diffuse the tension, but it was too late—the hunter and the Radio Demon were on a collision course. Dean saw Alastor place his claw on your lower back, which sent him over the edge. The hunter confronted the Radio Demon, his lips snarled, and Alastor seemed to enjoy it. "Back off, Radio Freak," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "She's not interested in your games."
Hoping Alastor would take the hint, he didn't. His smile only grew bigger, a hint of challenge in his eyes as his neck twisted, then his body faced Dean head-on. "Ah, seems you're the one playing the game," Alastor said, and you winced, as did Sam. You both knew that this wasn't going to end well. The tension between the two men crackled in the air, the atmosphere charged with primal energy as they squared off. It was clear that neither would back down, their rivalry fueled by pride and desire. Dean's nostrils flared, and Alastor just continued to smile down at him.
You sadly found yourself in the middle of the two tall men. After the Princess of Hell broke the two apart, Dean didn't think twice and pulled you away to calm down. Dean grumbled something under his breath as he rummaged through his duffle bag.
"Dean?" You began but soon were stopped.
"That demon, or whatever the hell he is... he's getting under both of our skins."
"Well, I—" You shut up after the glare Dean had sent you. There was a knock on the door.
"It's fine, Dean, he's just being sweet," you shrugged and opened your hotel room door. The Radio Demon stood there proudly.
"Evening, my dear," he said, looking over at Dean who was fuming, then back at you. "I was hoping you'd join me for some tea."
#alastor#hazbin hotel#i have an obsession#alastor x you#the radio demon#hazbin alastor#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#dean winchester#supernatural
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The dead malls of York
Continuing on the theme from my last post about York Galleria, I'm going to talk more about the four now-closed malls in York that came before the Galleria.
The York Mall
The York Mall opened in 1968, developed by the famous Kravco Company of Philadelphia. It was a fairly large mall for its era (about 700,000 Square feet of retail space, I believe). It was primarily a single-level mall, though in this rare interior photo you can see stairs leading up to a small 2nd level that included a community room and some offices. The opening anchors were JCPenney, Montgomery Ward, and Maryland-based Hochschild-Kohn (seen in the above picture). The mall also featured a Trans-Lux Theater and a flagship location of McCrory's variety store. In fact, the McCrory's distribution center was located directly next door to the York Mall, and a concrete ramp led straight from the distribution center's parking lot right up to the back of McCrory's store around the rear side of the mall. The ramp still exists today as a relic of this bit of McCrory's history. The layout of the mall had Penney's at one end and Wards at the other, with Hochschild-Kohn right in the middle. You'd have to walk through the Kohn's department store to get from one end of the mall to the other.
Hochschild-Kohn's declined in the 70s, closing their York Mall store in 1975. York's own local department store, The Bon-Ton, opened in this spot that same year. The York Mall remained the largest mall in town for 21 years until George Zamias built the 2-story York Galleria practically next door in 1989. Both The Bon-Ton and JCPenney left the York Mall for the York Galleria when it opened, but it wasn't a total loss because The Bon-Ton kept their store open as a new discount concept called "Bon-Ton Express" on the ground floor and put their corporate offices on what had been the 2nd floor of the department store. Still, the new competition from the Galleria badly hurt the York Mall and forced it to go more downscale. Looking to replace JCPenney, the York Mall signed a lease with Arkansas-based discount store Walmart in 1990 - it was the first Walmart in the state of Pennsylvania and was then the largest in the country at 130,000 square feet. Walmart also built a new Sam's Club right next to Montgomery Ward. At the time, the destructive tendencies of Walmart were not as widely-known.
The York Mall still did alright for a few more years with its new configuration. But stores in the mall noticed a drop in business after The Bon-Ton Express closed in May of 1992. Bon-Ton executives attributed the closure to Walmart, whose cash registers only faced their parking lot entrance (in other words, you could enter Walmart from the mall, but you have to leave out towards your car). Burlington replaced Bon-Ton Express in 1993, but it didn't do much to help sales at the small shops. Around the turn of the century, the demise of Montgomery Ward and McCrory's left gaping vacancies in the north end of the mall while an expansion of Walmart into a 240,000 square foot supercenter swallowed up the entire south end of the mall. It didn't take long after that for the remainder of the mall to be demolished.
North Mall
The North Mall - "the first completely carpeted, enclosed shopping center in the East!" - opened in 1969, as the 2nd enclosed shopping mall in York, PA. It was a smaller mall that was sort of split level; the upper level was fully enclosed and anchored by The Bon-Ton and a G.C. Murphy's variety store. At the end opposite of Bon-Ton, an artistic ramp took you down to a lower level that turned into an open air strip mall. This section was anchored by a J.M. Fields discount store, which included a Pantry Pride discount grocery store inside. The whole mall was owned by Food Fair Properties, which shared the same parent company (Food Fair) as Pantry Pride and J.M. Fields.
Food Fair became a pretty large company in the 60s and early 70s, having expanded its subsidiaries Pantry Pride and J.M. Fields nationally. But the business then began to suffer, leading to bankruptcy and the closure of all J.M. Fields stores in 1978. The Pantry Pride at North Mall closed as well. The anchor building that had housed Fields and Pantry Pride was large and difficult to find a replacement tenant for. It housed women's apparel store Marianne's for a few years in the late 70s/early 80s.
1981 brought the opening of West Manchester Mall, a project of famous developer Crown American Corporation. Compared to the nearby North Mall, West Manchester was much newer and larger. The North Mall had never updated, and was still very much a fully-carpeted, flower-patterned product of 1969. The Bon-Ton closed at North Mall to open a new store at West Manchester when it opened. The Bon-Ton was quickly replaced by the 4th location of discount department store Mailman's. Ironically, Mailman's had a collaboration with The Bon-Ton wherein Bon-Ton would supply their own apparel merchandise at Mailman's stores, so Bon-Ton never totally left the North Mall after all. At that point, the North Mall felt pressured to go downscale, so the mall became known as the "North Mall Factory Outlet Center". Burlington opened in the former J.M. Fields location in 1983, and the mall kept afloat for a while. In 1984, G.C. Murphy's closed their store, apparently in violation of a 20 year lease they had signed which did not expire until 1989 (this prompted a lawsuit from the mall). In 1988, the collaboration between Mailman's and Bon-Ton ended, so the North Mall Mailman's lost its whole apparel department. By the end of that same year, Mailman's closed after failing to reach a lease deal with North Mall management. This was the last staw for North Mall, which by 1990 was slated for redevelopment into "Manchester Crossroads," a strip mall. It was the first mall in York to be de-malled.
Delco Plaza Mall
The Delco Plaza Mall was a small, discount-oriented mall opened in 1974 in west York, not far from the North Mall. It featured Hills and Grant City (both discount department stores) as anchors as well as a United Artists movie theater in the mall and a Pathmark grocery store in the parking lot. The UA theater was the first 3-screen cinema in York and drove a lot of traffic into the mall. The name of this mall has always confused me because "Delco" is common shorthand for Delaware County, PA, a county which York is very much not located in. The first issue for Delco Plaza was the bankruptcy of W.T. Grant Co., the parent company of Grant City. This resulted in what was then the largest retail bankruptcy liquidation in American history when all of the Grant's stores closed in 1976. Many former Grant Cities, including the one at Delco Plaza, were snatched up by Kmart for new stores.
In 1981, the West Manchester Mall opened, hurting smaller, older malls like Delco Plaza. At some indeterminate time after this, the UA cinema in the mall was downgraded to a cheaper, second-run theater, which had an adverse effect on mall traffic. The Pathmark also closed, and slowly the stores inside the mall began to go under as well. Though the addition of some new tenants like a post office branch and liquor store helped keep the mall open, it was not enough to save it. Hills, struggling in face of competition from Walmart in particular, was bought out by Ames discount department stores in 1999. Ames, in turn, went out of business in 2002. Kmart closed shortly thereafter. The mostly vacant mall faced demolition in 2005.
West Manchester Mall
The West Manchester Mall was developed by Crown American, one of the nation's largest privately-owned real estate developers, in 1981. It was located in west York, nearby the much smaller North Mall and Delco Plaza Mall. It was a modern, single-level mall, about the same size as the York Mall on the other side of town. It featured The Bon-Ton, Hess's department store of Allentown (which at the time was a subsidiary of Crown American itself), and Gee Bee discount store of Johnstown as its anchors. West Manchester had little drama in its early years as it enjoyed dominance in west York while being far enough from the York Mall on the east side of town to maintain a delicate balance. That balance was only really upset in 1989 by the opening of George Zamias' York Galleria. The Galleria was much larger than any other mall in York, and drew a lot of business away from the York Mall in particular.
In 1992, Gee Bee, which had just survived a bankruptcy filing, was bought by rival discount store Value City. Then, in 1993, Hess's department store was circling the drain after recklessly opening too many locations too far from its home base. It closed at West Manchester, and Crown American signed a lease with Walmart to fill the space. Crown also expanded the mall in 1995, adding a new wing leading to a new Hecht's department store of Maryland. A few years later, they renovated the mall again and added a 13 screen Regal Cinemas to occipy vacant store space and keep the West Manchester Mall competitive. But the decision to bring in Walmart turned out to be a long-term curse for the mall itself, as Walmart chose to expand into a supercenter in the early 2000s. Just as it did at the York Mall, the West Manchester Walmart took over what used to be a whole wing of the mall when it expanded. Hecht's became Macy's in 2005, and Value City went out of business in 2008, to be replaced by Kohl's. A big nail in the coffin came when in 2011 The Bon-Ton announced that their store at West Manchester was "not performing as well as it should" and would close at the end of their lease the following January. At this point, Regal was mostly the only thing keeping people coming into the mall. The mall was sold in 2012 to new owners who pledged a nearly $50 million renovation to transform it into the West Manchester Town Center, an open-air retail center. With this closure, the York Galleria became the only surviving mall out of five in York, PA.
#photography#dead mall#retail#dead malls#deadmall#mall#malls#shopping mall#shopping malls#retail apocalypse#york mall#west manchester mall#delco plaza mall#north mall#dead mall series#history#pennsylvania
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Monthly In the Garden With My Landlord, Volume 1: Surprising Charm
Based on the just the synopsis, I'd say I was curious about this series, but I don't know if I was ever fully sold by it. Because of that, I'm very glad that I ended up picking it up regardless, as there's a lot of charm and energy that this first volume brings, making it a series centering around adult romance that I think quite a few people will enjoy, and for quite a few reasons that I'd love to illuminate.
Let's start with the idea of the story. Asako Suga is a manga editor that was just dumped by her girlfriend, leaving her in an apartment full of memories and firsts that are tied to her now ex. Because of that, in a spur of the moment decision she decides to move into a house that's being rented for pennies on the dollar and seems to have nothing wrong with it. That is, until she moves in and finds out that her 19 year old Landlord, and ex-idol, is living there with her.
I think it's an idea that a lot of people could be turned off by, but here me out on it. It's actually really fun, and well executed. Asako, and Miyako (the ex-idol-now-landlord) have just the right balance of comical and shallow traits as they do deep and impactful ones.
Sure, Asako might be a sucker for a pretty face, and that might have played into sticking around. But, she's more than that. She doesn't immediately fall in love with Miyako because she's pretty, but rather she struggles to maintain an appropriate amount of distance from this young adult, largely because Miyako struggles to be an adult.
And really, that idea itself opens up the story so much.
Asako and Miyako struggle to form deep relationships with people. Asako falls under the stereotype of being suckered in by looks, and Miyako is in the position where looks is all that people care about. Neither are able to directly connect with someone and form a deep and emotional bond, not even in the romantic sense necessarily.
I mean, the manga itself addresses that as Miyako takes to calling Asako onee-san a whole bunch, which perfectly highlights their beginning relationship. Miyako relies heavily on Asako, while Asako is babying Miyako.
The idea of romantic feelings is present, don't get me wrong, but it's absolutely an undertone to the pair forming a deeper relationship that extends past superficial tendencies. Because of that, I really hope that in future volumes they struggle with the expression of those feelings and they struggle with how it changes the shape and form of their relationship.
Anyways, let me share my love for the art. It's got a very light feeling, but that doesn't diminish the feeling of it or the detail in any fashion. It's still very present and strong, but it's not not got a heavy lineweight or strong shading or lighting and whatnot. I guess you might call it "flat", but I don't really think it's a bad thing.
I think the only thing I could really complain about is the environment art, since there isn't too much of it, but that's par for the course with a lot of manga these days. What's good though is that the mangaka fills that vacancy very comfortably. Subtle screentones that fill gaps, intelligent paneling and focus, and mindful layouts that work to really fill panels and use negative space. It's not anything incredible, but it does plenty to be aware of the gaps in backgrounds.
I think most important though is their willingness to break molds. They really don't restrict their characters to the confines of panels, routinely breaking out from those lines or existing entirely separate from them, or even having them partially cut off from them.
Speaking of characters, these designs are really damn good. The level of detail and uniqueness they carry is really great, and something that I think can be very rare to see.
Just look at the smaller details, Miyako's eyes are a different shape to Asako's (which are then also different to Hatomori's, who is a supporting character). Then look at the noses and mouths as well. Asako generally has a more squared off mouth, while Miyako's is rounder. Similarly, Asako has a more prominent nose while Miyako has overall softer and rounder features, but has larger/more prominent eyes.
It's really great design language that is very rare to see in a lot of series these days.
Even better is the expressiveness of these designs though. Character acting has a prominent role in a series like this, and Yodokawa's designs work wonders in regards to that. They work great both in terms of subtle and extreme moments, which creates a really nice feel to both ends of the first volume.
Also, the design sense and posing? Absolutely sublime. Yodokawa really has considered everything about these characters. Asako tends to wear more plain and "typical" outfits, while Miyako brings more energy and style, and all of Miyako's outfits are just so pretty.
Really, there's not much of an end to how much I enjoy the various pieces of this first volume. There's so much that I'm not doubt leaving out a considerable bit of charm and quality from this post, so I really recommend people give the manga a try. It's promising to bring a much more friendly and positive adult romance story, but not without depth or emotion. The art is endlessly engaging and fun, very stylish and well utilized, and the characters are such a treat. Just read it if you can.
#monthly in the garden with my landlord#Maitsuki Niwa-tsuki Ooya-tsuki#毎月庭つき大家つき#yodokawa#yuri manga#yuri#girls love#gl series#gl manga#shoujo ai#manga review#manga recommendation#manga reccs
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chapter five — inevitable
➝ trapped in imola after the torrential rains in the region, charlie and fernando are forced to cooperate with each other. however, what was supposed to be just one night in a tiny hotel in the city center becomes their moment of reckoning. and it only has one bed.
➝ word count: 9,2k
➝ warnings: panic attack, flooding, mentions of trauma, smut
➝ author's note: there is no little chapter here, as you can see. tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie and @enaticosencantados as requested.
Leaning against the door of the white car, Charlie felt a strange feeling inside her chest as she stared at the bridge over the Santerno River, which was completely flooded. It was definitely not something she’d expected to see so close to the circuit.
— I don't think I'm going to make it through, miss — the taxi driver, a Moroccan man who spoke in heavily accented English, said.
— Is there no way across?
— I can't risk it, miss, I'm sorry.
She huffed in frustration. It was the last thing she needed that day, considering how hellish it had been so far. Charlie had left England early that morning after a battle of wills with Ron, who refused to get into his carrier to be taken to her grandparents' house. After arriving at the airport at the last minute, she had to wait for nearly two hours for the plane to take off for Zurich, where she would take another flight to Bologna.
There was another long delay from Zurich to Bologna, which turned an hour-long layover into nearly a three hour wait until her plane started boarding. Then, another hour of waiting on the runway for the plane to get takeoff clearance. It seemed like the universe was playing a bad joke on her.
It was already dusk when Charlie arrived at Imola, after spending even more time in passport control at the airport. “Thank you, Brexit”, she thought, as she put her passport in her bag and smiled at the agent who had finally stamped her entry document. However, instead of the charming city that she had visited several times, she found mud and destruction, the result of intense rains that had hit the region.
— Honestly, I don't even know if there will be a race if it keeps raining like this — the taxi driver said, as they followed the highway into the city.
It might seem like a selfish desire at the moment, but the last thing Charlie needed was for the race to be called off. She had gone through so much trouble to get to Imola that it would seem like an injustice. However, after seeing the bridge filled with water right next to the race track, the possibility seemed real.
— Miss? — the driver asked — Would you like to go somewhere else?
Charlie sighed, trying to collect her thoughts.
— Let me check my phone, just a second — she said, as she sat back in the cab and dug through her purse for the device. However, Charlie had another unpleasant surprise when she realized that her battery was dead.
— Is everything okay?
— I'm out of battery — Charlie said, a frustrated smile on her face — Everything is great.
— Well, if you want, I can take you downtown. I know there are some hotels and hostels there. I don't know if any have vacancies, but someone will be able to offer you some help, I'm sure — the man said, giving her a sympathetic smile.
“It’s not like I have much choice”, she thought, before accepting his offer.
After reaching downtown Imola, Charlie paid the man and thanked him for his help. She walked through the streets with her backpack on her back, dragging her suitcase behind her, trying to identify on the signs something that indicated that there was a hotel there.
After walking four blocks and not understanding anything she'd been told other than "no vacancies" at two hotels she’d found, Charlie couldn't get the idea of sleeping on the streets out of her head, a daunting prospect considering how cloudy was the sky over the town.
However, Charlie’s chest filled with hope when she turned a corner.
Parked near the town square was a grey SUV that she recognized as an Aston Martin. “A DBX 707”, she thought. She walked towards the vehicle, thinking that maybe not all was lost, even when she discovered that the car was empty. Maybe the car’s owner was nearby.
Releasing the handle of her suitcase, she walked around the car, spotting a Swiss license plate on the front bumper. “Maybe the owner speaks English”, she thought, smiling to herself.
— Charlie? — a familiar, accented voice said from behind her. As she turned around, she felt the smile fade and tension rise in her shoulders. Standing near the back of the car, wearing a dark green sweatshirt and holding a bottle of water, was Fernando Alonso — What are you doing here?
— What are you doing here? — she asked back, raising an eyebrow.
— I have a race here on Sunday, didn't you know?
— Of course I know, but — Charlie hesitated — It's Tuesday.
He smiled.
— I saw online that there could be problems getting there because of the weather so I decided to come earlier. And you, what are you doing here?
— I always come to the circuits on Tuesdays.
— Oh, I see — he said, taking a sip of his water — Are you staying around here?
— No, actually, I intended to stay close to the circuit but…
— The bridge is washed out — Fernando said — Yeah, I know.
— Were you going to stay at La Fondazza? — Charlie asked, as Fernando nodded — Did you already find another place to stay?
— I was talking to the people in the cafe about it and they told me about a place that might have a room. And you?
— I was looking for a place around here — she murmured, looking up at the sky at the sound of distant thunder. It made something tighten inside her chest — I've been to two hostels nearby but there's no room available. I don't know where to look anymore...
— Well, if they have room for me, they must have room for you. Do you want to come with me?
She couldn't hide her surprise at his offer. After feeling like she was at war with him for years, Charlie still wasn't used to him treating her with kindness. She dreaded this newer, softer Fernando disappearing any moment to make way for the Fernando she knew and hated.
— Yeah, I do.
She placed her bags next to his in the car’s lift gate and settled into the black and white leather passenger seat. As she buckled her seat belt, she couldn't help but notice the vehicle's dashboard and center console, whose design was strongly inspired by sports cars.
— Have you already seen the 707? — Fernando asked.
— Only from the outside, I've never been inside one — Charlie replied, her eyes glued to the dashboard — Which engine does it have?
— It's a four-litre twin-turbo V8, all hand-assembled. It produces 707 horsepower and more than 90 kgfm of torque. It has roller turbines and a different calibration to increase the turbocharger revs.
— Fantastic — she murmured as the driver pressed the button to start the car. The low sound of the engine made Charlie look up at him, a wide smile on her face. She was completely delighted — It goes from zero to 100 in about 3 seconds, doesn't it?
— 3.3 — he said, as he maneuvered the car out of the parking space — How do you know that?
— I calculated it in my head.
— So quickly?
— You know I have a degree in mechanical engineering and a graduate degree in automotive engineering, right?
— That doesn't mean you're necessarily good at mental calculations.
— But, I am. My grandmother was a maths teacher, so I grew up learning to love numbers.
Fernando smiled as he made a left turn.
— So, your grandmother was a teacher and your grandfather was a mechanic?
— Well, sort of. My grandfather was in the Royal Air Force for a long time, and he worked on airplane engines. He has always been fascinated by engines and everything about them. He met my grandmother during a visit with her students to the RAF museum.
— And where do cars come into this story? — he asked.
— He always liked cars and racing. And, considering he had a wife and daughter at home to look after, once he left the military, he started taking jobs in a body shop in Birmingham. He still does that today, even though his focus is on older cars, nowadays. I help from time to time when I visit.
— And that means you know how to work with engines? — Fernando asked, looking a little surprised.
— Of course I do! — Charlie replied, indignant — Remember that I have a degree...
— Charlie, having a degree doesn't mean you know how to disassemble and assemble an engine — he said, looking both ways before passing through an intersection. The sidewalks were smeared with mud.
— The point is, I know how to work with engines. In fact, I’m comfortable with the entire drive train. It helped me a lot during secondary school, when I needed to save money for university.
— You worked in a body shop?
— No, at a kart circuit.
Fernando glanced at her, surprised.
— You fixed go-karts?
— Yes, I did. Why is that surprising?
— Because I also fixed go-karts when I was younger — he said — I needed money to race, so I took care of the younger boys' karts, since I was strong enough to tighten the wheels and adjust the engine. That’s how I met Alberto.
— Were you his mechanic?
— Yeah — Fernando replied, as he slowed down the car — I think this is the place they told me about in the cafe. Ziò, they said.
Looking out the window, Charlie saw that there was a burgundy sign with that word, along with the outline of a moon and three stars. It sure looked like a hotel.
— Yeah, I think so — she murmured as Fernando parked the car between a Twizy and a Volvo.
They got out of the car and Fernando offered to take Charlie’s suitcase. Charlie declined, and they walked into the lobby and saw a man sitting at the wooden counter, seemingly distracted by something on the screen in front of him.
— Buonasera — Fernando said, making the man look up.
— Buonasera, mi chiamo Riccardo, como pode aiutarvi? — he said, smiling.
— Siamo del team Aston Martin e siamo venuti alla gara, ma la strada per l'hotel che abbiamo prenotato è allagata. Volevo sapere se avevi delle stanze dove stare per la notte — the driver said, in practically perfect Italian. Charlie, for a moment, wondered how he knew Italian so well until she remembered the five years he had spent at Ferrari.
The memory of seeing him for the first time, walking past her with a troop of Ferrari employees in Melbourne, made Charlie's skin tingle. “He should wear red more often”, she thought, while Fernando discussed something with the employee, the expression on his face looking less than happy with what he was hearing.
— Nessun'altra opzione, magari con due letti?
— Purtroppo ci rimane solo questa stanza — Riccardo replied.
Fernando sighed, before turning to look at her. He did not look pleased.
— They only have one room available, for two people.
Charlie pursed her lips thoughtfully. In an ideal situation, she would never consider sharing a hotel room with Fernando Alonso. However, this was far from an ideal situation. The entire region was in chaos, some hotels couldn’t take in guests, and the others were full. Most of the people due in town for the race hadn’t even arrived yet. A single room was better than none.
— Two beds? — she asked, with an almost naive hope.
— Just one — Fernando said — Look, it's not a problem for me, you can have the room and I'll find another place to sleep tonight...
— No — she said flatly — You found this place, it’s only fair that you stay here.
— Charlie, you're staying here, I'll find another place. That, or, I can sleep in my car, the seat is comfortable and…
— You're not going to sleep in your car, Fernando. You need to sleep well to perform well.
— So, what do you suggest?
Looking into Fernando’s brown eyes, Charlie hesitated for a few seconds. She knew she would regret it. “One night won't hurt anyone”, she thought.
— We can share.
He raised an eyebrow.
— Share?
— You know, when you distribute something proportionately between two people. I imagine you're not very familiar with this concept, but it's what normal people do, especially when they’re in situations like this.
Fernando rolled his eyes.
— I know what sharing is, I just didn't expect you saying you want to share a room with me. Especially after — he hesitated for a few seconds — Everything.
— So you can see the effort I'm making.
He smirked.
— Don't worry — the driver said, before turning back to the hotel employee — Prendiamo questa stanza.
After settling into their room, a small suite with mint-colored walls and a wooden floor, they went to a nearby restaurant that Riccardo had suggested for dinner. When they returned, Charlie took a shower and put on a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt.
— Seagulls? — she heard Fernando say, looking at her t-shirt with a small smile on his face.
— Yes.
— Why?
— It's my team's symbol.
— Team? Like, football?
— Yeah. Brighton.
— Really? Aren’t you from Northampton?
— Yes, I am, but my grandfather is originally from Brighton, though, so I grew up supporting Brighton. Anyway, we’re having a good year. I think we will play in the Europa League next season. It will depend on this Sunday’s match.
— Who do they play against?
— Manchester City — she said, making him chuckle.
— Good luck to them — Fernando said, setting his phone on the bedside table — Difficult team to face.
— I know. We already lost to them this season, but we only need a draw — Charlie replied as he sat down on the bed.
— We just needed a draw too — Fernando muttered — But it was at their stadium…
— The game is at the Amex, not at the Etihad — she said she pulled the duvet up — It will be alright.
— We’ll see — Fernando said — Good night, Charlie.
— Good night — she said softly. Then, the room went dark.
Charlie thought that, with travel fatigue, it would be easy to fall asleep. However, she hadn’t factored in the weather. It had started to fall more heavily on the area by the time they had gone to dinner, which made her apprehensive. Fernando had even noticed her unease, but Charlie managed to play it down.
However, in the dark and quiet of the hotel room, the sound of the rain pelting the window glass and the thunder that made the walls shake, she felt her fear and anxiety growing. She remembered that fateful Friday morning, several years ago, when Northampton was hit by a massive flood over Easter weekend. She remembered things in flashes — the texture of her soaked clothes, the cold of the wind that stung her face, her grandmother screaming as they watched her grandfather get knocked off his feet by a rush of water and disappear beneath the muddy surface.
“This can’t be happening again”, Charlie thought, remembering when she finally saw her grandfather in his hospital bed, covered with a thermal blanket and his hair still wet. Even though he was okay, his smile couldn’t take away the terror she’d felt from almost losing Jamie, the man who had loved her unconditionally and taken her in when Deborah decided she didn't want to be a mother anymore.
— Charlie? — she heard Fernando ask.
When she tried to open her eyes, she was blinded by the lamp turning on. After blinking a few times, Charlie felt his warm hand on her shoulder, thumb brushing against the fabric of her t-shirt. His touch made her freeze for a few seconds, her mind taking a few seconds to remember that she wasn't alone. “He can't see me like this, he can't see me like this”, she thought.
— Are you okay, Charlie? — Fernando asked her, his hand gently pulling her, making her turn to the other side, meeting his worried expression — Why are you crying?
She blinked again, her eyes feeling wet. Charlie hadn't realized that she was crying, but she couldn't answer his question either. She started crying in earnest, deep, sharp sobs that made her gasp. All she could smell was the putrid smell of floodwater churning the earth and mixing with whatever was washing out of the storm drains. She felt like a little girl, afraid of the cold, the murky water, the thunder — afraid of losing the people she loved in the water again.
Suddenly the cold dissipated. The smell of floodwater was replaced by something fresh and familiar. The sound of thunder subsided, giving way to something quiet and steady, a rhythmic pulse.
— It's okay — Charlie heard Fernando whisper — Nothing's going to happen to you.
— But… The water is rising so fast. It’s going to flood again...
— It's okay, calm down. You are safe. I’ve got you, nena.
Her fingers closed around the fabric of his shirt, and Charlie let herself be held. With the weight of his arms around her, the painful memories of the flood became distant, both in space and time. It was as if in that moment, wrapped in his body heat and in the fresh, lingering scent of his cologne, she was finally protected from all of it — from the cold, the wet, the pain of the past. She was protected from the turmoil building inside her.
She gradually managed to calm down as Fernando stroked his hand gently up and down her back. With the soft, calming sound of his voice whispering in her ear, Charlie was finally able to fall asleep.
Daylight was streaming in through the crack in the curtain when she woke up, and rubbed her eyes. She'd slept terribly, courtesy of the awful dreams she’d had.
Charlie dreamed she was on the flooded bridge near the circuit with her grandfather. Jamie was determined to resolve the situation, especially after some kind of siren sounded through the city. Pleas for him not to leave her alone weren't enough to prevent him from jumping into the muddy water, then disappearing. She even tried to jump after him, but felt a pair of arms holding her tight, telling her that she "wasn't going anywhere".
— Good morning — she heard someone say.
When she turned her head Charlie noticed that she was still in Fernando's arms.
— Good morning — she replied, trying to disguise the nervousness in her voice.
— Feeling better?
— A little, yeah.
— That's good — Fernando said, running his hand over her head, seeming to smooth the strands of her hair — I was worried about you.
She stayed silent for a few seconds.
— Why?
— Because you had a panic attack, Charlie, and a big one.
Charlie shifted her gaze to the lamp, trying to avoid his eyes.
— Since when has this been happening? — he asked softly, his fingers brushing her bangs out of her eyes — Is it often? Does anyone know about this? Have you talked to anyone about this?
Something his rapid-fire questions made her uneasy. It was as if Charlie had allowed Fernando to see too much of her vulnerable side, which she didn’t typically show other people in the paddock. She put a lot of effort into making sure that all anyone saw was the smart, decisive, woman, and not the scared little girl she was at her core.
But, in her terror, she’d let the mask slip.
Sitting up, Charlie tried to think of something to say. Maybe she would lie, tell him she was sleepwalking or it was a side effect of some medication. Maybe she'd say he was crazy and that she'd slept soundly all night. Maybe she...
— Charlie, are you afraid of rain?
She looked over her shoulder at him.
— Why are you asking?
— Because you said everything was going to flood again last night. That the water was rising too fast.
Charlie looked down at her feet and imagined them submerged in muddy water.
— I'm not afraid of rain. — she whispered — I just don’t like storms. Or floods.
— Why?
— Because I saw my grandfather almost drown in some flood water when I was nine years old — Charlie said, her voice cracking — It had rained a lot the night before. To help keep the street from flooding, he teamed up with some of our neighbors to try to clear the storm drains. But, the river near our house breached its banks and he lost his balance in the strong current, and fell into the water and got swept away. He was carried a few hundred feet before he managed to stop himself.
She had discussed the incident with Hannah a long time ago, but part of her still struggled with similar situations, like at the Belgian Grand Prix in 2021. Charlie never knew how to thank Daniel Ricciardo for lending her his headphones and distracting her with silly stories as the rain pelted down the circuit during the hours-long red flag period.
— What? — he mumbled.
— They found him holding on to a lamp post and took him to A&E. He was fine, in the end. He had hypothermia and he needed a few stitches. He was very lucky, according to the doctors. But seeing him getting swept away was enough to make me hate storms from then on — she completed.
— Is that why you asked me not to leave this morning?
Charlie turned to face him, confused.
— I didn’t ask for…
— You did. I was going to go for a run at dawn and you asked me to stay, and said that it was dangerous. So, I stayed.
— Why?
— Because you needed me.
— I — Charlie started to say, but stopped herself. She hated to admit it, but she did need him. Fernando had been her safe haven the previous night, without even questioning her or teasing her about it. Heaving a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair — I appreciate you helping me, I really do. But you didn't have to give up your plans this morning on my account.
Fernando sat back down on the bed and put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.
— I didn't give up any plans. It’s fine.
— I imagine you have better things to do than stay here with me.
— I don't mind being here with you. In fact, I'm glad you feel comfortable with me — Fernando said, making her turn her face towards him. Charlie felt her heart race in her chest, her eyes suddenly drawn to his mouth. Maybe she should kiss him.
“No, Charlotte”, she scolded herself.
— I think I'll go brush my teeth and get dressed — Charlie finally managed to say.
— Sure — Fernando replied — Then, shall we get breakfast?
— Yeah, okay — she said, smiling a little.
The two of them went downstairs and had breakfast, mostly in silence, something Charlie appreciated, especially with the jumble of thoughts inside her head, However, towards the end of the meal, the hotel owner approached their table, looking delighted to have a Formula 1 driver there.
— Vorrei ricevere te e la tua ragazza in modo più adeguato, ma purtroppo la situazione non è delle migliori. Mi scuso per questo — the man said, smiling. Looking at Fernando, she got the impression that he was blushing.
— Nessun problema, la camera è ottima, così come tutto il servizio.
Once they got back to their room, Charlie reviewed the previous week’s sim data from Stoffel, and Fernando studied an old race. Then, he asked Charlie if she minded if he had a quick video call with Alberto. She couldn't help but watch him as he jabbered in Spanish with his friend, eyes twinkling as Alberto showed him something.
— Déjame mostrarle esto a ella, un segundo — Fernando said, showing her some drawings of some caps on his iPad — Charlie, look at this and tell me what you think.
She smiled, glancing at the screen.
— Those are nice.
— Which one do you like best?
Charlie looked at the iPad again. Both designs were nice, but there was something about the camouflage pattern that reminded her of photos at her grandparents’ house from Jamie’s RAF days.
— This one — she said, pointing to the orange camouflage model.
— Great, thank you very much — Fernando replied, sitting back down on the bed — A ella le gusta el camuflaje, sigamos con ese, ¿de acuerdo?
They were returning to the hotel after lunch when Fernando received a call from Mike, confirming that the race had been cancelled. It wasn’t a surprise, especially after Nyck De Vries had messaged the drivers' Whatsapp group and said he was trapped in a village near Faenza, unable to reach Imola.
However, if getting there was a problem, leaving there would be too, and Charlie found that out the hard way in the afternoon. She sent a message to Sophie, the team’s travel specialist, to ask about her return to the UK. She got a response hours later, while she was watching the first episode of LOST with Fernando — he’d insisted, telling her that it was “the best series in the world”.
— Great, just what I needed — she mumbled, setting her phone in her lap.
— What’s wrong? — Fernando asked.
— Sophie said that the flights leaving from Bologna are all booked and that the best option right now is if I go to Milan and catch a connection in Frankfurt.
— Sounds reasonable — the driver said. Charlie looked back at him. He was sitting against the headboard.
— Of course it seems reasonable to you, you have a car. I don’t.
— I can take you — he replied quietly.
— The flight isn’t until tomorrow.
— And?
— You'll be leaving later today, right?
— I can stay one more night, no problem.
Charlie stared at him.
— You can?
— Of course.
— But, why?
— Because I want to, Charlie — he replied, putting one arm behind his head as he flashed one of his teasing smiles.
— That’s not an answer.
Fernando kept looking at her, seeming thoughtful, until he let out a sigh.
— Look, I’m not going to leave you alone here. What if you have some sort of trouble, and without knowing a word of Italian...
— I know some Italian, Fernando.
— Knowing how to order a spaghetti alla carbonara and water isn't knowing how to speak Italian.
— But it's something.
He huffed, sitting up in bed.
— It's not enough, and that’s not the point.
— And what is the point, exactly?
— The point is, have you forgotten what happened last time?
She blinked.
— You mean… In Jerez?
— Yes. The worst almost happened there — Fernando stopped for a few seconds — And I would never be able to forgive myself if something bad happened to you.
They remained silent for a few seconds, their eyes fixed on each other, as if searching for the right words. Charlie tried to find the courage within herself to finally ask the question that had been tormenting her for months.
— Why do you care so much about me?
Running a hand through his hair, Fernando sighed.
— Because I like you, Charlie — he said.
— Do you? But, like, do you like me as a co-worker? As a friend? You know we're far from...
— I like you as the beautiful woman you are — he said, making her heart skip a beat — I like you as the smart, extraordinary woman you are. I just like you.
— But, I thought…
— I thought I had made it clear how I feel about you in Miami.
— What, when you said I was a thorn in your side?
— When I got my hands under your skirt and squeezed your ass while you were kissing me — he smiled — By the way, you should wear that skirt more often, your legs are beautiful.
Charlie couldn't believe what she was hearing.
— Are you flirting with me? — she asked, almost naively.
— Well, you could say that. Though I’d rather be doing other things with you — he said, moving closer to her — Much more interesting things.
— And why aren't you?
— Because you haven’t asked.
A tingle raced over her skin.
— And what do I have to say?
Fernando smirked as he took one of Charlie's hands in his, examining the skin carefully before looking into her eyes.
— Just say 'please, Fer’ — he said, placing a gentle kiss on her fingers — And I'll do anything you want.
Charlie's mind was short-circuiting. Her heart was pounding.
Before she realized what she was saying, the words had already left her mouth.
— If you're going to kiss me, do it properly.
— Which are the magic words?
Charlie smiled.
— Please, Fer.
— Much better, nena — Fernando murmured, leaning gently toward her, his lips soft and warm against hers.
In Miami, their kiss had been feverish and desperate, but this one was just the opposite. There was no rush, there was no anger, there was no desire to prove the other wrong, but it was not lacking in any passion. Charlie felt Fernando's fingers slide through her hair as he guided her moves, his tongue carefully tasting her, as if he wanted to etch what she tasted like into her memory. However, she didn't have to. She remembered exactly what he tasted like.
"Sweet, salty, sour", Charlie thought, as her hands slid down his chest to the hem of his shirt. Her unsubtle hint made Fernando move back a little, throwing the shirt to some corner of the room. Then it was his turn to do the same to her, leaving her only wearing her cotton bralette.
— Hermosa — he whispered breathlessly, his hands cupping her face as he brushed his lips over hers — Tan hermosa, nena. La más hermosa.
Charlie had no idea what Fernando was saying but it excited her. She didn't know what it was about his voice that made whatever he was saying sound delicious, sublime. She pulled his body against hers and kissed him hard, because she was sure there was no better answer than that, because it was impossible to put everything she was feeling into words
Desire, happiness, relief, excitement; everything mingling wonderfully just below her navel.
Fernando leaned over her, making Charlie lie down on the mattress. She closed her eyes, and his lips began to move down her skin, kissing and nibbling, as his hands worked to get rid of her pants and underwear. The feel of the cool air against her pussy, completely wet already, made her gasp.
— Are you okay? — Fernando whispered, making her open her eyes. He was just below her sternum, the stubble on his chin brushing softly against her skin. She felt those tingles again, not from cold, but from arousal.
— Yeah, just… It's cold.
He flashed a smile, his eyes darkening with desire.
— It's okay, I'll warm you up — Fernando replied, giving her a mischievous smile before kissing the spot just above her navel. Then, he continued his trek downward.
Charlie felt butterflies in her stomach as she felt Fernando's palms on her thighs, spreading her legs further so he could have access to her pussy. She lifted herself up on her elbows and saw him staring between her legs before he raised his eyes to look at her.
— You're soaking wet, nena — he said, softly — Is this all for me?
— Yes — Charlie murmured, as she felt his fingers brush lightly over her pussy, as if he wanted to become familiar with every spot, every fold. She bit down on her lower lip and felt her legs tensing.
— I haven't even started — Fernando whispered with a smile.
She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. If he hadn't even started and Charlie was already like that, she couldn't imagine what would become of her when Fernando actually started to touch her.
— What are you waiting for? — she asked, as she felt his thumb slide easily across her labia.
— Calm down — Fernando said — What an impatient little thing you are. I'll give you what you want, don't worry. But first, I want to play a little. Can I?
— Of course…
— Then… Let's play, nena. — he murmured, before plunging between her legs, attacking her clit with his tongue.
Charlie's head fell back, her elbows collapsing under the warm wave that coursed through her body. Her eyes closed and her body tensed, the air trapped in her lungs. Then, Fernando's tongue found a more sensitive spot and she gasped, loud enough for him to chuckle. The vibration had Charlie's fingers gripping the duvet beneath her in an attempt to keep still.
It didn't take much for her to feel like she was at her limit already, her eyes shut tightly as he licked and teased her vulva. Despite not remembering being that sensitive before, there was something about the way that Fernando stimulated her that made the sensations more potent, a certainty growing within her: he definitely knew how to use his tongue, exactly as she imagined when she noticed it peeking out of the corner of his mouth while he was focused on some activity.
— What a well-behaved girl you are — Fernando said quietly, as he used his thumb to draw circles over her clit. It was difficult, but she opened her eyes and found him with his mouth glistening with her lubrication, his eyes dark with desire — I expected a bigger challenge coming from you...
— Fernando — Charlie whispered, as he placed kisses on the inside of her thigh, his beard brushing the sensitive skin.
— Come on, nena, tell me what you want — he said, the words drawn out in his delicious accent — Tell me and I'll give it to you.
— I want you.
— But you have me — Fernando replied, bending down slightly and giving her pussy a lick. The sudden stimulus made her let out a groan, her nails digging into her palms — I'm here to do whatever you want. Just ask me.
It took Charlie's mind a few seconds to form a coherent sentence. She didn't really know what she wanted. She wanted everything and nothing, all at once. She wanted Fernando to make her scream, but also to just stay there with her, kissing her and looking at her with his beautiful eyes.
— Make me come — she said — Please, Fer.
He smiled.
— Good girl — Fernando said. He repositioned himself on the bed, his hands resting on her hips as a way to keep her still, he started moving his tongue against her clit relentlessly.
Charlie was sure she was going to melt. She held his wrists and arched her spine with each lick, feeling like a New Year's firecracker, rising higher and higher into the sky in anticipation of the impending explosion. It was delicious and maddening, all at once. But, if she was going to be mad, let the reason be that man whose head was between her legs.
Charlie opened her eyes slightly, finding Fernando staring at her, almost as if he was intoxicated by the sight of her, squirming in the pleasure that he was giving her, and that only he could give her. And it was in that split second that the sky inside her lit up, the explosion of pleasure causing Charlie to squeal loudly, much to Fernando's delight.
— That's it — he murmured, as he moved one of his fingers over her clit, trying to prolong her pleasure as long as possible as her muscles tensed uncontrollably — That's my girl…
If he said anything after that, Charlie didn't hear it. Her mind was completely taken over by the pleasure that made her toes curl and her spine arch. It was delicious, sublime, unlike anything she had ever experienced. She could only moan, loud enough for everyone in Imola to hear.
Then, the sensation began to slowly dissipate. She was trying to catch her breath when she felt something warm near her navel. Then between her breasts and then on her neck. Charlie only figured out what it was when she finally felt it on her lips.
Fernando.
He was kissing her gently, the taste of his own pleasure on her tongue, making it all that much more erotic. “How could I resist you?” Charlie wondered, as she threaded her fingers through Fernando’s hair, pulling him towards her.
— Are you okay? — Fernando asked softly, brushing his nose against hers.
— Yeah — she said, in a thin voice. He smiled at her.
— You're beautiful, you know that? — Fernando said, bringing one of his hands to her face, brushing a few strands of hair away. She giggled and pulled him closer to kiss her with a little more intensity, her nails scraping down the back of his neck. As she moved her hips beneath him, Fernando smiled against her mouth.
— You want more?
— Yes, Fer — she replied, nibbling on his lower lip.
— What do you want?
It was a silly question, especially when Charlie was writhing under his body, still very obviously aroused. Sliding her hands to Fernando's face, she ran her tongue over her lips, her thumb lightly touching the scar at the corner of his mouth.
— I want you to fuck me.
He smiled, one hand resting on her waist.
— I do too, Charlie. It's what I want most now — Fernando replied, but there was an unpleasant pause in his sentence.
— But?
— I need to see if I have a condom.
Charlie blinked. She was a bit surprised by his concern, but in a way, it made sense. The last thing Fernando probably wanted in life was children, especially with a career as dangerous as his, and he had to take precautions.
— No problem — she replied — I have some.
— You do? — he asked, raising an eyebrow.
— Yeah, in my bag.
— Why?
— To use, duh — Charlie said — I like to be prepared.
— Are you always prepared to have sex?
— Maybe, but they’re of no use when the guy on top of me would rather ask stupid questions than fuck me — she said, some irritation creeping into her voice. Fernando smiled mischievously.
— You really are an impatient little thing — he murmured, giving her a delicate peck on the lips — Wait here.
He got up and went to Charlie’s bag, finding the two red foil packets quickly. She sat up and peeled off the bralette she was still wearing, running a hand over the marks the fabric had made on her skin. A shift in the mattress made Charlie look over to Fernando as he sat back down, already naked, and started rolling the condom over his shaft. However, instead of focusing on what he was doing, her eyes were drawn to the tattoo between his shoulder blades. It was the first time she had seen it up close and she couldn’t resist the urge to lean over to get a better look.
— A samurai? — Charlie murmured, his finger tracing over one of the dark lines that formed the sword. Seeing his skin erupt with goosebumps at her touch made her smile.
— Yes — Fernando replied, as her finger slowly followed the line of the banner that went up his neck, kanji characters in red highlighted against the dark ink — It is a symbol of Bushido, a philosophy that I study, which is based on Japanese samurai and their code of conduct. To many people, it is very similar to Western chivalry, however, I believe it is closer to our concept of honor in battle.
— It's really pretty — she said, placing her hands on his shoulder and bringing her face closer to his — Even though you sound like a nerd talking about it.
Fernando turned his head in Charlie's direction, giving her a small smile.
— A nerd, huh?
— Yes, a nerd. The biggest nerd in the world.
Fernando placed a hand on her face, tenderly.
— We’ll see, nena — he said, before repositioning himself on the bed, with his back against the wooden headboard, one hand holding his cock, stroking himself to full erectness once more. The vision made a warm wave go over her skin — Come here.
Charlie smiled and crawled towards him. She threw one leg over Fernando’s body, leaning on his shoulders and positioning herself above his dick. A shiver ran through her body as she felt him brush the head of his cock lightly against her clit, teasing her. Meeting his eyes, anticipation coursed through her body in hot waves.
— Can I? — she asked quietly.
— Yes, nena.
She lowered her hips, feeling his cock enter her slowly. The sensation caused a long sigh to escape her lips, while Fernando let out a low growl, throwing his head against the headboard. Once she was fully seated, Charlie took a second to breathe and process the sensations coursing through her body as she stretched around him. The pressure and heat that filled her felt like so much all at once and, in a way, not enough.
It was electric. Sweet. Maddening.
— All good? — he asked, his voice strained.
Charlie nodded as Fernando's hands landed on her hips, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his eyes locked in hers, trying to concentrate on not getting lost in the sensation himself. Seeing him like that, enraptured by her body, by her touch, by her warmth, was delicious, and she wanted more.
Lifting her hips slightly, she felt the driver's thumbs press into her skin, a hiss escaping his lips. Charlie smiled, bringing her face closer to his.
— All this for me? — she asked, her voice teasing.
— Always for you, nena — Fernando replied, before kissing her slowly as he pulled her down again.
It wasn't long before she picked up the pace, going up and down his cock as moans filled the room. With her forehead close to his, she could see in his expression that Fernando was enjoying himself, his lips half-open as Charlie bounced on his dick. And that feeling of being the one pleasuring him was something amazing, powerful.
— You're so good to me, so good — Fernando murmured, his face against hers, his hands on her ass to try and control Charlie’s pace. With her hands in his hair, she allowed herself to be guided by him, feeling the bubble of pleasure rise below her navel. His movement was precise, making her clit rub against his pubic bone.
— My God — she moaned, as a warm wave spreaded through her body — Fuck, yes, just like that…
— So you like this? — he asked in a low tone, his lips brushing hers — You like to have my cock inside as I play with your clit?
— Mhm — Charlie nodded, as her nails scraped his scalp, as she could get him to get closer to her, even closer. As if they could become one in that bed, in that room, in that city. And there was nothing she wanted more than that.
And then, Fernando stopped.
A protest escaped Charlie's lips, her hips trying to move under his hands to no avail.
— Fer — she whimpered, her face close to his.
— Lay down on the bed, nena — the driver practically ordered, causing a shiver of excitement to run across her skin. Climbing off of him, Charlie didn't have time to feel uncomfortable with the emptiness without his dick inside her before he pulled her against his body, her back flush against his chest. With one of his arms wrapped around her torso, a sigh of pleasure escaped her lips when Fernando entered her again.
His pace was slow and provocative, his thrusts were long and accompanied by kisses and nibbles on the neck. Taking his hands to the arm that wrapped around her waist, Charlie felt like putty in Fernando's hands, completely at the mercy of his desire.
— Is that what you wanted? — he whispered against her skin — Was this what you were imagining when you saw me on the balcony that day?
A low gasp escaped her throat as she felt his fingers pinch her nipple lightly, her body tensing even more. He was going to drive her crazy, she was absolutely sure of that.
— You can't imagine how much I enjoyed seeing you there, watching me, devouring me with those beautiful eyes of yours — Fernando continued, each thrust eliciting a loud moan from Charlie's throat — Well, not just your eyes. I always thought you were beautiful, Charlotte. So beautiful…
— Fer — she moaned, throwing her head against his shoulder, her entire body begging for more of him.
— Your pussy is so soft, so warm, so wet, perfect for my cock — Fernando continued, while his hand squeezed her left breast — I wish you could see how well you take me. Next time, I'll fuck you in front of a mirror, so you'll understand what I mean.
Charlie groaned. She had completely forgotten every word in the English language other than ‘Fer’, because it was the only thing she wanted at that moment, in that bed. Him, only him, thrusting hard against her pussy as his hand massaged her breasts, pinching the nipples until they became rock hard.
And, when she thought that moment couldn't get any better, Charlie felt his fingers reach her clit. A whimper escaped her lips, the muscles in her legs tensing more and more.
— Are you going to come for me, nena? — he asked, not waiting for an answer to move his fingers even faster — Come for me then, show me how good I make you feel.
Resting her hands on his arm, Charlie continued to move her hips against his fingers, desperately chasing her release. And then, without warning, it arrived.
— Fuck!
The orgasm hit her like a sudden wave. As she gasped, her body arching forward involuntarily. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her vision had gone completely black as she shut her eyes tightly. There was only pleasure, pure and raw, capable of throwing a person out of space-time, into a state of complete ecstasy.
— ¡Coño, Charlotte! — Fernando grunted from behind her. Her reaching her orgasm must have pulled him along into his. She wanted to open her eyes and turn back in order to see him reach his own climax, releasing himself into the condom, and enjoying the expression of pleasure on his face, but Charlie was too spent.
She allowed her body to relax into his, nestling her head in the crook of Fernando's neck, trying to concentrate on her own breathing, which was all she heard until Fernando until the driver started mumbling things she didn’t understand in Spanish against her neck. She didn’t have the energy to ask what he was saying.
— Eres la mujer que me volverá loco, nena — he said softly, as he caressed her torso, holding her against his body — Y te dejaré hacer eso. Vuélveme loco, por favor. No te arrepentirás de esto, te lo prometo.
They spent about ten minutes, as far as Charlie could tell from the clock on the nightstand, in the same position, still enjoined, neither of them wanting to move. Charlie thought that there was something deeply intimate about having him going gradually softer inside of her. She’d never done this with any other men she’d been with. But to her surprise, it made her feel comfortable. Safe, even. It was a mystery to her why she’d resisted this for so long.
Fernando pressed one final, soft kiss to her temple before making a move to get up.
— Stay here — he said, taking his dick out of her and getting up. She squeezed her thighs together to try to get rid of the strange emptiness that she felt without Fernando's cock inside her. “This feels awful”, she concluded, shifting to look up at the bedroom ceiling.
The sound of running water and footsteps made her look toward the bathroom door, where Fernando was walking back to the bed. He’d put his underwear back on and had a washcloth in one hand. He sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on her knee.
— Can I clean you up?
Charlie blinked, not realizing what he was asking for a moment. Then, she smiled.
— Oh, yeah, yes, you can — she said, opening her legs slightly.
Fernando brushed the damp part of the cloth against her inner thighs, carefully cleaning the remnants of sex from her skin. When he brushed the fabric against her pussy, Charlie hissed.
— Sensitive? — he asked, pulling his hand away.
— Yeah, a little.
— Okay, I'll be careful — Fernando said, going back to his ministrations, the gentle touch in stark contrast to the way he touched her that had made Charlie come earlier.
He stood up again, leaving Charlie alone again, but returned holding her discarded panties, and a clean t-shirt.
— I thought you’d want to put something on… To wear to bed, you know.
Charlie stared at the clothes in his hand.
— Yes, thank you.
She took them and slipped the clothes on, only stopping when she realized that the t-shirt Fernando had given her was far too big for her. She looked down and saw a colorful logo for Kimoa, the clothing company he’d started.
Fernando smiled at her, clearly satisfied with himself.
— Did you give me one of your t-shirts?
— Yes. Is that a problem? — he asked as he grabbed a bottle of water.
— No, but I have some in my suitcase…
— But you look prettier wearing mine — Fernando replied, approaching the bed — Water?
She accepted the bottle and opened it, taking a sip as he sat back down on the bed.
— Thanks — Charlie said, handing the bottle back to him. He placed it on the bedside table and laid down on the pillow next to her, resting his hand on her back.
— Come here — he whispered.
— Why?
— Because I want to cuddle.
Charlie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
— Since when are you such a romantic?
— Since always.
— You never struck me as the romantic type.
— But, I am. And I want to show you.
She felt her heart pounding heavily inside her chest.
— Fernando…
— Come here, nena. Please.
Sliding down onto the duvet, Charlie lay down beside him, allowing him to envelop her body in a firm embrace as his lips placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Surrounded by the warmth that emanated from Fernando's body and feeling his fingers lightly caressing her skin, she fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
She woke up with something warm touching her face gently, almost carefully. When she opened her eyes, Charlie saw his eyes, the soft brown blending with the green, as if they were the very image of spring, full of life and hope. “Maybe this is why he looks so good in British racing green”, she thought.
— Good morning, Charlie — Fernando said softly.
— Good morning, Fer.
— Did you sleep well?
— Yeah, like a log — she replied, smiling — And you?
— Yeah, for a while. But I woke up at dawn with the rain and couldn't sleep anymore.
— Why?
— I was afraid the thunder would wake you up and scare you.
Charlie couldn't hide her surprise.
— I didn't think you cared about me that much.
Fernando placed his hand on her cheek.
— But, I do. More than you can imagine.
Placing her hand over his, Charlie couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach. The peace and security he made her feel was strange. It was a good kind of strange, though. She moved closer to him and let Fernando embrace her. They snuggled for a bit longer, the serenity of the moment interrupted when Charlie’s phone rang, Sophie’s name flashing across the screen. The woman gave her the details of her flight from Milan, and she hung up with a sigh.
— What’s wrong?
— Sophie said that I have to be in Milan two hours before the flight, but that I might encounter problems on the road and I should leave early.
— Do you want to leave soon? We can pack up, eat something, and leave.
— Is that what you want to do?
Fernando laughed.
— You're the one with a flight to catch, not me.
Charlie shook her head.
— Okay, we can do that.
The two got up, showered — together, at his insistence — and got dressed. After packing their bags, they had breakfast together and checked out. Charlie tried to thank the staff in Italian that Fernando deemed “terrible”. After putting their bags in the car, they left Imola on the E45 toward northern Italy.
The five-hour trip was peaceful and enjoyable. Charlie and Fernando talked about a lot of things, including how he had started racing when he was three after his father had adapted a kart for his sister Lorena, who was eight at the time, decided she didn’t want to use it.
— I still have the kart today — he said, — It's in Oviedo, in my museum.
— You have a museum?
— Yeah, I decided to open one after Flavio gave me my 2005 car as a gift for winning the championship. I tried to store it in my garage, but with everyone wanting to see it, I thought I'd better create somewhere to display everything related to my career. There’s even a kart track.
— Let me guess, you designed the track layout.
— I did — Fernando smiled, glancing at Charlie — I put all my favorite corners in it. By the way, I think you would like to drive there, since you like karting so much.
— I like karting, but I’m not that good of a driver. I’m not very quick.
— I can give you lessons if you like. I like to think that I know a thing or two about racing.
Charlie rolled her eyes, laughing.
— It would be an honor — she said, sarcastically.
They arrived at the airport just under two hours before her flight, which was impressive considering the traffic on the highway, the detours caused by the rain, and the rather long stop in Verona for lunch. As Charlie got out and got her bags, Fernando nervously ran a hand through his hair.
— I think this is my stop — Charlie said, putting great effort into trying to sound calm.
— Yeah, I guess so.
— Yeah…
— Do you need help with your things?
— No, I can get it — she replied, giving him a small smile.
— Oh. Okay, then.
Silence hung over them. Charlie didn’t know what to say. Did she say goodbye and leave without another word? Did she give him a hug and wish him a safe drive home?
“For God's sake, Charlotte, he made you come twice last night. Say something”, she thought.
— Well, I guess I'll see you soon. Monaco, right?
— Yes, Monaco — Fernando replied, looking intently into her eyes.
More silence.
— This is ridiculous, right? — she whispered, a little embarrassed.
— Well, it's different, it's not ridiculous — the driver replied, giving a little smile — You will never be ridiculous to me.
Charlie looked at him again, realizing how much things had changed between them. They definitely weren't enemies, let alone rivals. However, they had stopped being just co-workers a long time ago.
She could contemplate whatever they were on the flight home.
— Can I kiss you? — Fernando asked.
— You can — Charlie replied, smiling.
He brought his face close to hers, placing a hand on her cheek. Then their lips touched lightly, almost as if he was afraid of breaking her. A few seconds later, he pulled away, but stayed close enough so that their noses were still touching.
— Bye, nena. I’ll miss you.
— I’ll miss you too — Charlie said, before giving him another peck on the cheek and shutting the car door.
As she walked into the terminal, pulling her suitcase behind her, her heart felt light enough to carry her all the way back to Birmingham, no airplane required.
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In the summer of 2023, Gleb Aleksandrov, a self-proclaimed doctor from Russia with a history of charging patients for ineffective “treatments” such as singing folk songs to them, set up shop in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. But according to an investigation from the Kyrgyzstani news outlet Kloop, Aleksandrov’s clients are far from the only people his new venture could endanger: he also claims to be producing drones for the Russian military in a facility that shares an address with his health center. Meduza shares an English-language adaptation of the story.
The Dmitry Rayevsky Psychology and Health Center in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, has a rating of 4.3 out of five stars on the digital map service 2GIS. Most of the comments are good; one user says the center helped him overcome depression, for example, while another says it helped her get through a tough divorce.
But when the comments are bad, they’re really bad. “One person had a tumor, and his parents refused chemotherapy. Psychologists at this clinic worked with them, and the tumor actually grew. Another mother lost her child,” reads one. Another simply says: “My aunt died because of you.”
For anyone familiar with the past work of the health center’s founder, these reviews are unsurprising. “Dmitry Rayevsky,” whose real name is Gleb Aleksandrov, began his career in Russia, where he referred to himself as a “doctor-innovator,” a “political scientist,” a “patriot,” and an “oncology psychologist,” all while claiming noble ancestry. Charging up to 1.5 million rubles ($16,400) for his services, he “treated” autism and cancer with methods such as singing folk songs and placing his hands on people. And when his patients occasionally died in agony, he blamed their “evil auras.” According to the Russian newspaper Izvestia, Aleksandrov ran a “cult” in the Moscow region, “brainwashing” his followers into selling their own apartments and giving him the money.
Aleksandrov’s schemes were widely covered in the Russian press, with at least six TV segments devoted to them and multiple news stories published online. One woman from Yekaterinburg gave a detailed account of how the quack doctor had “sent her son to the next world.”
The reporting eventually led state investigators to get involved, and in early 2023, Aleksandrov’s “miracle clinic” in Moscow was shut down. In the fall, the authorities opened two felony cases against him. But by then, Aleksandrov was one step ahead: he had already opened a network of “clinics” in Kazakhstan, and he had big plans in Kyrgyzstan — ones that went beyond the medical field. In July 2023, he registered a business called the Valkyrie Construction Bureau at the same address as his Psychology and Health Center.
The doctor diversifies
In June 2023, a job vacancy for an electronics engineer appeared on the classified ad website Headhunter.kg. According to the listing, the new employee would be tasked with “organizing drone production in Bishkek.” The ad was posted by someone named Yevgeny Anatolyevich Boldyrev, whose profile on the site includes a link to the website Judging from financial records, both companies appear to have been just as hollow as his promises of curing cancer. This domain name belongs to a Moscow-based LLC called Valkyrie Construction Bureau, which, according to the site, manufactures “aircraft, including space vehicles, and related equipment.” The site also lists military drones available for purchase.
The Valkyrie Construction Bureau’s social media pages say the company makes combat drones for the Russian Armed Forces. Dmitry Rayevsky (that is, Gleb Aleksandrov) is listed as a co-founder, while Yevgeny Boldyrev is named as the head of the operation. Boldyrev’s email address, [email protected], suggests he has close ties to the phony doctor. Elsewhere on the Internet, he refers to himself as a “student” of “Rayevsky.”
It’s clear from open sources that the Valkyrie Construction Bureau registered in Bishkek is linked to the company registered under the same name in Moscow. This means that the drones Gleb Aleksandrov plans to build in Kyrgyzstan will likely be used to kill people in Ukraine.
“Unmanned aerial vehicles are widely used in tactical military operations for things like artillery targeting, reconnaissance, observation, and monitoring,” Rayevsky said in a 2022 interview about Valkyrie in the Russian news site Novye Izvestia.
“We’re making drones for close-range reconnaissance up to five kilometers that are invisible to the enemy’s radar and resistant to various weather conditions,” said Valkyrie’s chief engineer, Alexander Kozlachkov, in a 2022 article about the company. “We’re also working on cargo drones capable of carrying up to 10 kilograms and staying in the air for up to two hours. They’ll be able to traverse quite long distances to break through enemy bunkers.”
Of course, there’s also a chance the Valkyrie Construction Bureau’s drones will prove to be just as much of a sham as his cancer treatment methods. But that doesn’t mean the operation will be any less harmful to Kyrgyzstan.
An uncanny resemblance
After reviewing the drone models for sale on the Valkyrie website, journalists from Kloop concluded that the company is likely not producing drones at all, but instead purchasing and reselling foreign devices under the guise of manufacturing them.
Valkyrie’s V-Coptr Falcon, for example, looks extremely similar to one made by the U.S. company Zero Zero Robotics, which has offices in China and Taiwan.
The EVO II Dual 640T V3 offered by Valkyrie resembles one made by the Chinese company Autel Robotics, which has branches in the U.S., Germany, Italy, and Singapore.
The photo provided by Valkyrie of one of the reconnaissance drones it offers is actually a screenshot from a video of a radio-controlled aircraft made by the Chinese company Skywalker Technology Co., Ltd., though the product details listed on the Valkyrie site differ from those of the pictured device.
An employee at the Dmitry Rayevsky Psychology and Health Center told Kloop that the business’s workers came to Bishkek from Russia but that “Dmitry Rayevsky” himself rarely travels to Kyrgyzstan. The employee did not know anything about the drones that are supposedly being manufactured at the health center’s address.
A lifetime of lies
It’s no coincidence that Gleb Aleksandrov chose Kyrgyzstan for his purported drone company. According to websites run by his past victims, Aleksandrov was born in Frunze (the Soviet-era name for Bishkek). His family soon moved to the Russian city of Smolensk, where he first claimed to be descended from nobility and began using the pseudonym Rayevsky.
On Telegram, where he has nearly 100,000 followers, Aleksandrov is a vocal supporter of the war against Ukraine. His enthusiasm for Russia’s military aggression appears to date back at least to the annexation of Crimea, during which he founded an LLC called Development of Crimea and Sevastopol Industrial Construction Holding and another called Crimea Industrial Consortium Trading House. Judging from financial records, both companies appear to have been just as hollow as his promises of curing cancer.
But whether Aleksandrov is lying about Valkyrie manufacturing its own drones or not, the company could still have consequences for Kyrgyzstan: the E.U.’s 12th package of sanctions will reportedly carry tough penalties for third-country companies helping Russia circumvent them.
In August 2023, U.S. Senator Bob Menendez asked Kyrgyzstani President Sadyr Japarov to better regulate the flow of goods to Russia to prevent defense-related items, including drones, from entering the country. In response, Japarov said that the export of drones is against the law in Kyrgyzstan. The outlet Economist.kg, however, was unable to get an official response from the Economic Ministry about whether such a ban is really in place.
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NESTLED IN DREAD: THE ART OF HARRY MORRIS
It would appear that Harry Morris has the maximum contempt for reality. On the other hand, he has performed the service of distilling away its dross in order to picture its essence: pure dread. So this contempt also pays homage to its object, honoring it with scorn and raw exposures. No decorative comforts are allowed in his work, no natural light of day, no human reference points. No, no, no--the cry of a mind protesting its dreadful revelations and at the same time finding them well worth the revel. Dread: both reality and escape from it. Dread: both the sum of things fled from and the ticket out of town. Not to mention the ultimate destination. Next stop, the Haven of Dread.
It is not fear that inhabits such a series as Scenes from Lautreamont's Maldoror. Fear implies hope, and these images are as far from hope as they are from the morning newspaper and the evening news, as well as from all the daily agitations which fill the hours between. Neither is it shock or fright, horror or terror that forms the center of these scenes. Or rather, such states so permeate Harry Morris's collagework as to institute them as the norm, to expand these irruptions in reality until they come to fill every square inch of it. And thus reality's volatile moments are smoothed out into an even atmosphere of dread, a climate of all horror and no hope, a place where nothing bothers to move toward or away from doom and desolation. Everything already lives there, and there is nowhere else to turn. This is, above all, a stable universe; its scenes, in dread, are forever fixed.
Let us look at some of them.
One of them could be called "Bedside Scene." The "action" is all crammed into the corner of a room where leaden walls meet: one wall displays two four-paned, shutter-type windows; the other wall reflects eight ghostly segments of those panes, through which shine the lights entrusted to illuminate an eternal blackness. (Those two staring pinpricks in the night beyond the windows might, after all, be a pair of moons.) Below all this window business, of which more later, a pallid-faced thing with eyes like huge jeweled broaches lies bedridden. Another thing, with a tiny beaked head out of which grow great corkscrew horns, is nursing the thing in the bed, feeding it a serpentine fluid which gushes from a ruddy-textured bulb. A third thing, headless in the lower right foreground, motionlessly looks on. All three of these things were once good women of the Victorian epoch, this is meant to be known. But whatever identities they may have formerly possessed, whatever creditable activities they may have formerly been engaged in, they are now freaks in a mysterious world where they are compelled to carry out a mysterious ritual--automatons performing the rites of dread. Impossible to tell if this scene depicts a perennial situation of panic or one selected from an infinite series of emergencies. In either case, a reassuring constancy is supplied by dread, the dread which is forever. It is always there watching, like those cosmic dots peering in the windows.
Yes, the windows. Where they lead is one of the most engrossing questions of Harry Morris's work. They are not like the windows we know, which always give out onto scenes we know, or think we know. These windows give out onto different scenes. Sometimes there is the suggestion of the star-speckled hollows of space beyond the windows, the vast vacancy of infinity. Sometimes there is only a cluster of splotches or an infernal glare, cluttered cul-de-sac. Whatever the backdrop, open cosmos or blind alley, it is an uneventful and unpopulated emptiness. Nothing and no one resides there, except perhaps a few eyeless entities of a vaguely destructive bent and demonic mysteries as strange as a thunderstorm in outer space. So don't stray too many steps beyond the scene before you. As in a dream, what you see is about all there is to see. And like the windows of a dream, these windows lead, if anywhere, merely to another set of windows in another dream.
The next scene—think of it as the "Mummified Wonder"—appears to be about shadows and light and bandages. But possibly the first two phenomena are merely variant forms of the third. Shadows as a first-aid for dreadful illumination. Light as a fine white gauze hiding a great gaping wound that bleeds blackness. What gashes are hidden beneath this wounded one's wrappings? Such dread in her eyes. Or are they his? This is part of its wonder. But what good or evil would it do for this creature to be one or the other? In these scenes, all differentiations and categories of the waking world are defunct or irrelevant. You may be man, woman, or child across the street of sleep, but here--in the land of dread--you are just one more object among many. Is that you tapping on those windows back there? Welcome, sweet companion, dear old thing.
The last collage to be examined really begs to be given the simple title "Empty Rooms with Decapitated Head." Perhaps this is the same head that was stolen from one of the things in the "Bedside Scene." (Harry Morris's universe seems to have its own laws of conservation of materials.) But actually there are two heads, are there not? That is to say, a head within a head or a head behind a-mask; possibly the relationship is that between core and covering, or could it be some twisted evolution or decomposition going on here? Look at the apples at the base of its neck! Apples, or some kind of bulbous fruit. (Another link with the "Bedside Scene"?) Whatever they are, tempting they are not. At least not in the usual way.
Attention should be paid to the windows, once again, and then expanded to take in the whole cryptic architecture of this scene. More than walls seem to have been knocked out, more than rooms have been sunken and split-leveled. Is this place some hybrid between cathedral and condemned house? Despite the windows and doorways, these rooms offer no way in or out. Certainly not to the wide awake wanderer, that much is sure. But perhaps a sleepwalker could get up those stairs at the back, could climb into the disintegrating glare of dreams. And perhaps only an experienced somnambulist could step out that door at the left and actually end up somewhere. And the artist of these scenes is both.
Dream overlaps dream. Dread piles on dread.
Thanks to the art of Harry Morris, pure dread finally possesses a geography, a home deep in some interior landscape where we watch ourselves rave in scenes of contorted glory, where we watch ourselves sleep in the paradoxical peace of perdition, and where we watch ourselves watching ourselves with the infinite eyes of dread.
Thomas Ligotti
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Chapter 16: Aftermath
Two Days Later
An earthquake. They were calling it an earthquake. Ridiculous. But, the good news was that most people were packing up and leaving. It was for the best really. There were so many missing or dead already. If the Upside Down was really bleeding into Hawkins, then the less people on the battlefield, the better.
Lily watched as Steve pulled out of the driveway, and stared after him long after the car vanished from sight. She let the curtain fall back, and turned. The guest room was comfortable enough, but the last two days had been hell. Nightmares and fevers had plagued her, and that didn't even come close to the embarrassment and shame she felt for her open display of poorly placed passion. She still couldn't look Steve in the eye. Or bring herself to speak to him beyond a word or two. She crossed the hall into the bathroom, catching her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, drawn, her lips a thin, grim line. Dark circles stood out under her eyes like vivid bruises, her eyes sunken and lackluster. She looked like death, and didn't feel much better. She had overheard Steve talking with Robin last night about helping out at the high school. It had been set up as a kind of relief center. She didn't care that she was still technically a missing and wanted person or not. She had to help.
She searched through the closet of the guest room, finding nothing. Disappointed, she crossed the hall to Steve’s room. She rummaged around, ignoring the fact that she was in Steve’s room, letting out a small triumphant sound as she found a pair of faded black sweatpants. They hung off her several sizes too big, but at least the pants had a drawstring. In his closet, she found a hoodie, which also hung off her slight frame. Once dressed, she tucked her hair into a beanie cap, taking one last look in the mirror. She looked like a hobo, but she supposed it was different enough that she wouldn't be recognized right away. If anyone paid any attention to her at all. As she turned to leave, she spied Eddie’s jean vest hung in the closet. Grief and rage bubbled up in her chest in equal measure. Why did Steve still have it? If it belonged to anyone, it should be her. She reached for it, her fingers halting just centimeters from the rough fabric. Steve’s blood still stained it in places, and each patch mocked her with its familiarity. These were all the things Eddie loved, and would never enjoy again. She tore her gaze away, bolting from the room.
***
The high school was swarming with people when she arrived, droves upon droves flooding the doors and milling outside. She was already tired from the walk, covered in a light sheen of sweat despite the chill. She made her way inside, nearly overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in the building. It was a zoo. Cots had been lined up in neat rows, nearly one on top of the other and there were almost no vacancies. Tables laden with blankets, clothes, kids toys, and food were arranged around the perimeter, with several volunteers working them. She spied Steve sorting clothes, smiling softly to himself. She wondered briefly what he was thinking about. Maybe you… Her mind teased, taunting her with images of her romantic blunder, which caused her face to heat up. She shook her head, dispelling that mocking voice. She spied a huge bulletin board on the back wall, nearly overrun with missing persons posters. She felt drawn to it by a force she didn't comprehend. As she neared it, she froze.
"Mr. Munson? I'm Dustin Henderson, can we...talk?" Dustin approached Wayne as he replaced the graffitied missing persons poster of Eddie with a new one. Wayne paused, barely offering Dustin a glance. "I don't believe there is anything for us to talk about. My nephew is innocent, and he's still missing. I'll put up as many posters as I need to until he is found." Wayne's voice had an edge of determination and Lily had to suppress a sob. Dustin hesitated for a moment and Wayne brushed past him, heading right for Lily. His eyes looked right through as if she wasn’t even there. "Good day to you." He said to Dustin as he walked passed. "I was with him…I was with him when the earthquake hit." Dustin's words froze the older man in his tracks. "And…where is Eddie now?" Wayne asked, turning back to face the younger man. Dustin's face crumpled, his brown eyes glassy with tears. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Eddie's guitar pick necklace. "I'm sorry…" Dustin managed as he handed it over. Lily could see that Eddie's blood still stained the chain. Wayne seemed to age right before their eyes, crumpling in on himself as his shoulders shook, grief crashed over him. Lily understood his pain all too well.
Eddie's uncle sank onto an empty cot, gripping the chain tightly in his fist as silver tears streaked down his tanned and wrinkled face. Dustin followed, sitting on the edge of the cot. "I wish everyone had gotten to know him....really know him. Because they would have loved him." He said quietly. "They would have loved him. Even in the end, he never stopped being Eddie. Despite everything…" Dustin swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. "I never even saw him get mad." He paused again, as if searching his memory. "He could have run…could've saved himself. But he didn't. He fought. He fought and died to protect this town…this town that hated him. He isn't just innocent, Mr. Munson…he's…he's a hero…" Lily gathered her courage and cleared her throat.
"He was so much more than that." She said as she approached. Dustin’s attention snapped to her. "Lily, what are you?..." He asked, his eyes wide with shock. She silenced him with a look. She sank to her knees before Eddie's uncle, gently taking his withered hands in her own. "He was kind, courageous, and had a bigger heart than anyone gave him credit for. He was the man that I loved. And the people that really counted, the ones that really mattered, always knew he was innocent." Wayne turned her hand over in his, eyeing Eddie's ring. "This was one of his…" He managed quietly. Lily nodded. "He asked me to marry him the night before the earthquake. And I said yes. With your permission, I would like to bear his name for the rest of my life." Wayne stared at her, his eyes wide and full of tears. "I can think of no better way to honor him. But...are you sure? You are so young and to tie yourself…" Wayne broke off and she offered him a small smile. "I was prepared to bear his name as his wife. I will bear his name as his widow. For under the stars we were wed in all the ways that truly counted." She told him. Wayne leaned down and hugged her tightly. "He was lucky to have you. To have you both." He murmured.
"Excuse me, hello? Officer, I am looking for my daughter…" Lily froze. She knew that voice. She turned her head just enough to see her mother and stepfather cornering an officer of the Hawkins PD. She slowly pulled away from Wayne. "Dustin…it's my parents…" She could barely breathe as her heart leapt in her throat. Dustin's eyes widened as he followed her gaze. Wayne's eyes fell on them as well. "Go, we will hold them off." Eddie’s uncle seemed to understand without prompting that they couldn't know she was there. Dustin stood, his eyes steely as he approached them. Wayne stood, shoving Lily behind him. "Walk slowly into the crowd, and try not to draw attention to yourself." He murmured. She nodded, squeezing his hand. "Thank you." She whispered. He nodded. "Go."
"Please, her name is Liliana and we are so worried…" Her mother was saying as Dustin approached. "You’re Lily's mother?" He asked, his voice a low growl. She turned to face him, her stricken expression turning into one of confusion. "Where is she?" The man at her side said, mock concern edging every syllable. Dustin would have laughed but for the hatred blooming in his chest. “Somewhere you will never be able to hurt her again.” Dustin’s voice was a snarl, his eyes steely and ice cold. Mr. Ramsey leveled him with a stare that a few days ago would have had him quaking in his shoes, but after what they had seen and been through, it would take a lot more than an angry glare to intimidate him. “Hurt her? How dare you presume to…” Mr. Ramsey’s face lit up scarlet, rapidly bordering purple as his rage bubbled. Dustin ignored him and his eyes fell on Lily’s mother, who seemed to shrink a little behind her husband. “You heard me right. She is out of your reach now. Did you know that your loving husband used to beat her? Slap her, scream at her and abuse her whenever you weren’t around? Threaten her with even more pain if she went to you about it?” Mrs. Ramsey stared at him, her jaw hanging slack. Clearly, she hadn’t known. Mr. Ramsey bristled even more. “How dare you… who the hell are you?” He hissed, his fists curled at his sides. He seemed to be weighing the merits of decking a minor.
Dustin continued to ignore him. “She had the bruises and scars to prove it. One that was particularly bad across her back. Made by the buckle of his belt.” Dustin’s eyes finally landed on Mr. Ramsey. “Who the hell am I? That’s rich coming from you, Pastor. There is a special place in hell for those that delight in inflicting pain on others. Especially women who are not as prepared to defend themselves. Especially a daughter you were meant to protect. I was one of Lily’s friends. We were there for her when no one else was.” He sneered. His eyes fell again on Mrs. Ramsey. “You want to know where your daughter is? She’s dead. She died alongside the man she loved, sacrificing herself to help save a town that barely knew her, but had become her home. We offered a safe place where she could be herself, not some better homes and gardens version of her you tried to create. No wonder she ran away from home. You didn’t care enough to see what he was doing to her, didn’t care enough to listen when she tried to tell you. You and your false concern can go straight to hell. Straight. To. Hell. She is beyond your reach now.”
Mrs. Ramsey continued to stare at him, as if his words didn’t quite penetrate her thick skull. Wayne placed a gentle hand on Dustin’s shoulder as Mr. Ramsey leveled him with a glare that had the potential to curdle dairy. “And why should we believe some small town, godless freak? If you are withholding my daughter’s location from us…” Mr. Ramsey sneered, his threat hanging unspoken but heavy between them. It was Wayne that spoke before Dustin had the chance to. “Not that I care about your high and mighty opinion or disposition, but the boy is telling the truth. Lily was engaged to my nephew, and they perished together in the earthquake that has devastated our town. As you can see, we are all in mourning. I suggest you go back to where you came from and do the same. As the boy said, she is out of your abusive reach now.” Mr. Munson’s voice never rose, but held all the coldness of an arctic blast. He tightened his grip on Dustin’s shoulder. It was all the warning he needed to stay put, and stay quiet.
Mrs. Ramsey seemed to finally understand Dustin’s words and let out an agonized wail, burying her face in her husband’s chest. He cradled her close, but the gesture was only a front. His eyes never left Wayne’s face, and that stare promised an eternity of torture and pain. He led the prone woman away, who continued to cry and wail. At least her grief seemed real enough. Lily stood frozen, her back to them. She didn’t dare glance back in case her stepfather was still watching. She hadn’t known that Eddie had told Dustin about her scars. She thought back to all the times that the duo could have been alone and…she shook her head. Up on the roof of Eddie’s trailer in the Upside Down. That would have explained Dustin’s expression and the fact that they immediately stopped talking as she had approached. She felt a brief flash of anger, but understanding followed after it. That was a burden she shouldn’t have expected Eddie to keep to himself. Dustin cared for her as much as Eddie had, and it was better he knew instead of him finding out by accident later. Her heart felt heavy and sore with the loss of her mother, but in its wake came an incredible lightness. She was free. She sent a grateful glance skyward as if to say “See Eds, it’s over now.” She stepped away from Dustin and Wayne, moving into the crowd. She had almost reached the door when a hand curled around her bicep, yanking her to a stop. She gasped sharply, her heart hammering like a drum as she half-turned to see Steve’s furious dark eyes glaring back at her, spearing her to where she stood.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed. She swallowed hard, but felt herself relaxing, grateful it wasn’t her stepfather. “I’m not a child Steve. I will not be herded like one of your nuggets.” She matched his tone, lifting her chin in defiance. “You are certainly acting like a child. You know how dangerous it is right now.” He growled, tightening his grip on her arm. She fought a wince, leveling him with eyes sharp as amber glass. “I turned eighteen three days ago. I am an adult and can make my own choices. I wanted to help. So I came to help.” She fought to keep her voice level. Steve made a sound of frustration in his throat, pulling her with him as he stepped outside.
“Are you out of your mind?” He asked, keeping his voice low. He pulled her around the side of the building, out of sight. He all but pinned her against the wall. It didn’t escape his notice that under any other circumstances, this would have been a very seemingly intimate situation. She didn’t answer him right away, her eyes glazing over with tears. “Why do you still have his vest?” She asked bluntly, her voice quiet, almost a growl as she wrestled with her emotions. He hesitated, glancing away from her. “That isn’t the issue at hand.” He replied. She stared him down, amber blazing in her irises. “Why. Do. You. Still. Have. His. Vest?” She asked a second time, her tone daring him to refuse her again. He sighed heavily. “I…I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it.” He admitted. She swallowed hard, unable to hold her tears back. They streaked down her face, soaking the collar of her hoodie. He reached for her but she shrank away, out of his grasp. He sighed. “I thought maybe if I kept it…it would make things less painful…his absence less real.” He added, stepping towards her once more. And again, she shrank away from him. “Lily, please…” His voice was beseeching, his eyes begging her to let him comfort her. She refused to concede and he sighed.
“Alright, let me take you home.” He compromised. “I want to go see Max first.” She said, her eyes and voice like stone. He hesitated, but nodded. “Let me go get the others.” He backed away from her cautiously, as if he were afraid she would bolt. She didn’t and he returned a few moments later, Robin and Dustin in tow. “Lily?” Robin asked breathlessly as she approached. Lily nodded, unable to keep eye contact for long. “I wanted to help.” She offered simply in way of explanation. Robin’s gaze softened. “Oh honey…” She whispered, wrapping Lily in a hug. She sank into the taller girl’s arms, clinging to her like a lifeline. She could almost feel Steve’s hurt gaze drilling into her back, but she refused to look at him. “Let’s get out of here before her parents come out to their car.” Dustin advised, taking a wary glance around the parking lot.
The ride to the hospital was a silent one, with Lily leaning heavily against Robin’s shoulder. Not for the first time Lily felt as if she stood on the edge of a great precipice, and this time, there was no Eddie to pull her back. Steve stole worried glances at her in the rearview mirror, but she did her best to ignore him. Things were still awkward between them, and it was unlikely that that would ever change.
The hospital was larger than Lily anticipated for such a small town. Steve had barely parked the car before she was climbing out of it. “Hey, wait for us!” Steve called after her. She turned, shaking her head. “I want to go up alone.” She insisted. Steve looked like he was going to protest, but thought better of it and nodded. She disappeared into the double doors without another word.
The lobby she entered was brightly lit and brimming with people, families waiting for news, medical personnel moving to and fro like busy worker bees. She approached the reception desk, where an exhausted looking woman peered over half-moon glasses at her. “How may I help you?” The receptionist sounded exasperated and clearly stretched to her limits. Lily managed a small smile. “I’m here to see Maxine Mayfield. I’m a friend.” She replied. The woman’s fingers flew lightly over the keys, her gaze only landing momentarily on the screen before returning to Lily. “And your name?” She asked. Lily swallowed hesitating. “Rose. Rose Munson.” The name slid off her tongue with the ease of a serpent, much too quickly for Lily to recall it. It shocked her that she could speak Eddie’s surname without choking on it. The woman didn’t seem to notice or care that she bore the last name of the man everyone was convinced was behind all this. “Third floor, room 201. Turn left as you leave the elevator.” The receptionist instructed, handing Lily a visitor’s pass. She stuck it on quickly, breathing a quick sigh of relief as she turned away and headed for the elevator.
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#bpo jobs#youtube#bpo interview questions and answers#bpo interview tips for freshers#bpo services#bpo tutorials#ms excel#vlookup#serial number#ms excel tricks#call center vacancy#call calibration#call center jobs#pareto chart#call center#bpo interview#bpo trends#bpo
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It's been a while since Bonely had called Ru'un, long enough for the connection to be a little rusty. Yet the call came in good and clear, once the right thread of taken magic was found.
'Opportunity's knockin' Ru'un,' came Bonely's voice, his sly grin almost audible. 'Round up the boys outside the EDZ, we're movin' house.~'
The Taken Psion had been deep in the Ascendant Plane, exploring things to his own interests, but also his..employers.
Yes, he’d felt the changes, the reverberations of Eris Morn’s hive magic, and the tithes she had received. There was a vacancy. If they could take it, they would be more powerful then the banished God of War.
He’s quick, jumping left, right, and center, collecting the whole of his boss’ forces. Or at least, the ones that could be acquired; appearing with a flash of taken energy at the precise location that was indicated.
“We are here. We await you.”
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#egyptian#careers#hiring#full time jobs#online jobs#recruitment#fresher jobs#resume#vacancies#call center#jobs#jobseekers#jobsearch#jobopportunity
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I thought of the dancers too, but people assume it means he met himself in season two. Would make more sense and be more important to refer to than some dancers, but idk if there exists other twin emojis.
I still believe there will be a time skip. Sooner or later. I do remember the actress of Diego and Lila‘s daughter was leaked back then and there was also a vacancy they look for a 5-6 years old girl and not older. I can also imagine it would be still more distant between Allison and the rest of the family and it could be Diego’s and Lila’s daughters birthday they celebrate at the indoor playground center. It would make sense with the title of a new episode title. 5 years, 6 months or how exactly it was called..
But well, still half a year to go to find out 🥲
No Problem Mango, love to be your personal newscaster!
I think if they were referring to the doppelganger they might have used one of these emoji: 👬🧑🤝🧑 or even just this: 👴. The dancers are too reminiscent of the Carousel club for me to think it refers to the doppelganger.
Also, I'd say the dancers don't have to be important, more capture Five's 'vibe' in the season. He was wandering around the 60's drinking cognac, propositioning Autumn, crashing Reggie's party with nobody batting an eye. But having said that, 🪓 would equally capture Five's vibe so maybe that's not it
Yeah I still think a timeskip probably takes place. They didn't really pay attention to temporal accuracy with the other siblings' posters which I've seen now (Klaus's outfit is 🔥) . On instagram are the emoji different for each poster or are they the same?
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A member of the House of Representatives’ progressive "Squad" is calling out his own party and President Biden over how Democrats have handled the worsening migrant crisis.
Rep. Jamaal Bowman, D-N.Y., called on Biden to show "leadership" in comments to reporters. He pointed out that the margins for Democrats to claw back the House are slim and warned that handling the influx of undocumented people in New York would likely be critical issue in the 2024 races.
"We need leadership from President Biden, period. We need that leadership right here in New York State, because you know, New York State is struggling," Bowman said, according to a video captured by NY1. "We're struggling to provide housing and all the support that the migrants need."
Republicans currently hold a 222-212 majority in the House, and there is one vacancy.
"Here's the thing, Democrats are looking bad right now in New York State, and that's unacceptable when we have to win at least four congressional seats to take back the House," Bowman said. "So hopefully the president is listening."
Fox News Digital reached out to the White House for a response but did not immediately hear back.
Illegal crossings at the southern border are down overall from when Title 42 was lifted in May. However, more than 93,000 migrants have arrived in New York City since last spring, straining city resources to a critical point, Mayor Eric Adams’ office said last week.
People have been sleeping on Manhattan sidewalks as locations that have been turned into migrant processing centers, like the Roosevelt Hotel, have quickly reached capacity.
Dozens of New York Democrats have pleaded with Biden to declare an emergency and authorize more federal funds to help deal with the crisis.
"We need help, and it's not going to get any better. From this moment on, it's downhill. There is no more room," Adams said last week.
Late last month, more than 50 New York Democrats urged Biden to direct federal aid to the city.
"Our City is experiencing an unprecedented migrant influx, with a surge of asylum seekers arriving here in numbers never seen before in history," they wrote in a letter. "We take pride in New York being a beacon of hope for immigrants, but the influx of migrants is so great that the City is running out of resources."
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Jack Ohmann, Sacramento Bee
* * * *
We cannot live in fear. ::: April 6, 2023
Robert B. Hubbell
Before all votes were counted in Justice Janet Protasiewicz’s commanding win in Wisconsin, Democrats began to worry that the GOP supermajority in the legislature would impeach and remove the newly elected justice from office. The panic was created by the election of a Republican to the Wisconsin senate on Tuesday, a victory that gives the GOP enough votes to convict Justice Janet Protasiewicz in an impeachment trial.
The details of the threat are described by The Guardian, as follows:
[Dan Knodl] has said he would consider impeaching Protasiewicz, who is currently a circuit court judge in Milwaukee, if she remained on the bench there. He did not say whether he would consider impeaching Protasiewicz as a supreme court justice.
Should we take the threat seriously? Of course, we would be fools not to! Should we live in fear of that prospect? Absolutely not! In the immortal words of Brendan Sullivan, “We are not potted plants.” If the Wisconsin GOP decides to disenfranchise the one million plus citizens of Wisconsin who voted for Justice Janet Protasiewicz, those one million voters will have something to say about that development—and it will not be good for Republicans. Indeed, it would be electoral suicide for Wisconsin Republicans.
Justice Janet Protasiewicz’s election demonstrated that Republicans in Wisconsin are hemorrhaging support in major suburbs, a previous GOP stronghold. See this discussion by Steve Kornacki on MSNBC. Disenfranchising the voters in the suburbs of Madison and Milwaukee will do nothing to bolster GOP prospects in those former strongholds.
And then there is this: Imagine for a moment that the Wisconsin GOP decides to overturn the mandate of the people by removing Justice Janet Protasiewicz. Would those voters “go gently into that good night?” Or would they, for example, call for a general strike? Or walk out of state, county, and municipal offices to shut down the government? Or hold continuous massive demonstrations in front of the state Capitol? Or all the above?
(Hint to Wisconsin Republicans about your future if you remove Justice Janet Protasiewicz: Look at ongoing protests in Tennessee over the GOP legislature’s callous and underwhelming response to the mass shooting in Tallahassee last week.)
If Republicans in Wisconsin want to tell Democrats they have no voice in running the state in accordance with democratic rules, there is no reason for Democrats to support an institution that exists merely to oppress them. Do I think it will come to that? I don’t.
But it doesn’t matter what I believe about the likelihood that the threat will materialize. My point is that we cannot live in fear. We are not powerless, we are not potted plants, and Wisconsin Democrats are shifting the electoral landscape by championing reproductive liberty, protection from gun violence, and fair elections. That is a powerful combination of issues on which Democrats have the high ground—politically and morally.
We should resist every effort and all talk of impeaching Justice Janet Protasiewicz. But no one should live in fear of that development. Indeed, post-Dobbs, Democrats have been on a winning streak in which reproductive liberty has been front and center. See NYTimes, Wisconsin Rout Points to Democrats’ Enduring Post-Dobbs Strength.
But even if Republicans remove Justice Janet Protasiewicz, the Democratic Governor Tony Evers fills the vacancy by appointment. Article VII, Wisconsin Constitution - Ballotpedia (“The vacancy shall be filled by appointment by the governor, which shall continue until a successor is elected and qualified.”)
Details aside, if Republicans decide that we must have a political fight over whether elections matter in Wisconsin, then we must not shrink from that fight or live in fear. Indeed, if Republicans insist on forcing the issue, the sooner the better. They will lose; we will win.
And the same logic applies to the indictment of Donald Trump, where similar angst is driving public handwringing and second-guessing by commentators. Republican prosecutors in red-state counties across the nation are grumbling about indicting President Biden. Should we take the threat seriously? Of course! We would be fools not to. Should we live in fear of that happening? Absolutely not!
The lunatic conspiracy theories on which Biden might be indicted would be litigated through the US Supreme Court—which, as of this writing, still recognizes Article II of the Constitution. The theories being bandied about include a ludicrous allegation that Biden has “opened” the southern border when, in fact, he has (unfortunately) reimposed many of the Trump-era policies. See, e.g., Los Angeles Times, Biden's new immigration strategy expands on Trump border policy and continues Title 42.
What about “Hunter Biden’s laptop? Be my guest! Or claims that Biden runs an international pedophilia ring? GOP prosecutors couldn’t do more to drive persuadable Independents away from their fringe political leader, Donald Trump. Or a claim that private citizen Joe Biden was (allegedly) on a single conference call with his son in 2017 that discussed a Chinese energy investment? Last time I checked, “conducting business” is not a crime.
So, we cannot permit ourselves to be dissuaded from upholding the law because Republicans threaten to break the law. This point is made in a brilliant essay by Josh Marshall in his Editor’s Blog,
But let’s address the argument head on. Will all future presidents now face a gauntlet of post-presidential judicial scrutiny?
It’s worth remembering that Donald Trump is the first and only president in American history to attempt a coup d’etat to remain in office illegally and that was before any history of presidential prosecutions. The problem isn’t incentives. It’s Donald Trump.
It amounts to the same specious argument . . . “Don’t follow the law because we’ll break the law”.
We have no choice but to enforce the law; indeed, it is our duty if we want to maintain a civilized society governed by laws rather than brute force. So, can we please stop the collective handwringing about prosecuting Trump for something that every other American would be prosecuted for if they engaged in the same conduct? I, too, regret that the Manhattan indictment was first, but that is not Alvin Bragg’s fault.
After the rash of articles on Tuesday explaining how weak the case against Donald Trump is, supporters of the case made strong arguments that it is no different than other cases successfully prosecuted by Bragg. And on the key question of whether state or federal election crimes can be used to leverage misdemeanors into felonies, commentators with extensive experience in New York responded, “Of course, they can!” See Karen Friedman Agnifilo and Norman Eisen op-ed in NYTimes, We Finally Know the Case Against Trump, and It Is Strong.
With the release of the indictment and accompanying statement of facts, we can now say that there’s nothing novel or weak about this case. The charge of creating false financial records is constantly brought by Mr. Bragg and other New York D.A.s. In particular, the creation of phony documentation to cover up campaign finance violations has been repeatedly prosecuted in New York. That is exactly what Mr. Trump stands accused of.
So, depending on which legal commentator you cite, the case is “novel” and “weak,” or “routine” and “strong.” Here’s my advice: Let Alvin Bragg do what prosecutors do and stop worrying about bad faith attacks on the prosecution. Will Kevin McCarthy succeed in forcing Alvin Bragg to appear before a House committee? Maybe, but I doubt it. If he does, my money is on Alvin Bragg being able to handle himself.
But, as in Wisconsin, if House Republicans believe their path to victory in 2024 involves “defunding the FBI and DOJ” to rescue an indicted, twice-impeached, failed coup plotter who is raging against the trial judge, his family, and the prosecutor, Republicans have made the wrong bet. We should be confident in that assessment. After all, Trump lost in 2018, 2020, and 2022 using the same grievance-based script he repeated at Mar-a-Lago after his indictment.
So, let’s not obsess over the bad-faith, self-defeating tactics Republicans are using. If Republicans decide that we must have a political fight over whether former presidents are above the law, then we must not shrink from that fight or live in fear. Indeed, if Republicans insist on forcing the issue, the sooner the better. They will lose; we will win.
[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]
#Rule of Law#Robert B. Hubbell#Robert B. Hubbel Newsletter#Trump Indictment#Wisconsin#lawless Republicans#voter suppression#gerrymandering#minority rule
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