#my issue is and always has been that the land was stolen and not freely shared. the children were kidnapped not adopted. etc etc

[wolfisland]

i think whats so disconcerting to me as well is that people act like decolonization and the land back movement and such means a drastic decrease in quality of life for those who benefit from colonization and its like. okay so if youre scared of that imagine how the people whove actually been living it have felt. like fucking ideally no one would be subjugated.

[firstelevens]

fanfic writer asks

tagged by @bisamwilson; here are some answers to some questions

How many works do you have on AO3?

17!

What’s your total AO3 word count?

106,109 words! A number that is absolutely bonkers to me, tbh.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3 specifically, seven fandoms: The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Kissing in the Rain, Green Gables Fables, Spider-Man: Homecoming, Rogue One, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Cloak and Dagger.

(RIP to that one Teen Wolf fic I posted in college and deleted last year.)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

i never planned on no one like you (1569 kudos)

love at first sight's for suckers (at least it used to be) (1189 kudos)

hello, welcome home (868 kudos)

nothing in the world so well as you (451 kudos)

something good and right and real (353 kudos)

The first four are all Spider-Man: Homecoming; the last is the Anne/Gilbert fake dating AU I wrote for Green Gables Fables a million years ago.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Listen. I am fundamentally a wimp, so I tend to avoid writing angst because it scares me and I always feel like it’ll turn into melodrama. Having said that, the first chapter in the nothing in the world so well as you collection might win this title on a technicality because I unwittingly predicted one of the sadder moments in No Way Home.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I am always all about the happy/hopeful endings, frankly, but if I had to choose between them, I think I’d go for parks and rebellion. It’s not overtly romantic or anything, but I just feel like it holds so much hope and promise for the future, and I am always emotional about people finding themselves a home and allowing themselves to be still.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Sort of? I’ve been referring to by land, by sea, by dirigible as “the C&D crossover” the entire time I’ve been planning/writing it, but since Cloak and Dagger and TFATWS are both within the MCU, I’m not sure whether that counts?

I did, however, back in the day, write @compactpersian some birthday fics that crossed over Warehouse 13 with Doctor Who, Veronica Mars, and Elementary (although not all at the same time.) They’re buried somewhere on this blog tho and definitely not on AO3 so good luck finding them.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope, but that’s less because I have anything against it and more because writing that stuff well is very very difficult and not a skill I have.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! I’m always so heartwarmed when someone takes a beat to leave a comment on something I wrote and I want people to know that I appreciate it. I try my best to get to them all, but sometimes on older fics, they sort of fall by the wayside and I do feel a little bad about that.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Back when I wrote Peter/MJ fic, I would sometimes get annoying comments from people who were clearly just looking for an excuse to shit on Michelle as a character, but those were pretty promptly deleted and it wasn’t really an issue.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Thankfully, no!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but if anyone wants to, they’re welcome to get in touch!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I don’t co-write, necessarily, but I have a select few trusted friends with whom I can freely riff on fic concepts or AUs and their input is always invaluable. (Technically, nothing in the world so well as you is co-written, but in that case, my friend and I traded off writing one-shots, so that hardly counts.)

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Obligatory shoutout to Sam/Bucky for spurring me to write fic after a nearly four year hiatus and to Anne Shirley/Gilbert Blythe for being effervescent in every universe, but I think the answer has to be Jyn/Cassian. It’s part of the bedrock upon which I bonded with my best friend, so I can’t imagine anything taking its place anytime soon.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

The modern Musketeers AU that features Porthos and Elodie in a marriage of convenience! It is very dear to me but there are so many moving parts that I think it’ll only ever live in my heart and messages with my friends.

What are your writing strengths?

My go-to answer is that I’m good at making the world of a story feel lived-in, but I’ve also been told that I have a knack for throwing in little details in body language or other bits of narration that open out the characters more or reveal something about their dynamics, and if I manage that one consistently, I’ll be a happy girl.

What are your writing weaknesses?

One day, my final sentences will be something other than just the place where the writing stops, but it is not this day.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It’s tricksy and I really admire authors who can do it naturally. I’m always wary of throwing in languages I don’t speak, because of how sketchy Google translate can be, and the ones that I speak aside from English just haven’t come up organically in any fics I’ve written.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I posted a Chuck fic on FFN in the wake of the series finale, but I’m sure I’d dabbled-but-never-posted in fics for different fandoms before that.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

At the moment, it’s by land, by sea, by dirigible, both because it’s a WIP that I’m actually on track to finish after years of fic based commitment issues and because, thanks to it slowly simmering over the course of a whole year, I have accidentally put my whole entire soul into it and I hope it shows.

tagging @birdhapley @philtstone @abnerskrill  and @ankahikoibaat if they’re so inclined

[mendesbadrepuation]

The Way You Comfort Me // Peter Parker🕷

Peter Parker x female reader

Description: Recently your best friends have grown apart from you and you have been really upset over the situation. Lucky for you Peter is there to comfort you.

Warnings: it’s a little sad in the beginning but the ending is overly fluffy and handsomely cute! Not even slightly proofread lolol 

••••••••

“Hey! How come you look all down in the dumps today?” Peter breaks you from your thoughts as his hand waves in front of your face. You snap your eyes in his direction and you knew you could see the way he was concerned for you. You also knew he could see the way your eyes glossed over with tears.

“It’s not really important. We should get back to studying.” You reply quickly and avert your eyes back to the book on the table. You absentmindedly tapped the pen in your hand against the notebook you were using to take notes.

“No. It’s important to me. I don’t like to see you upset like this.” Peter reaches his hand out to gently stop the tapping of your pen. When you look up into his eyes they were soft and gentle. Just like everything about him. He was the purest soul to you and you got lucky he stumbled across your path. Even luckier he became your best friend and lover.

You and Peter were friends before. In high school you two were study partners a lot. You two really worked well together. One night you and Ned barged into his room on a rant about an assignment and you saw him in his Spider-Man suit. It was completely an accident and ever since then you knew about his secret. And ever since that day you have kept that special secret. You earned his trust very fast. Which led you to a relationship you never saw come but every day you are thankful for.

“Rachel and Addy didn’t invite me to go with them on the annual beach trip. They haven’t invited me to anything in the last couple of months. I think our friendship is ancient history.” You explain to him with a frown very evident on your face.

Rachel and Addy have been your best friends since middle school. You’ve known Addy since kindergarten even. You went through many stages of life with those girls and it was something that a lot of friendships went through. You grow up, you meet new people, you simply fade away. In your mind though, you thought it wouldn’t happen with those two. You cared for them dearly and that friendship. After several attempts of asking to hang out with them and they both decline every time you gave up.

At first you just let it go and thought it would fizzle out. You’d be back to normal within the next week. A week turned into a month. You were so busy with school that it never hit you until here recently. You were making your last stitch effort. Once you realized they were going on the beach trip without you, that’s how you knew it was over.

Peter looks at you sadly. “I know how much they mean to you. Maybe this was a sign and you never know. You all could pick right back up like nothing ever happened.” He tries to help with the situation.

“I don’t know Pete. I think we may be growing apart.” The words get choked up in your throat. It was hard to think and now even harder to say out loud.

He frowns at your response. “I think we’ve had enough studying for today. Let’s go back to my place and cuddle.” His hand lands on your thigh under the table in a comforting way. You look up into his eyes slowly nodding in agreement.

“I don’t want to worry May though.” You say.

He shakes his head. “Not to worry. Her and Happy are on an overnight trip. It will be just us.”

You lightly scoff. “Happy and May are getting closer.”

“Yeah! Yeah! Don’t remind me!” Peter shuts his eyes shaking his head in denial. “I don’t like to think about it.”

You two pack up your things and walk out of the university library holding hands. As you walked through campus you tried not to think about the issue playing repeat in your head. Every time you thought about losing your best friends you felt that ache in your heart. Losing friends is hard and it’s a different kind of loss you are never prepared for.

“The leaves are starting to change. It’s so pretty.” You say and your eyes wonder around the trees on campus. You wanted to think about other things.

“Pretty like you.” Peter cheekily replies. You instantly blush and playfully roll your eyes.

“Thank you.” You reply. Peter was smirking at you from your reaction. He loved seeing you blush from something he does or says to you. Just let’s him know he has that affect on you.

The walk to the subway was mostly just you two talking about anything but your situation. He knew that you would fully talk about it when you were ready. The rest of the way to his apartment Peter done his best to cheer you up. He would tell you corny jokes or do playful little things to keep a smile on your face. He was simply your person. Only he knew how to make you feel better in times like this.

Shortly after arriving to his place you got into his clothes. A pair of his sweats and his hoodie. Immediately you were feeling more comforted being wrapped up in his scent. He saw the way your expressions become more calm. His heart swelled seeing how much peace it brought you. He was your safe haven as you were his.

He picks you up and places you in his lap so he can cuddle you. You had the hood up over your head and he lets you nuzzle your head between his neck. He was extra warm from those added super powers running through his bloodstream. It truly came in handy on days like these. When you contently sigh into his neck it felt like his heart was smiling.

“As much as this sucks. I’m glad I have you.” You mumble in a soft tone.

“You always have me.” He whispers back. His hand that was wrapped around your back softly rubbed your worries away. You place a delicate kiss on his neck and he simply thought he was going to melt. He hated you being sad but boy was he grateful he got to be the one to comfort you, to hold you.

The rest of the night was spent with you in his arms. He would switch with rubbing your back to playing with your hair and even little kisses all over your face. Anything he could do to make you feel better, he did it. Eventually you talked through it with a little advice from him. It was hard coming to the realization of what was happening. He knew how strong you were and that you would get through this little milestone with ease.

You fell asleep with your head resting on his chest so you could hear his heartbeat. One of the many things you like to do when you’re with him. Peter had an idea to make you feel even better in the morning. He hoped it would help you start your day with a smile. When the weather was changing and the mornings were colder there was something about the sunrises. They were different. There was always brighter pinks and oranges on display. Peter remembers how you love to watch them.

He woke up right on time to carry you out on his fire escape. You were really tired from the crying and overall stress the situation caused. Him moving around didn’t really phase you until you felt the cold morning air hit your face.

“Mmm Peter what are you doing?” You faintly mumble and there was sleep evident in the sound of your voice.

“I want to show you something. Just keep your eyes closed for me.” He requests and you do as told. He places your arms around his neck and your feet around his waist. Your head nestles its way in the crook of his neck and you start to fall back to sleep. There was a gush of wind on your back in a split second. You knew he was swinging on his webs high in the sky. It was better you didn’t open your eyes for sure now.

You tighten your grip around his neck from the feeling of flying freely through the city. Most of the time you got sick from him swinging you with him on special dates on skyscrapers. Some times were better than others and you were trying to get comfortable with it.

Once the breeze stopped you knew he had landed. Still half asleep you just cuddle more in to him. He sits down with you in his lap again. Your one leg comes around from his waist so you can sit sideways. He was basically cradling you now and you could not complain.

“Open your eyes.” He whispers. You do as told and you have to blink a couple times to adjust. When you looked out into the skyline your breath was stolen away. There was so many vibrant pinks and oranges casting off the clouds. The sun was almost this red and dark orangish tint.

Peter didn’t look away from you. He wanted to see your reaction of the display in front of you two. His eyes glistened from the way you lit up. He watched your eyes sparkle at the view and he swore he has never seen anything as beautiful as you. As cheesy as it was, you were his sunrise in this moment. He gently kisses your cheek and adjusts your body so you could get closer to him.

“It’s beautiful Pete. Thank you for bringing me to see it.” You look away from the skyline and he was already looking at you. Your cheeks were red from both the morning air and from where he just kissed you.

“I just wanted you to feel better and start your day with this in mind.” He gestures to the sunrise and you didn’t care about that anymore. You were too in love with this boy to even think straight. He does everything in his power to make sure you are happy and safe and most of all, loved.

“I don’t need sunsets or sunrises when I have you. You are the sweetest person I know Peter Parker. Thank you for all you do for me. I hope one day I can return the favor.” You gently cup his face with your hands to fully look him in the eyes. He had the softest look on his face.

“You return the favor everyday by being with me and loving me. That’s all I can ever ask for. And baby your love is like a drug.” His soft expression turns into a little grin. He knew the comment was cheesy but you of course admired it.

A light giggle leaves your mouth and a wide smile spreads from ear to ear practically. For a moment you look into his eyes and see that special little tint in his brown shade. With the sunrise casting a little light it made a golden ring around his iris pop. You watch him avert his eyes down to your lips giving you the hint. Both of you lean closer together until your lips clash together in a soft kiss. Your hands go around to the nape of his neck where his little baby hairs were. In an effort to deepen the kiss you comb your fingers up through his full hair. You slightly tug at the base and he inhaled deeply making the kiss harder. His hands wrap around to your back and he pushes you against his chest. The action makes your lips slightly part and give him the access he wanted to slide his tongue inside your mouth. You both start to see stars from such a passionate kiss. Every time it would feel like this to the both of you. But each time it got better it seemed.

That’s how you knew he was your person until the end of time. In every timeline you would choose him. Over and over again. Your souls were intertwined and would always find a way back to each other.

[natvrefairy]

Hi, I saw ur request rules and wondered if I could ask for a merlin X reader (romantic) and it's like really fluffy? Thx 😊

A/N: Of course! I'm so happy my first request is for Merlin, because both him and the entire show are just so iconic. I really hope you like this. :)

Something Meaningful (Merlin x Reader)

Requested: Yes!

Reader Pronouns: They/them

Word Count: 1,529

C/W: Uther is dead. A little bit of self-doubt on Merlin's side. Occasional rant. A little bit of stream of consciousness. (Cause I'm experimenting with that technique.) Fluff!

Context: Morgana's alive and good. Mordred and the rest of the knights are also still alive, but they're not really mentioned. Arthur and Gwen are King and Queen. Arthur's allowed magic in Camelot, and they know about and accept Merlin! And LGBTQ+ is accepted! (Cause reader is they/them, and there's no angst here. ^^)

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

When Uther died, Camelot was a bit of a mess. Not that it wasn't before; Uther's reign wasn't a particularly cheerful one. But although he wasn't the kindest person, people still loved him, and his death simply came as a shock to everyone.

Arthur took it the hardest. But honestly, that was to be expected. When most people lose their parent, they get time to grieve, but Arthur didn't have the luxury of time. Uther died, and Arthur was thrown into power.

The first few months were the worst. Not just for Arthur, but the whole castle. But with Guinevere and Merlin by his side, he got through it. And with Arthur as King, it no longer mattered what anyone thought of his relationship with Gwen, because she was now the Queen.

But with Guinevere becoming Queen, a small issue arose. The Lady Morgana no longer had a servant.

Morgana, being as lovely as she was, truly didn't care about the loss of her maidservant. She still had her friend, and enjoyed her independence. But her brother thought it necessary, so the job was given to (Y/N).

Gaius didn't appreciate losing his other helper, but he couldn't say no to the King, so that was that.

But then, Gwen also needed a servant. And once again, the job was given to (Y/N). Merlin most definitely did not approve of his best friend's drastic increase in work load.

"I always knew you were an ass, but I didn't realise you were stupid as well." Merlin told Arthur the following morning.

Arthur's new title as King didn't change Merlin's attitude towards him in the slightest.

"Merlin, you can't address me like that."

"I did before, why is it any different now? Your highness."

"I am the King."

"Doesn't change the fact that you're an ass."

(Y/N) managed to talk Merlin down, but that didn't mean he liked the idea of them having to rush around everywhere all the time. Although, at least it was only Gwen and Morgana, who were both perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.

If it was two Arthur's, that would be an entirely different story.

That was about two years ago now. Camelot has had law changes since; such as the lifted ban on magic, allowing people to freely practise their gift, and the new acceptance of anyone identifying as other than cisgender/heterosexual.

And finally, at long last, the land of Albion was united.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Having both grown up in Ealdor, Merlin and (Y/N) were always close. (Y/N) would constantly seek out Merlin and William, the three of them soon becoming best friends. When Merlin set off to Camelot, (Y/N) tagged along to look out for him, Will staying behind with his father.

Unlike Merlin, (Y/N) didn't possess any magic. But although being completely normal, they always went out of their way to try understand what their friend was going through. They never understood Uther's hatred towards magic. Even without having any themself, they absolutely adored Merlin's gift. Witnessing him in action never failed to put (Y/N) in a state of awe.

But of course, Merlin is much more than his magic. That, (Y/N) always knew, even when he didn't believe it himself. They were always there for him, and he was always there for them. That was how it always was, and how it always will be.

Which is why it was so hard for either of them to pinpoint exactly when their feelings grew. They always cared deeply for each other, but at some point, both completely unaware, those feelings blossomed until they were both completely and utterly in love.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The two friends were granted the evening off, and unbeknownst to (Y/N), Gwen and Morgana had something up their sleeve. Having long figured out the pair's mutual yet oblivious feelings, the women decided to take matters into their own hands.

This involved giving them the evening off, and directly telling Merlin to confess.

"I'm sure they feel the same way," Gwen encouraged, "I know it's hard, but try something meaningful. If you can't say how you feel out loud, do something special instead."

So here Merlin was, a nervous wreck as he lead (Y/N) outside of Camelot, to a small forest clearing. What if they didn't like it? What if they turned him down? Then it could lead to disaster and they won't want to be his friend anymore and everything they had built will go to waste.

"Merlin," (Y/N) grasps his hand, immediately gaining his attention, "whatever has you stressing out, it's okay. I'm here, and I always will be. We'll face it together."

Taking a deep breath, he had them close their eyes, before gently leading them in the right direction. Glancing around to make sure everything was in place, he tried his best to calm his nerves.

'You can do this,' he thought to himself, 'you can tell dragons what to do, and they listen. This should be easy.'

"Merlin?"

"Oh, right, sorry. You can open your eyes now."

Opening their eyes, (Y/N) gaped at the scene before them. A rug laid out on the grass, all their favourite snacks and fruit laid out in front of them. Glancing between the dinner and Merlin in a combination of joy and surprise, they struggled for words.

"You did all of this?"

"Well, I may have stolen some things from the kitchen, but... I hope you like it?"

(Y/N) laughed - one of Merlin's favourite sounds - and pulled him over to sit down.

"Thank you."

Just their smile was enough to calm Merlin's nerves, and everything melted away as they began to eat, telling stories and laughing. Everything between them seemed perfect.

That is, everything except for the unsaid feelings.

As they finished and the moon began to rise, they cleared up a bit before laying down to stargaze.

"Star-gazing was a good idea," (Y/N) said softly after a while, turning their head to face Merlin, "but I have to ask, what was this all for?"

"What? Aren't I allowed to just spend time with my best friend?" Merlin replied, a little too quickly.

"Of course, but that's not what I mean. You seemed really nervous earlier. I can tell when you want to say something, Merlin."

He turned his head away in embarrassment, so (Y/N) shifted their body to properly face him.

"Hey, look at me," they said, placing their hand on his cheek and tilting his head back towards them, "you know you can always tell me anything. We've been through so much together. Nothing will scare me away."

Merlin gazed into their eyes in silence for a moment, before speaking up, voice barely a whisper, "It's hard to say it out loud. Can I just show you?"

"Of course. Whatever's best for you."

Slowly, he moved one hand to rest on (Y/N)'s cheek, hesitating slightly as his gaze shifted between their captivating (E/C) eyes and plump lips. Finally, deciding it's either now or never, he leaned forward, tilting his head as he captured their lips in a tentative kiss. He felt them stiffen slightly, his heart racing as his mind flooded with unwanted thoughts. This was the end. They were going to shove him away and never speak to him again.

But then, the thing he expected least of all happened; they actually reciprocated the kiss.

Their hand moved to his hair, butterflies going wild in their stomach. They never expected him to feel the same way about them, and now they couldn't even think straight. The only thing they could concentrate on was the feeling of his lips on their own.

Eventually, the sweet moment came to an end, leaving each of them completely breathless, faces only inches apart. They gazed into each other's eyes, catching their breath while they both tried to process what just occurred.

Then, all at once Merlin freaked out and started a rant, desperately trying to explain himself. Apology after apology flooded out of his mouth, raving on and on about how much he loves them and how he probably ruined everything and should have just kept his feelings all to himself.

(Y/N) cut him off with a small kiss on his lips, leaving him staring at them in shock when they pulled away.

"I love you too, Merlin. I thought I was so obvious about it," she laughed softly, gently running her fingers through his hair. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life, and I'm glad you feel the same."

His shock vanished, and he gave that heartwarming smile of his as he wrapped his arms around them, pulling them close. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

And so they stayed there like that, laying and enjoying each other's company in the comfort of their mutual feelings. They stayed there until they decided it was time to head back and face Gaius' concerned wrath on them staying out so late. But for once, it didn't bother them listening to his lecture, because their lives had just changed for the better.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Wait For Me // D.M.

Request: hi! can you do a request where draco performed the obliviate curse on his gf before the war, then met her again post war when he became a healer? the storyline is up to you! by the way, i really really like your fics 🥺 - anon

A/N: This request let me explore all the things I love: angst, healer!draco, and redemption. Thank you for trusting me with this request, I love it so much. This was not also on my WIP lost but I had an idea and I ran with it. With some hope, my next few fics will be from that list!!

Warnings: angst, mentions of nightmares and injuries, some anxiety, short words and tempers, swearing. A HAPPY ENDING or at least the start of one.

Word count: 5.2k

1996:

“You know why I have to do this, right?” Draco whispers: worried that if he were to speak any louder his voice would give away how close he is to breaking.

You nod once. A solemn nod that juxtaposes the tears falling freely down your face. How could you be agreeing to this when it made you feel like your heart was being ripped out?

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, arms reaching for you, the urge to touch too strong to resist. “If they used you against me or if you got hurt, I would never forgive myself.”

You hush him; not missing the irony of the situation. To be comforting him when you were going to have a large chunk of your memories taken from you, it was almost laughable.

The final few moments together are spent in silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, getting as much of the other as possible before inevitably having to let go. You bury your face in his chest, almost refusing to let go of him as he unhooks your hands from around his waist.

The time has come; it’s come too soon.

You barely register Draco’s tears mixing with yours as he hauls you in for one last desperate kiss. His forehead remains pressed to yours as he whispers three words.

“Wait for me.”

Then everything goes blank. A flash of white and your life begins anew.

No memories of the last year of your life; no thoughts about the blonde haired teenager that had occupied your mind and stolen your heart.

There’s nothing.

Five years later:

The strong antiseptic smell has your nose crinkling in distaste. The overhead lights buzz as the bright light bounces off the overly clean floor; it makes your head hurt more. You place a tentative hand to the side of your head, frowning further when you feel the large bump growing there. Removing your hand, you sigh, remembering the tears of the pupil that had done this.

Not long after the war, a new decree was issued setting up centres of education for young witches and wizards that showed magical promise. They operated extremely similar to a muggle primary school; however these followed the curriculum created by the Ministry of Magic.

It was in one of these schools that you worked, choosing to train as a teacher after finishing your education.

A rogue ball is what had landed you in the emergency room of the only magical hospital in Britain. It had come out of nowhere; the children playing happily as the weather had improved over the course of the day.

Tapping your foot impatiently off the tiled floor, you had to admit to yourself it had been partly your fault for not seeing the ball before it knocked you on the side of the head and subsequently knocked you to the floor. The child, a young Hugo Ward, had felt terrible – sobs wracking his body as he apologised to you over and over again to the point where you had to reassure him you were fine.

An hour after the accident, it became evident that you were not fine. The dizziness and double vision being symptoms of something worse, your boss had sent you off to St. Mungo’s without room for argument, promising you she would cover your class for the rest of the day.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” calls the triage nurse. A blonde middle aged lady with bright eyes and a kind smile; she points in the direction of exam room two and you flash her a grateful smile.

The hospital bed is uncomfortable as you take a seat on top of the crinkly paper. The pounding in your head had not stopped since you arrived but the dizziness was calming somewhat, and for that, you were thankful. It happens as a flash; a memory washes over you of a large hospital wing, two rows of beds and an elderly lady with fierce determination written over her face.

A single blink and it disappears. The flashes hadn’t happened for a while; the aftermath of a memory charm inflicted upon in your Sixth Year at Hogwarts. It wasn’t known who had done it; they had found you wandering the halls of Hogwarts alone and confused before realising what had happened. You had recovered fairly quickly; the only aftermath being the flashes of what could be memories.

You sigh, sinking further into the gurney as you think of the pile of marking waiting for you at home. Even a sore head couldn’t put off the inevitable.

The Healer doesn’t look up as he enters, pulling the curtain closed behind him, “I’m Healer Malfoy, how can I help you today?”

You sit straighter as you take in the healer. Blonde hair down to the nape of his neck, tied back with what seems to be a leather cord. He hasn’t looked up at you yet, but from your spot, you could tell he was handsome. A strong jaw being home to a distracting mouth. You look away, admiring the rest of him before you could be caught staring at his lips.

Healer Malfoy’s face slackens for a second as his eyes rake over your face. He collects himself after a second, but still, you noticed. He clears his throat, looking down at the chart in his hand. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

You nod, “That’s me.”

“You hurt your head at work?”

Again, you nod, “Twice over. A pupil threw a ball at my head by accident, but I knocked my head on the playground as I fell.”

Healer Malfoy places your chart on a nearby table, pulling latex gloves out of his pocket as he does so. He smiles at you, but there’s something guarded about the expression on his face that has question after question springing up in your overworked and pained mind.

“Did you lose consciousness?” Healer Malfoy asks routinely, silently gesturing to your head, asking for permission to feel the injury.

“No,” You answer, turning your head for him to feel the bump on the side of your head.

You hear his sharp inhale as he examines the large bump there. As if seeing you hurt physically hurt him too, yet how was that possible? Thinking through your admittedly fragmented memories, you cannot find a whisper of what the blonde haired man could have looked like younger. Something niggled in the back of your mind, a feeling, a hunch. You didn’t know what, but it got stronger every time you met the grey eyes of the handsome Healer Malfoy.

“This is going to sound odd but go with me on it please?” You say, voice lilting into a question at the end. The idea of not giving this man in front of you a choice simply abhorrent to you.

Healer Malfoy smiles: it’s polite and doesn’t reach his eyes. He takes a step back from you, needing the distance but also done with the examination of your injury. “Okay, I’ll go with it,” He states warily.

Your hands clench into fists; overcome with the urge to try and coax a smile out of him. “I don’t know how else to say it. Do we know each other? You feel familiar to me, as if I know you from somewhere.”

Whatever smile was on Healer Malfoy’s face falls the instant the words leave your mouth. His entire demeanour changes – shoulders stiff, hands gripping your chart so tight it could snap in half. Unclenching his jaw, Healer Malfoy grits out, “No. We haven’t met before.”

“Are you sure?” You press, deciding desperately that you needed to know the man standing in front of you.

“Very sure,” He murmurs, scribbling your discharge notes and handing them to you. “I would remember you if we had met before.”

The blank confession leaves you speechless. Blinking in what could only be described as shock, you take the outstretched papers.

“Your prescription is there too. You show no major signs of a concussion, just rest for tonight at least and watch out for anymore footballs,” Healer Malfoy starts, “Should you have any more problems, you know where to find us.”

Taking the dismissal for what it was, you hurriedly grab your bag from the gurney and leave the exam room, taking extra care to hide the dejected look on your face as you pass the handsome healer.

Draco watches you go. You all but sprint out of the hospital, almost desperate in your escape to get away from him and his short words.

The threat has been gone for years; vanquished not too long after the night Draco had taken your memories, after the night that continues to haunt his nightmares.

Draco Malfoy had faced the Dark Lord and lived – he has stared death in its sallow face and was not the first to look away. Yet, Draco was ever more terrified of what you would do should your memories ever return. Your rage was entirely more terrifying than staring into the soulless eyes of the man his parents so blindly followed.

Draco releases a breath as he spies your figure finally leaving the hospital. The released breath does nothing to loosen the tightness in his chest; the tightness that had been there since that fateful night in the astronomy tower.

He’s had this argument with himself countless times, always the same words and the same fight. His own justification for why he did what he did; why he took your memories of your relationship and sent you away. Deep down, Draco knows that he should have communicated better. He knows that he should have sat you down and explained to you his worries and his fears. However, at barely seventeen years old, Draco was just getting used to the idea of love. He knew what was coming; he knew that there were dark times ahead and he was unfortunately aware of how you could be used against him should the time come.

He had a decision to make, so he did. Thinking back on it now, it had almost killed him. He had never experienced a pain like it. Draco had been hit with the Sectumsempra curse and the pain that followed was nothing compared to the pain he felt when erasing your memories.  

Draco turns away from the door. You’ve disappeared around the corner; your head bowed, and shoulders hunched. He has no reason to watch you now. He turns away from the door, wondering whether it was fate that had brought you back into his life after such an absence.

An absence he caused.

-------

You return to work the day after; feeling fine enough to stand in front of your class and deliver your lessons of literacy and maths but also of spellcasting and magical control for infants. You followed your lesson plans to the letter; resolutely refusing to stray from them should they let your mind wander to the handsome healer and his cold words.

The healer continues to play on your mind for the rest of the week: at work, at home. You would go over the brief conversation you had with him; wondering at which point his demeanour changed, that he became closed off and cold. He hadn’t been welcoming from the beginning, but by the end of it he had downright cold. It should have warned you off; it should have been warning enough to keep your distance and to do your best to ensure you never needed to return to the emergency room, yet there was something about him. There was something hidden within his grey eyes, a dark secret ravaging him from the inside out and you felt desperate to know what it was.

-------

As much as you adore your vocation, as much as you love coming into work and greeting the children with a smile, there was something sweet about sending them home to their parents. A sweet relief that loosens the weight on your chest somewhat.

A shock of blonde hair has you turning back to the school gates. Your breath catches in your throat as you recognise the handsome face of the healer that had treated you only a week ago. His face not one you felt like you could forget.

“Healer Malfoy?” You call out, confused at his presence.

He smiles bashfully, “Draco, please.”

“Draco,” You greet. “Do you often make home visits?” You tease, a smile crossing your face.

“Technically, I’m at your place of work so this would be a work visit,” Draco comments, laughing lightly, seeming to be in a much better mood than the last time you had met him.

Your smile grows larger at the sound of his laughter. “Okay… do you often make work visits?”

He shakes his head, “No. I do not.”

“Why are you here?”

“Two reasons.”

“And they are.”

“One, and one I thought of just now – I wanted to apologise for my behaviour at the hospital the other day, I was rude, and it was out of line so I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I doubt that you get asked by many of your patients whether you know them.”

Draco smiles, “You’re right, I don’t, but nevertheless, I shouldn’t have been so rude, and I apologise.”

“Then I accept your apology, only if you accept mine.”

He goes to argue but stops himself at the last possible moment. You meet his gaze head on, watching the emotions pile up there. There’s something lingering in his grey eyes; something deeper as if he has more to apologise for but he isn’t ready to confess to what or why he even needs to say more.

“What was your second reason for being here?” You question, curiosity piqued but also wanting to move the conversation on, unable to look into his grey eyes any long for the fear that your heart may burst out of your chest.

Draco smiles, “I’m picking up my godson.”

“Your godson? Do I know who he is?”

“You might. Tobias Dawsey?”

Recognition flashes across your face as you picture the small brunette in your mind’s eye. “I do know him! I taught him last year,” You all but shout, “He’s your godson?”

Draco nods, “He is. I’ve worked with his mother from my very first day at St. Mungo’s, she asked me to be godfather when she found out she was pregnant with him.”

His words warm your heart; the care he has for his godson obvious in his voice. You go to say more, to try and coax more information out of him. Your need to know him almost choking you with its intensity, but for the life in you, you couldn’t figure out why you needed to know him. You move to speak, but you’re interrupted by the excited crow of a young child.

“Uncle Draco!” Tobias shouts, running up to his uncle on his little legs, his bookbag banging against them with every step.

“Hey kiddo,” Draco greets, picking up the child making grabby arms for him.

“Do you know Miss (Y/L/N)?”

Draco nods. “Miss (Y/L/N) came into work the other week,” He states, thankfully not exaggerating further.

Tobias frowns, turning his attention to you, concerned about his favourite teacher, “Are you okay though?”

You smile at the young brunette, “I’m all better. Your Uncle Draco fixed me up.”

Tobias nods seriously, “He’s the best Healer ever.”

You laugh; the love Tobias has for his godfather so clear within his voice, it only warms your heart further. “I have no doubt in that, Tobias. Off you go anyway, I wouldn’t want to keep you from getting home.”

Tobias and Draco wave at you as they leave the school grounds. The smile on your face doesn’t fade as you watch them walk away, the young boy chattering the ear off his devoted uncle.

Deep down, where you would only admit to yourself and no-one else, you hoped that you would get to see the handsome blonde healer again.

-------

Over the following weeks you spy Draco’s presence more by the school gates. Tobias clearly adores him, sprinting into his uncle’s arms the moment he sees him waiting for him. Crossing your arms across your chest, you comment, “You must be a very devoted godfather to volunteer to pick up Tobias this often.”

Draco shrugs nonchalantly as if the task of reorganising his shifts was nothing of a chore, “I enjoy spending time with him and…”

“And?”

Draco ducks his head, feeling the familiar heat of blush creep up his neck, “I like talking to you.”

He feels like it’s the wrong thing to say. He knows it’s the wrong thing to say. If he had an ounce of human decency within him, he would turn away from you the moment Tobias arrives. He would walk away from you, never to come back into your life again. What he did all those years ago was unforgivable despite having your permission. Draco knows he shouldn’t be back in your life, but now that he had seen you once or twice, he had to see you more.

He felt like an addict. He couldn’t leave you alone. Draco didn’t want to if he was honest with himself especially when you grin at him so widely his heart pounds in his chest.

You duck your head, your hair hiding your face. “I like talking to you too even if it is only at the school gate,” You shyly admit.

“Then we should change that,” Draco stutters out before he backs down. He wants to kick himself; he should turn away from you now and leave you alone for good, but that one selfish part of him that powers his heart tells him to stay put.

If possible, your smile grows larger, “Then we should change that.”

------

The friendship feels so natural once it starts; once the both of you get past the initial awkwardness that seemed to loiter from Draco’s cold words earlier in the year. It started with longer conversations at the school gate, but then he would come with Tobias’ mother and wait for you as Tobias would reluctantly leave with his mother. From there, it grew into a timid friendship that slowly grew more surer of itself as you invited Draco out for food or to museums or to spend the weekend with you, walking around the city when he wasn’t working.

However, as the friendship became more solid, you could not ignore the way your heart sped up with every smile and every laugh. You could not ignore the way your face heated each time he winked at you; a private joke shared between you. It didn’t feel like a passing fancy. It felt like something deeper, as if the feelings had been there before and had been dormant until now. You felt as if you were always meant to feel this way about Draco – the feelings tugging on memories you weren’t even sure were yours. Flashes of blonde hair and the powerful scent of jasmine all tied in with late nights in a tower you could barely recognise. Draco made you feel like the only person in the world; he was supportive and kind and funny. He was everything you could want and more – how could you not fall for him?

There was still the remaining secret though. It haunted him; his eyes clouded over whenever it was on his mind as if he was returning to the very memory itself. He would return shier, unsure of himself as if the friendship he had forged with you was about to implode and leave him shattered once more.

You ask him about it once. The two of you sat on your couch; you introducing Draco the wonders of muggle films and showing him your favourites when you catch him zone out. Your finger reaches out, pokes his cheek. “Where did you just go?” You question, a smile in your voice.

Draco reaches out, grabbing your finger, “Nowhere of importance.”

You frown, pulling your finger out of his grip, “You do that a lot.”

“Do what a lot?”

“Disappear on me. It’s like you have something big to tell me, but you just aren’t ready yet.”

Draco feels certain his heart stops in his chest. He tries to laugh but it comes out strangled; choked by the worry creeping up from his gut. Draco opens his mouth to reply but you beat him to it. “I’m not saying you have to tell me what it is now,” You start, “I just want you to know that I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Draco closes his eyes, rests his head against the back of your couch. You had so graciously opened your home to him, opened your life and offered friendship to him, and he felt awful. As he should, he thinks to himself. He had taken memories of importance from you, and here you sat, unaware of the crime and sitting with the criminal himself.

It felt like there was a countdown ticking over his head. It felt like he only had a certain amount of time until he had to come clean and he had to tell you about that night in the astronomy tower.

Yet for all that was in him, for all that created his moral compass, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you and ruin whatever was blossoming between the two of you. Draco supposes he is a coward. He probably is, he tells himself, but he cannot bring himself to care about his cowardice when you smile at him like he holds the sun and stars for you.

Does he regret that night? With everything within him. Would he do it again knowing the outcome? Of course he would. He would sacrifice himself  and his happiness a thousand times over to ensure your safety.

---------

Draco tells himself he’ll confess the next time he sees you which is both all too soon and not soon enough. His love for you had never faded; he hadn’t been the one to forget the short relationship you had. The intensity that accompanied teenage love and infatuation had never left the forefront of his mind. After all, how could they? Now that you were back in his life, he felt the teenager again – utterly drawn to you and unwilling to let you go.

He confesses late on a Tuesday night. The shift at St. Mungo’s had been long and arduous, but he got through it with the single thought of you. He knew that at the end of it, he would get to knock on your door. He only hoped that you wouldn’t turn him away once you found out the truth. Your hatred of him could never rival the hatred he feels for himself, but he finds himself hoping for your forgiveness.

“I have to tell you something,” Draco states, plain and simple.

You chew on the inside of your cheek before answering, “You can tell me anything.”

“You had a memory charm used on you in Sixth Year, didn’t you?”

“How did you know that?” You demand. Despite the friendship grown between the both of you, you hadn’t told him that. You had given him bits and pieces, alluded to the fact that there were gaps in your memories, but you hadn’t told him the truth. Just like he hadn’t told you what made him disappear inside his mind like he so often does.

“I took your memories. It was me.” Draco confesses, his voice clear in the quiet room.

“What?” You shout, anger shooting through you.

“I took your memories. I used a memory charm on you in the middle of Sixth Year when things started to take a turn for the worst.”

“What gave you the right?” You cry, tears building out of upset and anger.

“You did,” Draco states plainly, “You didn’t want to at first, but you came round to my way of thinking when you saw how bad things were getting at home.”

“Why would I agree to that?”

“Because once upon a time, you were in love with me.”

You shake your head, pacing back and forth in your living room, trying to get to grips with the piles of information only just dumped on you. Draco watches you pace; his grey eyes following each step intently as you work through everything in your head.

Worry shines bright in his eyes when you stop pacing. He goes to take a step towards you, but you step back. The small space between you feels like a great chasm, a gaping void that Draco is desperate to fill, to patch up.

“Tell me everything,” You state before adding on, “Please.”

Draco releases a shuddering breath before starting: “We were friends through school. I don’t remember how the friendship started, but it did and for years we were really good, close friends. Then along the way, the friendship changed. We fell in love, or whatever it is at sixteen/seventeen years old. We had less than a year together when things started to change; when whisperings of the Dark Lord’s return were strengthened by continued attacks on the Ministry.

“You argued with me for hours,” Draco pauses, laughing as he remembers what you clearly couldn’t, “I had never seen you so angry or so stubborn. You were adamant, you didn’t want to but then you went quiet and I knew you saw what I had seen. You agreed after a minutes silence; told me yes even though it broke the both of us to do so.

Draco’s grey eyes are lined with unshed tears as he murmurs, “I couldn’t let them have you. My family was working with the darkest wizard there had ever been in the last century, if he had gotten a whiff of what you meant to me, you would be used in ways that not even I could imagine. My aunt would have taken great pleasure in ensuring that you would be a bargaining chip for me to fulfil whatever mission they handed me. That was something I couldn’t allow.

“It broke me to do it. To watch your eyes go blank as the memories of what we shared disappeared. Selfishly, I asked you to wait for me, not knowing that they would be tied to you afterwards. I just… I couldn’t let you go. As a teenager and an adult. There’s no real excuse for what I did, but know it was out of love for you that I did it.”

Draco falls silent. His heavy words adding to the growing tension in the room. Draco’s mind runs a thousand miles a minute; his eyes don’t leave you as he watches you work through every emotion coursing through your body. He sees the anger, the sadness, the frustration, but he also sees the relief at having an answer for those gaps that you had only recently confessed to him.

You break the loaded silence, “I forgot the relationship, but on some level I don’t think I ever forgot you.”

“What?” Draco asks, the air rushing out of him in one fell swoop.

A smile creeps across your face; relishing somewhat at having caught him off-guard. “I have glimpses of what I always assumed was a past life. The memories were always fuzzy around the edges, but they were clear enough for me to catch glimpses of blonde hair or to spy the pattern of a ring much like the one on your signet ring.”

Draco remains silent; he doesn’t dare talk; he doesn’t dare breathe. Nothing prepares him for your next words.

“I waited for you… like you asked.”

Those words. Those foolish words that he had absolutely no right to whisper to you. Draco had been so overwhelmed in that moment, yet he couldn’t ignore the small kernel of hope that despite the strength of the memory charm, a part of you would remember him and would wait for him.

But you had.

You had waited for him. You barely knew who he was, but you had waited for him, hoping that one day he would cross your path.

“Fuck,” Draco whispers, running a hand through his growing hair, starting to pace the length of your living room.

“When I woke after my memories had been taken, I clearly didn’t remember a single thing, but I had the echoes of three words ringing in my ears. A beg, a plea of someone – a boy asking for me to wait for them. I didn’t know completely who I was waiting for, I didn’t know it was you until I saw you at the hospital that first time and then again so soon after leaving. My memories haven’t returned, and I doubt they will, but I just know that it was you who I was waiting for.”

Draco falls silent, letting your words fall over him and sink into his skin, settling deep within his bones.

Years. It had been years since that night in the astronomy tower where he took your memories. It had been years since he felt the longing and love; there had been no-one lese and there would be no-one else. For Draco, there was only ever you… and you had waited.

You had waited for him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Draco repeats, hands continuing to run through his hair in frustration as he paces the room. He faces you; grey eyes wild with emotion, “How are you not angry with me?”

“I am angry with you! I’m furious with you, Draco! You took my memories, but if you say I agreed to it, I’m just as angry with myself for allowing myself to forget you.”

“What do we do?” He asks, a hand running down his face as he tries to figure out the next step.

“Forgiveness,” You state simply, “We try to move on.”

Draco’s hands drop limply at his side as he gasps, “Forgiveness?”

“What happened after you erased my memories, Draco?”

“There was a war. I was on the wrong side,” is all he says. He isn’t ready to go into too much detail. That’s another story for another day.

“Was that what you were trying to protect me from? The wrong side?”

Draco nods wordlessly. He saw things going south so quickly but his parents hadn’t. They pushed and they pushed; inducting him into the same pureblood fanaticism they relished.  “How can you even think of forgiving me? I took your memories. I stole them from you, and you won’t ever get them back,” He argues, wanting to know whether you truly understood what you were doing by forgiving him.

“Let me ask you something, Draco.”

“What?”

“Do you plan on leaving again?”

He shakes his head immediately. He doesn’t think he could leave you even if he tried.

You shrug your shoulders, “That’s how I can think of forgiving you.”

“I don’t understand,” He whispers; his own self-hatred confused by your words.

“The wizarding war was about to descend into war. We were confused, scared teenagers who didn’t see another option. You asked my permission, Draco, and I granted it clearly.”

“But-”

You cut him off, “No buts. I said yes. I gave permission and we cannot change the past, Draco but we can control our future. It’s going to require work on both sides, but you can tell me about what I’m missing and at the same time we can forge something new.”

“What do you mean?”

You smile shyly, taking that all important step towards him, “Make some new memories with me, Draco.”

*****

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @liilyevanss @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @kylosleftbuttcheek @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey​ @kashishwrites​ @justmesadgirl​ @detroitobsessed​ @reaganwonders​ @just-a-belgian-girl​ @aspiringsloth20​ @lahoete​ @minty-malfoy​ @fallinallinmendes​ @ravenclawbitch426​ @ochrythum​ @beiahadid​ @gryffindors-weasley​

[dailyaudiobible]

09/23/2021 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 41:17-43:13, Ephesians 2:1-22, Psalms 67:1-7, Proverbs 23:29-35

Today is the 23rd day in the month of September welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is a joy and an honor to spend a few minutes of this day with you around this Global Campfire that we make each day, it's oasis to let God's word wash into our lives. And, so, let's take that next step forward together. We are working our way through the book of Isaiah in the Old Testament and we’re just getting going in the letter to the Ephesians in the New. We’re reading from the Evangelical Heritage Version this week. Isaiah chapter 41 verse 17 through 43 verse 13 today.

Commentary:

Alright. I want to just requote Paul in his letter to the Ephesians just a couple of verses today for us to look at. “Indeed, it is by grace you have been saved.” Like we could just sit there, and we should. We should take each part of this and just contemplate it at different points of the day. “It is by grace you have been saved through faith and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.” Again, “this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared in advance so that we would walk in them.” This is a reasonably well-known passage. You've probably heard it before, but have you ever just sat with it? “It is by grace you have been saved through faith and this is not from yourselves. It is the gift of God.” That is really really good news. That is the good news. You…you can't get good enough. You can't work yourself into this. That's not what's going on here. God is trying to offer a gift freely. Your part is to believe that the gift has been given and then life is transformed. And then what we do falls in line with who we are and who we are, according to Paul, is God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works. So, we can see that we have good work to do, and that good work is part of us being in Christ, But the fact that we can be in Christ, there is nothing we can do to make that happen other than believe because it is a gift, it does not come from ourselves. We cannot earn it in our own power, which also means this cannot be stolen from us. We could reject a gift. We could walk away and abandon the gift. We can treat a gift as it's…as if it's garbage but this gift is the restoration or renewal or re-creation, the making new of our inner selves. The transformation of our Spirit, the…the changing of who we truly are. Do we not spend our whole lives trying to tweak who we think we really are? And normally what we’re doing is trying to tweak our behavior, trying to tweak our personality so that it's more effective at coping with the world and getting people to do what we want them to do in some form or fashion, otherwise known as manipulation. What Paul is talking about here is so much deeper, so much deeper than all of that façade, all of that mask wearing. It is at the essence of what is core, what is deeply true of us, what is created in the image of God. This gift transforms us, changing everything about us, including what we do. There's like not a whole lot of better news than that. I mean would you rather have your…I mean this is an odd question…but the phone call that makes you rich or the awareness that you are being transformed into something that has the Spirit of the living most high God involved and within? I can't say much about the phone call that will make you rich but this second piece, this is already true. Let's spend some time contemplating it, contemplating this truth and what it might mean. That we can spend some time thinking about what this might mean, that we can live true, that this cannot be taken from us, that our identity no matter what anyone might say cannot be altered. We are children of God. Think about that today.

Prayer:

Holy Spirit, we invite You into that. It's the reality that's been spoken to us from the beginning. It's a reality that the Gospels reveal. You came and were willing to sacrifice Yourself in order to give us this gift. And yest we just kind of live as if it's just a thing, like it's just always been here, and it's just a thing. We’re just trying to figure it out and we’re just trying to be better when You have offered us the gift of utter and complete transformation if we will utterly and completely surrender to You. Come Holy Spirit, help us to think on these things today, we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

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And that is it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello, my DABalonians DABaruskis, my DABster's what's going down? This is Casey Sean Peirce from beautiful sunny Eloa. How are you today? I wanted everyone to join me in prayer if you could if you would be so kind for the beautiful Shemira Pierce my wife. Heavenly Father please bless Shemira and give her extra piece and extra joy and strength to…to do the things she needs to do in Jesus’ name. Amen. If anyone else wants to pray for her that’d be super cool. I'm not really that good at prayer. She recently quit doing all drugs and tobacco products and alcohol and she's got a lot of family issues that she's dealing with, that she's talking to a custody lawyer right now. We're handling a lot of kids in and out of the house and with different parents, her biological kids. Her mom lives with us. There was a reason she drank and did drugs, my wonderful wife and now that we don't that it kind of takes away what was protecting a lot of things that she needs to just overcome now. And, so, if anybody can help her with prayer to do the things that she needs to do that would be great. I love all you guys. God bless you and God bless your day.

Hey everybody my names Kara I live in North Carolina, and I just wanted to put in a prayer request for one of my friends. About 10 days ago she lost her son who's only 19 years old and it was very unexpected and suddenly. And his funeral was on Saturday. And I saw her for the first time since this has happened, and it just broke my heart to see her. And I just pray that she feels lifted up and comforted and finds peace. And I just I'm asking for all you guys to pray for her period she she's…she's having a hard time and she also has another son that's his…the other boy’s twin. So, I can imagine that would be very difficult. So, yeah if you guys could just pray for her and with her up, I would really appreciate it. I love this community and everything it stands for. And thank you Brian for having this community. It's definitely kept me going in difficult times. So, I appreciate it. Love you guys. Bye.

Heidi DAB family it's Shanda from South Dakota. I was doing my Bible study this morning and I felt prompted to call and ask for some prayer. We did our festival and it turned out great. Thank you for those prayers. However, my son was assaulted shortly after pretty badly. Had someone not stopped he feels like maybe he wouldn't have lived. And the people that are salted him are still threatening him. He feels like he needs to go buy a gun for safety. And I am praying for him. And I still have some fear. He's my baby. I'm just calling to ask for prayer for his safety. I'm just in this place of praying to the Lord and…and going back and forth. I trust the Lord and I trust His plan and I know He has plans for my son's life. I still just feel a little fear. I am praying for all of you, and I thank you so much for your prayers. Have a great day everyone.

Good morning, everybody this is God's Smile here. It's a beautiful morning and I just wanted to share a little…little __ I had with the Lord. As the lights are drawing in, I've noticed by the time I'm able to get down the stairs. And, you know, I only get about an hours’ light before I notice it starting to draw in. And I thought, wouldn't it be lovely if I could just get up in the mornings and be able to get downstairs physically. So, here I am at 9:00 o'clock in the morning. Thank you, Jesus for that. Isn't He great? He even hears the sighs of our heart. So, Brenda I would like to pray for you because you rang in about your mom in a nursing home and it's on lockdown due to COVID and it's not been easy on a dementia ward. And she's had a hard time remembering conversations and when she last saw your family. She loves the Lord. She's been a pastor’s wife for 35 years and she feels abandoned. Father God thank you that you’ve not abandoned Nancy. Thank you that Jesus lives inside her and Your precious Holy Spirit. Father I ask for Your peace to be…to abound Lord, that Your grace would impart Father and a stillness in Nancy's heart to know that everything's OK. And I know You do this with me Lord when I'm in distress and I have faith and trust in You that You will calm her and soothe her Lord and let her witness be from Brenda the next time she calls. And times ticking away and Bob’s chirping away. I'll have to go now guys. Kiss kiss. I love you. Bye-bye.

Good morning DAB family I've got a prayer request and also a praise report but before I start this story, I'm a bit sick so hopefully you can hear me OK, my voice sounds alright. But my praise report is that I…I got my university results back and I graduate with a first. And I can't even explain like. Like I got it like a week ago and every single day since, I just keep thinking about and I’m like oh my goodness, how on earth did I graduate with a first. Like so grateful, so happy and like I…I just owe everything to God because like if someone had told me I was going to graduate a first I would have been like oh, stop it. Believe it or not people said yeah you will, and I was just rolling my eyes like ok please like stop expecting so much from me. And I did. And I just…like it's honestly the weirdest feeling but like the best feeling at the same time. So, that’s some good news because I struggled a lot especially like balancing uni stuff and work. Well…I did it, but my prayer request is for my brother. He's just so lost. And like we had a conversation last night and it just honestly just made me really realize how lost he actually is, and it's just been on my mind like the whole night even when I was sleeping and when I wake up today. It's been on my mind like and like the love I have for my brother is so much like I don't love anyone else the same way that I love him, and I care for him, and I want him to add like have the best life he can possibly have. But like I just don't know what he's doing. And he's drifted so far away from God it's ridiculous. Like he's just…he's not even putting in any effort to spend time with Him. And like He's just doing…he's doing what he wants, and I don't know whether or not he cares that what he's doing is like not what he's supposed to be doing and if like…I just…I…I don't know but I just I guess I…I…I I'm just asking for you guys to pray for guidance and wisdom and for him to actually have a relationship with God…

[totalliberationfront]

Giving and receiving freely is the basis of long term consensual community. Existing state, nonprofit and private entities were crafted to maintain the global capitalist order. These entities occasionally dole out useful material aid to a select few; however it will always be in conjunction with consolidating power for the present order. These forces manifested and maintain the carceral state. They are responsible for the tear gas, the beatings, the police unions and the mandatory minimum sentences. There is no dignity in begging for scraps from the masters table. We seek to empower not to dictate. We seek to empty every cage and grow gardens in their stead. We demand nothing short of total liberation for humans and our animal kin.

The practice of Mutual Aid is the process by which people come together to directly meet one another's needs without politicians or bosses interceding. Human beings are social animals who evolved surviving in non-hierarchical groups. We have an affinity for self care, community care and individual expression. Through coming together to meet our material, emotional and social needs we present an alternative to the racist hierarchical settler state we find ourselves in. The oppressive saga of empire, capitalism slavery and compulsory heterosexuality is a broken narrative. We seek an end to the occupation and to the exploitation of stolen land.

Mutual Aid posits that the Social Contract as envisioned by Liberals is woefully inadequate and the dictates of authoritarians and fascists are antithetical to life. We need not cede our autonomy nor our labor to exploitative systems. We need not cede our bodies to confinement. We are taught the gospel of work yet many who work go hungry. Many who have skills can't find paid work which implements them. Much of the productive activity humans engage in has devastating ecological consequences, as we do it in the interest of capital. We as communities can do better. We cannot rely on outside entities to help us. Abolishing them is necessary for our survival.

Professions serving existing entities within the present order will inherently be limited in their capacity to produce change. Individuals trained to operate in those professions often acquire skills and education which can be used to empower our communities. Many of those individuals now professionals are incentivized to hoard  their knowledge for material gain. However, material gain matters little in a dying world where one is alienated from other people. Some with privilege see through the notion that cops and politicians are their true allies. Some see the concepts of law and crime for what they are; tools of the oppressor.

In our present era where the material lives of many of these professionals has declined, while the visible accumulation of wealth by the exploiting classes has increased, many professionals are more inclined to share their knowledge. Every year they see the carceral state destroys more lives with solitary confinement, police brutality and the willful infliction of PTSD and they want to strike back. There are an array of people eager to absorb and implement their knowledge, who have not been granted the same educational or career opportunities by the system as the professional class. These folx have an equally relevant set of skills to share with professionals.

When we make an Anarchist space, dedicated to gender freedom, decolonization, prison abolition and black liberation folx inclined to share and support will find us. We keep showing up and we keep doing the real work. Direct Action and a co-occurring support network will inspire and educate. When we make time to help each other process the overlapping layers of oppression strangling us all and poisoning the earth we begin to grow. The powers that be understand how to lop the head off of vertical structures. They lie in wait for the vanguard party and the terrorist cell. Egoists and those dedicated to hierarchy recognize parallel frameworks.

Rather than work within the system or construct a parallel institution we can build dual power via Mycelic Growth. We recognize that orgs, affinity groups, networks etc.. are all necessary structures; however they are tools of liberation for the larger community and friend circles which populate them. Our relationships are the core of the revolutionary project. Maintaining those relationships as systems of support, empowerment and education is our primary task. As the powers of reaction seek to define and contain us we must be like water. We must be able to take a new form without waiting for permission from a governing assembly or leader. We will meet the needs of our neighbors and ourselves the best we can, starting today.

We share skills and knowledge at the speed of trust, seeking to undercut our own possible hierarchical gain. We encourage the flourishing of interlocking groups with interlocking values blooming independently then laying down root systems; intertwining with others. If an org becomes legitimized as a charity or nonprofit by the powers that be, that org should be an entry point to other projects. The material services that org provides needs to be grounded in an actual need while also serving as an entry point for other forms of Direct Action. We disperse zines, PDFs articles and albums hoping you will lay down new roots searching for our own.

We start with food and other basic goods. We get as many people giving those out for free as possible. We ask people what they need and give it to them. We step up the level and quality of goods. We point to our successes and the failures of the state. We occupy until extracted by colonial agents. We are there for each other when the pigs shut us down, and when we are there when its time to reorganize and reopen. Seeing that we can do these things for a few people breaks the spell. Why do we have to wait on medical care? Why can't we remodel and build until everyone is housed? Why isn't their food growing on every available patch of land? Why aren't we getting together with out neighbors and making these decisions through building consensus and direct democracy?  

It starts by handing things out and grows to producing the things we need together. It continues when we take action in the streets. Our banners hang outside of jails and prisons. Our friends stand with us in a total expression of their being. It flourishes when the community seizes a factory or stops an eviction. It won't end until whiteness is abolished.  

As we grow our thoughts deepen. Why is that we need police and prisons, when me and my friends can solve so many issues by building rapport with folx and offering mediation? Why do we allow others to hold exclusive legal rights to the application of violence and the dividing up of material goods? Our questions become statements. We will learn to heal trauma and provide community. We will learn that communities can defend themselves. We demand total abolition and we demand a new society. We won't settle for less. We want everything.

In our own time and in our own space with our own words. Grow and share. Nurture and protect.

[donnnoir]

Dallas, TX                                                                          June 30, 2019

Well Friend’s, although currently I suspect there are no readers of my crude blog.  Other than those that may have an interest from the Shadow Government’s perspective.  They always keep tabs and monitor my actions and interactions at large or singular.  An annoying fact of Life as me.  So hopefully at some point and time in the future an interested party will have numerous pages to sort through.  I am trying to get all my material under one or two roofs / forums which can and are accessible to everyone.  At least that is my hope and the intention of all this.  Granted it also allows me an outlet to vent some of my frustrations and the various events, occurrences and histories with this and more that I have Lived and experienced throughout my Life.  Now in such a spirit I am posting a electronic log entries after I arrived back in Austin TX, following the events I experienced in Southern California.  Which events culminated in my being shot twice in my left leg and subsequently ran over by an F-350 dually pick-up, running me over from toes to my head being dragged under the dual tires on the driver’s side of the vehicle.  Needless to say it was an interesting evening.  I was run over on East Anaheim St. about one hundred feet from the intersection with North Henry Ford Ave., on the south bound side of East Anaheim heading back toward Long Beach, I believe the location is still in Wilmington. With the location of my being shot some distance from there and that being approximately 325 North Lecouvreur Ave., Wilmington.  These events happened on or around the 5th of March 2018.  I was transported to St Mary’s Hospital at 1050 Linden Ave. Long Beach, CA..

The following are a series of electronic entries to an ad hoc journal at the time.  I Post this ad hoc journal in its raw form, the only editing being for the most part that of correcting some of the major spelling mistakes.  Hopefully I  have retained the jagged nature of my mind set at the time.  I freely admit that upon my return from California for the first time in my life I was showing signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.   I still have on occasions bouts associated to this PTSD.  I trust as coming events unfold and I have New Obstacles and Challenges to focus my attention and thereby forestall the elements of the Disorder.  Thus I Post this warts and all.  Without regard to its chronological or content of order. Because of this I will no doubt be covering much of the data, information and stories at a later Posting.  I will also be Posting the images of my hand written journal, as the loose leaf entries that I have adopted as my handwritten format.  Since every log or journal I have started has been stolen repeatedly.  So I now write on whatever loose leaf papers I have before me in the moment.  I hope to Post those as packaged folders Postings in their chronological order.  There is a degree of overlapping entries between this Posting and those of my handwritten entries.  Bear that in mind should you actually elect to read all of these.  Most of the entries some date and location headers.   I hope that in doing this that no seeming contradictions arise, especially since I am the source.  I welcome any inquires from any reader of my material.  Thus I submit the following:

Welcome, seems it has come to this. I am going to attempt to compose my thoughts and histories via electronic medium. My reservations must give way to practical realities. Not to mention the fact that each and every one of my previous logs / journals has been stolen from me. A immensely annoying recurring theme.

Thus I am going to try and make a virtual journal. Presumably I will augment this with the additional paper journal. Which will then be uploaded into a file of images. The hope being the combination will effectively accomplish the task. Towit that of providing a record of my life including events in the extreme. Additionally I wish to leave behind in some convoluted fashion my diverse understanding of things. By far I would consider the latter to be a far greater contribution to the brain wealth of humanity. I would like to think that should any of this writing come to light. It does so some time in the future . When the more fantastic elements can be seen in historical context. Such that what would otherwise be seen as speculative ventures into science fiction writing, will be known as simply fact. Because believe me when I say I truly wish and hope to be / will be wrong, regarding that which is to come. For a change!

Sigh… I must take a break, now. Necessity requires I consider many issues, not the least of which is where to start, and how best to proceed. Besides the fact I have not developed the requisite manual dexterity to type with my thumbs.

Monday July 2, 2018 … Killeen Texas

Sigh… damnit all to hell! I am having one of those rare days when I feel anxious, overwhelmed to the point of feeling trapped. I do not know if it is possibly PTSD related. I suppose I have to accept that as a issue with in me from now till the day I die. Regrettable not to mention humiliating for me. Granted, I suspect that the the cannabis Jade bought had a little something extra in it. So she could anesthesias more effectively giving her a reprieve from the increased infra-sound, ultrasound, microwave along with the entirety of the electromagnetic emissions I am at present enduring. I am concerned for her and her son Joey's well being. Despite her being one of the girls / operatives / victims of our government’s illegal covert initiatives know as MK Ultra. She is a bundle of contradictory issues and personalities. Your typical Golem. Her biological father is Warren Causey. He was George Bush Sr. right hand even prior to Sr becoming head of the Central Intelligence Agency. Causey was Sr's go to man for wet works and deep black bag operations. Especially if the back side had a tail which could be exploited for control of any or all parties involved. Causey is a true satanist and worse. He recently developed a rapid onset of Alzheimer’s. Not quite as sever as my own father and name sake Donald Paul Williams. But the timing of both though separate is suggestively coincidentally to events associated to me and those involved in FOXing me. I suspect brother Magnus of being petty. Grinding and hammering on old grudges. Along with becomingly increasingly punitive in operational objectives concerning breaking me to the point of my “losing” it. At which point and time my only anticipated options would be to appeal to their overview and / or full capitulation to their agendas. Thus far I have successfully thwarted their attempts. Yet it has come at an immense cost to me, across the board. Okay in anticipation that I may never acquire the journal I started last year upon my departure from Long Beach, California. A long walk beginning by The Queen Mary and which ultimately landed me in Salt Lake City, Utah. It is becoming increasingly incumbent that I reiterate elements I previously wrote down back then. You would think it would be a simple straightforward process. Naturally such is not the case, for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which are context and my desire to avoid sounding narcissistic, or worse disillusion. Yet failing to do so will ultimately end in me portraying myself as such, even more so. Besides I really hate repeating myself, sorta a pet peeve of mine.

To the uninitiated this is going to sound ludicrous and insane. However, any comprehensive primer would require volumes of esoteric information, along with accompanying commentary and should include appropriate citations. All from tomes that are closely guarded. That I am denied access to permanently and utterly. Thus it is best to proceed directly into the matter wading through the initial convolution, realizing by degrees it will work out becoming about as clear as mudd. The luciferains according to their Canon refer to me as “The Dark One”. It is an appellation pulled directly from their actual scripture as initially iterated  to Cain from lucifer, himself.

Obviously atheist may take exception to these concepts, especially the language used. There is not much I can say in response to their misgivings. Because their beliefs lack the framework from which to attach this model. Hell most individuals beliefs also in like fashion lack similar mental framework. Yet most have allowances or the tools where with the modular architecture of their minds are able to “build out” an additional wing to the mansion in their minds which houses their understanding of “reality”. At the very least they can entertain the blueprints to an “add-on” to their mansions. Similar to the operations of our minds “cognitive consistency”. Dr Richard Alan Miller is fond of noting “I would never have seen it if I hadn’t believed it”. Or by extended reference the belief that if you have enough information to postulate a coherent question, you already have enough to know the answer. You just have to convince yourself of it. The implications are profound. Stretching into metaphysics and the issues of faith preceding the miracle(s), and even magick! All topics I have and will continue to touch upon in my ramblings. But I go too far afield of my primary focus. Simply, I am The Dark One. This is both metaphoric and literal. For the few people whose sight allows them to to clearly see into the underlying spiritual realm of our world. Because all things that “are” where first created in spirit. Elsewise they would not exist or remain lifeless sterile elemental at best. There are also at worst case possibilities, but we will forego any such dialogue for the moment. Everything we see and interact with has a corresponding spiritual aspect providing impetus to the whole. Usually the spiritual aspect even resembles the physical expression, although at times the proportions differ. A fact that I know I will touch upon in other areas as topically necessitated. Nonetheless if one was to see our spirits they much resemble the physical form of our bodies, though a bit taller (note this is a foreshadowing hint, to a vastly different topic I Will Be Addressing. At times I may interject future foreshadowing hints, though sans the extensive explanations). Depending on the scope of vision applied a person may / can see many other things. For my current model I am going to stick to issues of direct correlation to what we perceive as the physical world.

Okay, yes I do know I tend to take a long round about, seemingly loquacious manner, almost tediously so in my explanations. This is due to the fact that words are nebulous, our ability to effectively communicate was fractured becoming compromised long ago. As a consequence, for clarity's sake I find this too wordy manner necessary to minimize confusion later in the discussion. By degrees we lose our way, or perpetuate our lost condition. Therefore it is by incremental degrees I am trying to more properly realign the various skewed beliefs we all hold. It is simple geometry, trigonometry or if you prefer vector math. If your initial bearing line is off by a few degrees, as you proceed further down its vector, or direction of travel where you end up will be considerably different than you meant to be. I wish to be aptly clear as to this fact early in my shared discourses.

Back to the proximate relationship of the spirit to our physical nature / condition. Also know that our spirits are gender specific. The entirety of humanity in this expressed Creation, the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve. Have migrated to this plane and place from Our Heavenly Home. That being a higher plane of existence, a organized realm of Love and Light. We, being all of us from Adam, Lilithe, and Eve till the last child of Eve is born, we are they that kept our first estate. Thereby earning both our right and place to be born here in this that by our common assent / consent / agreement we agreed would be real, thus we call it reality, simple. Wherefore, this being real by our mutual assent, means by extension that our actions here shall have real consequence to our station thereby effecting our progression. Those within Our Divine Family that rebelled and failing to reconcile back into the Family are denied participation in the progression of this estate and the subsequent assignments as to which paths we are to be assigned to in our individual journeys to progress back home.  Meaning, i.e. lucifer and the one third that fell (more properly “that were cast down”) with him. At times I will refer to lucifer as lucy or louie a small affectation I have over the years grown fond of as pet names for he who would seek dominion through his lies. Know that for my part I have always viewed our existence as an ongoing extension of the war in Heaven. Even as a toddler this was simply the nature of the world, in both a literal and metaphoric sense. Lucy is playing an end game gambit. As to our day to day offenses he for the most part cares little, seldom choosing to involve himself.  As I try to tell people; we can do bad all on our own, we don’t need the devil or louie's help. Matter of fact regrettably this particular Creation is an aberration. Most Creation’s do not have a Lucifer, who refuses to repent and reconcile, and worse yet becomes Satanish.  In so doing thereby becomes completely nonredeemable. Fit only to be cast out beyond the dark realms / dimensions. So far that not even a god could ever hope to make it back to Our Heavenly Home. Heady fanciful stuff, with a touch of discordance due to conflicting superlatives, I already know. From the presumed position of our understanding as a whole it is the best I can do with our shared mythos. The presumed contradictions fade as our understanding increases. Please accept I know little, next to nothing. What little I may grasp, has been fought hard to obtain over a tumultuous lifetime.

One of the hopeful eventualities concerning our collective situation in this Creation which I try to communicate to those that appear to show potential for understanding the following idea. Is that, Once we “eventually” progress through this Creation. As our then on going progression continues through multiple future Creations we will in all probability never encounter another such circumstance / Creation wherein any of those will again be with the added burden of a Satan / Lucifer persona to add complications to our individual, group, and familial progress. Who would threaten to usurp Creation from G-d and all of us. We can do bad all on our own. We really don’t require an objective excuse or archetype on which to pin our failings. If you are acquainted with the Book of Revelations, in its pages are the clues to understanding Lucy’s actual focus / agenda for our Creation. For we are eternal beings, Children of Divine Parentage. We live through infinite eternities, progressing and striving to Perfect Ourselves unto the Image of Our Heavenly Mother and Father. Now I sound like a some traveling revivalist preacher. Might as roll out the tent and tambourines, hahaha.

Wednesday July 4, 2018 – Killeen, Texas

Well happy 4th of July, U S of fucking A. Not to be cynical, but here we are celebrating another Independence Day in the Land of the Free. The irony is inescapable. Sadly too many individuals become distracted and lost in the perpetually shifting landscape of dysinformation. Yes the horrors these people revile against are very real and indefensible. Except in the losing of perspective, failing to see that these innumerable struggles are purposely being generated to engage the population to distraction. Usually these horrid distractions are set cross ways of social and cultural lines. This formulaic tactic is meant to ferment hostilities, hate and conflicts across the associated strata. This has been repeated throughout history to create wars, fracture our social structure, warp our values, and indoctrinate the population en mass with beliefs such as to reshape our view of reality shackling all of us to a diminished image and sense of self along with the entire human race. Once we accept this warped view as the archetypal potentiality of us all. We are guaranteed to sell ourselves and our brethren into slavery. In due course I will be discussing at length the geopolitical history within the framework of our limited knowledge of what we recorded since the flood. Rather what we have been permitted to know of said records. The fact that much as been redacted from the common brain trust passed on to us via academia. Those alabaster halls occupied by self appointed guardians of the approved versions of knowledge and information released to us vulgar unfortunate masses. So burdened, I shall pass this Holiday celebrating the antithesis of its traditions.

Continuing in the same vain as previously began prior to the day’s celebrations, in much the similarly convoluted fashion as before… I, The Dark One of Occultic Lore. I have been told; that I have done things no one in the history of the world has ever done previously. Personally I can only cite one quality as being demonstrative of such high praise. Though in all honesty I am more often than not being chastised for lacking focus, being lazy, acting the fool in the face of my enemies, or being cavalier in my affections, or placing myself at undue risk of life and limb, and the list goes on and on ad nauseaium.  This from the select few who know and understand who and what I am.  Those who may actually care about me, and would see me fulfill that which I have been foreordained to do whilst sojourning here. The totality of our circumstance here, now at this moment, we soon shall enter perhaps the most critical and precarious point of our history and that of this Creation.  I am all too well aware of this along with that which shall soon come to pass shortly.  This awareness, I experience across multiple vectors while being cognizant of a sea of permeations which ultimately stream toward a specific Crux in Our Familial Aggregation (I am trying to develop appropriate nomenclature – wherein I avoid certain more readily common labels or descriptors and/or appellations. Whose usage has been subverted into the double speak practiced by the various satanic and blood occultic families which run the world. Who have ritually (via trauma) conditioned and indoctrinated their acolytes, golems / victims to hear and respond to accordingly, never in a positive manner. Wherefore it is incumbent upon me whenever possible to avoid affirming these, even to the point of reinventing the ascribed nomenclature.) within this Creation. As a consequence I must stumble through idiomatic constructs, ungainly though they be. Believe me if you knew and understood the actualities ascribed to words and the double or multiple meanings applied to them within the Families. The evils, the pain, the denigration of the individuals / victims usually by those nearest them; ultimately by extension it eventually infects and corrupts societies unto the world at large.  You would weep an endless river of tears unto filling the seas, if you could see this in your minds eye properly.  As long as this perniciously malicious spiritual / familial / multi-generational / social / cultural pathogenic practice continues, our struggles will end in naught. Hence into this morass I must seek to keep my appointed task. How best to explain this? I have spent the majority of my life in the haze of denial.  Avoiding my differences.  Putting off my preparations for that which is to come.

Since approximately twenty four plus months prior to Operation Jade Helm our covert Intelligence apparati, including elements of the ruling shadow government began a concerted effort at Foxing me. The on set of Operation Jade Helm and its scope marked an exponential increase in expanded efforts against me.  Now, let me make clear Operation Jade Helm’s purpose was not solely to target me, there where many targets across the greater portion of the United States of America.  Death dealers and various squads of assassins executed / murdered an increasing number of American Citizens, most had been identified for some time to be exterminated.  Impunity seems to have become the operational by word.  The extremes demonstrated continuously since that time defy all reason. Defining the architects of this action as being criminals is almost quaint.  This level of criminal insanity goes beyond the point of being treasonous. With the majority of resource allocation comes from “military Intelligence” which then utilizes other military resources and supplies.  Thus it is that we have been duped into financing our own demise.

For purposes pursuant to their agendas, they have labeled me a domestic terrorist.  Thereby presumably justifying illegal exercises and persecution of my person.  Rationalizing by extension similar acts against my family and anyone I may care about and or Love. Death for them would be preferable to the horrors their personages have been and are being subjected. I know I sound ludicrously paranoid with delusions of grandeur in the extreme. Hahaha….  gosh how I wish, hope and pray such were the case. I make this record in defense of myself and my actions. Naturally I fear all my good intentions with their accompanying actions are for naught. I realize that upon my death as allotted to the sons of man, as to the first part, my character will be maligned in the worst manner possible.  A issue I will address at length later in this on going exposition of myself and my misadventures as they may be.

Thursday July 5, 2018.  Killeen Texas

Despite my misgivings it seems I survived all the pops and bangs of our nosiest of American Holidays. A joyous circumstance to be certain. From now till my last day of my allotted life as unto the children of men, my life hangs in the balance. The ante to live my life as it were.

My current accommodation over the past almost six weeks has been with an old flame and friend Jade Causey – Chamlee, and her 18 year old son Joey, whose given name was Freddie. Bless their souls for extending to my worn out arse a place to stay and recover. Regrettably my physical recovery is taking much longer than I anticipated. I am fully aware my expectations regarding the time necessary for a complete recovery was / were unreasonable. But I need to set the bar high to keep from being complacent. Now had my situation been inclusive of adequate financial resources I would be at least relatively close to my timetable. I would have had access to better medical, dietary, living and therapies. Hell my injuries would have been properly tended to at the hospital in my initial admittance. Instead I continued to be the object of curiosity and experimentation. With little consideration to trying to give me appropriate medical care. I have come to know what to expect, due largely to my younger brother's general attitude. Wherein he rationalizing what him and others do to me, as simply a matter of effect associated to the who and what I am. It is rationalized that if  I, Donn am this special chosen person than he/I should be able to survive everything, whatever it may be.  Because if he/I don’t than obviously he/I am not that special and thus not protected from on High.  Horrific logic used to rationalizing a growing list of atrocities committed against my person. A ugly fact of my reality, one I anticipated. What issues make this whole fucked up process unacceptable, malicious, acutely painful and unforgivingly egress is the manner by which they have targeted and used others. Especially my younger brother, father, son, Tiffany, Revaka, Heather, Angie and numerous others. They have been tortured, abused and treated as disposable commodities. All are scared and precious, some are very unique with abilities reaching into arenas not generally accepted or understood in today’s world view. Yet these individuals are denigrated, abused in some of the most deviantly sordid manners. Most are ultimately destroyed, first robbing them of their minds, bodies and in some final insult of their very souls. As it appears that they are being harvested for physical vehicles to have demons placed in their bodies. Yeah, I suppose I could say it in some sort of more politically correct parlance as “aliens” from a lower resonating dimensional reality / realm. Somehow I find that by doing so it fails to communicate the malicious evil inherent in the process. I find the old nomenclature to communicate the Truer meaning. Though some eras of our past carry their own obvious failings magnified exponentially by ignorance while fueled by misguided zealotry. They were not called the Dark Ages for nothing. Similarly different cultures, societies, periods, places and times have fallen to various abysses of Darkness. We have this false mental image of life on Our Earth proceeding in some linar fashion from primitive man (including Adam, for those of a theological inclination) struggling out of caves. Fighting against their own primitive brain / mind which was trapped in a diminished brain pan capacity from questing for fire against ignorance and superstitions. With us being the cumulative beneficiaries of this on going process. Peoples of those ancient times could not have been as intelligent as those today. Therefore they could not have grasped the concepts we do. Some of the most ridiculous fallacies of logic ever presumed to rationalizing and justify conduct or beliefs. Matter of fact the inverse is actually True. But what the fuck could I possibly know!

Sadly my frustrations are rearing their collective heads as it were in my writing. I wish I had been more diligent in securing my journal I started last year upon my departure from Long Beach towards Utah. I was more focused recording relavent issues in a contemporaneous fashion. Not to mention a considerable investment in explanations dealing with a variety of associated topics. Grrrrr… all I did then was walk and write. I may soon be in a recurrence of such, shortly. I can no longer abide where I am. All the more so under these conditions. Deep in my mind I am aware of happenings which require my attention. Not to mention my friend’s household is not psychologically conducive to my state of being. At least not in a healthy way, good intentions not with standing. My largest obstacle to my leaving believe it or not, is my need for acceptable footwear. Flip-flops aren’t going to cut it. Hell they are wholly inadequate to even walk just up the street a block or two. I must admit the sidewalks and streets of California were well suited for walking.

Monday July 9, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

As Pooh would be apt to say, “Oh bother”. I feel for the most part Tigger. Bouncing all about spinning, twisting, flipping… as well on my head as my tail. I am most acutely wanting to find my focus once again. My communication skills seem heavily compromised. Not that I was ever able to write as effectively as the great Nobel Laureates. Generally speaking I could at least maintain some linear cohesion in my writing.  Physically, emotionally, spiritually and mentally I am shaken.  Much as if my being was trapped in the tremors of advance Parkinson’s. In similar fashion my expressed thoughts and experiences lack focus, my abilities at lucidly articulating my larger life occurrences is choppy at best. Failure is NOT an option! No matter how I feel or how events are or may effect me, I must regain my composure and find my center. While reacquiring my skills of teaching and sharing what I have learned.  Please excuse me if I don’t edit the foregoing entries. As convoluted and murky as they may be, their relevance contemporaneously can not be diminished. Hopefully they will in due course provide a benchmark to juxtaposition future writings and notes thereby effecting a glimpse into my state of being at the time of writing.  Grrrrr…….

They have done a very good job of isolating me. All the more so, as I try to come to terms with the potential cost to those I would seek commerce with across all levels of our socioeconomic strata.  If what I endured while being the object of a Foxing protocol by our shadow government’s covert intelligence community are any indication. Anyone who associates with me, either at mine or their initiation is subject to become targeted for retribution as punishment to me. Too high a cost to blindly impart with out consideration to finding possible means of mitigation. Or at the very least terms whereby I am ultra selective with whom I interact. Along with the rationale for said interactions. Soon enough our social dependency will require I abandon all such pretext or attempts at shielding anyone from consequence. I fear that time shall be upon us/me far too soon. Perhaps I am again being exceedingly naive. My efforts are most probably for naught. An on the at large canvas of the bigger picture my presumption at damage control will only result in a larger area and impact of effect upon our society as a whole. Not that I am some savior or prophet, far from it actually. In the grander scale of things, I might best be referred to as a “wild card”.  Meaning that in any analysis of the interaction of variables, one may with a degree of certainty predict the outcome of any issue, contest, conflict even war. However should certain individuals or a very small dynamic group of individuals enter the forum. Suddenly the landscape of the matter shifts radically to the point that the original outcome no longer applies or is meaningful. We have numerous examples of such occurrences throughout our histories. Of salient import to us here in America is The Battle of Thermopylae, and the 300 Spartans. We all learned about continents in school. Did you ever notice that Europe and Asia were counted as separate despite being one land mass. The reason is that Western Culture and Asian (Oriental) Cultures being vastly different it was traditionally ascribed to them being two separate continents. We may naively presume to ridicule such a blatant indulgence as arrogance. Yet there are fundamental reasons for this error being valid. We as the heirs of Western Culture, need to understand the mythical / legendary impact of these distinctions upon our mameic memory, especially those of us of the West. From Greece to Rome, then following our Angelo – Dutch (Iberian) roots it is transmitted to us. The importance and permanent impact of the actions and sacrifice of Leonidas and 300 Free Spartans against over a 1,000,000 servile basically slaves to a potentate deemed quasi divine, carved out a legacy of Freedom which stands even today. An Epic “wild card”. There are many others, most are lost to us today. With the occasional exception that survives in our Epics, our Mythologies, our Legends. Most such stories are the blending of factual events with older religious or semi religious traditions. Which aliteration was a common and accepted means of teaching the lessons of both convanents in a factual and metaphoric means. Much the way Jesus Christ taught using parables, allegories composed to have layers of meaning dependent upon the degree of understanding had by the student. So a natural continuation of this is to be inclusive of many historical events, along with the trans literal substitution of the individuals to those of prophecy or the the Divine or Angelic intercession of some ancient history. These depending on circumstance would be iterated and reiterated in verbal traditions to be celebrated in the retelling, usually in association to particular annual festivals. Such as the case with the Saga of the Norse Kings. A subject I hope to have the opportunity to entertain at length later in my writings, scribblings. The vast majority of my ideas, concepts, models and histories can generally be attributed to greater minds than mine. As has been said before, the reason I / we can see so far is that we stand on the shoulders of giants, those that have come before us. Yes I paraphrase taking a degree of liberty. More particularly to hopefully retain its original meaning.

Funny I have been much as I am, the entirety of my life. Before I commence an in-depth sharing of many of the somewhat unique occurrences and events that have brought me to this proposition in time. I wish to clarify and reiterate some postulates. Elsewise a portion of my own records and logs may well be used against me. Principally by interests who would wish to call my lucidity and grasp of reality into question, in the hopes of indicting or coloring my character via my words. No doubt they shall do so nonetheless. I only wish that my original is sufficiently vetted in the sane understanding of reality has to be a defense to my honor and mental facilities. Thus, again – I am No prophet! Nor am I an Alien. Hahaha… Nor am I some savior! As far as religion – I will say as was told to me by what would be termed alien contactees, or more specifically those that I felt and believed we’re genuine. Of the many I personally met back in the 1970s. According to these individuals as to the subject of religion and the Bible when broached to the various aliens these contactees interacted. All the aliens responded that yes the Bible was more or less correct and that it was wholly applicable to us, our Creation, and Our G-d. I know not at all what they say on the popular shows in the media today. Hmmm,…. As to my personal religious beliefs and inclinations, I am Mormon by conversation and have been excommunicated for many more years than I care to mention. By the way my excommunication was due wholly to personal moral matters not issues of doctrine or beliefs of Faith. So if somewhere in my upfront acknowledgements, you find me wanting of naïve. Fine, do or do Not as is in you, or as is your want. I make no apologies, nor seek to compromise in some misguided attempt to achieve an accord or consensus. Rather quite to the contrary, I share, present, seeking dialogue broader than an account of the happenings surrounding my life. Simply because I am appalled by the amount of lies and disinformation being used to indoctrinate the populace. Add to this the lack of corrected and broader views from the dreadfully homogenous perspective droning from damn near every sector. The present modalities disgust me, breaking my heart such that I would to weep day and night for Our collective Family. Yet better spent are my efforts in defense of the Truth and an improved accounting of our histories and circumstances. In pursuit of same I find I must submit my private life and experiences to general scrutiny. The majority of which I have never shared with anyone prior to the last six to eight years. I have desired to live a rather conventional life, for the most part. Realizing that soon enough I will forever be denied the Joy of such.

To this end and the accompanying process I submit some of the earliest memories and events of my life and childhood. One of my earliest, if not the earliest is being in my crib prior to the age of two. My father was working for numerous government and governmental contractors at the time. Naturally I don’t recall those details. Our family had just moved to Southern California. We were living with my mother’s sister somewhere in East Los Angeles. Their home was the typical Spanish Colonial. Anyone familiar with the style and form of such. Know that hallways usually converge into a common room, you cross to the hallway leading to the room you have as your destination. In this pass through common room is where my crib was stationed. Probably the best location for it and me. So the various women could occupy my attention should I become fussy. An many times this common room was an area where the women would congregate as my recollection is. Well across this room was a pantry closet, with selves and full of the sundry items found in such for the time. In the coming and goings of my family and relatives there were numerous occasions that would find me unattended, alone in my crib. It was during one such interlude that the commencement of a reoccurring vision / dream began. I having been left alone to my own devices (parenting back in the day). When the door to the aforementioned pantry slowly opened wide. A beautiful female Golem, her physique had the appearance of red bricks. Yet the contours of her form were singularly female. Rather she had distinct curves with aquiline sculptured features. Most hauntingly she had these striking blue eyes. She never spoke a word, her eyes spoke volumes to my initially shocked mind. As the sounds of returning relatives approached, she gracefully returned from whence she came. On the first couple of occasions I witnessed this I raised a bit of a commotion. I was not yet verbal, and in all honesty I was a late talker. Well the relatives thought I might have seen a rat. So they dutifully opened the pantry to inspection. The pantry was then as it always was, with neither a rat or exquisite Lady Golem. This parade continued off and on for the majority of the our short time residing at my aunt’s house. Usually the Lady Golem had those blue blue eyes, though green and grey versions are among the visits. Each and every time she would come to the side of my crib, moving her head, or tilting (cocking) it just so. Always her eyes full of questions and disbelief. Her eyes seemed to express; You? You are the one sent? Hmmm… You don’t look like much! Look more like a little wet rodent, but who knows?. This was more or less the sentiment expressed in her eyes. Following my first encounters I became accustomed to her visits and would actually miss her on the rare occasions of absence. Needless to say from early childhood I saw the “world” differently than others around me. I also learned to accept this altered perception without fear, understanding its validity within the accepted context of what is “actual” or the “concrete” reality of our existence.

If you may recall back in the haze of school days. During various lectures the teacher's would sometimes use what is commonly referred to as an over head projector. Depending on what was being taught, it was also common practice to layer over lays. These would either complete the image or at times super impose other images as needed. Sometimes even as multiple layers of over laid transparencies. Some of you more contemporaneously educated individuals may never have seen such primitive presentations, having known only power point. For those so blessed what I describe next may be Greek to you. For the dinosaur amongst us most should have some recollection. This model is the closest I can use to illustrate how the world appeared to me growing up as a child. Usually I would see what could best be described as up to two transparencies overlapping the “real world” in general. I could even lift these overlays to get a clearer view of what was being presented before me. At times these would both be at in the foreground of “reality”, other times both would be in the background, while at other times it would be split one in front and one in back. Yet there were numerous other configurations, sometimes completely unrelated to the happenings around me (foreshadowing alert). Gradually this ocular affect of the world began to diminish till it no longer was within my field of vision. By the time I was around sixteen to seventeen years of age this effect was effectively gone. Since then I have experienced this only a handful of times. I usually take a different approach, I will address momentarily. One of the proximate results almost immediately of perceiving my world in this manner is that I usually know the scope and degree that anyone is lying. As an adult it is not quite as prominent as in my childhood. Though there have been exceptions. As a direct consequence my earliest life lesson was in due course the hypocrisy of the adults around me. Everyone would profess such devotion to “the necessity” or importance of always “speaking the Truth”. Yet I would be punished to no end for pointing out the hypocrisy of the fact the adults more often than not lied as suited them. I learned to keep such to myself. Something I still do to this day. I tend to filter or make allowances far too much now as an adult. Invariably leading to greater complications. Besides transparencies certain images or objects would “float” across my field of vision in similar transparency manner. Some of which I could not decipher any context or meaning at the time or since. To begin to place elements of this visual experience I need to explain tangent events of recent.

The advent of the Internet and the information highway is as with most such paradigms, both a blessing and a curse. Dependent largely upon the nature and supposed inclination of man. We are all no doubt familiar with the media platforms of Facebook and YouTube. Like everyone else to some degree I have had occasion to surf around doing research or simply for mindless pleasure. Back prior to Jade Helm, when my Old Lady (though she was substantially younger) Tiffany and I were keeping house in Austin, Texas. I noticed a YouTube video regarding the Apollo 20 mission. Oh by the way according to my histories the Apollo lunar missions went up to 20. I wanted to see what was been discussed along with what twists and turns the disinformation specialist spin their distractions. Which if you can determine it sometimes conclude what they are trying to hide or if their direction of spin is a “z” vector you can sight 180 degrees opposite to determine the landscape they don’t wish you to see. You may consider all this a large investment of mental energies, it is just how my mind works at times automatically. Back to the Apollo 20 video. In the video there was some general discussion of aliens, their nature and origins. During this open dialogue, there was a series of various old clips. I presume were some how removed from the archives of NASA. Many of the older non-defined clips I was quite familiar with the images. Not because I have ever seen them as photos, images, clips or video. At the time I was floored, since previous to that moment I was unacquainted with their context or related meaning. These objects I use to see in the exact same configuration and involved in the exact motions approximately forty years earlier as I was growing up. Matter of fact judging from the age of the imagery I would have to conclude I was witnessing them contemporaneously as a child. Without the context of outer space or NASA I had presumed I was watching some complex interactions of some sort of strange protozoal life from. I even remotely as concerned they had some how become infected to my cornea, so prevalent we’re the objects across my vision. So striking was their imposition upon my sight that more than four decades later their association was immediate and most assuredly certain. One less mystery to worry about. Yet the implications are troubling profoundly. Both of myself and the world at large, considering how maliciously the world's population has been lied to and manipulated. The ends of which are too shocking and horrible to ever discuss. Although in previous conversations at moments of weakness I have divulged a greater portion than may have been prudent.

Wednesday July 11, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

You may right so wish to ascribe or diagnosis me as having a form of delusions inclusive of all types of hysteria, grandeur, psychosis with severe religious obsessions. For what passes for psychiatry today within the public ledger domain, you may be correct. I would offer in defense a extensive lifetime containing a ongoing accounts of a similar or even greater note. Although I am not a Moses, peoples of another time would recognize me as being touched by The All Mighty, as it were. I will at least own any such appellation. Am I some righteous man deserving of beautification unto sainthood, I would argue Not. At best I have tried to be a descent man, who speaks the Truth as much as possible. I am burdened by an additional commitment.

Back in my youth, being around nine years old. I had a singularly profound series of visions / dreams. I repeatedly dreamt my death, accompanied by the various permeations associated to reaching same. The process took several days (nights) between three to five. Being so young I didn’t think to take particular note of the days my dreams were thus occupied. They obviously had a unique feel with a equally sensational intensity, they still abide with me today. I distinctly recall a voice of sorts coming to me following the last night of witnessing this panorama of my life's end (as are the days accorded to the sons of man). Now this voice which came unto me, I presume it was within the precincts of my mind. Not that it would have mattered greatly since I was alone when it came unto me. Nor did I think to ask from whence or whom spoke. I knew and could feel the light of our Divine Home as I heard the intent along with the presumed words. It was a simple dialogue, stating; “this is how it ends, this is what you have come to do. You need not do it. You have the right to choose. However if you are to complete this task. You must choose to do so now.”. Being a precocious and arrogant child, I immediately presumed that if I had been sent to do such, than the obvious was that I was the best candidate to accomplish the prescribed task. Armed with such infallible logic, I whole heartedly accepted my calling understanding it would come at great cost. Now granted, an understanding of the true scope or magnitude or the enormity of the cost or suffering I fully lacked. I have spent my life preparing. I have come to know that even at the prescribed time I will lack of my own what is necessary. I shall present to the task my all, trusting in Our G-d to shore me up to complete that which I would do. Subsequent to acceptance of this appointment I am to keep in the near future, my sight / vision increased. The frequency and quantity began increasing dreams, visions, revelations, transparencies along with my general perceptions increased. I now openly own the fact that I see the world through the eyes of the mystic. Only recently was my sight dampened. A heart breaking topic the occasion of which surrounds losing my Love Tiffany. The subject of which shall also be laid upon the alter for examination by the modern day augers. Find what fault if you will, I care little. Only know that matter and its accompanying are for later. I must at present attempt to continue in this established vain of thought recounting events long past in my short life. Besides the notations contemporaneous to me and my circumstances or any of the other tripe I have need to spew forth. Believe this, if I could accomplish my foreordained task without sharing, discussing or placing ultimately for public review any of this – such would be my desire. Painfully I have had to come to terms with the ugly reality I must prostrate myself to assure I am able to do what needs be done. Onward thru the fog, as it were.

Without going into specifics too much, early on I displayed another aptitude. Sometime around first to second grade. My Dear sweet mother recognized I somehow had a hand in the going ons of the other children that back then composed the group of children who had commenced to being around. Now my mother was blessed with a keen intellect. Which included the wisdom to not over think somethings. Instead wherever possible if there was a direct and simple solution to apply one's efforts to the solution. Thereby allowing life to continue on as meant. Almost elegant in its simplicity, usually quite effective in solving any problem, a quaint provincial version of Occum's Razor. Consequently the solution was simple, as she noted; “son, I don’t know what you are doing. But it is wrong. Apparently you need my help understanding that.”. There after I regularly got my hide tanned. Until sometime around the age of seven plus the realization that just because you could do something; does not mean you should. And that everyone is entitled to make their own choices. Afterwards the occasion necessitating my tanning ceased as a consequence to those particular actions. By no means did I fail to earn other occasions of corporal punishment as befits a young boy trying to find his wings, so to speak.

Growing up making my way through our education system of public schooling. I never cracked a book. Now one should not presume schools and childhood were smooth sailing. Quite to the contrary, in second grade my school in southern California labeled me “retarded”. Lacking a separate facilities or classes you were simply shoved to the back of the class with similarly challenged children. Nor did they have to test the child or give notice to the parents. Following a few weeks at the back of the class I began to demonstrate “odd” behavior. Which my always observant mother was quick to question. She went to the school and raised holy hell. In actuality it was more of a racially motivated issue. My parents being divorced, the school only saw my Hispanic mother. Being profoundly dyslexic, their initial assessment was that I was a Mexican, and you know you can not teach their kind. I was going to a all white school at time. Not to mention kindergarten in Watts. During the riots in 1965. I had to have police escorts to school. While I still have very distinct memories of the entire family sleeping in the living room with all the doors and windows blocked and barricaded against the rioting blacks. A sort of difficult time growing up. Believe me I know what racism is like. I am not going to hold my tin cup up on that lame ass subject. The fact that there are those in this country that hold onto this issues as the reasons for all their troubles. Or that there are groups and individuals who exploit this history for their enrichment. All this does is allows an ever expanding rifts in our society. The age old axiom of divide and conquer. Yet we all seem oblivious to this, instead we rush to our own deaths.

Thursday July 12, 2018,. – Killeen, Texas

Aaagh, fuck, damnit…. I fucking swear. Why do I even try to help anyone. Generally they hold to their own practices of appeasing the least common denominators by which they live. What can I say. As gracious as my hostess and her son may be. I doubt if I can tolerate much more of their dysfunctionality sans any self realization or objectivity. And they wonder about Joey meeting someone (female). I can’t imagine the woman who would find any of this manner or lack of is appealing. I try to maintain perspective because I do recognize the roots of most of the antisocial behavior. Even if it expresses its self differently than one may anticipate. I just don’t have the tolerance I usually do. In my current condition of convalescing from my injuries, makes me subject to the vagaries that define the lives of normal people. Due to the obvious singular quality of my life I have had to come to terms with the fact that I do not process anything in like manner as my peers. An before everyone thinks I am trying to sound all superior or some such, please note that I am continually making stupid mistakes principally due to my own naivety. We all have this aspect wherein we judge our circumstance and that of others from the pigeonhole perspective. Everyone else's view though differing from each other falls within a given area, or a few degrees of each other. Mine falls a extreme distance outside of what could be considered the norm. Nonetheless being very human I continue in the belief I perceive “reality” much as the other person from a similar understanding and values system. Invariably this attitude finds opportunity to smack me in my face by its differences. Each and every time I am recalled that, oh I knew better because I am fully aware of the differences and should have factored accordingly. Even now at this more venerable point in my life I find one of my biggest failings is naive belief in the character of my fellow man. Yet if my assertions as to my last day as are allotted to the sons of man be True. For the greater part I will be doing so for the entirety of Our Familial Aggregation. Even for those who seek only to cause me and those I Love and care about, harm or maliciousness. Because that is the way of things in our Creation. Soon enough the vile evil shall reveal itself, the kid gloves shall come off and life will never be this peaceful again. If it be the will of he who sent me I will seek to balance many scales of injustice. Till then I must endure and prepare as best I can.

Well enough complaining about friends who do their best given the circumstances. I appreciate all they have done on my behalf. Especially since to a large degree they grasp what potentially may be the cost. Even if in some small ways they may have been influenced by the same malicious or “Bees”, that seek to be the cause of my failure. For such is the nature of things in the abyss. Especially considering the length of time I have elected to spend wrapped in the confines of twisting throughout what we commonly refer to as “reality”. I generally feel more comfortable surrounded by its miasma and ickor than anywhere else. As much as it may appear to be a contradiction it ultimately is fact. Sigh!!!

For the time being I guess I will change the temporal focus of my entries. I can seldom stay focused on any particular time frame for an extended period. Doing so usually causes me to shift to the associated memories which become very visceral in nature. Soon it begins to become a tad overwhelming. All the more so once framed in relation to the present context. I sincerely hope that suffices and is remotely coherent. I am usually deconstructing my conceptual models and ideas into a form more acceptable to being understood. Sometimes I become lost in the process to the point I know what I mean despite the fact that the words and or syntax are nonsense. In conversation I sometimes have to stop and ask if what I have postulated or presented in the dialogue makes sense. I know it all made sense and sounded good in my head. Aaah but I can’t always presume to have effectively communicated the same.

Saturday July 14, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

Well here it is the weekend, somewhere in Who-ville are working stiffs cheering at the arrival of the ritual with its time off. It has been interminably long since I have have lived a life so constrained as to include the simple Joy of a defined weekend of days off. Hell I am usually engrossed in my vocation daily. With my ever prevalent purpose always driving me. For the most part I have become unfit to be amongst civil company. Yes I am conversant. I am genial enough when in mixed groups. I tend to empathic of those around me. I genuinely give a damn as to the well being of others. Even so, the inescapable Truth is that the darkness is too imbued into my being. Because of the darkness of my spirit, I have become rolled into the ubiquitous abyss of our “reality”. Though it does not effect me quite the same as others its taint has woven into my fibers. Not being much of a liar I lack the necessary tools to hide it from general view.

Wednesday July 18, 2018  - Killeen, Texas

Well damn, I sometimes really get fucking frustrated.  At one level I am perpetually detached from the day to day focus and obsessions of everyone around me. I can’t bring my mind to focus on the general ideological concepts propagated by the geopolitical theater. Which resembles an episode of the moppet show as far as I what it appears. Are the offenses and injuries less or non-existent to my sympathies or moral indignation; not in the least. They still represent injustices and crimes which need to be effectively dealt with and hopefully the scales will balance. Even so, I just can not seem to get all worked up over these slight daily travesties. All the more so since I tend to view all these for what they are within the larger perspectives and plans of globalist / occultic families. Typical divide and conquer, or simple distractions from their primary objectives. I can appreciate everyone’s sentiments and attitudes that the scenarios of what is to come are not perceived as real or likely. Hell even I given enough distance and time begin to feel as though none of it is possibly factual. Except for the fact that I have lived a life associated to these eventualities. Even when I was in the thick of things all those involved would tell me bold faced lies as to what was occurring. As if to make me question the obvious, because the obvious Truth of the matter was outside any social norms. I guess there are those for a convenient lie is preferred to Truth too extreme to accept. I have been at this life, spending the majority of my existence living in the abyss. Which is everywhere, it co-exists with whatever social or cultural conventions occupying our realities of the moment.  It is ubiquitous yet invisible to all but those who have had the misfortune to have grown up in its mists, or the uninitiated. Due to my unique occular abilities I am sort of self initiated. It took me a little while to come to understand the meaning of this subset of our world. I have always seemed to rub against this sub culture, even as a child. A odd fact which has taken me many years to come to terms with it. Even then it was a process of educating myself to be able to grasp the entirety of the concepts. Though outrageous beyond belief, it is nonetheless part of a larger pool of knowledge I have fought long and hard to achieve. We are a phenomenal expression of life, even across the multiverse. For all our uniqueness, we are seemingly determined to trivialize who and what we are. More importantly the processes and manner whereby we are to accomplish our purpose “here”.  Truly phenomenal!!!

Yet I digress. I am simply getting on my soapbox, whipping the horse, so to speak. Grrrrr…

How best to convey some of the basics back into the discussions and open forums in our sea of opinions. A perplexing problem one that has vexed my soul for almost three decades. I suppose the real source of my reservations has principally revolved around my own reluctance to be centrist to any reintroduction in a general dialogue. Much to my consternation it is plain that to accomplish this and thereby facilitate me being able to keep my appointment in the future, I must find the where with all and means to personally become directly a part of our social dialogues. I can freely admit to my own megalomania. I try not to buy into it myself. I shan’t feed such feelings or Mali-adpted inclinations. What ever a person's tendencies, we fail our own interests in doing so. To the point of it becoming a all consuming psychosis. Our histories are replete with the villains who are consumed by base desires at the cost of all else. Not that such is my fear. Rather I prefer to do what I can from a position far from the limelight. We don’t always get to choose how best to accomplish our goals. My non-object oriented way of thinking I suppose. Aaagh, this is an area I would deeply desire some assistance. Not to mention the realities of presently being impoverished. I had best get used to my condition, I fear I shan’t know any other for some time to come. I guess I need to find the way and means to broadcast my ugly mug on to the internet. I guess I will start some YouTube type of series. I need to really get my act together!

Amazingly as we and our solar-system has traversed the apogee of its elliptical orbit with its sister star. This having occurred back in December 2012. We are now accelerating towards our sister star on the side closest to our Galactic Center. We will soon be re-entering the flows of Magick. They are part of the natural order of things. Think of it as a higher order of physics. We conveniently suppose a posture of superiority over some earlier more organic beliefs or systems of interactions within our realities. Although witchcraft, paganism, shamanism, and various other practices have been collectively maligned for associated practices related to satanistic practices (which Are very evil). In many such cases we have throughen the baby out with the bathwater. I am not trying to condemn nor make excuses, only to ask for a broader open review of these strangely different beliefs and practices.  Many times they are simply corrupted versions of our Judaeo-christian thought, beliefs and practices. Sometimes I even find missing pages of our religious histories amongst these. An to borrow a quote;  “We are too hasty when we set down our ancestors in the gross for fools for the monstrous inconsistencies (as they seem to us) involved in their creed of witchcraft.” - C. Lamb.

Friday July 19, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

Now as to my disjointed quaint manner of writing, I am recalled of yet another quote from Webster’s,  “Prolix, Diffuse. A prolix writer delights in circumlocution, extended detail, and trifling particulars. A diffuse writer is fond of amplifying, and abounds in epithets, figures, illustrations. Diffuseness often arises from an exuberance of imagination; prolixity is generally connected with a want of it.” [1913 Webster].  As to which, my confused manner may be likened, I leave such determination to those who due to some pathological compulsions decide to continue on through the disjointed tediousness of my log.  Excuse my quoting, it but appears the best and most eloquent descriptive means external to my own critiques. Wherein Webster provides what I believe is a more accurate description of my loquacious manner and style of communication. Bleck, ugh…

On to more relevant matters. As I continue to play my game of catching up to the current state of affairs in my existence. Jumping back to around August last year, at the time I elected to take my leave of the Long Beach / Wilmington area of the LA Basin. The majority of occurrences I previously wrote down in a contemporaneous log as I walked out of LA ultimately reaching Salt Lake City, Utah. With a brief momentary stay in Las Vegas, Nevada. My mind aches at the memories from that time. Regardless, there may in the retelling be wisdom or beneficial information for myself or others. Sorry if some of this has a choppy feel to it. There are mountains of unresolved emotional context and histories, which continue to elicit extremes within me. I hate sounding apologetic from the get go. Not that any of the vacillating diminishes the importance of the material or what I endured.

In July of last year, my younger brother was arrested and placed in presumably Twin Towers downtown Los Angeles. It was involving drugs and a handgun. I saw him and the P.O.S. , earlier that night. I already knew there were going to be problems. Additionally I had been indirectly informed my situation was about to become difficult. No more niceness regarding my treatment, operational dictums were changed. Initially I was was acutely aware my younger brother was not in police custody. I figured he was being held some where on or around the federal facilities of Terminal Island in the Port of Long Beach. Later parts of my sight of his circumstances were confirmed to me, though the exact location never has been (foreshadowing). Sometime during the second week of his presumed incarceration. He digitally appeared in the system with the appropriate arrest date, and information. To this day I am not convinced of the terms and conditions accompanying this purely “staged” event. No doubt there were days he was in the Twin Towers facility. Anything else is highly suspect at best if not solely manipulated data for the purposes of the Op. Nonetheless, I was sorely put upon. Due to the determinate fact that whatever had previously as well as on going to date are the proximate results of his being “my brother”. I was aware my brother was not my brother. I later would describe the fact as, “my brother was murdered on the mesas of New Mexico 4 (5) years prior”. I freely declared the fact, even with my younger brother present. At the time of his arrest I had invested two years trying to awaken and heal his soul. During this ordeal, he was on goingly conditioned (subject to various satanic trauma assisted by ultra high technologies deployed by our Shadow Government for the purposes of mind control). I can not escape a degree of culpability. Many may seek succor in the belief that I was not responsible, nor the individual inflicting these horrors to my younger brother. I acknowledge the physical reality as being so. However the moral reality is that, We are our Brother's keeper. An for myself it has a immense literal quality. We are all part of Our Larger Familial Aggregation, what we do, say or do not effects all. While in my particular case, he is my younger brother – same Mother and Father. I have known what to expect from the future all my life. I have even attempted to convey this knowledge in abstract to my brothers. Granted I did Not know that in recent times the evil practitioners of these vile satanistic rites had made a huge technical breakthrough. It use to be, if an individual attained adulthood free of these practices or influences, then they would die free of its chains. Obviously a person could freely elect to cultivate any base desires or perverse inclinations. By “choice” being the operative mandate, those chained to the MPD / DID minds of victims of Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA) are forever robbed of any choice in the matter. Not even I can “set” them free or the chains forged in their infancy and childhoods. I can only unlock the gates and offer them the means to heal. The process is long and painful, requiring more years than anyone can live to hopefully heal. Sadly as each victim is considered chattel to the perspective heads of each “family”, who is in turn property of another. Hence there are functionally twelve Satanic Patriarchs seated at the heads of their “family”. Under Satanic Dogma they consider themselves “gods” of their worlds. According to their beliefs you exist as titled property, if not than you are of no consequence thereby you do Not exist. The worth of you and yours is less than the trash sent to the dump.

Sunday July 22, 2018 – Killeen, Texas

Continuing with similar point of fact as discussed, it may all sound or would be considered linear, a straightforward affair. Appearing almost orderly, locked in some strange perverse dance. When it is anything but. Take into consideration the matter of succession. You might be inclined to infer that being Patriarchal, it is a matter of patrialinacal father to son. The reality is far from such Familial Sensibilities. Simply put, upon the death of the head of any household. He, who inherits is the male gains control of his clan by right of arms, or force. Basically if you are not yet feared enough to demand your seat as the heir to the estate. The one who rules does so because he has murdered and killed all the opposition by blood rite according to Antediluvian Law. Meaning you not only kill your opposition, the action is inclusive of all males of immediate consanguinal association. The wholesale murder also removes any potential blood retribution by those who possess an immediate claim to do so. Secondly it demonstrates to clan members at large the vicious response dissent will meet. Terror then substitutes conditioned context within their trauma-based mindset vicariously confirming that male's natural right to head that Family’s Branch of the Larger Familial Group. If you can remotely rationale order from such chaotic slaughter. You more than likely were raised under such paradigms, or your values are perversely twisted and I recommend you seek professional help from any school of thought practicing a highly structured value system, preferably based on some well established benevolent religion. Notice I qualify said using the word benevolent. Cause if you use the most liberal definition to the concepts of religion you could quietly slip satanism or luciferinism in as established religions. The distinctions are sufficient as to invite debate. One I feel is much a waste of time for all parties. Generally I ascribe it principally to a matter of semantics shackled to vastly differing modalities of operations defining values. Our time can be better spent educating ourselves up and out of overly cerebral arguments designed to trap us in artificial concepts posing as reality. A overwrought process favored by Academia in defense of entrenched theories dressed in the ideology we refer to as the “Scientific Model”.  Yes, I have great disdain for what passes for education and schools of higher learning. They have long since been co-oped into the problems they were meant to free us from being slaves. I will tuck that soapbox away now, thank you for your indulgence.

What is even more incredible is the fact that this insanity is governed by their own set laws and rules. They even have a court system with defined jurisprudence. Not any sort you or I could consider properly legal. Rather it is more a system to maintain the “status quo” based on traditions, precedence, along with a strange quasi religious tones from Antediluvian Laws. Even known lies are acceptable if left uncontested but those who have standing and recognized Familial context. Elsewise the stated lie will stand as fact, enforceable to the fullest extent to which the system can accommodate.

Now if you followed that loose explanation, allow me to attempt to give an overview of some of the semi-societal interactive relationship between myself and these psychopaths. Especially above the standing rank and file victims constituting the entirety of the Families. I have a singularly unique interactive connection to them, their Families, their politics, traditions, religious dogma, technologies of the Shadow Government, including possible contingencies for what is to come. It is a chaotic and confusing dynamic paradox. Perpetually in a state of change, in recent times there has been much difference of opinion concerning how to acknowledge or interact with me. Technically I am a nonentity, because I exist outside the direct consanguineous relationship, nor am I amenable to joining their point of view. I remain in opposition to them, their practices, beliefs to the extent of being fundamentally adversarial to “them”. It is worth noting I have been at this so long that everyone I know or deal with daily belongs to this subset of our society. Almost all my friends, associates, girlfriends or anyone else comes from some blood occultic families. Some even to what capacity they are able seek to support me in my efforts. I am alive today because some evil bastards simply decided not to do as they were instructed. Knowing full well the consequences for siding with me. Try to understand these individuals have lived corrupt malignant lives, they hate themselves but are forbidden to take their own lives. There is virtual nothing they can do to truly cause those over them to flip out or take offense. Yet they do recognize that my stumbling about is upsetting. Having run around everywhere doing what I do. I have always done so without a net, so to speak. It is a source of boarder line amazement, more particularly they think I am “bat-shit” crazy! Nonetheless I am still here. You may know people who collect body art, fashionably tattoos these days. I sometimes joke of my own collection of scars and injuries to my body. Thankfully I heal exceptionally well. Most of my scars heal to the point of being almost unnoticeable, if you did not know my histories. It is an exhausting hobby, painful too! A frequent refrain I hear while being admitted to the ER or ICU has been, “Mr Williams, you are very lucky to be alive”.  “Yeah Doc I hear that allot. Do the best you can.”.  It has become somewhat of a ongoing joke, amongst friends and family. These days those groups have become ultra thin. Another reason I make this record of events in my life including improved contemporaneous writings. We can all hope for such. Believe me if it was up to me, no one would know much if anything about me, or my life. I have been, or more correctly I have allowed myself to be forced into a dreadfully unpleasant set of circumstances, as I have whined concerning previously.

Okay Sherman set the way-back machine to the 80’s and 90’ of the last century. Seeing patterns across the country in the minds of crazy ass bitches, now I do Not mean that in a bad way. I have a immense affinity for beautiful crazy ladies. Now as I was saying, the imagery within their minds was too consistent to be coincidence. The language of our sub- conscience is imagery, archetypal, motifs, iconography, mythical, dreams, visions, will of the wisps and whimsy. I believe we all “see” much more of one another than we choose to accept. The largest hurdle to understanding is this compulsion to read or understand what we “see” before the picture is finished assembling in our minds. This tendency has been increasingly pushed into smaller and smaller bits. Which as a negative exponential inverse function has become more and more confusing as to be nigh meaningless with each subsequent reduction. Hence at a time when we should be more connected to everyone. We find increased feelings of isolation and alienation. No matter how much we communicate with our neighbors next door or abroad we have less consensus or feelings of commonality. We sequester these feeling with their accompanying anxieties, less we inadvertently offend anyone. Like what the Fuck! It is part and parcel of the Adult World. Being offended or offending others is how things get done. Usually for the best interests of everyone. Granted we should strive to be engaging to achieve our goals, short of violence or intimidation. Yet as any honest government would gladly concede. Once negotiations by normal means come to an impasse then comes negotiations by “other means”. The debased conduct of sordid persons is best met with our best foot forward, right up their ass! Like most animals, immediacy tends to be the most effective in correcting Mali-adpted conduct. Back to the horse I rode up on, hahaha.

At any rate, over the years I began to solve the underlying issues. I actually came to my own work arounds prior to fully grasping the centralized source or the impact of its implications. Years later I did begin to hear limited bits of information over the internet. Although it did take me a while before I started to correlate the “conspiracy theory” data with what I was “seeing” in women throughout the country.  Largely because few had any real coherent information. Eventually, information concerning Project MK Ultra and our government's Psy-Ops programs sufficiently surfaced to flesh out the details. As a child, young teenager I was familiar with the government’s LSD experiments for a variety of reasons, mind control being one aspect. Frankly I can not believe there are people today who do not know or refuse to believe that our government conducted such experimentation on the populace. It was just common knowledge in the circles I travel. If you read the Program Outline for MK Ultra it has an extensive list of lines of “study” information was to be explored, accumulated with a focus of deriving paradigms of control on individuals, groups, countries, cultures, and from that to the world at Large. The Globalist, New World Order, G-7, Trilateral Commission, Illuminati the individuals and their constantly shifting panorama of institutions and foundations are continually sifting beliefs and cultures in an multi-generational game of Three Card Molly. Degree by degree all the world’s various societies and Cultures have been manipulated via global misdirection with large quantities of restructuring of values and beliefs. Till everyone on Earth thinks good is bad; and bad is good. I should think we have all heard these arguments before, usually framed as the delusions of conspiracy theorist. All rather convenient as a means explaining away any descent or even an open fair discussion. Our social structure has drifted far from where we should be. Starting in 2020, everything is going to change and never be this pleasant or nice again. Well at least not till after the Second Coming. Hahaha, despite sounding …...

[trazskil]

King of Chalice

(The Land Between Worlds Anthology: Issue #6)

King Traean Niewax leaned over the balcony. The people of Chalice bustled in the streets below his tower. A breeze of fresh evening summer air rushed over the surrounding forest and filled his lungs. He sighed with memories of a time long ago before he had the responsibilities of a king.

It was a simpler time then. Yes, a simpler time with simpler people. Even as a young prince, his father never gave too much responsibility to him, so he had plenty of time to enjoy his adolescence with his mates and Dommii—the only person to have ever stolen his heart. Her light brown hair bounced with each step as if complimenting her lively self. Funny, how that was the one of the few things he could remember about her now. Even her face, except for her smile, was a complete blur to him. But, that's what happens with time. How long had it been? Twenty years? More?

He remembered the last time he had ever seen Dommii. He was twenty-six, they went out for lunch, a picnic in the royal gardens, where she told him she was leaving. He thought they would make it work, write to each other, meet whenever they got the chance. But life is not like the stories of lovers.

Soon after she left, Traean's father died and he became the King of Chalice and its surrounding areas. He became too busy to write to her and she soon faded into the past. They did meet much later in life. She was hurt that he never wrote back to her. He tried to apologize, but it was too late. He let their relationship—whatever it might have been—fail.

"My Grace," said a well known male voice behind him, breaking the King from his reverie.

The king exhaled deeply, breathing out that summer breeze, and turned from the setting sun to face his ward. Traean never married nor did he sire children. So, when his advisors were about to give up on him, they suggested that he chose a ward. So, he went to an orphanage, spoke with all the children there, decided that this boy—now a man—was the one, and gave him a home.

"Yes, Petruccio?" Traean said. "Come in." The boy had a peasant's name, but that never bothered him, so it never bothered the king, either.

Petruccio entered and gave an informal bow, as they were in each other's company and no one else's. Had there been others, he would have shown a much longer and deeper bow.

"I was wondering if you might like to take supper with me tonight," Petruccio said. "It has been a while since we have had time together, what with your advisors hounding you all day and while you're at court during the evenings… well, we hardly have a moment together anymore, My Lord."

Petruccio made a good point, they hadn't spent much time together lately, but it wasn't for the reasons he suspected, no. In truth, there was something else going on and the king was reluctant, no, repulsed at the idea of speaking of it to his ward. His son.

Traean sighed and nodded his head, inviting the young, dark-haired, man in. Petruccio opened the door and in followed one of the palace's servants with a foldable table and chairs. After he set them up, Traean dismissed him and Petruccio placed a basket on the table.

It had simple peasant food, dark bread with goat cheese and salmon. Simple, but it was what his ward had grown up eating before coming to the palace and when he introduced it to the king it quickly became one of their favorites. It was the uncomplicated things like this which made King Traean happy and his ward was just that, uncomplicated.

They sat and ate in silence before Traean cleared his throat, steeling himself to speak. Petruccio looked up at him and opened his mouth as if to say something, then hesitated, likely realizing that his master was also about to speak. Instead, he shoved a piece of bread with goat cheese in his mouth and chewed it vigorously.

Traean raised an eyebrow at this, disapproving the uneducated behavior, but said nothing of it. Instead, he pushed on. "I need to tell you something, Petruccio, and I need you to listen."

Petruccio, still chewing the large chunk of food, nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm going to die soon," the king declared.

Petruccio choked and grabbed at his cup then gulped down the entire contents of wine. He pounded his chest and filled his cup and downed it again. Gasping, he held up a finger, indicating for Traean to wait while he gathered himself. "You what?"

"You heard me, son."

Petruccio gave the king a meaningful look. He knew well that Traean would only call him "son" in the most significant and private of their encounters.

"Father," he responded, noting the urgency of his claim. "I do not understand. Have you fallen ill?"

"No."

"Have you been poisoned?"

Traean shook his head.

"Well, don't leave me guessing!" Petruccio said, growing irritated.

"I don't know when nor do I know how, but someone is going to kill me."

"How do you know this?"

Traean was silent for a long time, thinking of the best way to tell his ward what he knew. There were people and times with which to be careful. To his advisors, he had to speak of this matter after weeks of understanding it. Then he was sent to the different priests of the Nine Gods and there he had to tell them the exact same thing in an entirely different way. Now, he was with the person he trusted most. Now, he was with his son.

"I have had… visions," Traean began, not choosing his words carefully. Not caring about the order they came out. He simply spoke freely. "There is more to the world than we can know, more to the Land Between Worlds. More beyond this place. In my visions, I see many things to come. One of those things is my death… .

"These visions have already started to come to pass, and next to happen is my death. I do not know how it is to happen or when. Only that  many other things have happened all around the Land Between Worlds, changing it leaving it worse than it once was."

Petruccio did not wait to respond, "Visions? How can you be sure?"

"Next time you are out at the market, listen to what the people around you say. They will speak of odd things, dark things, things that should not happen in the Land Between Worlds."

"Father, I--"

"I know that odd things happen all the time, Petruccio. Those things are not these things."

"Alright," Petruccio said, carefully. "Then, at least tell me what you mean."

"Have you ever heard of anything strange at any of the Barriers?" Traean asked.

"Strange how?"

The king gave his ward a knowing look.

"I heard a few people talking about how a patrol found a grown man throwing rocks at the Northern Barrier. They said that his eyes were violet and swirling." Petruccio looked at his father, brow raised.

The king nodded his head, affirmingly.

"But that's just hogwash!" Petruccio protested. "People make up stories all the time!"

Traean sighed, realizing he needed a to take a different tack. "What do you know of Messar?"

"The Old God?"

"Yes."

"Not much, other than not many people are left that are faithful to him."

"There are no more," the King corrected.

"What do you mean?"

"You won't have to wait for long, Petruccio. News will soon arrive that a man named Mast from Ichiké was killed by poison. He was the last Priest of Messar. His religion died with him, drowned in pools of crone's blood."

"I don’t like where this is going, my lord."

Traean narrowed his eyes at his ward. Petruccio formally referring to him in private was never a good sign. Time to change tactics, again.

"My son, I am telling you these things because I trust you," the king said.

"Trust me?" Petruccio asked, incredulous. "If you trusted me I would have been the first to hear of it. Not your priests! Or am I to believe that I am the first?"

Traean started, then recoiled. The words stung worse than he had expected. It was not his intention to lose his son's trust, but what other option did he have?

"I had to be sure what I was seeing was real before coming to you. I did not want to betray your trust, but I could not have you worrying about something that could have been nothing either. I am sorry."

Petruccio let loose a long, audible sigh through his nose. "I understand why you do what you do, father. Though I wish you would allow me to be a part of these things in the earlier stages. I've been your son for fifteen years now and yet you leave me out of so much… ."

"Petruccio, you know—"

"Yes, I know why. But you are the King! You are he who decides the law and can make a change. You have made so much change, great change, and all for the good of Chalice and her surrounding areas. So why, father, why have you not changed this?"

Traean knew what his ward was getting at. He could adopt him as a son, but could not name him heir to his throne. Though Petruccio was not asking for the throne, nor did he necessarily want it, he did want to be a part of his father's political life. Traean knew this. It was something that they had spoken of many times before and each time it ended in the same result.

"When?" Petruccio asked, breaking the silence in the now dim room, lit only by candlelight which flickered, spreading tiny shadows on the round stone walls.  

"I don't know exactly," Traean confessed. "I only know right before something happens, then right after. As if something is confirming it to me." The king paused, thinking. "Soon. Soon is my best guess. But it could be anytime within the hour or up to next week."

"Nine days…  is there any way to stop it?" Petruccio asked doubt thick in his tone.

"I have tried," Traean said. "With each vision, I send someone to watch or guard whoever the target is. No matter what they do, they cannot stop it. Whatever is meant to happen will happen. Whatever is meant to happen is fated to us."

"You always taught me that we choose our own fate. That we can decide to act or not."

"I used to believe that were so."

"But not now."

The king nodded solemnly. "We can take all the precautions we want, put guards all around me, have taste testers try my food before I do, but no matter what, my assassination will happen."

"Then we prolong the inevitable," Petruccio suggested. "Keep you alive for as long as we can or at least until we know there will be a good king in line next. We cannot let your advisors choose someone, or worse, have some tyrant take the throne right out from under you."

Traean said nothing. He did not move to indicate whether or not he agreed with his ward or not. He just sat very still, the only thing moving was his chest as he breathed. He watched his ward, however, until his eyebrows rose and his eyes widened, realizing what the king already knew.

"That won't matter either, will it?" Petruccio asked. "Someone terrible is going to take over Chalice no matter what we do."

"Yes."

"But you must have some plan, right?"

"I--Yes."

"You're uncertain of it?"

"Yes, but not because of some vision. I have not received another vision since that of my foretelling death."

"What is it then?" Petruccio asked a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"For you to enter into exile."

"What?" he asked, once more incredulous at his father’s words.

"I want you to leave. There is nothing that you can do now, not for me and not for Chalice if you stay here. But, if you go, there may be a chance still. There may be hope for a better future."

"I will not run though fear stands before me."

"This is no time to quote scripture, boy," the king snapped. "You will not argue with me either. This is my last wish from you. You will take the money I give you, take my best horse and go. This is not about running like a coward; it is about living to fight another day."

Petruccio looked as though he might say something, argue, but he nodded instead.

"I need you to leave tonight, son, but before you go..." the king choked and a well of tears pooled in his eyes, "before we part for this life, know that I love you. You are the one person who has brought me light and joy. You are my greatest treasure."

Petruccio stood and walked to his father, knelt where he sat and embraced him so fiercely they almost toppled the chair. They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, but when they finally let go King Traean Niewax wished it could have been just a few moments longer.

[mythologymatrix]

Animal Brides

“Oh handsome man, if there is any mercy in your human breast give me back my seal-skin. I can not live in the sea without it. I cannot live among my own people without my seal-skin!”                                                       -- The Goodman of Wastess

The selkie is perhaps the most famous of the animal brides in the Western world. A Scots word meaning ‘little grey seal’, the selkie is commonly seen around the Scottish coast and islands—grey seals with dark, intelligent eyes, that gather on the coast and bump playfully at boats. Some shed their seal-skins to try the land in human form, but if their skin is stolen from them, they can never return to the ocean, and are beholden to the human who holds it. Many a Scot has caught themselves a selkie spouse, and been married long enough to raise children together. Eventually, however, they always find their skin and return to the ocean.

In Germanic legend, we see instead the swan maiden. In their swan-skins, these sisters fly freely, but run the risk of being struck down by a hunter. One such unfortunate was Swanhilde, who was rescued by the master smith Wayland. In her gratitude, she fell in love with him, and set aside her swan-skin and her magic to be his bride.

Likewise, a young boy in Indian mythology shames his family with his desire to wed a dog, but he is determined, and so the match is set. Each night, she shed her dog skin and slipped away, until one night her husband caught her and she was revealed to all for the most beautiful woman they had ever seen, and he was much congratulated for his cleverness. Unfortunately, his friend who sought to copy his clever trick fared rather worse, and found himself with a bride that growled and bit, and he hanged himself in shame.

In the Phillippines, there are stories of a young prince out to seek his fortune meeting a monkey bride. They are married by the archbishop of the monkeys, and Don Juan and all his family are deeply shamed that he has married an animal. The king sets unattainable tasks for the monkey to complete in being rid of her, but she is consistently the most gifted of his children’s wives, and so Don Juan becomes king and his monkey bride the king.

A very similar story is found in Russia, where a Tsar’s son marries a frog after an edict that each prince must fire an arrow and marry a wife from where it lands. Each night, when the king issues a task of his daughters-in-law, she sheds her frogs skin and the beautiful Vassilissa completes it to perfection. When summoned before the Tsar, Vassilissa reveals herself with great pomp and ceremony, and her husband Prince Ivan burns her frog skin to keep her human and beautiful. She is ripped away from him by her curse, and so he must go on a quest to rescue her. This was the death of Koschei the Deathless.

Other animal bride stories include the Georgian The Frog’s Skin, the Croatian The She-Wolf, the Sri Lankan The Mouse Maiden, the Italian The Dove Girl, the African stories of buffalo maidens, the Pacific Islands story of a mermaid trapped on land by stealing her fish tail, the Japanese The Crane Wife, the Basque The Lady Pigeon and her Comb, the 1001 Nights story The Queen of the Serpents which features bird of paradise maidens, the Chinese crane maidens found in the Dunhuang manuscript, the Swahili The Story of Haseebu Kareem ed Deen and the King of the Snakes, and the Pakistani Prince Bairâm and the Fairy Bride.

[revlatte]

Freedomland

Sweat pouring down my face as I try to wipe it out of the corner of my eye. Feet hitting the hard pavement. Labored yet controlled breaths. Moving my body as an act of self-care and radical resistance. No bra, no shame. I made a bold move and decision to run freely in my neighborhood. Usually, I cover up with a hoodie, ashamed of my body and the way my abundant breasts move. Drawing attention to places of deep pain and objectification; I cover them always. In the middle of 100F weather, I wear hoodies as a protective garment. Today, my soul feels liberated and my external appearance demands the right to be free. 

Continuing to pick up the pace, I feel determined and free. Wind wisps by. Cars slow down to let me pass. Older women in their yards shake their heads; I can only wonder what they’re thinking. Fueled by conversations and sounds of liberation blaring through my earbuds, I press forward. It’s imperative that I drown out the sounds of white supremacy by the chorus of Sweet Honey and the Rock and African drums calling my spirit “home.” 

As I turn up Rainer Avenue, 3 little white children stop playing in the yard, come to the edge of the grass, and look at me approaching. They are silent. The oldest of the three, no more than 4 years old, grabs a stick from the yard and holds it as if he’s protecting them from the monster they see approaching. I can see steam coming out of his ears as he tries to discern who and what I am. Black? “Queer” (to his understanding)? Woman? Man? Fat? Alien. 

In that moment, I attempt to connect with his little soul. Pulling out my earbuds, slowed paced, I waive and softly utter a “hello.” The look of contempt and hatred pour from his eyes. “I do not belong on his street,” is the message he is clearly giving me. 

I stay focused on my health and recovery, this healing journey to get my body in sync with the emotional and psychological healing work I have been doing deeply saturated in the white supremacist world that has created a “kingdom” for this little boy and subjects me to the status of “alien.” Indeed, I am a reflection of the Holy Other. But he does not know this yet. To him, I am different; an enemy (of the state). He has no clue that I am a complete reality away, joyfully running on greener pastures in a freedomland where his hatred is rejected.

This semester, I have the honor and privilege of taking a course at Wesley Theological Seminary. The course, “The Black Theology of James H. Cone,” has been cultivated by Dr. Josiah U. Young, a student of Cone. Each week, I leave class with even deeper ruminations of the soul and a desire to connect with my community to explore these deep theological questions. 

During a morning check-in, Kui and I had the opportunity to connect about the issue of theodicy (why a “good God allows evil) and freedomland. We engaged a conversation, deconstructing the existence of folks of the African Descent on this land, stolen land called America. I have long asserted that it has been by design and intention that Blacks on this land, with roots in the Slave Trade, will forever be an internally displaced people. It was by design, systematically and systemically, to keep us from having a clear path to our “roots,” in African and beyond. Reparations were never intended to be granted because we were less than, not human; or in the eyes of that little boy: alien. We do not belong because we belong to the will of the Oppressor.

How then do we reconcile this idea of being a forever internally displaced people and the “God of our understanding,” often the Christian God. Why does God allow this to happen? To continue? To allow interlocking supremacy systems to prevail at bringing guns, violence, drugs, and brokenness into our communities? Why is it possible for little white children to feel comfortable staring down Black adults with hatred and contempt in their hearts? Where is God in that action? Is suffering ever redemptive? Why would God, the God of our Ancestors, allow us to be a forever internally displaced people without a home on this earth? Is the only “home” we should be allowed to know a promise in the afterlife? This promise that was given to us by the religion of the Oppressors?

Across the country, people of color are ready to go “home,” in search of that freedomland. In search of a place free from the watch of the State. Free from turned heads when they see me approaching, jogging, with my “#blacklivesmatter” hoodie on. Free to do whatever this ground of self-determined because collectively decide. Free to create, express, worship, and just be. The freedom to self-organize, self-determine, and practice collectivism for the liberation of our people is the core of Black Power. 

This is not so different that the freedom express by Marcus Garvey and expressed by the UNIA (Universal Negro Improvement Association). This is the same freedom Minister Malcolm X proclaimed. And yes, it is even the same type of freedom that Dr. King believed was possible: a place where the inherent worth and dignity of all persons could be affirmed in the Beloved Community. It is the place that my African ancestors, on this land, dreamed about after a long day’s work, without rest. It is this place that is calling our kindred spirits, home. It is the same freedomland James Baldwin was able to manifest on this earth in his Paris home but even still, he had to endure being a stranger in the village...

What is the cost of moving towards settling home on this land? I continue to ponder as I consider my own “homecoming,” returning back to Bel Air. In many ways, the Prodigal Daughter, has returned “home.” More on that later...

It is at this place of “home,” this freedomland, that necessitates a self-determined Black people, those of African descent, to explore the God that is within us. It is a place free of denomationalism and oppressive dogmatics. It is on this freedomland where we can proclaim, without saying: Black Lives Matter, Women’s Stories Matter, Queer Lives Matter. It is on this land where we can connect freely and openly. Where we can run without fear of being gunned down by the State. Where we can embody a world we only thought possible in our dreams. 

I believe that once we get to this place, a place so fundamental, home; we can truly feel the presence of the emancipatory presence of the Liberating God. Through this soul-force, satyagraha, we will transform our world by the transformation (and dare I say transfiguration) of selves. 

Until then, we must continue to work towards this idea of home and freedomland however, wherever, and whenever we can. Yes, we’re on our way...to freedomland!

[republicstandard]

I want YOU to take Responsibility for our European Future

I know that you have noticed it. I know that that you know. I know that even if you tell yourself that it is a good thing, you know that our countries are changing in fundamental ways.

I believe that the results of these changes will be irreversible. I believe that unless we act, the future is bloody, dark, and will turn men into monsters. Why do I believe this? Well, that depends on you. A lot depends on the answers you have in your heart to the questions I am asking.

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"I wanted to change them, but it's them who have changed me, making me in their own image. The Future used to just be a continuation of the present; with all the changes looming far beyond the horizon. Now the Future and Present are One. Are they ready for it?" ~ Pisatel, Stalker. (1979)

In a few short decades, European people will begin to become ethnic minorities in their homelands. This process will be the end of White Europeans as a race. There are many among us who think this is fine, that when people live in a particular place they become citizens of that place with all the values and beliefs that entails. This is a lie. This is a lie that our leaders have told us for years because their failing economic system demands constant cheap labor to sustain itself. This is a lie that has been perpetuated in our schools, universities, newspapers, television and online. There is no escape from the lie of multiculturalism, though no-one can say what it is truly for, or why we will be better off becoming an ethnic minority.

Friends! Muggings! Stabbings! Acid attacks! Assaults! FGM! Murders! Terrorism! All created by Tory Austerity! But, of course, as Our Sadiq says, all these things - which, in any case, are all Far-Right LIES spread by Trump - are just 'part and parcel of living in a big city.' pic.twitter.com/CKLQaAjWJ9

— Sir Leftski Clifton-Edge (@SupportOurLefty) March 22, 2018

Some say being The Great Replacement is a just reward for colonialism. Some say White people are all racist. Some say that non-Whites can never be racist. Some say that Whiteness is toxic and that equality means group-interest for everyone except Whites. Some say that it is a privilege to be White. I disagree.

"I was born an activist. Silence is Violence. If you are silent, you are, in your way, being violent. You are contributing to that violence as it's happening," Alicia Keys

The fundamental problem we face as communities, cultures, and nations of broadly European natures- that is all anglophone nations, all European nations- is that we do not recognize ourselves in the mirror. Like a dog, we look in the mirror and do not recognize ourselves. We do not consider race as part of our make-up. We think we are French, Italian, Danish, American, English, Scottish, Welsh, Irish, German. But I ask you- What are those names? What are they based upon? What do they mean? Is it really just a document given to you by the government, when we know there are distinct cultures that are produced by distinct ethnic European groups?

In a way, the Leftists are accurate in their belief that there is something racist about not seeing race. While you might tell yourselves that treating others without consideration for race is treating others fairly, in fact, what you are doing is denying the truth that people of other races recognize as easily as breathing.

A lot more than you sweetie. And where are their parents? Drunk? In a gutter? In prison? Down the pub? Get real

— Mike Graham 🍾 (@Iromg) March 21, 2018

Everyone knows you are a White person. Non-White people definitely treat you as a White person. It is you alone who denies your identity.

So, what does that mean, to have a White identity? On the surface, nothing much changes. Your life will continue as it always has. You will not turn into a racist- I promise! It is a little thing that should in no way affect how you treat your fellow man, in fact- the very idea that recognizing the differences between humans makes one a supremacist is insulting to all humans. If the political left is to be believed, the same civilization that ended slavery and went to the moon will crumble to dust if Europeans acknowledge that people from different cultures behave in noticeably different ways. Europeans, as has been proven in many nations over the last seventy years, are a highly tolerant and welcoming people. Can any other people claim the same exalted heights of equality among mankind?

As an immigrant growing up on a SE London council estate going to a grammar school - I joined the only party with the vision to help someone like me get on in life - @Conservatives Sorry to disappoint you pal but this immigrant is not going to fit in to your Leftist tick box... pic.twitter.com/Him1LpBnsN

— Amandeep SinghBhogal (@AmandeepBhogal) March 21, 2018

Despite our attempts to create a purely civic society, race comes into play with great force when you think in demographic terms on a civilizational scale. this may be hard for you to imagine after decades of individualistic operant conditioning. You can feel it when I ask you these questions, the resistance in your mind to looking deep within yourself. If you feel uncomfortable thinking about the answers you have, you should ask yourself- why? Does your mind race to find excuses? Rather than answer, will you instead call me names, or close this browser window in disgust? Why do you suppose that is?

Do you want a better future for your children and grandchildren than the one you had? What does that look like, in your heart? Imagine it for me. Tell me what that is. Say it aloud.

Does it look like Cologne at New Year's Eve? Does it look like Johannesburg? Does it look like Tower Hamlets? Does it look like Chicago or Detroit?

Does it look like an Islamic State?

Going after grooming gangs is too much trouble but we will arrest the fathers of the young girls being groomed for trying to save their dignity. #Priorities pic.twitter.com/At3a2l14za

— Orwell & Goode 🇨🇱 (@OrwellNGoode) March 21, 2018

In a little over a century, Germany has been defeated in war twice yet neither war destroyed all Germans.

Our children might see that reality come to pass. In a century, the United States has led the world into a new era of prosperity and may still lose it all to demographic change. In a little less than a century, Great Britain has fallen from leading the World to seeing a million of her daughters stolen, raped and impregnated by her former subjects. In a century, France has stumbled to her knees, from the land of the highest enlightenment to seeing Muslims and Communists occupying the Basilica of Saint-Denis. The House of God and tombs of kings being treated in this way may not upset you, we are a secular people these days, but this is the least of the problems France faces today. The few places on Earth where mankind can truly express themselves freely are becoming censorious police states, run by crooks who look at the issues brought about by immigration and decide they are problems with which the next generation must contend, not ours. Not right now.

You may think online you are anonymous, you can create fake profiles and no-one can trace you. That’s wrong! The messages you type and send can be traced back to you. The same laws apply to online messages, images and videos. What you post now can affect you later in life.

— Police Scotland (@policescotland) March 21, 2018

"A shared hatred of the West is what conjoins the Left and Islam, their coercive and collectivist ideologies at odds with the Western philosophy of individualism." John Q. Publus

Does this look like the future you want for your children? Does this look like the present you want?

You need to take responsibility, not just for yourself and your family but for the truth. The truth is that unless Europeans become organized and educated about the very simple consequence of The Great Replacement, there will be no Europeans. There will be little of Europe left that you would recognize; outside perhaps Poland, Hungary and the Czech Republic.

You need to realize that there is no Europe without Europeans. That means that yes, it is okay to be White. Your ethnicity is just as valid as anyone else's- if we are not racists, how can it be any different? To recognize that is in the interest of yourself, your family and your country, not to mention the ethnic minorities in Western countries who benefit from the rights Europeans extend to all mankind.

You need to recognize that people who tell you that Europeans are a unique people with the right to exist are not racists. The racist is the one who tells you that your blood is evil, that you are a colonizer, that your existence is a cancer that is oppressing other races. Recognize it. Recognize that without you, there is no Europe. There is no America. There is nothing.

"The worst evil is not to commit crimes, but to fail to do the good one might have done." -  Léon Bloy

Is it okay for Japanese people to have their own country? Is it okay for the Maoris to live in New Zealand? Is it okay for people to live in peace among their own kind? If it is okay for Africa to be Black- well, I think you see where I am going. If we can agree that there are rights to land that are contingent on ethnicity -this is after all what so much of the talk about decolonization is about- then Europeans must also have this right to self determination.

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Do you want European people to continue to have countries of their own, or not?

Can you in good conscience answer this question with "No"? I hope not. I hope you are more honest with yourself than I was for most of my life. Yes my friend, I was a leftist myself for something like twenty years. I denied it all, as you deny it today. I was hooked on the religion of progressive politics and denied reality too, secure in the knowledge that my atheistic reality would not change as the world changed around me.

This Nation has already changed drastically. But unless you make a conscious decision to stand up & say ENOUGH, then it will change beyond all recognition. Demographically, Culturally, We will cease to exist. Make you or ancestors proud & your descendants humble.

— Scott Anthony 🇬🇧 (@Politikking) March 22, 2018

If you do want to leave something after you die; if our lives have any meaning at all, if our culture has any greatness left- it is time to talk. Talk to your family and friends about these questions. Find your answers. There are some things that will not go away, even if you wish it with all your heart.

The fight for the future has already begun.

Thank you for reading Republic Standard. We publish this magazine and the Freebird Forum because we believe in free speech- but it doesn't come cheap! Will you make a small donation towards our running costs? You can make a difference by clicking here.

The Republic Standard Web Shop is now open! Every piece of merchandise you buy is a victory against the nerds.

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[xottzot]

2017-11(NOV)-12th-Sunday--

2017-11(NOV)-12th-Sunday--

It must have 'rained' overnight, because there was droplets over the car. But they were dirty droplets. Dust and shit in the air and on every surface everywhere, and not enough rain/water to move the rest off the car but to just make dirty droplets that evaporate and leave contaminated spots all over everything not just the car. Those things end up in all the crannies of a vehicle and rust them out. It's almost like acid rain effect upon cars at this hellhole and kills cars before their time. And then of course there's the damned terrible killing heat at this hellhole.....

The ground is still bone dry and dusty and doesn't show any sign of any water upon it.

So much for a 'thunderstorm' and an accompanying amount of 'rain' as normal people think of when they hear the trigger-word 'thunderstorm'. It's like hearing that you're going to be given a huge feast and you're starving but you only get a couple of dirty fried potato fries fragments.

And of course the weather crystal ball department had to state a maybe,perhaps,kinda,might-be rain forecast to cover themselves in case somebody tries to sue them because of droplets and acid rain rot.

Honestly, the much-vaunted highly technically equipped weather department reports are almost worthless most of the time except for temperature forecasts which they kinda get right but that's never correct for this hellhole area which is always anywhere up to 10C higher or more than any forecast for this area. -- Dear Fliss constantly saw that herself here and it's gotten worse, so much worse....

Currently slightly cooler but still too warm/hot overnight, especially at this hovel.

Saturday night had Police sirens.

Earlier in the darkness (on Saturday night) there was the sound of an unlicensed motorbike on the roads then ducking in and being 'stashed' at one of the abo criminal households. It will be no doubt all over the road and everywhere on Sunday too...and Monday.....and....

And a little before midnight there was an aboriginal riding a pushbike (no legal helmet of course because that's the law and they never obey laws at this hellhole area and no lights on it of course). Completely dark and almost invisible. The criminals transit system at work.

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

Sam & Max fed early long before dawn. During Saturday as they slept and at night, they both have been having nightmares. They need uninterrupted sleep. And so do I but it's never 'allowed' to occur because of hell.

Hell here has to maintain it's regular summer schedule of hell and constant torment and grief and despair and of no hope and pain.

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

Sunday:--------

Of course it still hasn't rained anynmore.

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

And a NEWS incident but still not at a level of the crime and criminal shit that goes on aorund this hellhole, not even a whisper closer.....

And what that person said in the NEWS item was almost exactly what a neighbor said to me befre they left after the criminal aboriginals became even too much for them to tolerate. They lameneted, "But this used to be such a quiet place....."

a NEWS item:----- -Ballajura residents 'frustrated' after police break up out-of-control party

"What is this place coming to, it used to be a great neighbourhood, not so sure now," another said.

http://www.watoday.com.au/wa-news/ballajura-residents-frustrated-after-police-break-up-outofcontrol-party-20171112-gzjjo9.html

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

And something else that goes on around here....and it's usually kept VERY VERY quiet....and you NEVER hear about it......especially if it's in any way 'aboriginal related' and then it gets a total silence order put upon it it really seems.

The vehicle was a 4WD type of thing (or SUV) and was STOLEN and was being erratically driven by a woman. - Don't ever think that just because women around are any less criminal. They certainly are not and are even worse about here.

NEWS:--- (VIDEO)--Dramatic police chase through Pinjarra caught on camera

https://thewest.com.au/news/wa/dramatic-police-chase-through-pinjarra-caught-on-camera-bc-5642887411001

Witnesses captured the moment a woman was dragged from her car by police following an extraordinary pursuit.

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

WEATHER

This is the shitty weather situation around here in Western Australia....first it's forecast there's going to be bo rain...then that's changed and saying there is going to be rain, but only in certain areas (this hellhole area was one of them).....then the forecasts changes again (I'm not making this up believe me), and the forecasts all change again to say yes, there IS going to be rain and LOTS of it and thunderstorms and wrath of god weather stuff......and then the forecasts change again and now (lets see how long it lasts shall we?) saying that there's going to be rain on and off during the week...whereas before there was NO RAIN AT ALL forecast for the entire week....and so maybe it 'might' rain during the week now.....kinda...maybe.....but who the fuck knows what'll happen for rain at this hellhole.......meanwhile everything's dry as a bone and dying and threats of bushfires and deliberately lit bushfores/arson arise......

There's been distant thunder and stuff going on but not a single drop of rain at this hellhole.

However, there's also even been news reports of 'massive' hailstones assailing one area and warnings issued almost as if it's a nuclear war going to happen..... : : WEATHER NEWS ITEM:---http://www.watoday.com.au/wa-news/lightning-showers-and-hail-the-size-of-golf-balls-as-sever-storms-lash-perth-20171112-gzjw03.html

Weather events in Perth and areas make the pithy news you see and gets noticed and accepted as if its all over the damned place. (it's not) - It's just passing bands and clumps of clouds and passing thunderstorm clumps.

It's amazing to watch the weather radar all day and watch the stuff form over on the land (even intense thunderstorm activity) and spring up like manufactured magic, and also do the same just offshore and come in on targets. Gotta hit Perth city to make the news of course.

Meanwhile here at his hellhole...it's as dry as a desert.

But according to the weather radar, there's another line including thunderstorm activity moving along to here so lets see if it fizzles out evaporating before it arrives. That'll be a bad mark for somebody's aiming if it does.

Anyway, posting this up in case all my slow-as-a-snail internet ability andor power goes out.

At least the damned VERY hot temperatures have alleviated somewhat.....until later.

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

I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you well away from this hellhole never to return or think about it or speak about it or of ANYTHING about it ever again. I love you dear Fliss and want to be with YOU. - Otherwise, hell will continue and get worse and I simply cannot ignore it or distract myself away from it all making shit worse. -- Poor Sam & Max and other neighborhood dogs are upset by the ocassional loud thunder sounds...and the feral cats freely roaming about in everybody's yards day and night......which upsets poor Sam & Max and all the other dogs......