#Greer Stadium

[its-still-cuppi-cakes]

Split Apart by Chaos

Sweetheart's pov

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Author's note: Sweetheart is referring to Milo as their husband because of how long they have been together. TRIGGER WARNING!! In this fanfiction mentions death, is emotional, and an implied anxiety attack. If that's not your type of read, don't continue here.

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Milo Greer. That's the only thing on my mind. My husband. My mate. The man who has been in my life for over half a decade made me the happiest person in the world, could be dead.

I was in my office when I was told about it. My coworker, Detective Gomez, came in and asked if I heard from my husband. I looked at them, my brow sewn together. "No, why?" Silence replaced the air in the dark room. His face grew pale, making my stomach turn. ".. You didn't hear?" I stood up, looking at them with fear and worry. "Hear.. what, Gomez," I press. He looks at me, hurt in his eyes. "The E&E games.. shades.. hundreds of them.. came into the stadium through a ward.. the Shaw pack was working as security for them, weren't they..?" The color in my face dropped to my shoes. "..Fuck."

I grabbed my jacket and stormed out to my car. I didn't even clock out. And I dare for the department to tell me jack shit about walking out. I didn't care and I don't care now. All I care about is my family.

I speed to my old college, running red light after red light, flooring the gas. I pull up to the parking lot, and security from D.U.M.P. is standing at the door. Getting out of my car, I grab my badge and phone. Heels clicking onto the concrete, I head to the door. One of the guards stands there, moving his arm to stop me. Before he could, I held my badge to his face, not stop walking. "Detective Greer, reporting from D.U.M.P., move."

I shove the two men out of my way by my shoulders, leaving them confused and stunned. Milo's gonna have my ass for being rude to the department I work for. Didn't care. He can lecture me all he wants, as long as I know he's okay with me. By my side. Holding my hand. I want to see his shit-eating grin and his eyes. His smile. His wolf form. Anything.

I pull up a picture of him holding our cat, Aggro. I'll use it to show people it and ask if they've seen him around the building. The window in the background tells me it was early in the morning when I took the picture, and the bed he was lying on was messy and unmade. Aggro, in his arms, looked tired and groggy as Milo looked at the camera with a pearly white smile. I tear up at the sight. "Please be okay," I mumble.

I look around, trying to see any sign of my werewolf lover. Chaos is all I see. Families and friends looking around the building, similar to what I look like. A mother was being held by what I assumed to be her husband, holding her as she panics. "It's technical difficulties, Honey, he's alright, I promise." "I'm sorry? Technical issues?" I think to myself. "Why the hell is D.U.M.P. lying to the public about this? Are these people not in this building to help?"

Never mind that right now. I have to find Milo and the others. I feel my anxiety crushing my chest. "Excuse me, have you seen this man around here? His name's Milo Greer. ... Okay thank you. " Excuse me, I'm sorry but have you seen any shifters around here? I'm trying to find my husband. He has a t-shirt that says Shaw Security on it. Have you seen anyone wearing anything like that? ... Okay, sorry. Stay safe."

Panic weighs on me. "Fuck fuck fuck shit fuck," I mumble to myself as I pull up another picture of Asher, David, Milo, and Tank in a living room from the past Solstice vacation cabin. I frantically look around. "Milo, please."

"Milo, please, please, please, please don't be in there. Please don't be dead." Tears fall as I try to push that thought out of my head. The image of his body... "No. He's not dead. He's fought shades before. He's more experienced in them. He knows what they're capable of. But they're shades. They're unpredictable. And you can't fight them off unless they're solid enough."

I flashback to our first date. If you could even call it that. Milo and I were working together to catch a shade that was causing trouble at big events like this. Milo was fighting off two that were almost fully solid. Mine? Not so much. It was enough to get ahold of, but only at certain parts of the body. Any part of it above its shoulders and below its waist was physical. My gun was torn by then dead shade's teeth during the fight. My knife was all I had. I was about to cloak when it struck me in the stomach and crawled at my clothes, ripping the bottom half of my shirt.

Pinning me to the wall,, its claws sinking into my neck. I saw its eyes. Black like a shark's, nothing held in them but hunger. As I thought that death was a breath away, I heard a growl. A low, angry growl. I smirk at the shade as it snarls, drooling on its grey lip.

The brown and white werewolf tackled the shade, digging his teeth into the shade's neck as it screeched, death sub coming to it. Milo snarled as he threw the corpse out of his mouth. Milo walked to me as I lay on the grass and dirt, gasping for air. I look at him. He looked at me softly. He looked at me like he was asking if I was okay.

From that day on, he has been gentle with me. He's been there for me. My wolf. My protector. My mate.

I snap back from my thoughts to my phone on my lap, vibrating. I look at the notification, reading my mate's name on the top. "Sweetheart, there's something going on at the games, I'm okay but I'm going to try and find out info on what's going on and how I can help. I love you." Sent two hours ago. The interference with the ward must have slowed the text down.

Frantically dodging the people in the crowd as I slip by them. I look around, trying to find Milo in the sea of people crying and talking over one another. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and friends sit in the cafeteria of the school. Some calling, many legs bouncing, parents pacing. I look around the tables, hoping to see any familiar faces.

I stop in my tracks, seeing a familiar figure in the crowd. Brown hair, Brooklyn accent, black t-shirt with the name [GREER] across the shoulder blades. I stand there, crying in relief. My voice quakes.

"Milo!"

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The End!!

[annahxredaxted]

Music to my ears.

Sweetheart is a well known musician! Milo owns a big record label company! Put two and two together you find love. But it didn’t always start that way.

Pairing: Milo/Sweetheart

Type: music

Tw: cursing.

For the sake of my fingers I’m gonna use Doja cats music bc it seems like something that would seduce milo. So uhm creds to Doja ig.

———

“I understand I’ll be there tomorrow to record. Yeah, I get that, I’m sorry.” They excused their absence, to their manager and best friend— Harv.

Sweethearts cursed themselves out, missing another recording session, for absolutely no reason- well actually scratch that, they did have a reason, it just wasn't one they could use to get off doing their job.

“Yes I promise, I swear, okay. Yeah you too bye.” Sweetheart clicked the big red button, nearly slamming their phone on the counter in front of them- sighing.

Stress and worry flooded their mind, and they nearly broke down- but they persevered, I mean of course they always did. The night before they got dumped, by some guy they’d dated for a month or two. Not a biggie- but the things he’d said about them, and their characteristics and flaws hurt them deeply. Now they weren’t one to let shit get to them but damn, he just didn’t stop.

They were under a lot of toil with the deadline of their new album and all, and frankly they just wanted to rest- but a fact be a fact they are not a quitter.

sweetheart put all that behind them, they figured they should just cool off, calm down, and chill out for a minute- so they concluded they'd have a shower.

they made their way to their bathroom, going through the labyrinth of hallways in their house that their father had conveniently left them. they went into the master bedroom, placing their phone on their bed, all they wanted was a 15-minute break- nothing long, nothing extreme, just 15 minutes.

they turned the knob, stepping feet first into the shower, the hot water a brief relief for their aching muscles, sore from their workout they’d just finished.

Eventually their shower came to an end, they stepped out grabbing their towel and getting dressed, some clean sweats and a tee.

Of course they forgot the show tonight.

—

They stared at the “Where are you.” Text from their crew for a good 10 seconds before running to the garage.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” They repeated like a mantra in their head, they made every arrangement and every detail to the T but when it was actually time for the show they forget.

They grabbed a random outfit, throwing it in the back of their car, and driving off to the stadium.

Stress filled their mind, sweat made its way to their forehead, trickling slowly but surely down their brow.

the worries of still not being able to impress flooded their brain, and fear of not being good enough went with it. they were in a constant state of stress, and they felt as if they never had any sense of closure.

finally, after a long mental pounding, they arrived at the stadium, sweetheart let out a breath they weren't aware they'd had been holding. they hopped out of the car grabbing all their shit and sprinting to their dressing room.

could anything go wrong? yes.

their endeavor to the dressing room was cut short when they crash straight into someone, crashing into his shoulder face first. ow. they thought.

"What the fuck?" they said looking up at the guy- the extremely handsome guy....

"Oh, I am so sorry- here," he held his hand out to them as they laid still on the floor, processing what had happened.

"he has a nice voice.." they thought before mentally slapping themself.

they rejected the help, hopping to their feet quickly, running off.

"it's fine just be careful." those were the last words before they ran off.

Milo Greer was heavily intrigued.

---

screaming crowds were definitely no mystery to sweetheart. they had seen hundreds over the years, nor was writing their signature at the speed of light- or changing their phone number or going to some outrageous lengths to guarantee safety. But what was a mystery was that feeling they got when that saw Him.

They'd figured they were nauseous or something more believable. not love- that was something they hadn't experienced. maybe a few flings, a couple hookups. Never Love.

sweetheart genuinely didn't think they'd ever feel love. them? Have someone love them for well, being them. they assumed wishful thinking; love was a joke for them. sure, they wrote all these songs, but they weren't about something they'd experienced, they were something that would sell. sure, it was something they'd like to experience someday. but not today.

--

"I found it hard to find someone like you..." they sang, the words fell off their tongue and onto their lips so gracefully.

"I can't sleep no more,"

"In my head we belong"

"And I can't be without you...,"

"Why can't I find no one like you?"

Milo noticed it, the way they looked as if their earthly body was ascending and their soul took over, their eyes closed and serene, sweat beading up on their forehead. he deeply was mesmerized...

they finished the song, taking a quick breath and a sip of water as the congregation roared their name, screaming and clapping their asses off.

Milo placed his clipboard under his armpit and clapped as well, a smirk gracing his face.

--

"(sweetheart) you did amazing," Harv complimented, putting a little sing-songiness on the last word, laughing, ", per usual."

sweetheart smiled, "thank you I try." they admitted.

Harv had that look on his face when you remember something,

"Oh yeah! a recruiting agent was in the audience tonight. he owns a record label!" he exclaimed running out to go get him.

sweetheart sighed, of course, they had a screwup day when someone important was there.

oh. it was him. they thought.

Milo strode into the room; this guy radiated a proud gait and an ego. he was wearing all white- bold move. it accentuated his dark skin and made his stature heavenly, a gold chain drooped on his neck going down to his collar bone due to the top buttons of his white polo being undone, a piercing of the same precious metal on his lobe.

he was hot. not just attractive but extremely beautiful.

don't think that. they mentally screamed at themself.

"Hey there Sweetheart," he said grinning, arms crossed highlighting his biceps in the empty stadium's light.

they scowled. "Do I know you?" they asked, pushing past those persistent feelings.

he chuckled. "Not personally- but I could get to know you." he said, raising an eyebrow, "i came to make you an offer." he winked. he was coming off heavily flirtatious- but they had no complaints.

"I'm listening." they offered their statement back, crossing their arms in retaliation.

--------------------------

that's all I got right now, and also i deeply apologies for not having posted any Fics recently but i guarantee I'm working on them :))

Tag list:

@itsdaifuku @shellssstuff @verrverii @youisagayhooman @darlin-collins @mrsmiagreer

[slightlystupidhun]

Dahlia Dynamite’s

Summary: a Baseball AU brought about by @belsw06 !! The renown baseball team, Dahlia Dynamites, find themselves in one of the toughest seasons of their lives. The team is almost all completely new and fresh. Can they pull of the World Series title?

CW:Suggestive, Cursing

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

It was the bottom of the ninth, Dahlia Dynamites we’re up by one point, however, the SunnyVale Vamps had two people on base and their Star batter, Quinn, up to bat. They had two outs and Quinn had accumulated one strike already.

The air that night was cool, chilly, but the energy radiating from the crowd was enough to keep any human warm for a lifetime. The stadium lights were blinding and the announcers speakers were blaring. David Shaw, Dahlias pitcher, walked up to the batters mound. He rotated his shoulders and stretched out his neck. He placed himself firmly into the dirt and prepared to pitch.

Milo Greer, the catcher, prepared himself to receive any pitch David could throw to him. Asher, on first base, looked over to Cristian the short stop, both of them ready to receive. Arden prepared herself on third, and looked over to Miguel and Tank in the outfield.

Tank did quick small jumps from side to side, ready to run in any direction the ball may go. They crouched down as they watched David wind up for the pitch. He threw a fast ball, one that would be difficult for any batter to hit. The audience watched with bated breath as a loud hit could be heard. Quinn’s bat connected with the ball and it went soaring. Tank had a perfect view. This was it. The entire season, their entire career, lead up to this moment. They ran after the ball, their eyes tracking it. They might not make it. They saw the wall at the end of the field rapidly approaching, but they had to catch it. They reached their gloved hand into the air and jumped up. Lights shining into their eyes. This was it.

—————

*8 months earlier*

All of the players made their way out to the field. The team had been hand selected by a world renown coach William Solaire. He wanted to reinstate Dahlias team and take home a World Series championship. The team was close to perfect. They were hungry and young and fresh. He had some of the top players fresh from college all across California. The team had been practicing together for about two months now, but there was someone missing. Someone that their team manager, nicknamed Stealth, was about to bring in.

“Everyone gather around.” William clapped as he blew his whistle. The team all fell in, giving him their undivided attention. Just then Stealth walked over with the new player. “You all know that since Miguel got hurt, we’ve been missing a strong secure outfielder. This is why I’ve decided to bring in an exemplary player. Team, please Welcome Tanker.”

“Woah!!” A man spoke up from the crowd. He had a thick accent, and a cocky attitude. It was The shortstop, Cristian. “Aren’t they the one that was recruited to the SunnyVale Vamps? What are they doing here?”

“They, Cristian, are your new outfielder. They’re a hell of a player, and are going to be a great asset to the team.” William spoke up, fixing the hat on his head.

“Did they get kicked off their other team already?” Cristian spoke up. “I heard they had an affair with the star batter Quinn. What did they break up?”

“Cristian go run laps. Now.” William spoke up.

“No. We didn’t break up.” The new player spoke up for the first time. “I kicked his ass and he’s a sore loser. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like it if you’d mind your own business.”

The new outfielder shared a look with the pitcher, David Shaw. The pair had known each other from school, and they had been extremely close as kids, that was until one day Tank up and left with no word. “Alright let’s get back to practice.” Coach William sounded, breaking the tension between Tank and David.

Everyone headed off, getting in their positions for a scrimmage. The first batter up was Vincent. He was a stellar player and Williams first pick for his team, not to mention the new ones of William himself. David wound up preparing himself to launch a curveball at the batter. The ball sped up and dipped but Vincent was able to hit it just passed second base. Cristian picked up the ball and threw it over to Arden on first, Vincent arriving just before the ball.

Next in line to bat was Frederick. He was fresh and excited. He had the whole dewey eyes new guy thing going for him. David threw the ball right into Milo’s glove, Frederick earning one strike. After two more they had their first out. Next up was a batter from out of state that had been nicknamed ‘Lovely’. They stepped up, peering at David through their grey helmet. He threw the ball hard and swift, it dipped down towards the bass but lovely was able to swing just in time to hit it.

It soared and looked like it was heading over to a home run. Tank tracked the ball in the air, picking up speed and slowly putting their glove in the air. They noticed the border coming closer to them and saw the ball finally dipping down. The ball would hit the ground before they could catch it if they stayed at this level. Tank sped up and jumped against the wall and up into the air. The ball fell perfectly into their glove as they fell to the ground. They’d caught it. They jumped back up and threw the ball over to Cristian, giving him a sly grin. David scoffed and rolled his eyes.

————

*1 Month after that*

Tank had just gone through a rough practice. It wasn’t like they had played horribly. They hardly ever did that. It was just the team hadn’t been getting any better. They were still being put through the ringer, getting a shit ton of slack from everyone. It didn’t help that David, the only person they really knew, would hardly talk to them.

Currently, they were on their way to the med bay. They were tossing a ball back and forth with Milo. They were closest with him thus far, when someone threw a ball fast and hard. They reached out catching it with their ungloved hand. It wasn’t broken but it hurt like a bitch.

They pressed on through the tiled hallways finally reaching the room with the big Red Cross on the door. When they entered they came face to face with a rather handsome man. He had dirty blonde hair, glasses, and his face was littered with freckles.

“Hello there, how can I help you?” He spoke, a thick southern drawl to his voice, as he spun around on his chair to fully face them.

“I uh, my, uhm, my hand it, the ball, I caught it. Without a glove so my hand is just kinda sore. It’s not a big deal. William just wants you to clear it so I can…” they trailed off as he came closer and led them to the chair besides his desk.

“Can I touch?” He asked scanning their features.

“Yes.”

“Ok Thank you.” He looked over at them and gently held their wrist. He slowly extended their fingers, removing it from the previous fist position it was in. “I’m sorry I’m trying not to hurt you. I see some slight contusions forming, does it feel especially sore when I move your hand like this?” He spoke.

“Not any more sore than it was before. Am I ready to get out of here?”

“Not so fast I see a bit of swelling.” They rolled their eyes. “Am I on your bad side already?”

“No. I’m fine. Just gotta get back to practice…” they said sighing and leaning back.

“Well before you speed off, I’m gonna need an X-ray just to make sure that nothin is sprained or broken.” He said helping them up and moving them over to the x ray machine. After the scan came out he gave it a second to set.

“You know I’m fine. It’s not that bad.” They said with sarcastic tone.

“How long did ya wait before comin in?” He looked at them with a smirk.

“Ooh getting personal now are we?” They rolled their eyes.

“Just enough to let me know how reckless you are. Now how long did ya wait?” He asked a slight chuckle in his voice.

“…. About half an hour, or whenever William noticed I guess.” They shrugged.

“Well you’re fortunate you didn’t get any breaks then. Next time try not to wait so long before gettin help.” He said walking over and writing something down on a paper.

“Who said there’d be a next time.” They asked raising a brow.

“If you’ll wait this long after getting hurt this time, and your pain tolerance is this high. I’m gonna make an assumption that this ain’t your first time.” He paused. “And I’m gonna venture to say it ain’t gonna be your last.” He reached out handing them the paper. “Hand this to your coach. Im not letting you practice today. Oh and You shouldn’t drive home. Give your hand a rest if you don’t want it gettin worse. I’m gonna give You a brace to wear for about four days. Then come back and check with me. You should be good for the next practice as long as you wear this brace.” He looked up at them handing them the fabric. When they grabbed it he didn’t let go. “And I will be checkin in with your coach to make sure you followed the rules.” He smiled at them. They thought he had a handsome smile.

Tank nodded and began walking out but when they reached the door they stopped and turned to look at him, a defiant look in their eyes. “See ya Later, Cowboy.” They’d said mocking his accent, and they walked away.

David was in the box, practice had just finished and he was grabbing his bag when he got a phone call. He saw the contact name and answered immediately.

“Angel, how are you? How was work?” He asked his tone immediately softer than it had been before.

“I’m good Davey. And work was good. I mean the company has got me all tied up with new victim- I mean clients, but it’s good. And how was practice? Have you talked to Tank yet?” The happier voice rang out across the line.

“Practice was practice,” he sighed, “and no. I haven’t.”

“You should.” They advised and David could hear the frown in their tone.

“I will. I will. I just need the right time. Or the opportunity at all.” David paused as he saw Tank step out onto the field and chat with Coach William. They had caught a pretty hard throw and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried.

“Davey?” They said now sounding concern.

“Yeah I’m here. It’s just hard. I mean they used to be what was effectively my only sibling figure. I don’t know how to ‘talk’ about that.” He said obviously growing frustrated at his own cowardice.

“DAVID!” Coach William called out to him, Tank had a look of panic and frustration in their eyes. David sighed.

“Coach is calling me. I’ll talk to you later Angel.”

“Bye Bye Davey, Love you~” They sung out as he hung up. He quickly walked over to the pair.

“David, Tank here can’t drive themself home. They need to rest their hand.” William stated firmly, his gaze shooting over to tank then back to David. “Can you please drive them home?”

Tank shifted their weight awkwardly. They fiddled with the straps of their bag and kept their blazing gaze locked on the floor.

“Yeah. I’ll drive em.” He spoke, their gaze met his, apparently they expected him to say no.

“Thank you.” William spoke walking off the field.

The two walked to David’s vehicle in silence, throwing their stuff in the trunk. David opened the passenger door and shut it when they got in. He jumped in the drivers seat and quickly started the truck. They pulled away and began the drive, Tank put their address in his phone so that they didn’t have to tell him directions. David tapped his steering wheel. 20 minutes until his opportunity was gone and he reached Tanks house. He took a deep breath.

“Tank. I hate small talk. You know that. So I’m just gonna be upfront. What happened?” He glanced at Tank and saw their jaw tighten.

“Nothing.” They spoke plainly.

“Nothing? You just left because of nothing?” He pushed, testing the waters.

“Yes.”

“I’m not stupid.” He glared at them.

“Fine David. You wanna know what happened I’ll tell you. My parents decided to move, I thought I was part of their moving plans. It was sudden, one day they said, ‘we’re leaving.’ I asked if I could say goodbye first and they told me they were leaving now. I didn’t have time to think. I threw a few things in a bag and hopped in the car. When we got to some stupid mall in Washington they’d told me to get out that they needed to do something and they’d come back to pick me up. I went into the mall and they never came back. I waited and waited. And they never came. That’s when Quinn showed up. He helped me out and got me back on my feet. We were both street rats.” They paused to take a long deep breath tears prickling at their eyes. “I had my phone but no where to charge it. So I worked a lot of shitty jobs to get up and out so Quinn and I could go to college. He was about three years older than me, so he needed to go before I did. Then when we’d both made it and got to the college league, we worked out asses off. I! Worked. My. Ass. Off. Quinn and I got picked to the same team back in Sunnyvale, then I found him hooking up with some whore in our shared apartment. Needless to say, I quit the team, and William picked me up. I didn’t text you. Call you. Reach out to you, because I couldn’t.” They were practically yelling at this point, a few stray tears betraying how they truly felt.

“Tank… I… We…. I’m so… so sorry.” David said gritting his teeth. Five minutes before they reached Tanks house. “I should’ve done more. I shouldn’t have just assumed. And you just let me say all those shit things to you… just because I was hurt… I should never have taken that out on you. I’m truly. Truly sorry.”

Tank shrugged, sniffling a little bit. “It’s fine. I was pissed too. I guess I saw you as my sibling or something. I guess I just… I kinda projected on you. I mean, you had a nice family and great friends… I kinda hated you for that… I’m sorry too.”

“It’s not gonna be the same. But I’d like to be there for you. To be… to be friends again.” David looked at them as he pulled into the parking lot.

“I’m down to try.” They nodded and patted his shoulder as they jumped out of the truck and grabbed their bag from the trunk. They walked back over to the door and stuck their head through the open window. “Have fun with your partner. And congrats on the wedding.” They waved him off and smiled. He returned the favor and drove back home.

When David arrived home he felt better than he had in the past two months. He walked through the door, setting his bag down and hanging up his jacket and keys. He was quickly greeted by arms wrapping around his waist.

“Hey Davey.” They looked up at him and smiled.

“Hello Angel.” He grinned at them and kissed the top of their head.

“So you spoke to them?” They we’re always able to read him like a book. They ran their arms up and down his biceps.

“Yes. I did.”

“And?”

“And I think we’re gonna be ok.” He said softly, genuinely.

“I’m glad.” They grabbed his hand leading him to the kitchen. “Wanna eat?”

“You cooked?” He looked at them suspiciously.

“Yup!” They beamed up at him. “I made the pasta you taught me how to make!!”

“Thanks Angel. I appreciate it.” He hugged them.

“Anything for my catch of a Husband. So hot and caring, and strong.” They pulled away from him, allowing him the opportunity to make a plate. “My,” they looked at him with innocent eyes, but he could see the mischievous glint behind them. “What big arms you have.” They recited their own version of little red riding hood.

“All the better….” He stepped forward to them. “To make my plate with.” He smirked as their grin faltered and he made his plate.

[rinaforstars]

highlights from todays game except i was actually there:

- hathaway first goal🫶

- fastest team to 50 wins

- the entire stadium chanting “FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT” anytime greer even LOOKED at a redwings player

- comeback after 2 goals with 2 unanswered goals

- THAT ullmark save

- everyone cheering at larkins penalty, and then someone behind me yelling “FUCK YOU”

- groaning at that supposed-to-be goal and then seeing the ref wave it off and cheering

— thats why i said 2 unanswered

- screaming the lyrics to shipping up to boston & dirty water

- todd angilly

[rauthschild]

Space and Aliens 😠 😮 🚀🌌

Every time we disclose anything about this subject, people go bonkers; they say, "See, those people are crazy! They are talking about little green men...."

There is a reason that Orson Wells led off the public discussion with "War of the Worlds" --- a gigantic hoax.

As always, the Hoaxers want you to think that the Truth is the Hoax, and the Hoax is the truth.

Early on, we were contacted by Paul Hellyer, the ex-Canadian Defense Minister and member of the Queen's Privy Council about the issue of certain "secret treaties" being put in place between the U.S. Government and various extraterrestrial groups that commonly visit our planet.

https://youtube.com/shorts/KqvL1D4d4Zg?si=i6MXYHwp5SYw02E0

He was alarmed at the way the politicians were selling out the interests of the living people in favor of the corporations, and especially by treaties that agreed to give up a certain percentage of Earth's population as food sources for alien species in exchange for advanced technologies.

This was being discussed in the Privy Council over a dozen years ago. Straight up.

The details of these outrageous "treaties" were also being discussed, among them the G2P3O Naval Treaty which has been sold as a bastion protecting marine life, but which is actually (also) ensuring continuing private access to secret marine bases accessed from the High Seas by alien visitors acclimated to the marine environment.

A reasonable representation of these oceanic visitors can be seen in the Hollywood movie, The Shape of Water.

Hollywood and theatrics of various kinds have long been used to brainwash, indoctrinate, motivate, and provide non-verbal Notice to the people of Earth, because the aliens consider us too dumb and clumsy with language to entrust communications to mere words. We have to be shown. Literally.

This explains such extravaganzas as the London Olympics and Commonwealth Games pageants depicting such odd things as dead babies in coffins and nurses holding injection syringes pushing gurneys around the infield of stadium facilities during the London Olympics -- pressaging the phony Pandemic, and women dressed as slaves dragging a bronze bull around a Tower of Babel at the Commonwealth Games.

It also explains the enigmatic symbol-based messages self-evident in crop circles and other purportedly "unexplained" phenomena that do, of course, have explanations.

So if everyone wants to go hysterical right now and denounce us as crazy people, be well-advised that the members of the British Privy Council have been in communication with aliens since the 1600's and the Lords of the Admiralty deal with them daily.

At certain levels of "your" British Territorial Government, the fact that aliens not only exist, but communicate with us, have treaties with us, and are -- in effect, partners with us --- is common knowledge.

Paul Hellyer felt that the course these for-hire government corporations were taking was exceedingly dangerous and could lead to our entire planet being overtaken by alien civilizations that are otherwise prevented from preying upon us.

"Like vampires," Hellyer said, "they have to be invited in, but unfortunately, that is what your excuse for a government is doing."

So for once, in at least this connection, it may be the British Territorials running what's left of the U.S. part of the Federal Government at fault, and not the British Government itself.

Hellyer went to great lengths and made valiant efforts to warn us and to encourage the common people to stand for "decency and sense" because it was a foregone conclusion that the Corporate Maniacs that had gained control of the Military-Industrial Complex in the U.S. were out of control and lacked both attributes.

Another very credible witness and whistleblower is Doctor Greer, who has been sounding the alarm for decades.

He has testified before Congress, written books, done everything but stand on his head, naked, in public, trying to inform and get action from the people of this country, and this world, in their own defense.

We have appeared, repeatedly, before the Galactic Council and the Galactic Federation, to protest actions being undertaken by "federal" agencies pretending to represent us and to be our government in connection with diplomatic and treaty negotiations with alien governments.

Inevitably, these agencies are commercial entities engaged in impersonating our government for their own gain and the name of the game is technology exchange. These alien technologies are basically being smuggled onto the Earth and are being proliferated for profit of those making the deals at the expense of those they keep ignorant.

The tip-off is when an agency like DARPA claims to own patents and claims that they generated the patents, when they can't explain how their purported invention works.

It's also a good bet that anything labeled "National Security Interest" at the Patent Office is: (1) new inventions that could replace current monopolies; or (2) alien technology that has been purchased with human lives.

At a certain point -- the Zero Point -- the timelines generated by our Creator and our own creative impulse come together. What is true, ascends and lives; what is false, descends and dies.

This has been explained by Andromedans who are approximately two billion years older and that much more advanced than life on this planet. They are also the Galactic Peacekeepers and enforcers of Galactic Law --- so they are concerned by the proliferation of smuggled, advanced alien technology.

It is feared that we are not mature enough as a species to reliably and peacefully deploy this technology.

We are told that in about eight years, Mercury and Venus will both disappear from this solar system and reappear in a completely different quadrant of the Galaxy. A similar fate awaits the Earth, which was never part of this solar system in the first place, but was in fact transferred here in a fashion similar to what is scheduled to happen to Mercury and Venus.

These are things that the people of this planet deserve to know and to take part in.

They do not deserve to be misrepresented by a bunch of Spooks and Politicians and Heads of Industry who are selling our children like caviar merchants in exchange for technologies that they inevitably abuse for purposes of war and unjust enrichment.

We are not the only ones saying this. Paul Hellyer said it until the day he died. Linda Moulton-Howe and Dr. Steven Greer are both still saying it, and new generations of whistleblowers are coming forward, too.

The changes our planet is going through are not the result of anything that people have done. It's not any "human caused" damage or anything caused by a miniscule increase in atmospheric carbon dioxide. That's all just another excuse for unjust taxation.

No, the changes are part of the normal cycle for this planet and there is nothing we can do to alter or change anything about that.

The sooner people are brought up to speed, the better.

[lustigeseisball]

Calgary 2-5 Oilers

Evander Kane erzielte ein Tor und bereitete zwei weitere vor, um die Edmonton Oilers im Outdoor-NHL Heritage Classic zu einem 5:2-Sieg über Calgary zu führen. Die Oilers feierten ihren ersten Heimsieg der Saison und die Flames verlängerten ihre Niederlagenserie auf fünf Spiele, während Fans, größtenteils in nhl trikots, das Spiel gegen ihren alten Rivalen Alberta im Commonwealth Stadium von Edmonton verfolgten.

Brett Kulak und Zach Hyman erzielten in den ersten 10 Minuten Tore und brachten Edmonton mit 2:0 in Führung, bevor Nazem Kadri 5:05 vor Schluss im ersten Drittel ein Powerplay-Tor für die Flames erzielte. Doch nur 71 Sekunden später traf Evan Bouchard mit einem Assist von Connor McDavid, der mit einer Oberkörperverletzung aus zwei Spielen zurückkehrte, und die Oilers bauten ihren Vorsprung auf 3:1 aus. Calgary glich den Spielstand durch das Tor von AJ Greer mit 3:2 aus, 5:16 vor Schluss im zweiten Drittel. Aber Vincent Desharnais reagierte und brachte die Oilers mit 4:2 in Führung, 13:44 vor Ende der regulären Spielzeit, mit Kane im NHL trikot Edmonton Oilers, vorbei an Torhüter Jacob Markstrom in Calgary. Nach dem Wechsel zu einem zusätzlichen Angreifer fiel das Tor ins leere Tor Es sind noch 47 Sekunden im Spiel. Edmonton verlor in einer Verlängerung und verbesserte sich auf 2:5, während Calgary auf 2:6:1 zurückfiel.

[hockeyklubbkul]

Oilers vinner på NHL Heritage Classic

Evander Kane gjorde ett mål och assisterade två andra för att leda Edmonton Oilers till en 5-2-seger över Calgary i NHL Heritage Classic utomhus. Oilers noterade sin första hemmaseger för säsongen och Flames utökade sin förlustserie till fem matcher när fans, mestadels i Edmonton Oilers tröjor, såg matchen mot sina gamla rivaler, Alberta, på Edmontons Commonwealth Stadium matchen den.

Brett Kulak och Zach Hyman gjorde mål under de inledande 10 minuterna för att sätta Edmonton med 2-0 innan Nazem Kadri gjorde ett power-play-mål för Flames med 5:05 kvar av den första perioden. Men bara 71 sekunder senare gjorde Evan Bouchard mål med en assist från Connor McDavid, som återvände från två matcher med en överkroppsskada, och Oilers utökade sin ledning till 3-1. Calgary utjämnade till 3-2 efter AJ Greers mål med 5:16 kvar av den andra perioden. Men Vincent Desharnais svarade för Oilers att ta en 4-2 ledning med 13:44 kvar i regleringen, med Kane i en billiga NHL tröjor, förbi målvakten Jacob Markström i Calgary. Efter att ha bytt till en extra anfallare gjordes målet i ett tomt mål med 47 sekunder kvar av matchen. Edmonton förlorade i en övertidsmatch och förbättrade till 2-5, medan Calgary tappade till 2-6-1.

[ssjken]

thefilmcameinyet?

[forever-hoping-for-the-best]

Don't get so caught up with the small things that you forget to live

[forever-hoping-for-the-best]

You deserve better than what you are settling for right now

[forever-hoping-for-the-best]

Live a little

[linxylinx]

RIP Greer Stadium

[bagelbucket]

MILO GREER [the stadium erupts into cheers and chaos]

[ballparksaroundtheworld]

Greer Field at Turchin Stadium, New Orleans, Louisiana, USA

[willpowerbutch]

Willpower Butch and the Son of God

By the Reverend Willpower Butch

We found ourselves in a dour, tangled wood, having strode excellently to the north of the ruins of London. We were safeguarding ourselves from the Homosexual by burning his nail polish and thrusting our pelvises as we walked – I, by virtue of my untrammeled virility, and Timpani Gayparade because I was repeatedly kicking his ass – for this display of breedful lumber-hauling intimidates even the most unhyperbolic Gay into hours of aesthetic crying. My un-non-sodomized companion, Paragon Shag, halted us before a gully, grimacing as he did at its detestable and wet resemblance.

“Quite Anti-Rimbauded Stoics,” spake he into the gap in the David’s pants, “were you capable of womanly regard for your environment, I should caution you now to take protective hold of your erections. For I scent among the pungent mosses a grievous concoction of defensive sarcasm, elderflower, and fear of guns.”

“No!” shouted Top-a-mée Christopherhitchens tremulously at Shag’s injunction. “That odor could only announce one thing: an Anglophilia of Transgendereds!”

No sooner had the flaccid, strawberry-incensed brat danced this were we come upon by these self-same Transgendereds. They were crudely crayoning beards and boobs onto the yearbook photos of children while singing the “Internationale” in Esperanto. And they were, without exception, slathered in a gloopy, glittery sludge.

“Alas, they have fornicated with Boy George,” Shag supposed.

“Nay,” I overruled him, speaking the truth because I am a Man, “they are the undead. See how they rise from the ground like a Gay asshole thrashing up toward Papalism. See how they have returned from Tim Curry’s House to torment their enemies.”

For, in the center of that discoing mass, there stood the trifecta of swallowing come at somebody else’s orgy and then complaining about the taste: Graham “transplanted his ass onto his face” Linehan, Germaine “spectacularly missed the point of her own life’s work” Greer, and JK “spent the nineties roleplaying a little boy and is desperately trying to deflect” Rowling.

The trifecta hailed our entourage, noting that we were not party to the Transgenders’ Dostoevskian lower bureaucrat fetish. “Help us!” they cried.

Marzipan Dostoevsky, friend of Vladimir Purina and King Gay of Sierra del Fuego. His infamous bent nose is the result of giving too much head.

Forthwith, we left them and continued on our way, crossing the border into Scotland.

As we plowed further into the wilds, we encountered a strange portal carved into the rockface of a proud spire. Drawing closer, Michael Sheen exclaimed, “This is it! The secret cavern where Franc’n’o has kidnapped God. But how may we come inside?”

There was, indeed, no discernible way through, for the doorway was a mere carving on stone. Near the top, there was a message scrawled in Scotlandenisishlatin.

The David stepped forward, the arches of his hips and back as sturdy and graceful as a yew, and his mouth as red-pink, as inviting, as absolutely forbidden as yew berries, gyrating as he read the words to himself.

“Read homo in the face of Man, and enter,” he translated for us. Turning toward me, his expression was puzzled. “Homo in the face of Man?”

“Shag,” I said frowningly, “what do you make of this?”

“Perhaps it’s a riddle. Omo represents the eyes, the ridges of the brow, and the nose in the face of Man, for facial hair is too powerful to render in this Nancy language,” Shag considered. “What we do not know is the symbolism of the ‘h.’ What could that be?”

“A cowlick?” suggested Gayparade.

“One ear?” ventured Michael Sheen.

“The tongue, sticking out?” lilted the David.

“The tongue, sticking out,” I murmured, repeating him. “Why else would Franc’n’o construct such an opening? He means for us to enact something that no Man would ever do, for the genital of the Gay is magnetized to the tongue of the Straight Man.”

My companions were much astonished at this, but also greatly impressed that I had retained so many facts about the Gay from only one drunken viewing of their episode on the Discovery Channel.

Looking between them, I could perceive the fear in their rapid flacciding. “Nay!” I shouted, mustering all my strength, “MEN!” And thus, I kicked through the doorway, sending out a shockwave that turned every blushing, pristine flower for miles into beer-soaked charcoal, scented with entitlement. And we were through.

Treading into the dark, it was several minutes before we came upon a peculiar thing. At the end of the hall was a garish, stadium-lit roller-skating rink, but unlike any we may see in the world above, for this rink was tiled with a material smoother than any quality of marble or varnished wood: twinks. Our metal-toed boots clanged as we approached, and upon this clamor, the twinks rolled around, alarmed, and like cats puffing their tails, they sprang their stiffnesses at us.

“Gentlewomen!” exclaimed the vile Franc’n’o from his throne of unsexiness. “You think that I’m greeting you to your faces, but in fact, I’m admiring your thighs!”

It was in this moment I knew that Franc’n’o had succeeded in becoming a Gay at last. And I mourned, my lords. I mourned the children unborn because Ben Whishaw and his cohort have made western Europe into a writhing accumulation of sexually ambiguous style magazine cover-shoots. I mourned that the poppy fields of yesteryear are become the pansy fields of today. And most of all, I sprayed three-in-one shampoo/conditioner/bodywash into Franc’n’o’s eyes, for this confuses the radar of the Homosexual.

Notwithstanding this, Franc’n’o pounced. And, like a quietly imposing youth who always sits alone at the bar and vanquishes toxic masculinity by making engaged straight men curious about bottoming, his fierce countenance froze me to the spot. But just when all hope seemed lost, there emerged a shot a pearly white from behind him, disintegrating the villain into innumerable molecules of coming-of-age movie nosebleeds.

At first, I could not make out the source of this blast through the shimmering dust of a thousand twinks vanishing back into the realm of the fae. But as they dissipated in the air, I saw him directly. He was a titan of a Man, impossibly contoured, possessing flawless bronze skin and a statuesque comportment. He had hair that no beauty appliance had homosexed, and yet it was both as firm and as silken as victory garlands. He beckoned Shag and me to him, and when he spoke in his engorging baritone, it was a language otherworldly and supreme, far too masculine to pass the lips of any mortal man.

Gesturing to me, he boomed, “У него толко серп, но у меня большой молот.” And then, he turned toward a large set of doors, and we could only infer that he meant for us to follow. We passed into another long, dark hallway, which culminated in a yet larger portal which emitted an indescribable glow. “Зови меня капитаном подлодки, потому что я углубляюсь,” he spoke again and urged us inside.

We were blinded altogether, so bright was that interior. Droplets rose to Shag’s eyes and to my hardness. A voice still deeper, still richer, still more impossible accosted us. “Do not fear, my good Men,” it said. “This is my Son, whom mortals have met before. He returns to you rebranded as his true form, and his name is Panzer Dzheesaskrist.”

Dimly, I made out the irresistible figure who had addressed us. At once, all was clear. Such a vision met me, my indomitable brothers with extreme personal space, that I shall remember and love forever: it was God, the Manliest Man of all.

About the Author

The Reverend Admiral Willpower Butch, who recently topped the human race by releasing God from a pervert’s Scottish underground fetish athletic studio, is hard at work on his petition to remove fruit from public markets on the basis that it is gay propaganda. Paragon Shag, his brave correspondent and roommate, is coming out with a line of deconstructed cars to raise money for Brothers In The Comintern Have Enlarged Scrota, an anti-communist mission. Their secretary and Russian fairytale character who gets no dialogue, Dead Summer Days, is treading on thin f*cking ice with his decision to start wearing sweatpants.

[pxlvs]

SGI MASTERLIST: gameplay

Azalea Island

Foxglove Bay: Retreat by the sea (Ricci, YAM, YAF)

1 Banyan’s End: Navy Wave (WIP) 2 Banyan’s End: Tiny White (1.5br, 1ba) (DL) (Carroll, AM, TM)

Lupin Beach: Parrot’s Beach (Beach)

Snapdragon Run: Tulip Field (I’m not using this in my game anymore but in any case DL) Oak Point: Mount Sinai Ranch (Horse Ranch) (DL) Buttercup Orchard: Buttercup Orchard (DL) (Sullivan, YAM, YAF, CM, PF)

Elm Place: Église Saint Greer (Graveyard RH) By @simplyimaginarypeople

1 Hazel Road: The Dollhouse (2br, 1ba) (DL) (Sweetlove, EF)

2 Hazel Road: Centennial House (WIP) (DL)

1 Iris Avenue 2 Iris Avenue: Doctor’s Practice By @simplyimaginarypeople 3 Iris Avenue: Gilmore Public Library (Library)

4 Iris Avenue:

1 Jasmine Court: The Warehouse (Home) By @simplyimaginarypeople 2 Jasmine Court: Town Hall By @simplyimaginarypeople 3 Jasmine Court: Blue Townhouses By @simplyimaginarypeople (Cauldwell-Williams) 4 Jasmine Court: Maguro Sushi Restaurant & Bar By @pottery-sims

1 Azalea Park: Park & Festival Grounds By @simplyimaginarypeople

2 Azalea Park: Academy (School & Stadium) By @simplyimaginarypeople

1 Lilac Avenue: Firehouse By @simplyimaginarypeople 2 Lilac Avenue: The Noble Home/Old Glory (3br, 2.5 ba) (DL)

3 Lilac Avenue: Mayor Manor  (3br, 2.5 ba) (DL)

4 Lilac Avenue: The Artist’s Comfort (6br, 3.5 ba) (DL)

1 Cedar Terrace: Old Warehouse Gym By @simplyimaginarypeople

2 Cedar Terrace: Hospital/Military (DL)

1 Honeysuckle Row: Merry Residency (3br, 2.5ba) (DL)

2 Honeysuckle Row: Senior House (DL)

3 Honeysuckle Row: Ares’s Townhouse By @simplyimaginarypeople

1 Plum Drive: Plum Park 2 Plum Drive: 3 Plum Drive:  

1 Snowdrop Passage: Oliphant Cafe and Studio (DL) 2 Snowdrop Passage: London House Pub (DL) 3 Snowdrop Passage:

1 Peony Street:   2 Peony Street: 3 Peony Street: The Oak House (DL)

4 Peony Street: The Little Flower Shop (?)

6 Peony Street:  

1 Magnolia Parade: Minty House (DL)

2 Magnolia Parade: Peachy Delight (DL) (Wright, YAF, EF)

3 Magnolia Parade: Sunkissed Hideout (3br, 2.5 ba) (DL)

IIex Lighthouse: Saint Greer Nautical Museum (DL)

IIex Bay: Forgotten Shore (DL)

Chestnut Bay: The Old Fishing Boat

Violet Island

2 The Wharf: Art Studio By @asexualsims 1 Rose Garden: Community College/University By @simplyimaginarypeople

1 Sunflower Garden: Lirael’s Trailer By @simplyimaginarypeople (Image Here) 2 Sunflower Garden: 3 Sunflower Garden:  Starter Dutch 2 (1br, 1ba) (DL) (Odell, YAF, CF, CF)

4 Sunflower Garden: Starter Dutch 1 (1br, 1ba) (DL)

5 Sunflower Garden: 6 Sunflower Garden: Community Garden (DL)

1 Willow Stroll: Fresh Start (2br, 2.5ba) (I need to find the unfirnished version) (Angels, YAM)

2 Willow Stroll: Willow Apartments (DL) (YAM) 3 Willow Stroll: Three Townhouses (I may change this one bc doesn’t look right but in any case DL)

Bluebell Park: Bluebell Park (Big Park) (I used this deco ferris wheel) (DL)

Willow Park: Willow Park (Big Park) (DL)

1 Clover Creek:  Luka & Zoe’s House By @simplyimaginarypeople (Image Here) 2 Clover Creek: 3 Clover Creek: 4 Clover Creek:

1 Sweetgum Mews: 2 Sweetgum Mews: The Plum (2br, 1ba) (Shibuya, YAF, TF)

3 Sweetgum Mews: Saida and Karsen’s House By @simplyimaginarypeople 4 Sweetgum Mews: Reese Cottage  By @simplyimaginarypeople

1 Lavender Promenade: 2 Lavender Promenade: Big Tree Park (a children’s park) (DL)

3 Lavender Promenade: Grey Stone Home (DL)

4 Lavender Promenade: Yellow Promenade By @simplyimaginarypeople

1 Violet Square: Supermarket (Grocery RH) (DL)

2 Violet Square: Violet Gallery (DL) 3 Violet Square: Caffè Murano (1br, 1ba) (this is a residential home but I use this mod to run a cafe) (DL) (Angels, YAF)

4 Violet Square: Queen’s Gallery (WIP) 5 Violet Square: Moonlight Cine (Movie theater/bar)

6 Violet Square: Midori Asian Cuisine (DL) 7 Violet Square: Sweetlove Cafe and Bakery (Cafe)

1 Tulip Place: Affordable Family House (4br, 2.5ba) (DL) (Cauldwell, AF, AM, YAF)

2 Tulip Place: 3 Tulip Place: Nostalgic Sunny Home (3br, 1ba) (DL) (yes you have seen this on an anime)

Poppy Field: Victorian Charm (DL) (Blackmore EM AM AF TF PM)

1 Juniper Cove: Modern House (2br, 2.5ba) (Rossdale, YAM, YAF)

2 Juniper Cove: Water Lily (DL)

3 Juniper Cove:

Lily Island

1 Phlox Bay: Bay Shack (1br, 1ba) (Mills, YAF)

2 Phlox Bay: Blake Ceramic Factory (Science rabbithole) (DL)

Dandelion’s end: The Refuge (DL) (Jansen AM, AF, TM, TF)

1 Foxtrail Trail: 2 Foxtrail Trail: A-Frame Cotage (1br, 1ba)

3 Foxtrail Trail: Lover’s Nest (DL)

1 Lily Grove: Resplandent Cottage (WIP) 2 Lily Grove: Family Manor (DL)

3 Lily Grove: The Lake House  By @simplyimaginarypeople 4 Lily Grove: