#the blonde gal is from corner gas!

[sun-lit-roses]

Brief Candle

I’m back! The holidays kinda took me out of the mood to watch new things rather than binge Star Trek for the eleven billionth time, but new year, new Stargate episodes! Booyah! Here we go, Season 1, Episode 9:

Okay I’m thinking Greek this time?

Yay, so is Daniel! I feel so smart.

Well, childbirth is something new for the series, sure.

Love everyone automatically looking at Sam. Just because she has the same parts doesn’t mean she knows what the hell to do 😂 Same, Sam.

I’ve missed the intro music 💗

Of course Daniel knows what to do! He’s our hero!

Well. Theoretically, he knows what to do. But they aren’t going to kill off a baby in the first ten minutes of the show, so I have high hopes.

Jack and Teal’c have noped out of that situation. Mood.

Aw, a baby! That is clearly not a newborn. But a baby!

Everyone is young and pretty - what is this, a teen drama?

Wow, this lady is not subtle at all.

And yet Jack is somehow startled by ‘the cake is only for you.’

Sam is definitely not surprised. Is laughing at your CO against regulations?

Also, all I can think of is ‘the cake is a lie.’ Wrong decade. But still.

Ma’am, you’re supposed to wait until your crush can’t see you before you trade high fives with your besties.

Oh good, the time honored tradition of tormenting your teammates is alive and well in Stargate. Always my favorite part 😁

Okay, judging by that last look Jack gave Sam for giggling, laughing at your CO might not be against regulations, but it is definitely not recommended if you want to stay out of the dog house. Or KP duty. Whatever.

Oh no, his vision’s going all fuzzy! WAS THE CAKE A LIE

She drugged him and is now... dancing for him? Oh and now dragging him away, that’s a little more what I expected.

Um, shouldn’t the team be fighting a little harder to intervene? This seems out of character? He just got dragged off by an alien stranger?

So the roofie wore off, Jack has no idea what happened, and he may have killed a woman with sex? This episode took a left.

Oh, everyone is just asleep. But then why does Jack look so freaked out? I mean, other than the roofie thing.

Ooooo awkward.

Bet there’s not training in ‘how to greet your team while wearing a sheet.’ I also bet that Jack wishes there was.

I can’t tell if Sam is accusatory or concerned.

Well, definitely concern all around now. Passing out will do that. What all is up with that cake?? Roofie *and* universe’s best sleeping medication?

 Poor Jack. He is not having a good time.

Wait, the other people aren’t hungover. So is it not the cake that makes them pass out?

T’ealc’s ‘You never before inquired’ when Daniel asks why he didn’t tell him he knew what the temple symbols meant. He’s not wrong. 😂

Teal’c just casually opening up the statue while Daniel rambles. King.

That is a *really* cool tablet.

Aha! That’s why they made a big deal out of the birth mark! So we could identify this kid who’s growing up WAY too fast.

Wait, the original dude. He said 100 days of celebration or something. What if it’s not a festival, but some kind of sped up time thing? Sped up lives? Or is the planet sped up, and our intrepid heros are going to return home and find a year passed or something?

Looks like the former! So does each day equal one year for these people?

I’d make a joke about cradle robbing, but since Jack was drugged and not consenting, I’ll refrain. Also, if it’s 1 day = 1 year, then 31 years seems respectable.

A virus?

Oh no, that means Jack only has 100 days to live?! Or less, maybe? Not sure how that translates if they start out older. He was growing on me!

Whoa that sunset came on fast.

Yay, it’s the Cool Doc again! I’m glad she came back. She better not die like Kowalsky did after two episodes. I’ve got trust issues with this show now.

Floppy disks. Now there’s a throwback.

OH great, starting out older sounds like it accelerates this? So how much time does he have??

Holy receding hairline, Batman.

TWO WEEKS?!

I mean, he’s right to send them away, best to be on the safe side and they can make trips for info that they need. I’m glad their disease protocols are improving! Although considering they let Carter traipse back and forth... still not great.

Nanotech? Will that be easier to destroy than a normal virus? Just wave a big EMP in Jack’s direction, see what happens?

Pretty sure arguing with the statue isn’t a *great* use of your time, Jack, but I can’t really blame you.

MARRIAGE cake?

I’m not sure yelling at the woman about the only culture she’s ever known is really going to help matters here.

How does their aging work anyway - everyone looks young. Where are the people who are 70 or 80 days old? Or do they not visibly age after a certain point? But they don’t seem surprised by Jack’s appearance, so that doesn’t make sense.

Also, is there just like a *massive* graveyard somewhere if people are dying off so quickly?

I really need to stop trying to figure out the internal logic of a planet that, based on how the show has gone so far, we’re never going to see again.

How does Jack know that there isn’t like a forcefield or laser grid to keep the Chosen from leaving? I guess they probably scanned the area for things like that.

This is... possibly very sweet? I know Kynthia is trying to be nice, but sex really can’t solve everything, honey.

Also, are they going to have sex right in front of the Stargate? What if someone comes through. All ‘We have a cure!... OH.’

Could we have a Jack episode that *doesn’t* make me want to cry? Please?

Well, that’s taking de-throning a god very seriously.

Okay, this has been bugging me the whole time, WHERE do I know the blonde female alien from? The actress, I mean. I’m going to have to look her up after the episode, aren’t I.

They’re going to run into some sort of forcefield by leaving the village aren’t they?

There is some sort of... something? They’re awake? Jack isn’t younger, though.

The statue! Has a blinky thing!

Our team to the rescue!

They fixed everyone and Jack gets to live. Love a happy ending.

Aw. Maybe Kynthia can fall for someone new with all the years she has now. Maybe without drugging them first this time.

[lunnamars]

prompt: cold

Quick note: it's supposed to be for the Cold prompt from our ZoTash discord, but mine has a cold-ish theme, so forgive me anyhow. Your gal here is having a writer’s block, but I wanted to inspire myself on the LuNa fic from HerPrettySmile. If you're into LuNa, you should definitely check it out. It's one of my favorites fics!

The first time Sanji noticed them was back in Loguetown. When they were fleeing, Zoro was having a fight with a pretty lady and the cook had been outraged. The mosshead had never shown any interest in any woman whatsoever, so seeing him having a fight with one was absurd.

She was a swordsman, the blonde noticed. A perfect match, he thought. He never knew if the first-mate even had any interest in relationships, but if he does one day, the cook thought someone like that pretty lady would fit. 

Sanji had never known what was the result of the fight though. He wanted to stay at the time, but it was raining and so fucking cold, his clothes soaked, and he couldn’t even light his cigarette. So he trusted the Mosshead wouldn’t do anything stupid and went on his way. Zoro didn’t say anything when he came back to the ship and the cook never asked. 

However, he didn’t seem happy about something, and Sanji wondered what happened to the pretty lady.

Well, it’s not like we’ll meet again.

—

The first time Nami noticed that there was something odd with the relationship between Zoro and the Navy Lady was way back in Alabasta. She had never seen the green-haired man so agitated and flustered (and it wasn’t because of the fucking heat from that freaking country), not even when he was dealing with Sanji. That woman was definitely weird and also dangerous with her unceasing wish of chasing them. 

He had run away from the woman with glasses and Nami was stunned. She remembers him saying “She’s the only one I can’t fight” and the surprise hit her hard as a punch from Luffy. The only one he can’t fight? There’s no such a thing in Roronoa Zoro’s vocabulary — he’d never back down from a fight. Ever! Especially against a marine, even if she’s was a woman. 

She tried to drag the truth out of him, but to no avail. Zoro simply ignored her at the time and all the other times she had questioned him. Sometimes, he’d even give her a cold shoulder for poking her nose in too much.

Well, whatever. She doesn’t seem like she can pose a threat to him anyway.

—

Robin was almost sure there was something between the two swordsmen and she figured it out on Punk Hazard. She had seen how it was a really complicated and strained relationship and probably Zoro had his reasons. It was not like him to lose his temper over simple words and with strangers. 

She noticed how Zoro tried to act cold as that God-forsaken island towards the marine lady, but his efforts proved to be fruitless. He did lose his mind with her during the battle, but wasn’t able to leave her behind to die from Caeser’s gas. He had even bandaged her almost frostbitten shoulder! 

But there were two reasons she had been led to believe they were not strangers to each other: while running with the kids and the G-5 sailors, she heard them gossiping how the “Swirly Brow bro” had said the “Sword bro” was a softie inside and they didn’t need to worry about “Captain-chan”. Robin agreed, it was very well put. That was the first.

The second was when they were at the victory celebration, pirates and sailors together, she saw Tashigi fetching a glove for Zoro because his hands were cold. They argued in the end, yes, but she didn’t miss the looks they gave each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. 

Both seemed curious, but Tashigi had a longing in her eyes and he had recognition in his good eye.

Oh my, something did change.

—

Usopp had never paid attention to that Navy Lady that Sanji and Robin would talk about sometimes. He just knew she was Smoker’s subordinate, she was not that strong and had a weird rivalry with Zoro. He didn’t know why she even bothered considering their gap in strength was huge. 

Until he saw her fight in Wano. She was not strong as Zoro and Law yet, but she stood her ground pretty fucking beautifully in order to protect the Strawhat’s swordsman. Which was odd, taking into account her past behavior and the way she acted towards him when she first landed on the Samurai’s country. 

Tashigi had been straight up cold towards Zoro, full of icy remarks, and indifferent looks. But that was before their swordsman almost got himself killed. Zoro was on the floor and Tashigi protected him, fighting tooth and nail. She had won and it had been a pretty impressive battle, but, in the end, she ended up badly hurt. 

Chopper took care of her, of course, but the other strange thing was that Zoro did not leave her side. He even stood up to Smoker when the older man demanded him to get the fuck out of her bedroom. 

Zoro did not obey. And Usopp was flabbergasted.

She was just a marine and initially, the sniper thought Zoro was just doing that out of obligation. The woman had saved his life, after all. But then, he seemed pretty fucking happy when she woke up (even if they got back to yelling at each other) in his own peculiar way and for some reason, started to follow her around.

Her frigid demeanor was no more and she would even send a smile his way sometimes. They’d go back to arguing in the end though.

Those two are really troublesome.

—

Brook was old enough to spot correctly the moment when the pretty Navy Lady stopped being Zoro’s enemy and became his friend. He also knew they were a step away from being lovers, but not yet. Their established friendship was recent, but they weren’t able to hide the looks they gave each other all the time. 

Only when the other wasn’t looking, of course. He had a strong longing in his good eye and she had recognition in hers. In Brook’s opinion, they were two kids dancing around each other, without the courage to stop. 

It wasn’t just the looks. It was the small gestures — the way he would wrap a scarf around her neck when she was shivering because “you’ll catch a cold and fuck everything up, so take care of yourself, woman”, the way they’d always stay or fight together or how he would sulk in the corner when she was giving Law more attention than necessary.

Or, especially, how he gave one of his earings to her before the girl left to end the revolution she, Smoker and Aokiji started in the Navy. She had looked at him with surprise and he was asking for a promise in complete silence. Tashigi smiled and nodded, and maybe that was the step they needed. 

Yohohoho, young love. Always an adventure.

—

Smoker had always known how that brat was special to that silly little girl. He knew since she had let the Strawhats go in Alabasta, when she had blushed when that fucking boy carried her in Punk Hazard, when she had stood between death and the Pirate Hunter in Wano, risking her life for the sake of that punk.

The Vice-Admiral also knew that, from the brat’s part, Tashigi has always been equally special. He knew when he saw him saving her in Punk Hazard and when he stood up to him in Wano. He noticed when his cold demeanor turned into a friendly one and their bickering stopped being full of hate and poisonous only to become something amicable. Or even when he had cuddled with her in a freaking frozen night.

When all was said and done, he saw her run to the pirate and hug him, face full of relief and happiness for seeing him alive. The brat had been fucking hurt while protecting her with all his might. Smoker had to admit that the boy would hunt anyone who would hurt her. 

They had mended their wounds, one never leaving the other’s side. Smoker was okay with it, what could he do? The heart wants what it fucking wants. He just didn’t need to catch them in a lip-lock in the middle of the party, kissing like there was no tomorrow and fucking oblivious to the people cheering around them. 

The G-5 men, the Strawhats, and the Revolutionary Army all screaming. Smoker didn’t know why they were so surprised, he has always known to be honest. And it was the same reason why he was not stupefied when she handed her resign letter followed by a wedding invitation. 

Her smile had been radiant as she was on the day of her marriage. It was extremely simple, it had quite some people and they were dressed in traditional Wano clothes. It almost didn’t have any ceremony, they both didn’t believe in any religion after all. It was supposed to be just a party, considering that parties are the Strawhat’s specialty. 

Everyone was drinking and dancing when he approached the fucking brat (now a full-grown man, to be fair, but Smoker would still consider him a punk), nodding and glaring at him. The pirate returned the glare and the now-Admiral just smirked. He didn’t want to play the father figure there, but someone had too. 

“I’ll kill you if you hurt her. I don’t fucking care if you’re the greatest swordsman in the world or any of that shit. I will kick your sorry ass, pirate,” Smoker used his most menacing tone to get his point across.

Zoro nodded and seriously, replied, “I won’t. You have my word.”

Smoker eyed him, taking all his features, from his stern and determined look to his strong posture. The brat-turned-man seemed to be speaking the truth.

“But aren’t you too old to be threatening people, Admiral?”, Zoro tilted his head and showed his usual cocky smile.

Smoker only rolled his eyes and turned his back to the current greatest swordsman in the world. What the hell that silly girl was thinking when she decided to marry that pirate?

Nevertheless, he had to admit the boy had some balls and in the end, Smoker admitted she’d be okay. They’d be okay. He’d miss her, but people always say that letting kids go is hard as fuck, right?

He snorted and lighted a single cigar. 

Fucking brat.

[toonqueen]

Duckvember 2020

--Game--

Just some OC stuff. Move along. Nothing to read here. NO BETA and NO WRITING GOOD DESCS JUST GOING WHERE THIS ENERGY DRINK IS TAKING ME.

PG-13 for the violence. Murder mentions. I’m sure there is a curse word. Fun on a bun stuff.

P.S. IT WAS BETAed THANK YOU @cataradical ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE ONE PART I WAS STUCK AT nnnngh

-------

“Now that I’ve got your attention, let's play a little game,” the canine antagonist’s voice drifted from the speakers, followed by loud, maniacal cackling. There was no sight of him, but the room wasn’t empty.

Faustina curtly stood up from the ground where she had fallen deep into the pit. She was less concerned about the menacing, dangerous voice as she was her clothes getting dirty. Although she was angry, it was more at her sister than this weirdo who’d trapped them here.

“‘Mr. Canis is so nice in the Nega-verse. I just wanted to see if his gas station was anything like the one in the Middle-verse. Your version, he’s such a kind old man, so… what if he’s an absolute grump here? How funny would that be… teehee.’” Faustina repeated words said to her earlier in a mocking tone. She looked around the room as she brushed off her skirt; a small cell with a single glass wall. “Yes, what a great adventure, /sis/,” Faustina growled, pounding on the glass angrily, “find out our good friend /here/ is a serial killer. /Fun times/.”

Faustina glanced up, spotting a TV screen mounted above the glass. Playing was footage of her sister, Felicity, hurrying down a hallway, surrounded by large, halved circular saw blades whirring in and out and along the walls. Faustina’s dark-haired twin was swiftly moving, twisting, dancing around them.

“/I am not a killer/!” the voice shrieked from the speakers, offended, disgusted, “I am merely a tool that creates the puzzles. It is Fate that decides who lives and who dies, not me.”

“Oh, /boy/. This is going to be a /hoot/ then. Fate. With this gal. /Wow/. Why not run me through your death maze too?” Faustina stifled her giggling.

“Because you are going to be the prize for when--or if--she gets through my CORRIDOR OF KARMA and the PRECIPICE OF SERENDIPITY,” the villain bellowed, causing the speakers to glitch a little.

Faustina had completely lost it, cackling until her stomach hurt and she doubled forward, banging a fist against the glass wall. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her face sore from smiling so much. “Oh, you sad, poor little--if you /only knew/ her! Oh, man, where’s my phone?” She managed to collect herself, wiping away tears and sniffing a few times. A moment to gigglesnort before deep breath. “I’m going to have to record your reaction for later, Mister I Let Fate Decide, but I’m sure as soon as she gets through your stupid game, you’ll change your tune. I bet you made it so everyone loses no matter how hard they try, right? You’re gonna be so butthurt when you realize she’s gonna get through all that.” Unable to restrain herself any longer, Faustina started laughing and snorting again, arms thrown around her belly.

“Laugh now, fool. I hope you see her get torn apart. Behold! She just now entered the GAUNTLET OF THE GILDED-- wait, where did she go?” the canine gasped and choked.

Faustina looked back up at the TV as it started flipping through channels, all showing different chambers and mazes of torture and misery. Every single one of them… empty. Just as another channel turned on, Faustina heard a light shuffling coming from the ceiling above her head.

A second later, a panel on the ceiling right outside the cell room fell to the ground. Felicity climbed out until she was standing, face to face, with her sister on the opposite side of the glass.

Faustina huffed, hands on her hips. “About time. That took you a little longer than I thought,” Faustina complained to her “hero”.

“I would have gotten here sooner, but I felt obligated to read the name plaques he put up in each room. Masquerade of Misfortune was my favorite,” Felicity replied as she placed her hands on where the glass wall met a metal wall.

“How-- /How did you get in here!/ The vents don’t--don’t even lead here!” the voice hissed and snarled from the speakers.

“Well, they do now,” Faustina said on behalf of her sister. Felicity ignored them, tugging and prying along the strip of metal before peeling it loose. A line of bolts popped free.

“No matter! That was cheating! You’ve forfeited the game, and now you will see your sister suffer a gruesome fate,” the voice guffawed sinisterly. Liquid started pouring from the cell’s ceiling, right next to Faustina.

The trapped twin sniffed, and instantly knew what it was. “Gasoline? Really? Gonna set me on fire, huh? This is just getting more and more hilarious. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea. We need to do this every week. Man, if this jerk only /knew/,” she chuckled, casually pressing a hand up against the nozzle and stopping the flow of gasoline.

“Now, Felicity, was it? How ironic your name means “fortune”. Maybe you’ll be lucky by persuading me to let your sister live. Get on your knees, and /beg/ for her life,” their captor ordered, his tone much more disturbing and ruthless.

Felicity gave him the cold shoulder. “Heat would expand the glass, and then you can crawl out through this seam,” she explained to Faustina. “The bolts are out. You’ll be fine.”

“Are you not listening to me?” the voice raged. “You need to convince me to free your sister! I decide her fate!”

“Cool, cool, all right, hellfire. Got it.” Faustina put her fingers in front of her and started to move them like she was playing with an invisible cat’s cradle string. 

“Do you not /understand/, you simpletons? All I have to do is throw a lit match and your sist-- /What in the fuc--/!” the voice changed from commanding to panicked when Faustina herself burst into flames. The fire had started from her own hands, and spread across her body. Flames rolled down her skirt, thick and magma-like, setting the fuel at her feet on fire. There was an immediate rushing blow of black smoke.

Felicity backed away from the hole so Faustina and her fire could do the rest. The escaping duck showed no pain from the flames. She just shrugged and climbed out. The speakers crackled but no voice.

“/Coward/!” Faustina yelled as she got out of the cell, rolling back the glass with the heat. “Why didn’t I think of this?”

“We are underneath a gas station. Might want to tone down the fire,” Felicity suggested. She looked up at where the fuel was still dripping. A few options on what to do rolled around in her mind. “Why is this bothering me more than any other villain we fought?”

“I dunno. More the peeps we beat up tend to rob banks or fight other heroes, so, uh,” Faustina said, the flames disappearing in wisps of black smoke until not even a spark was left. The entire cell floor was covered in flames still. Despite having been set on fire, not a single part of Faustina’s body, even her clothes, had been burned or harmed. However, there was black smudging along the hem of her skirt. “... You’re gonna get my dry cleaning bill.”

“Yeah, we’ve never had to fight a killer that's been taking out… defenseless people,” Felicity mumbled, still watching the dripping gasoline. 

Faustina noticed the change in her sister’s tone. “Look, I can be a reverse conscience, bein’ all for tearing this guy apart. Is that what you want to do?” Faustina leaned in close to her twin, twinkle-eyed. “Really, I’d like to have that family bonding girls’ night /finally/.” 

“No...” Felicity replied quietly. Another moment’s pause, then she asked, “Can you resurrect the bodies in the freezer?”

“Yes,” Faustina said without hesitation. 

Felicity opened the nearest door, finding it to be a closet with the usual cleaning supplies. She handed Faustina a push broom. Not exactly what she hoped for but it would work. 

“I’ll go after him. You get the victims out of here,” Felicity said as she pointed to the hole in the ceiling that Faustina had originally fallen from.

The blonde witch gave a nod and got on the broom, flying out the available exit. Felicity took a ladder from the closet, used it to climb up into a different opening.

-------

Mr. Canis, a mild-mannered gas station owner with a shotgun in hand, was now running out of his business as fast as his legs could carry him.

Well, not that mild mannered, since he would often trap a lone 3 AM traveler or two, and force them to play his sadistic death games he held below the gas station. “A sacrifice to Fate during the bewitching hour” is what he called it. And two tired women on a road trip were just the perfect meals to feed the beast.

Metaphorical beasts. Not monsters like these two were. 

Mr. Canis had made a mistake. He had seen the warning signs! …Though, could the blonde filling the super size one liter soda cup with nothing but nacho cheese really count as a warning sign? After all, she did put a fifty dollar bill on the counter and said to charge her as much as he needed for extra cheese. This weird girl who he’d now just seen catch on fire and come out completely unscathed without any show or sign of pain.

Mr. Canis wasn’t going to stick around to see what the witch’s equally oddball sister could do. 

To think an hour ago his biggest concern was she might be a cop. The way she had just... inspected things on the shelves so tentatively. Actually stood there at the counter for a moment, reading the back of a bag of chips. And then, when he was ringing her up, she just smiled at him like she knew him. Asked how his day was with a strangely large amount of curiosity. 

Mr. Canis assumed the woman must know him--better yet, know what he did. Knew about the puzzles, the games. Knew about the sacrifices he had made to Fate. He could see it in her eyes.

There was a rattling of metal coming from right behind him. He ran across the small parking lot, toward the grass of the surrounding woods. He heard the rattle again. Like a horror movie, he just had to check, see the source of the sound--

The canine’s feet were back on the pavement. The rattling came from the steel door to the room containing all the fuel tanks. There was faint knocking from within--specifically one tank with a small “door” locked up. Mr. Canis laughed despite his fear; one of these so-called “powerful” women were now trapped by a simple metal lock on a rusty old door.

He stopped laughing when the lock broke after another couple knocks. Seemingly with no force either. With one more push, Felicity climbed out of the tank, drenched. Instead of the strong scent of gasoline, she was soaked in cola. 

Mr. Canis was all the more confused when harmless brown soda could be seen (and smelled) in the fuel tank, instead of the gasoline that would be more harmful for this girl to swim in. He was frozen, flabbergasted. How could the hoses for the syrup to the soda fountains even be out here? They must have been diluting the fuel he was using for the traps.

When Mr. Canis snapped out of his daze, he found the black-haired duck glaring back at him in silence. If looks could kill, he’d be dead and buried.

Felicity had been excited to meet the Prime-verse counterpart of the Nega-verse gas station owner she was friends with. She had expected a grumpy version of the man that ran her favorite Nega-verse stop. Maybe throw out loitering teens instead of offering them free day-old donuts. It was going to be amusing. Be fun.

Not deadly.

Mr. Canis fired a shot at her, and it missed. Missed even at point blank. Sure, she had tilted her torso just slightly left, but it should have still hit something! Mr. Canis wasn’t an amateur when it came to firearms. 

Felicity abruptly grabbed the gun. One hand around the top of the barrel, and the other farther down the shaft. Mr. Canis' finger was still curled around the trigger, and he fired another shot. In an instant, she bent and raised the barrel so the shot went into the air.

Felicity gained leverage and let one hand go of the gun. Her free one grabbed under the canine’s arm. Mr. Canis was on his back in a flash when the smaller duck flipped him onto the ground.

Felicity held the gun now, aimed expertly at her would-be attacker. “Get up. Get inside the gas station.” 

“Look, this is all a misunderstanding. Obviously you have the blessed fortune to get through my maze of fate. You and your sister are free to go! Isn’t that wonderful? Go ahead and be on your way!” Mr. Canis was desperate; poor excuses, he knew, but he tried. Maybe the girl would be so in shock by what happened she would just leave? 

Felicity was silent, and still glaring. In that moment, Mr. Canis wished she was more talkative like the blonde. He reluctantly got up, and headed into the gas station. Felicity followed, keeping the gun pointed at his back. 

“I take it you two are going to tie me up and call the cops to come get me?” he chuckled, like he’d forgotten all about the insanity of the last ten or so minutes.

That peace did not last long. Faustina was sitting on the checkout counter. Three other women were in the station as well. Very familiar women. Awake, moving, but still cold from the freezer. Glassy eyed, they actually did not look fully alive. Just alive enough. 

“Are there more? Because those woods back there look very iffy,” Faustina questioned, as casually as someone would when looking for their lost keys. She sat in her billowy dress, legs crossed and hands resting on one bent knee. She smirked wide when the murderer was too  shocked to reply. “What? Nothing to say? What would you like to do, dearest sister?”

“We let him choose his fate,” Felicity finally spoke up. There was a glimmer in Faustina’s eye. She had never seen Felicity prone to actual violence. This was a treat. Though, she gave a disheartened pout when her sister just had to ruin it with all the lawful goody-two-shoes stuff. “We’re calling the cops, and you better sit still and stay here while we all wait for them to arrive.”

“Those three… How are they… what is… going on?” the panic returned to Mr. Canis’s voice. The same panic when he watched Faustina burst into flames as if it were nothing but a change of clothes. 

“Idiot. You have the worst luck ever. You literally, /literally/ put someone cursed by Fortuna in your fate maze, and someone blessed by demons in your fire trap. How dumb. What a /moron/. /Absolute tool!/” Faustina complained and scowled.

“I’m sure your mood’ll improve soon enough,” Felicity said, eyes rolling. She waved a hand and turned away. “I’m stepping out to call the cops. I’ve got the gun on me, but I’m sure you can handle him if he tries anything funny.”

Faustina grinned, watching her sister leave. “No problemo!” She turned her grin, now more feral, to Mr. Canis as she cracked her knuckles. “So, hey, a couple of your ‘former customers’ wanna file some complaints about your little side business here. I recommend you take them very seriously.”

Mr. Canis whimpered, looking between Faustina and the three women lumbering closer. “Are you… are you going to kill me?” he gulped.

“I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to leave it to fate. Ladies, if you get rid of him before sunrise, the spell will resurrect you. The more pain you put him through, the better the rezz,” Faustina said and grinned before turning to leave the room. She shut the door on the horrified, high-pitched shrieking and crying.

Felicity stood outside, arms crossed, like she had just caught a child eating all the cookies from the jar. 

“What? You prefer I don’t rezz them?”

“I’m pretty sure you can just transfer his life force into them without the--” Felicity’s words were interrupted by a blood curdling scream. 

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that? Karma’s a bitch, after all.”

------

Lawd the baddies in the Saw movies piss me off would love monster girls to beat the shit out of them. HUZZAH.

[stubborn-beast]

Good Hands | 2

[Warning: there’s a slightly detailed birth scene under the cut. Nothing too gross or detailed, but just wanted to give you a heads up if you’re not into that kind of thing!]

The call came in the middle of the night.

Tony jerked awake, his chair creaking in protest as he narrowly missed smacking the back of his head into the lamp over his desk. Casually wiping the drool away from the corner of his mouth, he coughed to clear his throat as he snatched his phone from the edge of the desk right before the vibrations sent it to the ground.

“Dr. Carbonell speaking.”

“Doc,” the drawl from the other side of the line sent a shudder down Tony’s spine. “Doc, it’s Bessy. I can norm’ly handle her –“

“Hurry it up, Stevie!”

A different accent sounded next, distant and echoing. Tony was already up and throwing items into his emergency bag when he heard Steve curse on the other end.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll call one of my techs to join; she lives a lot closer, from what I understand.”

“Tasha? Yeah, yeah – okay. Thank ya, Doc…” Steve’s voice was distracted, and even from across the line, Tony could sense the distress. He calmed himself while raking hands through his hair and throwing his front door open, unlocking the truck in the gravel drive that read ‘Iron Ridge Veterinary’ on the side.

“Deep breaths, Mr. Rogers. I’ll be there shortly, and Natasha will know what to do when she gets there.” Tony ignored the way his voice had softened, purposely trying not to think of how it was the same tone he used when trying to calm one of his patients. It must have worked, or something did, because the next thing he heard was the sound of the Alpha on the other end taking a deep breath and a rustling.

“See ya soon, Doc.”

The line went dead as Tony peeled out of the driveway, dialing Natasha’s number as soon as he was able. He put his phone on speaker and tossed it into his lap as he paid attention to the dark road.

“Tony?” He didn’t miss the sleepy tone of her voice.

“Tasha – I got the call from Mr. Rogers about Bessy.”

“I’m on my way,” was the response he got as the line went dead, a smile formed on his lips. He’d have to buy Natasha some of that chocolate she liked.

Tony was thankful for his erratic sleeping schedule and ability to snap awake at a moment’s notice. His friends – the few he had maintained over the years – would argue that his abilities were ‘unhealthy’, but hey. He had overcome worse behaviors in his younger days: a scar around his naval served as proof. The dark road lacked any light source except for the half-moon and his headlights as he kicked up dust clouds in his wake. He was lucky that Iron Ridge was a small town with and understanding police force. So long as he was speeding off to an animal-related emergency (and being generally safe), he didn’t have to worry about being pulled over.

He turned a rapid left to avoid one of the few stoplights in the small town, passing by the veterinary office as he drove along the edges of the city proper. His eyes glanced towards the time on the dash and he cursed softly to himself. He was already losing precious time. The truck engine growled as he gave it a bit more gas.

“In here, Doc!”

The vaguely familiar accent caught Tony’s attention as he closed the door of his truck, bag in hand. Iron Ranch was a massive plot of land that was surrounded by fencing and bordered by East Lake. Anyone taking the main road into Iron Ridge passed by at least part – if not all – of the property. It was teeming with life: horses, goats, sheep, cows, to name a few. An orchard on the property grew some of the best apples in the county and, according to the locals, Mr. Steve Rogers hosted hay rides and a field maze every year in the fall. Tony had learned a lot about Steve Rogers since his first appearance in the clinic. It was almost hilarious how the man’s name came up in general conversation, word of the single Alpha encountering the new, single Omega in town having spread like wildfire.

Steve Rogers was the kindest Alpha anyone had known.

Steve Rogers once saved a boy from drowning in the lake.

Steve Rogers and his ranch hand Bucky were the town handymen and mechanics, always ready to stop and help out a fellow citizen.

The list went on and on, and the longer Tony found himself hanging around, the more he learned about the strange Alpha with amazing eyes and an ass that wouldn’t quit.

Steve wasn’t the one calling his name, though. It was a man who was just as broad, hair a dark umber and eyes sharp in the dim light outside of the open barn. Tony directed to him immediately, his pace quick as he entered the barn and was greeted by the familiar scents and sounds of various farm animals. Among those scents, however, was the cold scent of the man beside him.

“You must be Mr. Barnes,” Tony huffed out, giving him a half-smile as his mind began to process the scene around him.

“Bucky’s fine, Doc,” the Alpha answered, his voice gruff but a teasing smile in his eyes. Tony pinned the accent as something decidedly not Southern – Brooklyn, if he had to guess. How odd.

“Okay, Bucky. Where’s Mr. Rogers and Bessy? Is Natasha here already?”

“Yeah,” he answered, leading Tony through the massive barn and down a hallway on the right, where he could see a large stall door open and hear voices chatting quietly. “Tasha got here not too long ‘go. Been a real help.”

Tony smiled with understanding as they both rounded the corner to see Natasha speaking with Steve. The large Alpha was kneeling in damp hay beside the redhead, her hand lightly touching his upper arm in a comforting gesture. Even with suppressants, the other Omegas presence was enough to keep the blond Alpha level-headed in a time of stress. Tony ignored his stomach’s flip of interest at seeing Steve look immediately his way as he came into view with Bucky behind him.

“Oh, Doc, yer here.”

“My apologies – I got here as fast as I cou-“

“No need,” Steve interrupted, though not unkindly, and Tony could feel the Alpha’s eyes tracking him as he sat down his bag and began to gather what he needed.

“Natasha, what’s happening?”

“Bessy has a history of difficult pregnancies,” she began, shifting out of the way to let Tony get a closer look at his patient. “Assistance is always necessary, and tonight’s no exception. From just feeling her, seems like the kids aren’t in proper birthing position.”

“Right, let’s see those… kids…” There was an awkward pause as Tony finally looked up from gloving his hands to see the animal in front of him. It wasn’t what he expected, that was certain. “Oh, Bessy is a goat. Gotcha. Makes sense.”

“No, it doesn’.” Steve’s words were gruff, but still warm as he shot a look towards the other Alpha in the stall.

“Awh, come on, Stevie. It’s a good name!”

“For a cow,” Steve and Tony muttered in unison, before shooting one another surprised, tentative smiles. Natasha watched the interaction with mild interest, reminding herself to text Pepper as soon as they were clear of the birth.

“Okay… easy, gal. I’m going to get closer. It’s uncomfortable, I know, but I’m going to touch just along here.”

Tony’s hands were even and easy as he felt along the side of the goat’s body, sensing for pressure and discomfort. He clicked his tongue and began to speak to Steve, sensing Natasha prepping items beside him and trusting her to know what to do.

“How many kids does she normally have?”

“Usual’y two larger ones,” came the response as Steve shifted to be near the head of the goat, stroking along her long ears as she occasionally bleated at them all.

“Alright. I see what you meant, Natasha. I’ll have to assist a little – seems like she’s already pushing and ready to go.”

“Alrigh’, sweethear’, you can do it. One las’ go ‘roun’ for ya, yeah?”

It was hard for Tony to ignore the sweet comments Steve made to Bessy as he stroked her ears and cradled her head on his thigh. A small smile played at his lips as he worked his hands to where they needed to be, pulling as the goat pushed, adjusting and tugging as he worked. After several minutes of slight progress, he began to speak over the more distraught noises coming from Bessy.

“Natasha, towel ready. One’s coming. I don’t think the other is far behind. Dental floss, too. Come here… get closer…”

Tony adjusted himself and Natasha pressed close, prepared when the first kid made its appearance. The tri-colored goat was large, that much was certain, and it came out already twitching and kicking as Natasha cleaned off its face. Just as it got close to Bessy for proper cleaning, she began to bleat again and Tony was assisting with the second.

“You weren’t lying, Mr. Rogers,” Tony jested as he used the floss to cut the umbilical cord for Bessy. “They’re big kids.”

“Always are,” he said, sounding as relieved as his goat looked resting in the hay. Bessy’s dark coat was littered with moonspots, both babies getting their tri-color from their dad, it seemed. Tony shifted to rest back on his heels, yanking at his gloves to discard them before stopping mid-motion at the soft sound Bessy made.

Everyone froze, looking down towards her as her short tail flicked back and forth and her body urged with a push.

“Not over yet,” Tony muttered, adjusting his hands. “One more time.”

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

“So, you let your ranchhand name your goat?”

The last little kid had been half the size of the other two, covered in moonspots like her mother. All four goats were resting in the closed stall as the group moved out of the barn. Tony glanced up at the large Alpha in the dim outer light of the barn and watched what looked like a blush climb up his cheeks. Or maybe that was the sun rising? What time was it, anyway?

“Uh, yeah. It was ‘is turn, anyway.”

The easy smiles that passed between them were nice, even if Tony wasn’t quite used to such a feeling happening naturally. Probably my lack of sleep and caffeine. Delusional.

“Maybe he gets less turns from now own? I fully expected to come here and help a cow, not an adorable goat.”

Tony convinced himself that it was feeling returning to his feet from kneeling that made his legs tingle, not the way Steve laughed from deep within his chest.

“I mean… shoulda said on yer paperwork or somethin’, right Doc?”

It was Tony’s turn to blush, but he quipped back: “Like I do my own paperwork.”

That laugh came again and was only interrupted by the sound of a honk in the driveway that startled the pair into looking towards the source. Natasha was leaning out of her SUV’s window, waving at them.

“See you soon, Tony! Bye, Steve – Bucky!”

Steve and Tony waved as she drove away, Bucky stepping away from where he’d been leaning close to her car. Both men watched as Bucky waited for Natasha’s tail lights to fade before turning to them and pausing for a moment. Tony’s knowing smile curved up and his eyebrows raised, but Steve didn’t seem to notice the interaction the same way.

“Grab us some coffee, will ya, Buck? Then we can get star’ed.”

“Yes, sir,” he half saluted to them both before trudging tiredly into the large farmhouse, rubbing a hand through his hair as the screen door closed behind him. Tony looked back towards Steve and reached to grab his bag, only to see Steve already holding it for him.

“Thank ya ‘gain, Doc.”

“I’m just doing my job, Mr. Rogers.”

“Ya can call me Steve, if ya wan’.”

Tony sized him up briefly and gave him a smile as the Alpha put his bag into the passenger side of the truck through the open window. He contemplated it before climbing into the driver’s side and turning it on.

“Well… we’ll see, Mr. Rogers. Call again if you ever need anything!”

A wave out of the window and he was off, driving down the dirt road with the Alpha waving in rear-view.

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Steve murmured to no one but himself and the crowing of the rooster from behind the barn.

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

Tag(s): bloomcat1

[neganandblake]

Just shelterin’ from the storm, Darlin’ - A Negan & Blake AU PART 3

When Negan returns to the place he once ruled over, will he find anything there worth sticking around for?

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Negan scratched at this bearded cheek as he followed the blonde down the eerily dark hallway.

Memories of this place, once bustling with life filled his mind and flooded his senses. But here and now, apart from the three of them, the place was otherwise quiet and still.

Upturned and ruined furniture littered the long corridors, the two adults almost dancing along to avoid them in the near darkness.

Negan wondered what had happened here so long ago. Had the place fallen straight after he had been locked up, or did the ruin of the Sanctuary come long after?

But his thoughts on this subject were short lived, his short-term memory forcing its way to the forefront of his mind instead.

What the shit had that thing been back there?

Hell, that was like no damn rotter Negan had ever seen before? Had they learned to use goddamn knives now?

Shit.

What the fuck had happened to the damn world in the short few years the dark-haired man had been locked up for?

“Hey, that shit back there? With that damn biter? You seen anything like that before, Darlin’?” asked Negan, speeding up a little on his long legs and closing the gap between him and the blonde woman, coming to walk at her side now.

He noticed her hold the little girl tighter to her chest for a moment, and her eyes never met with his as she answered.

“I’ve heard rumours...but…...I don’t know…” she murmured, trailing off and shaking her head, as though not wanting to talk on this subject anymore,  as they reached a large and familiar staircase that led up to the upper levels.

Another rumble of thunder crashed overhead, sounding closer this time in the empty, echoey hallways.

“We found a room upstairs,” she explained with a nod, as she gestured for him to follow her up the large metal staircase. “The only one with carpet.”

He caught her green eyes flicker up to his a little nervously, looking almost embarrassed by her circumstance.

But Negan just nodded, narrowing his eyes at her, not really listening to what she was saying, merely pondering as to why this woman, with such a young child would end up here, seemingly all alone.

“So...where’s your baby-daddy?” Negan asked, his voice sounding harsher than he meant it to.

But Negan watched the blonde flinch suddenly at his words.

She didn't answer for a moment. But when she did, she sounded pained, as though trying to put a barrier up against the memories that sat in her mind.

“Dead…” she said what was barely a whisper now. “...I hope.”

Negan stared at her, his eyes roving across her side profile.

Shit. What the hell had happened to this gal?

Whatever it was, it was mirrored in the heavy purple bags that sat under her eyes, and the whiteness of her knuckles as she held, what Negan could now only presume was her daughter, oh-so tightly to her.

“So it’s jus’ the damn two of you?” Negan asked with a small, sorry frown.

And at this, the woman chanced a glanced up at him.

“It’s better this way,” she said softly. “This way we’re safe.”

She shook her head, her long caramel hair fluttering around her as she did so.

The pair were silent as they climbed the remainder of the stairs up to the third floor. Negan’s thoughts on nothing now but this woman and what the fuck she had been through.

Apart from the visible tiredness, she and the kid both looked good. Fucking healthy even.

It was obvious she was a good Mom, despite the hardships she had likely faced out on that road.

“I-Its just down here,” she said quietly, nodding down the lengthy corridor ahead of them.

Even in the darkness and the gloom, Negan recognised this hallway very well indeed, and he stopped suddenly in his tracks as the blonde reached a large set of oak double doors he had not seen in a long, long time.

But seeing him so still, both she and the little girl offered him a curious look.

“You...uh...you coming?” she asked tentatively. “We're just in here.”

And with that she disappeared into the room.

Negan’s room.

Well, his old fucking room at least.

It had been the biggest, plushest room in this whole place, with a large four poster bed, the slickest leather couches, and of course carpet.

He should have figured it out sooner on that basis alone.

And so giving a gulp and allowing his adam's apple to slide up and then back down his throat, Negan turned the corner and peered into the large, expansive room.

It certainly wasn’t as nice now as Negan remembered it once being.

All of the soft furnishings had likely been looted by the rest of his people after his capture, but the sofa, armchair and the enormous bed remained, likely too big and heavy to be removed.

But compared to the four damp walls and creaky old camp bed Negan had been used to for the past seven years, it looked like a paradise.

The little girl was now sat on the squishy leather couch ahead of him, sucking on her damp sleeve again and watching him, as he entered the room, closing the door behind him with a  snap.

He noticed for a second the blonde woman, who was on her feet lighting a small gas lamp, flinch at the noise and glance over at him, still looking a little nervous about him being there.

But fuck. Negan couldn't blame her for that.

You couldn't trust anyone in this fucking shit-show of a world. So why should he be treated any different?

“So,” Negan said his hazel eyes looking her up and down as she worked, trying to break the obvious tension and silence that filled the room. “You got a name?”

But she didn't answer, silence consuming them all once more.

Once the lamp was lit, the woman set it on the carpeted floor in front of the couch where a coffee table had once stood, long-gone by the looks of it.

She stood up straight, brushing her hands down on the hips of her black jeans, before parting her lips and staring at Negan.

For second it looked as though she was about to say something but she quickly changed her mind, instead tucking her hair behind one ear and dragging her eyes hurriedly away from him, and instead, setting her attention on a large black rucksack that sat on the floor next to the sofa.

Reaching down into it, she pulled out two cans.

“We don't have much,” she said, her cheeks reddening profusely, her gaze lowered away from his as she held one of the tins out towards him. “You can have the peaches, she doesn't like them.”

The blonde glanced back at the little girl say on the sofa, before shuffling away and taking a seat beside her.

“Thay slimay!” the baby girl suddenly exclaimed, causing Negan to grin, as her Mom shushed her gently.

“Come on, eat your veggies baby,” hummed the woman in a voice like goddamn honey.

Negan gazed at her for a lengthy moment. At the two of them in fact.

Shit. They didn't deserve this life. Neither of them.

For Negan had known that he was darkness, even before the damn apocalypse. Apart from Lucille there had been nothing good in his life and Negan had made everything he touched, even her, that much darker, plunging them into a dismal gloom-filled existence with him.

But these two….well, to him there were light, and goddamn music, and everything good in this world. It was like a glow emanated from them both, cuddled up together on that couch, in that same seat Negan had sat in, so many years ago, barking commands at his damn men and giving the orders for people’s communities to be burned down, giving the order for people to be killed.

But where there once was darkness, there was now something new and good, and somehow, here and now, it was all Negan could see.

But he dragged his eyes away, staring down at the battered old can in his hand with a faded old image of plump and juicy and syrup covered peaches peeling off of it.

“Darlin’....you don’ need to give me this,” he said with a hard sigh.

But the woman glanced up at him.

“We’re not gonna eat it,” she simply shrugged, offering him, for the first time since they had met, a tiny smile. “It’ll just be left here for someone else if you don't.”

Negan pondered this for a moment, before giving in.

Fuck, well, he was fucking hungry as shit, his stomach giving a loud rumble as if on cue.

And so, being careful not to knock over the lamp, Negan paced across the small space and with a stiff groan he slumped down into the armchair opposite the two girls.

He noticed the woman’s eyes immediately flutter up to him and in a second, with a flush crossing her cheeks,  she leant across the space between them and passed him over a fork.

Negan took it graciously, before lowering his own eyes and peeling off the lid of his can.

Normally Negan didn't shut up But right now with these two girls, he found himself at a  complete loss for words.

Shit. What the hell were these gals doing to him?

But he glanced up again at them, as he took one of the slippery peach slices onto his fork.

“I’m Negan by the way,” he offered, causing the blonde to pause in feeding the girl at her side to look up at him.

He waited for her to respond with her own name, but she merely looked away again.

“Come on, Sweetie…” she whispered instead, spooning just a little more cold vegetables into the her baby girl’s mouth. “That’s it.”

But the tiny girl made a face, swallowing down her last mouthful before pouting. “No mor!” she said bossily, causing the blonde woman to sigh tiredly, rubbing her face with her hand before setting down the can disheartenedly.

Negan blinked, lowering his fork into his can.

“What?” said Negan suddenly causing the two girls to stare up at him. “You don’ like peaches…”

He sat up a little peering over into the can held in the woman’s hand.

“... or carrots now?”

The tiny girl blinked at her a couple of times before shuffling in her seat.

“Noh...Noh...I laik...I laik carrits!” she said almost a little scoldingly now, which caused Negan to grin widely.

“Then you gonna finish what’s left for your Mom, Beansprout?” he tried.

And for a moment the little girl pondered this before shuffling her tiny butt towards her Mom once more.

“Okway, littul bit mor, Mama,” said the baby-girl opening her mouth white in an o-shape.

The blonde glanced at once to Negan and offering him an appreciative look, before quickly turning back to her daughter and spooning a little more supper into her awaiting mouth.

Silence soon filled the room once more and Negan went back to his peaches, finishing half the can before placing it down onto the floor beside his feet.

And it wasn't long, after finishing her food, did the little girl give a tiny yawn, smacking her lips together tiredly.

“I think someone’s ready for bed,” said the woman in a kindly voice, hauling the toddler up by her armpits and holding her into her chest as she stood and made her way over to the large four-poster bed in the corner of the room.

In a blink, she had plonked the little girl down and tucked her in, sitting down beside her and whispering gently to her, words that seemed secret between the pair that Negan couldn’t quite hear...

….until the tiny girl was fast asleep.

Want more? Let me know if you enjoyed this chapter. Like and reblog! :)

[emmabodt]

Mission Success: Chapter 15

Ymir stared up at the ceiling fan, watching while the blades slowly went in a circle before coming to a stop. The freckled girl stood up and spun the star on her ceiling again, laying back down to watch it slow down again. She hadn't slept all night.

Now that she was back home, all the familiar things she was seeing was triggering an aggressive memory attack from Marcel. Every time she closed her eyes, she would see some random things like when he was training with the others(she was happy to note that a certain blonde really sucked), but what reoccurred more often than anything else was the day Marcel died. Over and over, like it was on loop, she would see her Titan leap up out of the ground, reach for Reiner, grab Marcel, and eat him. When she couldn't sleep, Ymir would turn her attention to the ceiling fan. Watching it wind down was oddly comforting for some reason...

A tiny knock sounded on the door before it creaked open. Ymir smiled a little as a tiny blonde head peeped at her from behind the wood." Ymir?... Are you awake?"

The freckled girl propped herself up on her elbows." Yep."

Krista returned the smile on Ymir's face as she slipped in through the door, shutting it behind her." Good. Want to go get some lunch?"

Ymir quirked an eyebrow." Lunch?..."

Krista nodded." It's around one o'clock."

Ymir sat all the way up with a yawn." Oh... Big Blonde and Sweaty Turtle down there?"

Krista shook her head." No, Reiner and Bertholdt left a little while ago to go home."

"Mmmm..." Ymir stretched her arms over her head and craned her neck to let out an audible crack! before returning her attention to Krista.

"What about the weird gal and the snub nosed assho-"

"Ymir, knock it off with the mean names!"

The freckled girl huffed in amusement." Why? My names suit them perfectly. The Porkchop guy has a weird nose and is a complete asshole, the chick with the black hair is really weird, Berty is sweaty and...the turtle just fits him, and Reiner is a huge blonde," she said nonchalantly before giving Krista a mischievous smile." Maybe I should call you the Tiny Blonde... oof!"

"Not appreciated, Ymir. I already have one name more than I should, and I don't need to be reminded of how ridiculously short I am," Krista huffed, rubbing her head as she stepped away from Ymir. One advantage of being her size was the ability to head butt just about anyone in the stomach. However, her hit didn't have much of an effect on her freckled friend.

"Alright, sorry!" Ymir smiled and held her hands up in surrender, not sounding sorry at all." Now, back to my earlier question..."

Krista sighed and brought her hands up to her hair, tying it back loosely as she answered.

"Yeah, they're still down there. It's actually kind of cute; they've been down there a while." The blonde smiled at the end of her sentence while Ymir stared at her blankly.

"Wow, you really are a hopeless romantic."

"Ymir!"

The freckled girl rested a hand on her hip and smiled at the blonde before her.

"I'm not really that hungry right now. Let's find something to do that's not boring."

Krista shrugged." Okay; chess?"

Ymir stuck out her tongue." Hell no; that is really boring."

"...Reading?"

"That's even worse."

"Sewing, cleaning, and talking?"

Ymir shook her head." We're already doing that, no, and no way in hell."

Krista sighed." Then what do you want to do?"

Ymir tilted her head, thinking. What did she want to do? The two girls stood in silence before a fuzzy idea popped up in Ymir's head. A huge grin grew on her face as a mischievous glint entered her eyes.

"I know exactly what we should do, Historia," said the freckled girl conspiratorially. Krista watched her warily.

"What do you have in mind, Ymir?..."

The brunette raised her eyebrows." Let's go exploring."

The blonde blinked." ...Exploring?..."

Ymir sniggered." You know, sneaking around this huge, almost empty place, snooping through people's rooms, messing with the important shit..."

Krista worried her lip between her teeth." Won't we get in trouble?"

Ymir strode forward and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the door. Krista squeaked at the sudden move, and Ymir chuckled." Not if we don't get caught."

....................................................................................................

Half an hour, a meeting room that Ymir rearranged, a balcony, and a lot of doors later, the duo found themselves...lost in H.Q.

"Ymir, where are we?" Krista looked at the portrait covered walls. There was a lot of men and women watching them from the stone.

"Hell if I know. Best I can say is the Hall of Creepy Staring People," Ymir said casually, also observing the pictures. They seemed...familiar somehow. Not the people, but the pictures themselves. As a matter of fact, the whole hall looked familiar. Must be Marcel...

A sharp tug in her vision proved her right, setting her honey eyes on a door with simple, yet detailed carvings.

"Let's check this out."

Ymir reached out and turned the knob, pushing it open to reveal some sort of sitting room. Opposite the door was a huge fireplace surrounded by comfy looking chairs and a table. On the left and right sides of the Walls were two more doors.

"This looks really comfy," said Krista, trailing her fingers over one of the chairs. Ymir shrugged and walked over to the door on the right.

"You check it out in there. I'm looking in here."

When the freckled girl walked through the door, she immediately saw three more doors, all in a row.

"Hmm... This is interesting..." she mumbled to herself, approaching the door to the far right. In the room behind it was a very comfortable looking bed surrounded by bookshelves of books and the occasional potted plant. The window above the bed also had some small, pretty flowers. In the corner next to a closet stood a wooden crutch with red wrapping. Ymir gave it two blinks and shut the door.

The door in the middle was completely empty, no bed or chair to speak of. When Ymir opened the door to the last door, the one on the far left, she stared in shock.

“ So these are the Warriors quarters...”

The room had a tiny, tiny bed, a small bedside table, and multiple punching dummies. On the bedside table was nothing but a small picture with a little girl and stoic man on opposite sides of a kicking target. Ymir didn't need to look closer to know whose room this was. This was, without a doubt, none other than Annie Leonhart's room.

Ymir suddenly felt a tiny wave of...guilt? Sympathy? Whatever it was, she felt it, and somberly left the room, walking back into the parlor where Krista was browsing through the bookshelf next to the fireplace. At the sound of her footsteps, the blonde turned to face Ymir.

"Find anything?"

"Yep. You wanna know where we are?"

Krista tilted her head a little." Yeah..."

"The Warriors quarters."

Blue eyes blew wide as the blonde carefully stepped back from the bookshelf." If this is their room, we should go, Ymir. This is an invasion of privacy-"

"Like I care," drawled the freckled girl, dragging Krista through the door on the left." Life is short, and a lot more fun when you break a couple rules." Ymir ignored the sudden twinge in her gut. She knew all too well that her days were numbered.

"Ymir...." Krista whined as Ymir pulled her through the door. Just like the door on the opposite side, there were three more doors. Ymir dragged her to the middle one first.

"Nothing in this one," said the freckled girl, towing Krista to the one one the far right.

In this room, there were two child sized beds against opposite sides of the room. At the foot of the bed on the right was a long, slim gun, and the bed on the left had a huge, curled up, man sized dip in it. On the bedside tables were the familiar ODM gas dispensers.

Ymir stared at the beds for a minute before releasing Krista and covering her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. Krista watched incredulously as the freckled girl's giggles became full blown laughter.

"What is so funny?"

Ymir, who had bent double and was clutching her sides, released herself and started to wave her hand at the beds.

"This....hahaha....this is Reiner and...hehehe...Bertholdt's room...hehehe... You know how big those two are?...Hahahaha....now look at those itty, bitty little beds! Gahahahaha! Look at 'em! How the hell do they sleep at night?! Hehehehe! Look! That has to be blondie's bed; the only way....hahaha....he'd be able to fit would...hehehehehe....be if he curled up into a teeny, tiny, little...hahaha!...big man ball! And he's so big, he broke the bed! GAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Ymir fell to her knees in uncontrollable laughter, rolling onto her back as tears squeezed out of her eyes. Krista watched her with a blank stare and huffed before prodding her freckled friend lightly with her foot.

"Come on, Ymir, let's go explore somewhere else..."

It was a few minutes before Ymir calmed herself enough to stand, exiting the boy's room and leading Krista into the the last room.

The moment she set foot in that room, Ymir felt a chill run down her spine. This room was familiar; so familiar, that she knew it like the back of her hand. Up against the wall was a bunk bed, the top bunk neatly made and the bottom a complete mess. On the top post hung an old,worn leather jacket.

Ymir shivered as one memory after another flitted through her head. A late night talk. A game of cards. Consoling a hurt brother. A quick roughhousing session. A solemn embrace. They flitted through her head so fast, she felt dizzy...

"Ymir! Ymir! Can you hear me?! Ymir!"

The freckled girl blinked rapidly, trying to see who the voice belonged to. When her vision cleared, she saw Krista on her knees in front of her, shaking her by the shoulders. When she saw that her friend had recovered from her spell, the blonde stopped shaking her.

"Ymir! What happened!? Are you okay?!"

Ymir blinked again and rubbed her temple with one hand." Yeah, I'm fine. I just had a couple flashbacks from the guy who had the power before me..."

"His name was Marcel."

Both girls' head whipped around to see Porco standing in the doorway of his room, glowering at them. Krista visibly wilted a little.

"I'm guessing it was you two who messed with the meeting room. Am I right?"

Ymir smirked at him." Technically, that was my handiwork. This place is so big and boring, I decided to explore and mess a few rooms up. Got a problem with that, sir?"

Porco's eyes widened slightly before he huffed." Just go explore somewhere else, freckles. Get out of my room."

Ymir stood up and stretched nonchalantly." You heard the man, Tiny. Let's go."

Krista huffed and slapped Ymir's arm." Don't call me that," she said, passing Ymir into the hall. The freckled girl was about to follow her when she stopped.

"Hey... I just want you to know that I'm sorry. For taking your brother away from you."

There was a beat of silence before he took a deep breath.

"It wasn't your fault for what happened. Pure Titans can't help it."

Another beat of silence.

"When do you think you'll...eat me?"

"Maybe in the next two weeks. Usually they would have had me eat you sooner, but it's being delayed for some reason."

Ymir took a deep breath, both scared and relived. She was still going to die, but she had more time with Krista.

"I see. Sorry again for bothering you."

She was about to walk out the door when Porco spoke again." The exploring idea wasn't yours."

She turned her head to see him smiling sadly." Huh?"

"It was Marcel's. He liked to walk around this place and mess around with the stuff in some of the rooms. It really pissed Magath off."

Ymir looked down at her feet." From what I could tell from the memories, he was a pretty cool guy."

"He was."

"Ymir? You okay?" Krista popped her head around the door to the parlor. Ymir looked back at her before nodding at Porco. He nodded back at her before entering his room.

"Yeah, I'm fine sweetie. You know what, let's go see of we can wonder over to the mess hall from here. I'm starving."

Ymir looped her arm around Krista's shoulders as the blonde shook her head." I'm not sure if they have food down there anymore..."

"Then we can steal some from wherever they make the food."

Krista huffed." Ymir..."

Ymir sniggered." What? It's fun."

"You really are a...a...a..."

"A freckled girl who will be troublesome forever? Yes, you are correct."

Krista nudged Ymir with her elbow." I guess that means I'll have to be your friend forever so you don't do something too bad."

Ymir tensed a little bit as she forced a laugh." Yep. You and I will be friends... Forever."

.................................................................................................................

Word Count: 2207          

Alright! This chapter came out a lot longer than I expected! I hope you all enjoy!

Up next is a little sad, but cute PokkoPikku(Porco and Pieck).

[stone-man-warrior]

December 9, 2020: 5:16 pm:

I just returned from errand run in Dystopia, Grants Pass Oregon.

I went to Walgreen‘s.

I am going to give an example of how to read unspoken terror comm presented on the road, in the parking lots, at the stores, by people who use visual communication to say a message, rather than spoken or written words.

The comm that I can explain a little bit of, is about yesterday after the terror doctor appointment, at the Dairy Queen, when that extra large size woman shot me with the .25 caliber custom made gun and the bullet bounced off my coat. After she shot me, I defended, but I left that out of the report yesterday. The gal that shot me lost her head. I don‘t remember all of the details, so, that’s part of why I didn‘t say more than “she left in a hurry”. The last thing I recall, is that woman was slung over the DQ service counter, and her head was on the floor on the hamburger side of the counter rolling around, and I was on the customer side of the counter. The woman was sort of in between, over the counter a little bit as I left.

The man who I explained was way over qualified was right there, he drew my attention away from that extra large size woman, in the opposite direction and continued to draw my attention away from that woman with the gun even after the fighting. He stayed away from the head on the floor, and walked away from where the woman was on the counter leaning over it, dead. My recollection is about that man, I kept my eyes on the man that was way over qualified the whole time, even as I was fighting the woman with the gun.

He said: “He caught it”, then repeated that again: “he caught it, cut her head off”.

That was whispered to someone on his communication device. I think his perception was that I had caught the bullet  in my hand, because I set it on the counter after it hit my coat, he saw me set the bullet on the counter, and that is when he said: “he caught it”, which I suppose I did do, sort of, as it bounced off me.

So today, I went to Walgreen‘s. I was followed by others who needed to know that that woman lost her head, and a series of communication was rolled out along the way, I could see some of it, I’ll explain, it leads to:

Basically:

“She’s head”

“She’s dead”

Then there is a missing part to it, but more leads to, basically:

“Pirate ship repair”

“Boat repair”

“Garbage Barge Venetian Blinds Repair”

Here is how some of the comm was presented:

At Winco Foods parking lot, clearly visible from Grants Pass Parkway, as you pass by:

A hot chick, blonde, long hair, about 30 y/o sitting on the tailgate of a black pick-up truck bed, while holding and waving around a black rubber looking tubular shaped thing.

You read that as a sexual, passion event, exposed, out in the open, a sale (sail)... “ a port in a storm”... and other ways you can just tuck that into your thought while on the way to the Walgreen‘s, where other terror event will take place, you are a pirate who does not know exactly what went down yesterday at the terror doctor Sturgeon Hit From Denmark Chapter of Vatican Choir HQ, getting the message along the way, from other supporting pirates who learned what happened, and can inform you.

Then along the way, comes some bad news in the form of a specialized looking service truck that is turning from M street where you can see that it’s a specialized service rig, one of a kind, very unique, is custom made for doing very special work. It’s a big Ford Cab, F-500 or something, has Blue fenders, white cab, red super duty rear crash bumper, different color doors, and hood, is a flat bed w/service boxes, has a “Yard Arm Boom”, yellow, a welder is attached to the service bed box, and there are a lot of non-specific parts of stuff in the bed. You look at that, and say:

“Pirate ship repair mobile service rig headed for the dock”

(different color fenders and doors and hood, means: “SDA Cannibal Pirates”)

Then, at the Walgreen’s, in the aisles, some woman with two others says:

“Cocktails” loud enough that you can hear it. That reminds you of the “hot chick in the tail gate bed w/weenie at the Winco Foods”

You look around for other clues now, you know there is something wrong, you are a pirate, and are there to do some pirating, but there is bad news going on, so, have a closer look.

There is a divider at the Walgreen’s pharmacy counter, it separates “Express Card Special Customer Counter”, from “Regular Customer Counter”. That thing is made with the kind of rope separator and some posts that you see at movie theaters... those red ropes at the theater. These ones are black though, Walgreen’s are pirate ports, so, black. There is another, bigger post. is aqua color, for the end part of the black theater rope, that post is leaning over. So, what you do, is pretend that the pharmacy counter is a docking port where boats come, park for a minute, load up, and then go on their way. That Black Rope, and that leaning post then become Piers and ropes at the shipping port dock.

“Some big ass boat must have crashed into that shipping dock pier, that’s why the thing is all leaning over like that. Maybe that’s what the Pirate Ship Mobile Repair Rig we saw is for, to come to fix a smashed up shipping port at the Walgreen’s.” you say.

Later, we have to wait for the prescription, so, to the parking we go, maybe there is more to the message. So far, there is a passionate sail, a weenie, a bed, a hot chick, some repair cannibals, smashed up shipping port, and cocktails. There was also some misplaced Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Miniatures on the chair at the Pharmacy waiting area, that can‘t be good.

Then, the glue for all of that happens in the parking as we watch the traffic go by while waiting for prescriptions. There is a familiar Range Rover, very pretty off-road British rig, is never going to get any dirt on it, ever, but that one is very special, looks like a offroad sports car. I think it’s called Land Rover Sport, and older one, looks brand new. is rust colour (oxidized iron, Burnt Sienna, metallic). Those come new from the factory with Oil Leak, and plaque on the transmission hump that says “By order of the Queen, this car shall leak oil (Oil Tanker Jargon built into the British cars) That, we know is special because we see that one at the Walmart RV parking sometimes, and, is not where it’s supposed to be, that one belongs at the Walmart parking lot, RV area, not on Union Ave crossing Williams Hwy.

“Holy shit! what is that doing here?” you say.

You’re Canadian comrade says: “Sacre Bleau!”

The next thing is that there are two people, a young man, and a young woman, having a conversation very close by, so, we notice. He said this, she said that, then, she said, she said some more, then, she just kept saying.

“He said. She said” happened right there, we saw it happen, there is no question about what happened, “He said... She said” happened.

Mostly, it was “She Said”

Those were Reese’s Peanut butter cups, mini ones.

“Reese head she’s head... he’s said... reese head.... she’s head...”

Uh Oh. That means our terror pirate large size .25 assassin at the Dairy Queen was decapitated.

Just then, a fifty foot trailer big-rig truck, Olive Drab Green cab and trailer, goes by on Williams, headed for 7th Street. The trailer, looks like a Russian Missal Silo on wheels, has a lot of heavy duty support rings wrapped around it’s tubular shape, was not a pressurized liquid or air-gas trailer, was some other Russian Hoax Mother going down the road. Very special, unique, one of a kind.

Over to the left. port side, we see an official looking truck is backed into a parking slot (slip), it has the word “Mountain“ on the door. There are two orange cones, one at each front corner of that Mountain truck. That, is RCMP Boat Ramp security saying there is a hazard at the Walgreen’s Shipping Dock. The man in the truck, is only there to observe, has some cones, for safety at the banged up port.

Then, there is a very long crew cab pick up truck, it has a service bed, an empty lumber rack, and a very special custom made. unique, one of a kind, extension to the service bed tacked onto the back. Looks just the same as a scuba boat where the divers get into and out of the dive boat. Must be a Submarine Dive Boat Search Crew. Bad news to see those.

A man moving swiftly on a bicycle went west on Union Ave towards the Les Schwab, theater, and Crisis Resolution Center, he had a black & white dog with him running fast at his side, no leash, along the edge of the traffic, heavy traffic, against the traffic.

That goes by, at the same time that a man across the street at the Industrial Door Shop is filling up a flat bad trailer trash barge boat with a lot of heavy looking Venetian blinds, very big ones. That means the cover is blown.

Then, the man, bicycle and black & white dog came back, still moving swiftly, but on the correct side of the road this time, turned the Williams Hwy corner, and began to go against traffic again, even heavier traffic, as the dog is running almost in the lane, no leash, fast.

We have to go back inside now at the Walgreen‘s Shipyard, they said 45 minutes, it’s been about 30 minutes, so, we go back in there. The terror pirates are all looking very sad in the parking area. One on bicycle brushed closely by as he walked his wheeled dingy near the door of the car, so, it’s getting dangerous to stay right there anyway. Head for the door, there is some jockeying of cars going on, looks unnatural, staged, one car just sits right in the lane, between me and the door of the Walgreen‘s as the thinnest man in the world comes out of the store, slacks, matching dress shirt, bright red tie, belt, patent leather shoes, and walks somberly away. “FBI must be spread thin around here” is my read about that. I suspect some V-8 happened to them. Bad news there.

The Pharmacy Tech says: “Throw the last four of your phone number into that card reader, and we’ll get you all set to go”.

no other comm is noted after that. I purchased a 1/25 scale toy collectable Chevrolet Camaro for $5.99, I already bought the two Ford GT’s they had, a 1964 GT 40, and a new Canadian made Ford GT, 2020 model, recently.

Parking lot was desolate on the way out, just a few people, was full and active upon arrival.

So, that, and some more stuff, is basically how to get from not knowing what happened to that extra large .25 caliber assassin at the DQ, to knowing that she lost her head there, was killed, and the cover is blown at some high British places of terror leadership.

End Walgreen‘s shipyard search crew report: 6:50 pm.

==

12-10-2020: 1:17 am:

One other notable observation from today’s Walgreen’s Port Authority Submarine Pirate Search and Repair at the Boat Dock before I get some sleep:

On the way to all of that, on the freeway southbound just south of Mile 66 was a Kia Mini Van, white. The thing looked pretty cool to me, I saw it was a Kia, looks just like a Dodge Caravan. So I went to have a closer look, sometimes the terror bastards change the emblems on the cars they drive, for confusion service.  , The closer look still was that It said Kia, looked like a Caravan. I passed by, driving that Kia Caravan was someone who looked just exactly like Ann Wilson of Heart.

Terror is way bigger than anyone is willing to see it.

=======================

7:56 pm:

Some unrelated additional thoughts that may be helpful to understand the enormity of the Vatican parts of the terror monster:

For the older people mostly, think through your life about the things you enjoyed collecting, or were otherwise enthusiastic about. Think about how others interfere with your interest in those things, such as when you like cars, any kind of car that is cool to you, but, some asshole insists that you need to stay with the Ford. You must be a :Ford man“, could be a Chevy they insist you are loyal to, or a MOPAR product. If you say you like all three, they hassle you when you are young man enjoying something, make you feel like you can only choose one thing, you can‘t have a Mustang, and a Camaro, they say you are a kook if you do that. Same idea with motorcycles vs surfing, if you are a high school kid in 1979 and want to surf, then you are a “surfer”: If you have a motorcycle, you are a “Biker” but they hassle you if you ride the motorcycle in the evening after you went surfing, you can‘t be both without outside pressure hassling you.

Brand Loyalty, and the label that goes with it, has been thrust at us for a long time. Those people are the Vatican operatives who train people to only have one thing they are loyal to, just one. One text, one thing, they started doing that to us long ago, subliminally.

Just something to think about to get a perspective of the size of the terror, and how long they have been training the people to behave the way they need us to, makes us easy targets, and primes us towards the Church, where the pressure comes from.

One of thousands of ways we are “altered” that way, is that when we become caged into a single interest, even with something simple like hobby preferences or collectable interests, is that we are trained not to explore beyond realms of singular interests. We are confined in so many ways, that brand label way, or club affiliation way, is only one way. It’s good to explore, but not to invade. Balance is something we don’t easily learn when confined. Somewhere between exploration and invasion, is balance.

========================

8:55 pm:

At the Monroe Offensive Surveillance Travel Trailer next door, they are setting up for the part where they claim I raped the girl who is inside the trailer. There is a ongoing thing that happens, many thousands of times, where I step out for a walk, they spy on me all of the time, see that I went outside, then a whole bunch of lights are turned on so the the innocent young lady can safely walk from the house in front to that trailer that is way in the back in the woods in the dark. There are about six bright lights that the young lady turns on as she progresses her way through the darkness to the trailer, all of them are done at a time when I just get right there on my walk, and the lights are there to make sure that I can see that there is a young lady walking through the darkness, innocently, to the trailer. I think sometimes there is a stack of bibles that she brings there for a bible study before bedtime.

So, that is happening now, again.

They listen and watch everything I do, then use that to attack me. Later, there will be some asshole that comes into my house when I take another walk, the sheriff gave them keys to my house, so they come right in as though they own the place, then. they claim they do own the place, and that I am the intruder. Since I went to the Walgreen‘s today, there is a lineup of different people who will be there to do the same thing tomorrow after I kill this one tonight when she comes into my home and I need to defend. It goes on, and on, and on, same thing repeats almost daily, more often after I go to Walgreen’s.

So, please send a funeral wreath to Monroe’s in advance for the dead young lady and her bearded friend, who is staying out of view in the creek for now. He is hiding there waiting for me to take another short walk. They need to make arrangments with the sheriff for the phone call to happen when I come back from my walk and the young lady gets on the phone to say I came into her house. She will use my name, to say she is me. I have a girls name, so, they make the girls do the dangerous part, to come in and call the sheriff to say I am raping her. And of course that is when bearded friend boy will come to her rescue, spring into action, come out of the creek to save the girl. The Sheriff only shows up after all of that is completed, to handle the paperwork for the self defense report.

So, two funeral wreath’s over to the Monroe’s within the next thirty minutes or so could save their lives with a small message that says a lot.

Otherwise, I keep doing as I always have done, stay on my side of the fence, and defend myself and my home from the Monroe terror cell attack when they come into MY house.

===================

Some Russian Mother of all Hoaxes Fractal Zoom:

There was a time when someone sent a reward to me, it got hijacked, sent to Joan & Harold Phillips at 507 Jackpine. The reward was a real Ford GT, a trailer to keep it in, and a truck to pull it with. I don‘t know who sent the car. But whoever did, was told that information I provided stopped all of the terror or crime or whatever they were told. That was quite a long time ago, I wrote down the information about a day when I saw the trailer with the Ford GT in it going to somewhere on Jackpine. So, that is here on this account, it just says I saw a trailer with the words Ford GT on the side of it and that small amount of information was written on the day I saw the trailer with those words on “Ford GT 40″.

Later, I saw the car on Jackpine one time. Then, later again, I saw the car pass me on the Freeway, go to the rest stop at around mile marker 64 or so, southbound. That day, I went to AM/PM Lukes Arco, There, Arnold Schwarzenegger came into the store there, approached me, and told me that some fool sold him a Ford GT for $50,000, that his people were at the rest stop right then, saw the car, and had told Arnold that the car was good, so, he bought it in the time that it took me to drive to AM/PM. There was confusion. I did not know why Arnold Schwarzenegger thought he needed to approach me, or tell me any of that. There were thugs, and a fight, and Arnold Schwarzenegger was killed in defense that day at the AM/PM Lukes Arco. They pretend he is still alive. There is a man from YouTube fame called “Exoman“ who does some of the Arnold sightings that need to happen sometimes for that.

So, the fractal zoom part, is that I have always sort of secretly wanted a Ford GT. Only a few people know that I talked about that. There was once, at about that time, a toy Ford GT at the Walgreen‘s, and I bought the $5 dollar toy car to put on my desk. That car was used in some phone calls that happened, where I was asked if I like the Ford GT. Of course, it was just a toy car as far as I was concerned, but later, I learned that the people on the phone call were talking about a real Ford GT.

Some asshole came and stole the toy $5 Ford GT from my house on one of the attacks here. They demanded I give them the Ford GT, so, it was a toy car, I gave them the toy $5 Ford GT from the Walgreen’s and they left.

My son was still alive back then, he came by, asked me where the Ford GT is. I went to show him the toy one, and then remembered it had been stolen, I told him about what I remembered, he was confused, then I was confused.

Somewhere in all of that, where a real Ford GT was stolen, one I never touched or saw up close, and was sold to Arnold Schwarzenegger, who died over that, and the inclusion of a toy Ford GT, that was also stolen, is Fractal Russian Hoax Zoom that can be looked at by people who know what the fuck really happened. I don’t know what really happened beyond seeing that trailer with the words Ford GT printed on it, and seeing a Ford GT on the road twice, once on Jackpine, and once on the Freeway. I also saw that trailer go to the Phillips residence more than once, it was just a trailer as far as I could see, it was the printed words on it that got my attention. “Ford GT 40″ on there. small words on the rear corner of it.

So, I have purchased two toy Ford GT 40′s from Walgreen‘s in my lifetime, so far, and one Canadian Ford GT 2020 Model toy cars, and one of the Ford GT 40 toy cars  was stolen from me at about the same time that the one Arnold was killed over while defending from his thugs at the AM/PM.

A “Ford GT“ and “Ford GT 40″ are Le mans style racing cars. not Mustang’s.

The driver of the car I saw on the Freeway looked like Sean Sparacino’s son, who was about 16 years old at the time. That is who Schwarzenegger was going to buy that car from. Someone else has the car, I would look at Jay Leno’s Garage first to find it, and Monroe’s barn second. I suspect the car is stashed in a barn locally to be honest about that, but I am certain Jay Leno knows exactly where it is. Maybe it’s still in the Phillips garage at 507 Jackpine, inside of the car hauling trailer that was made for it.

Fractal Zoom of Russian Hoax is like that, a real car, a toy car, both are stolen. Then, confusion GT is bonus, with Wesley Crowel of 549 Jackpine, who suddenly had a brand new Ford Mustang GT at about that same time, and keeps getting new ones every year on trade in.

Important parts of that Ford GT 40 Russian Hoax is the phone call, and the work that went into setting up the phone call when I spoke to some unknown person on the call, which was buried within a phone call to my son, with use of a Stingray or Kingfish or Huawei knock off surveillance unit. The work for the set-up to that call included that there would be a toy Ford GT 40 at the Walgreen‘s, and that my attention was drawn to a selection of toy cars they had there. All of that had to be in place before the person who bought and sent that reward could be spoken to on the call, so that I would have a Ford GT 40 to talk about. I recall that when I said the car was a toy car, that person on the phone seemed very disapointed, and I am sure that I was made to appear as a colossal unappreciative asshole in the eyes of that very kind and generous person who sent a real Ford GT 40 as a reward. The problem is that the terror had not been stopped, it was advancing, and the whole episode that included that car is part of ongoing terror attack, where that person was singled out, fooled, taken advantage of, and probably killed as a result. There is a lot there to look at, maybe some records were kept, Mock’s Ford of Grants Pass may have been called upon to help obtain and deliver the car, and, the Monroe’s are almost family to the Mock’s Ford dealership, as Deb Monroe was married to Donny Mock of Mock’s Ford when the Monroe’s moved in next door about 5 years ago.

Donny is dead now.

That’s good news.

=============================================

11:19 pm:

Lye. Departments of Building & Safety takeover, Earth Movers & Paving Contractors, and Rogue Valley Public Storage:

This I learned in around 1989.

While working for J & C Construction of Southern California, owned by a man by the name of John Homes, who’s wife was the licensed contractor he did his contracts under as a Union Employer of Carpenters for residential and commercial framing.

A commercial job where we built a very large shopping center, many structures, I was job foreman with eleven man crew.

There was a time where I saw that there was some kind of bullshit happening at that jobsite somewhere in Orange County. The paving contractors were doing everything bassackwards. It took them forever to do the paving of the parking area at the shopping complex, and the work was fouling up all of the other tradesmen at the job. The parking was tore up for weeks. They were constantly digging it up, then grading, only to dig it all up again, and grade some more. Truckloads of lye were brought to the job, all of the lye was distributed evenly around in the very large parking area. All of that was dug up, turned, tilled, mixed into the earth at the site.

“What the heck?” I said.

They said: “The building & safety inspectors say that we are not getting the compaction results necessary to pass inspection, so, we put lye and lots of it, mix it in, stir it around, and grade it, over, and over, and over again, and the keep telling us that the ground is not compacting to the required standards.

“Ok... Is it ever going to be finished” i said.

They said: “It will be done when the compaction is the way the Building inspector needs it to be, until then, more lye goes in, turn it, grade it, roll it, inspect it, until they pass it.”

That is something to look at, I don‘t know why it is, it just is. The lye in the soil is some kind of bullshit story. It’s either the paving contractor trying to get some help by saying “Lies are every where”, or, they were putting the “V-8″ into the parking, and I didn‘t notice that part. I did notice that part on a different jobsite in Downtown Los Angeles where J & C Construction did the framing there at some subsidized housing apartment units, a very nice set of units too I should mention. The “V-8″ was put into the cement finishing work around the community access buildings there, some conference rooms, or, event rooms, big ones, were part of the apartment complex. I met Mayor Tom Bradley there, it was a big deal, the apartments were a news item, featured handy cap special units, and community gathering areas. Very large jobsite, many acres of land, I have no idea where all of that land came from in downtown Los Angeles there, at that time, in around 1990, not far from the Coliseum Sports Arena.

The “V-8″ is ground up people, they put the people into the earthwork at construction sites sometimes, other times, they use it as Erosion Abatement and the contractors make a prophet from the State Hwy Department of Transportation work they do when they grind people into pulp, add some seeds and water, and spray that onto the roadsides. Red Hydroseed is what they call it after the grass seeds are added.

Maybe that shopping center in Orange County is the same way, where all of that lye was added to the ground.

Over here in Grants Pass, there is a project going on for about five years so far, it’s only a five acre or so size jobsite, but took about three and one half years just to do the grading work there at a construction site that is very close to the Club Northwest Gym. You can see it from the freeway. I saw them put the sign on the buildings today, I think it said Rogue Valley Storage.

The thing about that place is, that they already built to whole fucking thing, then tore it all down, and have been slowly building it again in the same place, with teh same design as what was there, then torn down, now is there again, ten years or more later.

There is Cement contractors there, wood frame contractors, block work contractors, metal frame contractors, and iron worker contractors all on the same fucking nightmare over there. Every kind of construction technique is incorporated into the design features of a public storage facility.

That’s because it’s not a public storage like most people think about for their storage needs, that place is a killing field. I suspect they have been advertising for help wanted in fare away places to lure some victims from all of the trades to work on that thing.

The ground work I have been seeing over the course of it’s completion is such that there were big heaps of gravel, those were obscuring the view of other work that was going on beyond them, where booms were used to pump a lot of concrete into places that did not seem to make sense about why there needs to be three concrete pump boom trucks there extended and pumping concrete all at once. Those are expensive to rent, so, three of them at the same time on a job that is already taking three years to do earthwork before any building of structures was stated just is not right, there is some giant size bullshit happening there. The kind where under ground tunnels and passes, under ground chambers and unseen terror facilities are being hidden with a Public Storage. You have to understand that the people who are constructing that cannot be allowed to live after the work is done, the tradesmen will all be killed if they know of the underground tunnels they are building. That is how it works around here. There are many underground places, chambers, passages, facilities for Global Domination advance here in Josephine County, and, in Medford.

=============

12-11-2020: 7:38 pm: The construction site is called “Cascade Public Storage”. I went by today, and that is what it says on that monstrosity. That means I have some GLUE!

Try Cascade Block. It’s a place near the fairgrounds that sells block. Somewhere over there between Redwood Hwy and Redwood Ave... I think. Talk to Diane, the owner. She will have all of the answers. Used to drive a green very small Fiat sports car, a Spider, two door, convertible coup, best to my recollection. Very dangerous place though. Bring US Military for that.

=============

South Medford Interstate 5 interchange is all hollow. There are chambers inside of all of that, some are marked with artwork of dolphins on the structures there.

There is a place on Crater Lake Hwy at Delta Waters near the International Airport that I suspect is all hollow under it, with tunnels that extend from the airport to the hospital areas around Barnett and Black Oak where Asante Hospital is, and Asante has taken over just about all of the medical facilities of all kinds.

Asante is some of the worlds worst news you could ever get. There is no way to survive a hospital visit here in Oregon. They grind people into V-8 liquid pulp, spray them onto the roadsides to help stop the mudslide from occurring in the rainy season.

Terror is way bigger than anyone is willing to see it.

[psykertroll-blog]

The Raven’s Old Flame

A gift for my latest follower, @burgers-1776. This is an AmeViet one shot (Although I guess you could say that this is more of an America character study). I hope you enjoy~

If one were to examine him closely, and look behind the bright, pearly white veil of his smile, though he would not say so himself, Alfred had to be the unluckiest country in the world.

However, this bad luck was not what one would usually think. While others would usually remain in the shadows of their mediocrity, wealth, land, and prosperity came quickly for him. In what seemed to be a blink of an eye, America had grown from a fledgling colony constantly on the brink of annihilation, beset by enemies from all sides by Spain in the south, France and Canada in the northwest, and the numerous Indian nations in the frontier, to that of a superpower, with influence spanning the globe. He was still beset by enemies on all sides, yes, but now he could not only survive, but thrive, so much so that any worries of invasion, disease, or famine were far from his mind.

Yet, while America had all of these blessings, Alfred believed himself to be truly cursed.

For you see, it was not a sickness of the body that plagued him, nor was it a sickness of the mind.

No, the disease that was currently taking root in his heart was love.

Love. What a deceitful thing indeed.

The object of his desires was but a few feet away from him. While the chaos of the meeting room swirled around them, and nations of all stripes and colors fought in an ever rising pitch, at that very moment, Alfred felt as if they were the only two souls in the entire world.

There she sat, the picture of elegance in her green dress. Her raven hair shone, gleaming as it glistened in the sun, and her skin glowed with health and vitality. When she stared out of the window, exasperated with the never ending disaster in the background, he still found her to be as enchanting as always, and all Alfred’s heart could do was painfully soar, even though he knew it had to be caged for evermore.

After all, every time he set his heart free, it mutated from that of a budding flower, to a parasitic weed. This weed would grow, and grow, and grow, until its roots choked the life out of his love.

It had happened before, and it would happen for evermore.

Vietnam was almost torn asunder by his and Russia’s tug of war. It was a miracle that she hadn’t died…

His feelings were sharply divided on Vietnam, of course. Sometimes, he hated himself for even entering the war. Other times, he despised himself evermore for abandoning Lien on that day in Saigon. He turned his back to her and her people’s pleading cries for help, scrambling to escape the communist taint that was quickly taking over the south, but his people had decided that he had to leave, and as a nation, America would do what had to be done.

Whatever the case, in the end, Lien was alive and well, and so Alfred thanked his lucky stars that she didn’t end up like his last love.

What he did to Texas was wretchedly evil.

He killed her, yes, watched the life slip away from her eyes as she died by the bullet of his rifle, but that was not the worst of it.

Not by a long shot.

It was 1864, and Savannah was burning.

For months now, they had marched through Georgia. From November to bleak December, the Union men destroyed all in their path. Railway tracks were melted and twisted, farms were looted by marauding soldiers and the opportunistic scavengers that followed them, and entire cities were decimated as Sherman’s army drew steadily nearer and nearer to the sea.

And now, at the pinnacle of his campaign, Savannah was finally burning.

America walked into the house, a dark, solemn look on his face. He knew what had to be done. Lincoln had ordered it, and so the task would be carried out to the full. When he first read his boss’s letter, Alfred was speechless.

It was… unspeakable.

He didn’t even know if he could DO such a- a monstrous thing.

He was in agony, pure agony, but Alfred was but a nation, meant to serve his people, so he would do it all the same.

No matter what, this hellish war must end.

A shrill cry rang out in the ruined building. Judging by the sound, it was in the room right next to him.

America slammed open the door with the butt of his rifle, and saw a tiny, frail, but determined figure standing tall over a wooden crib. She pointed a shotgun point blank at his chest, and without another word, she spat in his face.

All the same, America would not be deterred. Unfazed, he wiped the spit from his face, and with a blank expression, he snatched the shotgun away from the bloodied woman and bent it in two, flinging it out of the window.

His voice was the essence of calm as he spoke.

“Stand aside, Georgia.”

“I know what you did to her. I know. You Yankee devil, you Northern scum, I know what you did to her, and I know what yer comin here to do! I ain’t lettin you come one step close to this here child. You can burn down my towns, you can loot and salt all of my farms, and destroy my railroads. In fact, you can kill me right here and now, just like you did to Texas, but you ain’t takin another step-”

Without another word, America harshly slapped Georgia, sending her to the ground.

“Shut up. You know nothing.”

Much like an automaton, he mechanically reached into the crib, and cradled the squalling babe in his arms. Instantly, the child grew quiet, and giggled as he grabbed Nantucket with his tiny hand.

He was the spitting image of Texas. With his tan skin, brown hair, and hazel eyes, Allen Jones looked just like his lost Lenore.

Lenore Jones née Carriedo. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. When he first met her, Alfred could have sworn that an angel had fallen out of heaven. At the time, he was still a young colony of England’s, still in that awkward, prepubescent stage between a boy and a man. Even so, while his appearance was that of an eleven year old runt, and hers that of a seventeen year old youth, he was amazed by her radiance. Yet, much like himself, she too was overshadowed by the might of Empires. From the Spanish Empire, to the Mexican Empire, she was under their yoke, ignored and forgotten in her dusty corner.

Alfred, however, was enthralled by her. While their relations were little more than that of an acquaintance in the 18th century, by the 19th century Alfred had grown into a man, and the two fell deeply in love as he pried her from the clutches of her sister to the south…

Only for her to die by his hands a scant twenty years into the future.

And now… now their child would fall to the same fate.

Allen Jones represented the newly formed Confederacy, and he had to die.

With a twist of the neck, the deed was done, and Allen hung limp in his embrace.

Gently laying him in the crib, America did not listen to the keening wails of Georgia. Instead, he stoically walked outside of the building, fell to his knees, and vomited.

“She wouldn’t want you to be like this, ya know.”

Alfred shot up from his slouched position, frantically looking around as he was ripped from his musings. The room was emptied out hours ago, and the sun had long since lowered from high noon to a breezy twilight. Once his eyes set upon the woman standing next to him, however, he stopped.

It was Georgia.

“Wh-what?”

Alfred stared, wide-eyed in his confusion.

“You know what I mean, ya idjit. This is downright pathetic. Who the hell do you think you are, mopin round like some sad ol mule? Get up.”

She pulled at his arm, dragging Alfred out of the chair. Struggling, Alfred tried to escape her iron grip, but it was to no avail, and soon the pair were out of the meeting room. Before he even knew it he was thrown into Georgia’s car in the parking lot, and he turned to the blonde, pissed off.

“Okay. The fuck is this about, Georgia-”

“Oh, be a dear and shut yer pie hole fer just one second, will ya? I came to pick yer sorry ass up, that’s what, and I’m sick and tired of yer shitty attitude.”

She pulled the car out of park, and swerved onto the road, slamming the gas pedal hard as she drove.

A tense silence then fell upon them, neither daring to make the first move. After thirty minutes had passed, the sun had set, and they were in front of the hotel where the rest of the nations were staying.

There, Alfred could clearly see Lien through the glass windows of the lobby. She was leaning against the wall, and had an irritated expression on her face.

All the same, she was painfully alluring to him. So much so, that a tiny, anguished sigh managed to escape from his throat before he could suppress it.

Due to this, Georgia was the first to speak.

“See what I mean? This is exactly what I was talkin about. What a disgrace.”

At that, Alfred quickly looked away from the lobby and scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Again, I have no clue what you’re going on about-”

“Quit it with the act, America. You love her, don’t ya. In fact, before you even try to answer that with yer dumbass mouth, I know you love her. I know because I’ve seen the same look in yer eyes over a hundred years ago.”

Shocked once more, Alfred jumped up in his seat. He yanked his seat belt clean off, and tried to slam open the car door.

“Well, it’s been swell, Georgia, it really has, but as you can see, it really is getting late, and I gotta hit the hay. I’ve got a day chock full of back-to-back meetings tomorrow, you know, the usual bullshit, so I can’t stay and chat, ahahahaha-”

His second attempt at escape, however, was once again an abject failure, for Georgia pulled at his ear, keeping him in the car.

“Hush up, will ya? You don’t wanna start up a commotion in front of yer precious Vietnam, now. As I was sayin, before I was so rudely interrupted, you and I both know that yer in love with the gal, so there’s no use runnin away with yer tail between yer legs-”

In response Alfred slammed his fist down on the top of the glove box, snapping from Georgia’s endless tirade.

“Alright, fine! It’s true! I love her! I love her so much that I could die! You fucking happy? I don’t know why you’d even care, seeing as you hate my guts, but there it is! I love her, so the fuck what? It’s not like anything’s ever going to happen because of it! You’ve seen for yourself the clusterfuck that goes along with my damn love life! There’s practically a death toll next to it! I wouldn’t be surprised if it was cursed!” He breathed heavily, lowering his voice to a low rumble. “It’s better if I do nothing at all than to involve myself with her again. It’s a miracle that Lien is even alive. I’m not taking the risk of her dying, not for my stupid feelings. Now shut up, and leave me alone.”

Exhausted, Alfred leaned his head onto his two hands, and clawed at his forehead in frustration.

Georgia, meanwhile, laid back in her seat, and lit up a cigarette before she spoke again.

“America- no, Alfred. I’m not going to say that none of it was yer fault. What you did was despicable, and I’ll never forgive you for it. But we did despicable things as well. You murdered your own flesh and blood, but we used him for our own political agenda. It was a horrible time for us all, but all the same that time is now in the past, and I wish you would get over it. You may want to wallow in yer own misery, forever alone, and to be fair, I may want that as well, but ya see, Lenore wouldn’t want that for you, Allen wouldn’t want that for you, and if this Lien is worth anything, she wouldn’t want that for you either. While we may not live for an eternity, Alfred, I have a feelin that America’s gonna stick around fer a few centuries yet, and I gotta say, those centuries are gonna be an awful long time to suffer through alone. Granted, I don’t hardly know much bout whatever happened between you and this here gal aside from all the stuff that blasted on the news forty years ago, but if you don’t get your sorry ass in there and talk to her, I’m gonna kick that same ass so hard that you’ll still be feelin it when yer old and gray.”

“I- Georgia-”

“If I’m callin you Alfred, you’d best use my name as well.”

“Erm, I mean, Sarah…”

“Yes? I don’t got all month for ya to stutter like some yeller bastard, so just spit it out.”

Alfred tilted his head, and for the first time in a long while, his smile was genuine.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Pssh. Whatever. This is a one time thing, ya hear? Now get outta my car.”

“Will do.”

With that, Alfred did as Sarah asked, and hopped out of the car. There in the lobby, Lien still sat by the window, and as she looked up, she could see him as well.

He walked inside, sat beside her, and said hello.

She smiled, and took his hand…

And from there, their future was set.

For better or worse, the raven’s old flame was finally put to rest.

[quentinibd85-blog]

Does Greasy Or Oily Hair Shed Or Autumn Out More?

A brand-new research advises that individuals are very likely the-best-Look.Info to misidentify a toy as a weapon after finding a Dark face than a White skin, even when the face in question is actually that of a five-year-old kid. At that point obviously, you must likewise take into consideration durability amongst your choices from boys bed linen collections. Atop that, in these times, so many brownish folks are actually united under the "people from colour" sunshade. In the fifth area the child, currently thirteen years old, rises to decision of appeal and falls for a lady. You have actually heard of people taking advantage of the 1950s, keeping away from contemporary society in exchange for a life stashed in a different opportunity era. Typical functions: Variable-volume pump on designs up to 110 heaps, Syscom controller with shade Liquid Crystal Displays as well as contact panel. Among the genuine obstacles for sis as well as bros playing with each other is actually that the majority of females truly do not care concerning Batman, and also most boys wouldn't be actually caught lifeless playing with Barbie dolls. Common components: Twin gas shot cyndrical tubes, visual encoder for screw location, CH-3.5 Personal Computer controller along with LCD, storage space for 150 mold and mildew set-ups, cycle-count setting for auto-stop. I knew very hot to crochet enjoying video recordings on the internet, these are actually great how you can crochet tutorials whether you intend to get started crocheting a cardigan, infant coat or a quite present day old child layette collection. These are simply simple words, to begin with instructed to us by our parents to be great kids and also great females, which our company should have understood by now. White child gone, however biracial boy to brownish loved ones is still white. Standard functions: Electric-driven plastication (2 side-by-side extruders), gas plunger shot, top-mounted air conditioning station, Pentium PC-based control, 15-in. This book describes a number of various reasons for disobedience in kids and young adults. It was actually assumed after the reality (undoubtedly not either Hobbs nor Gertrude ever before acknowledged to any sort of sex-related wrongdoings in between all of them) that Hobbs became a real cottage boy", performing her bidding at her whim with no inquiries asked. Usually, during the course of the initial two years young boys establish a raised accumulation of body fat, called the pubic body fat pad, around the base from the penis. When their body rapidly expands, many youthful children possess a time frame from opportunity. For whatever factor, gals which flirt with other men facing their boyfriends are completely manipulative. I stroke my feedbowl well-maintained, drink water from my water dish, turn to Girlfriend and Master and also thank them wholeheartedly for the excellent delight They gave me. As our team mature, our team frequently put behind our team the days of half-witted childhood fun. Often that was Gertrude as well as Paula who performed the bath time; various other times Gertrude's kid" (the blond haired, horn-rimmed, 14-year-old flunky Richard Hobbs) was on hand to aid. It passed the hefty opportunity till supper - a most unpalatable dish offered to the kids as well as a handful of invalids in a corner of a barrack-room.

[stone-man-warrior]

December 2, 2019: 7:44 pm:

I just returned from another Socio-Terrific shopping trip into Dystopia, Grants Pass Oregon, where all of the people you see are Canadian, and each one is using the name of an American Citizen that they killed. Every person in Josephine County is an imposter, and each one you see, is a representation of the American Voter that they killed in order to obtain that citizens Voting Status.

I left my house, and lit my lighter around my front door, and my car. There had been a terror soldier near my car all day, waiting for me to go outside to go to the store. The terrorists know when I need to shop for food. They actually are duplicating my purchases, and there is someone who consumes the exact same items that I do. They buy the same things, and figure out how long it lasts. They have been doing that for about five years, and have it down to a science. They call it the NASA Apollo 13 Crew. I am serious, and have spoken with the one of the crew members about it in the past.

So, when that terror soldier that had been hiding by my car had finally gone away some place else, that’s when I left to go to the store. When I lit my lighter, it ignited nitrous gas that had been fogged around my front yard, and a terror soldier ignited, and launched to 3701 Russel Road, at the Chapman Family terror cell.

As I was leaving in my car, Sean Sparacino’s blue Dodge Dakota came down the road, except I don’t think Sean is alive. I think he is dead, and they taxedermied him, put him in the truck, and the truck is remote control. Almost all of the terrorist personal vehicles are fitted with remote control, and can be operated with no one in them. I think they were using that truck, with Sean in it, as a decoy for any law enforcement people that may be around, and looking into the things I explain here and on Twitter. The terrorist Impostor Police have been pretending that Sean Sparacino is me, and they protect him. So, the Sparacino Dakota with Sean in the driver seat taxedermied works like a trap. he can be filled with nitrous gas, and if someone pulls over the remote control car, that person would be overwhelmed with the gas, while a whole bunch of other terror soldiers swarm the real officers. This is real terrorism, not that fake kind you learn about on news media.

There were at least twelve terror vehicles waiting for my car to reach the corner of Three Pines Road and Russel Road, except the terror soldier that was supposed to have been driving launched, and is presumed dead, so I just waved at them as I drove by.

I went to 6th Street Market first, a white SUV followed me to the market. That vehicle parked, I stood near my car in the parking lot. I lit my lighter a lot, and the terror soldier in the backseat of the car burst into bits while trying to get out of the car.

I went into the store after that and selected my items. I overheard the two store clerks there talking on a communication device with the people in the white SUV. I went to the counter to get more things. A female store clerk was telling the male store clerk that the terrorist in the parking lot burst. She went outside, but the soldier had launched away, so I saw her scanning her communication device for a Blu-Tooth signal to try to find out where the terrorist had launched to.

I went to Walmart after that.

I experienced very little hassle today while shopping. Almost no threatening activity with exception of being exposed to Nitrous Oxide/Versed has inside the Walmart.

The parking lot was completely filled, but not the Motor Home section. Although the lot was filled and crowded, there was only very few cars parked where I park, nearest the Grocery Outlet next door, but in the Walmart parking lot against the small embankment there. At least one terror soldier burst inside of a car in the parking lot just as I was locking my car to go inside the store. I had a very difficult time locking my car, there was a lot of nitrous gas being released by passing terror fogger vehicles, and I kept forgetting how to lock the car. Nitrous is dangerous when used as a weapon by an army of terror soldiers.

When I leave, and return to my car, someone always lets a cat loose in the Grocery Outlet parking lot on the other side of the embankment. Sometimes the cat goes into the bushes there, and sits there looking at me. Today, I saw the cat, and noticed it’s the same cat that I have seen before, and I have seen the person let the cat out of a bag there before. It’s not always the same cat, but there is always a cat, feline domesticated animal, right there when I leave.

I noticed a few other things that I can talk about, besides the usual conditions that I am not going to repeat.

I explained on Twitter today that I was wearing black a few days ago, and they all know that I wear a black coat, and the people at Walmart aggressively try to kill me every time I go there. I am the last remaining American in Josephine County that has not been captured or killed. All of the other Americans in the county are held captive, or have been killed. So, I am the prize, and I explain as much about the terrorism as I am able to, so they really do try very hard, and everyday to kill me.

The people there were mostly all wearing black. Almost everyone in the store was wearing a black coat, or black shirt, or hoodie.

They were trying to make confusion service.

Also, there is this one blond man who works the Walmart, inside, he acts as if he is an employee, but he never wears a Walmart uniform. He’s short, about 5′6, and is bow legged. There is a very nice Harley Davidson Bobber that is always parked in the parking plot near the entrance to the store, it’s bait, no one rides, it serves many purposes just to leave it there parked. So, that shirt bow legged blond guy always walks past me carrying a black motorcycle helmet, near the cookies isle every time I go to the Walmart. I don’t know what his game is, but he is a special assassin, and can play role of shopper, store employee, or vendor that stalking shelves with promotional items, at a moments notice.

Also, there is a man that wears tight short pants, and a tight T-shirt and always approaches me at the eggs department. It’s twenty degrees outside, and that man is wearing clothes for summertime, and that short blond guy is pretending to be a motorcycle rider. They are using that security camera that is right there by the cookies and the eggs to fool someone into believing that the store is in Hawaii. There are always people wearing skimpy clothes right there at the eggs and cookies departments, and I already know that at least some of the checkout counter cash registers are programmed to mimic that the store in Grants Pass is in Hawaii. Walmart is not the only store in Grants Pass that has the checkout and debit machines programmed to appear as if they are in Hawaii.

What that boils down to, is National Security people are fools, they don’t know anything about real terrorism, and they are trusting the people who are doing the killing, to guide them. The equivalent of asking Jeffrey Epstein to babysit their teenage daughters, that’s the level of terror knowledge out US National Security personnel possess.

I went to Taco Bell after Walmart. The gal at the counter greeted me in French.

That concludes what I want to explain today.

End writing session: 8:49 pm.

No help has come.