#sadly even when school ends by september ill be back to school. by september

[othercrossee]

No art until late September or sth

[multifandomrandomgirl]

Remus Lupin!parent x reader!daughter fic

Y/N Cohen had always wondered why she had her mother's maiden surname as opposed to her father's, but her mum refused to tell her. She also refused to tell Y/N the whereabouts of her absent father either for that matter.

All she knew was that her father had disappeared before she had even been born, a "one-night stand", as her mother had put it one night when Y/N had asked just before her tenth birthday. Y/N had since dropped the subject and gave up asking questions about her father.

According to her mother, Y/N had the same green eyes and light brown hair that her father has. The attributes that she got from her mum included her nose and her horrible eyesight.

On her eleventh birthday, Y/N received a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it informed her that she was a witch and that she had a place at the school for the coming September. Her mother was more than happy to let her go to the school ("I don't have to wake up early to take you to school, it'll be great.").

Her first two years were interesting, to say the least, she'd been sorted into Gryffindor in her first year and made a plethora of friends including Harry Potter, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and Ernie Macmillian.

In the first year, her Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher turned out to be some creepy pyscho with He-who-must-not-be-named's face on the back of his head, covered in a purple turban. In the second year, Harry came face-to-face with a basilisk after Ron Weasley's younger sister, Ginny got possessed by some guy's soul, Tom Riddle, weird name right?

Oh, and the DADA teacher had accidentally obliviated himself, what a tosser eh?

Y/N was currently sat in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, she had situated herself next to Neville and Seamus, across from Ginny and Dean.

"Who do you think we'll have for Defence this year?" Neville asked as he watched out the window as the train rolled out of Kings Cross. "Dunno, better help us defend ourselves if that raging lunatic, Black, comes anywhere near us." Seamus laughed. "Not a laughing matter Finnigan." Ginny rolled her eyes at the boy.

A few hours along the journey to the school, the train halted and bumped. It suddenly went all cold and dark, depressing almost.

"Anyone want to come and investigate with me?" Y/N stood up, pocketing her wand just in case. "I'll come with." Both Neville and Ginny stood up and followed Y/N down the corridor. They end up in Harry's compartment. Tripping over a few feet, Y/N made her way into the compartment. Harry, Ron, Hermione and a middle-aged man who was asleep were all in there. Y/N sat down next to Harry.

"Any clue as to what is happening?" She whispered, trying not to wake the sleeping man up. "No clue." Hermione mumbled.

A large floating binbag-like creature came into the compartment, it suddenly felt colder, Harry collapsed and Y/N grabbed him before he could hit the floor, she leant him across the seats that the pair had previously occupied.

The sleeping man arose, a ball of fire in his hand, he used wandless magic to ward off the floating binbag.

They all stood in silence as Harry began to wake up. "What were those things?" He asked, looking at the middle-aged man.

"Dementors" Now the lights had flickered back on,  Y/N could see the mans' appearance, green eyes, brown hair. "No." She thought. "Is he my? Nah, don't be daft."

"Y/N, Y/N. What's up?" Ron poked Y/N in the shoulder after the man leaves the compartment.

"Is it me or does he look like me?" She whispered, glancing at her friends.

"Do you think he may be your-?" Hermione cut herself short uncertain as to whether or not she should continue her sentence.

"Maybe. I mean, mum did say I looked exactly like him, except for the nose." Y/N stared at the floor, nervously. "Maybe you should ask him?"

"What am I supposed to say? Hi Professor, I think you might be my dad?" Y/N groaned, looking at Neville. "I mean, maybe more subtlety than that." Hermione sighed. "Yeah, good idea."

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

"Today, we will be looking at boggarts." Professor Lupin said. Y/N gulped nervously and fiddled with her red tie.

"Miss Cohen, would you be so kind as to go first?" The brown-haired professor asked her after teaching them the spell needed to protect them. "Uh, sure." Y/N stepped forward, the Professor unleashes the creature from the cupboard.

The boggart turned into a merperson, it wriggled its way towards her, reaching out for her arm. Y/N cowered back slightly, the class minus her friends sniggered at the merperson in front of them.

Y/N pulled her wand out, and aimed it at the boggart. "Riddikulus!" Y/N shouted, the merperson shrivelled up and turned into a muggle superhero figurine, random.

Harry's boggart cut the class off, Professor Lupin held him back to talk to him. Y/N hung around outside the classroom after as she wanted to speak to the Professor. It was the end of the day so it didn't matter if she had to wait for hours, she just wanted to ask him some stuff.

"Miss Cohen?" A voice had broken Lola's trail of thought. "Yes, Professor?"

"Are you okay?" He looked down at her. "Please may I talk to you about something?" Y/N took a deep breath, it was now or never. "Of course, come back into the room." He let her back into the class.

"Is this about your boggart? Merpeople, was interesting." Lupin sat at his desk. Lola shook her head. "That was uh, fun. I fell into the lake in my first year and a merperson grabbed me. But that wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What is it then?"

"Did you, around thirteen- fourteen years ago, know a woman called Trina Cohen?" Y/N noticed the mans' face go pale. "Uh, yeah, I did. Why?" He squeaked out. "Just wondering, that's my mum. Is all." Y/N said, she regretted bringing the subject up, to begin with.

"Ah, um. Okay. Why were you asking? Bit random." He nervously laughed. "Mum said that I got my dad's eyes and hair, and you fit that description. I may have also stolen a photo from my mum's collection without telling her. This is it, actually." Y/N pulled a photo from a pocket inside of her school robes and handed it to Lupin.

"That's, that's me." Professor Lupin's face pulled a funny expression, a mix of upset and a few other emotions that Y/N was unable to pick out. "Here." He handed her the photo back. "You need to leave, now." He escorted her out of the room and locked the door.

"Hey, Y/N! What's up?" Ron looked at the girl, studying her face as she scrunched it up in an attempt not to cry.  "I told Lupin that I think he may be my father." Y/N sniffled. "And?"

"He just told me to leave, that's about it." She whispered. "I'm sorry." Ron pulled the girl into his arms, and hugged her tightly. "Shall we head back to the common room?" He asked, Y/N nodded.

"What did he say to you?" Ron asked as the pair sit down. "Why are you asking, bit random. Then he said that's me when I showed him the photo and then told me to leave." Y/N wiped her robe sleeve over her eyes, wiping away a few stray tears.

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

"Y/N, please may I speak to you at the end of the lesson?" Professor Lupin stopped at Y/N's desk on his way into the classroom. "Of course Professor." Y/N mumbled.

The lesson flew by, they were learning about Redcaps and Hinkypunks that lesson. At the end of the lesson, everyone packed up, Ron and Hermione turned to Y/N and told her that they'd keep a seat for her at the lunch table.

"Miss Cohen, I need to talk to you about the subject you brought up the other day." Professor Lupin resumed his seat. Y/N's face went pale. "I apologies for that Professor, it was random to bring up."

"I owled your mother and had a little chat with her. You're right, I am your father." The greying man looked up at her. "You, you are?" Y/N's eyes widened, he nodded.

"I am. I apologise for not being around ever. Your mum wanted you to grow up without magic, she's a muggle as you know. I also am a monster, I'm dangerous. I'm a-"

"Werewolf?" She asked. "Yeah, how did you know?" Lupin ran his hand through his hair. "Snape taught us about werewolves that one lesson you were off last month, mentioned something about them being "too close for comfort"." The brown-haired girl imitated the evil Professor. "I also noticed how your scars looked and how ill you looked the days either side of the full moon."

"That's why I didn't want to be around, I was scared I'd hurt you. Scared I'd make you a monster."

"You aren't a monster, you're such a nice person. How can people see any different? Seriously, what is wrong with those people?" Y/N made a face. "Not everyone thinks like you, sadly. Anyway, I meant to ask, you're not a werewolf too, are you?" She shook her head, he sighed in relief.

"I know I'm an awful person for leaving, but I'd like to try and make it up to you, if that's alright with you?" Professor Lupin studied her face. "Don't speak like that, you aren't an awful person. I understand why you did it. Of course, it's alright with me. I've always wanted to meet you." Y/N gave the Professor a small smile.

"Can I, can I hug you?" The werewolf asked cautiously, he didn't know if he even had the right to hug her. He didn't get an answer, the teenage girl ran forward, she launched herself at him. "I'll take that as a yes then." Lupin laughed.

"I'm so glad I found you. Dad."

[curiosityjams]

so today officially marks my birthday week (my actual birthday is this friday!), but today marks something special and that is the one year anniversary of me abandoning twitter--a site i was very active on for 11 years (from 13 to 24)--for good.

tbh, i was gonna write up something super long, but i do want to keep this as short as possible because then i’m just going to end up writing an entire autobiography on here and i don’t have the time or mental energy for that.

 anyway, the first year of my life where i wasn’t active on twitter AT ALL (by that i mean not looking at the site, not checking it, not googling it up, etc) has been rough. i started to seriously consider leaving the site as an actual option in late 2017, took two separate 1-3 month hiatuses in 2018 (one from march to april, the other from september to december but i still lurked sadly), took a 6.5 month hiatus from april to november in 2019 (still lurked without an account cause fomo lol), came back for like 3 months, and i ended up deactivating my account for good in february of last year (i planned on coming back in april of last year, but the pandemic hit and thats when i decided me being on twitter was no longer a viable option for me anymore esp at this stage of my life). i still lurked the site (a pattern lol) up until july when i decided it was time for me to move on completely if i TRULY wanted to become the person i want to be. i don’t want to get too much into what was the final straw in me leaving because it’s stupid, but let’s just say my time on that site was a mixed bag of good, bad, okay, but mostly bad.

if i said i didn’t have fun during my time on my twitter, i’d be lying because there were fun moments and i’ve met a LOT of people i’m grateful to still call friends today through the site. however, most of the time i spent on it, i spent it trying to please others, but especially people who didn’t give a single shit about me or would make fun of me behind my back. i’d constantly delete tweets after tweeting them, overanalzye every single interaction i had because i was scared people would think i was annoying or weird, get nervous to the point of feeling physically ill because i was scared of what people thought of me if i was a fan of x or liked y thing they didn’t like or vice versa, and overall, lived my entire life on there for others, not for myself. in fact, i freaked out so much over shit on twitter that i ended up getting held back in school not only due to the stress i was dealing with offline with family/school, but also the stress i was also being thrown at by online people. i’d make myself sick, lose sleep at night, etc and most of it WAS because of drama others would find petty, but i’d think was the end of the world because my actual offline world was such a shitshow, i thought online spaces were gonna be this escape esp during such a pivotal time in my life, but all i got was being told i was annoying and weird to the point where i actually started to believe it.

i won’t sit here and say it doesn’t affect me anymore because obviously it does or else i wouldn’t be writing this. however, i will say i never expected to get to this point where i’d spend an entire YEAR away from the site and not have a panic attack over not knowing what went on twitter on x day. three years ago, i thought i wouldn’t be able to spend an entire day away from it (without lurking). today marks 365 DAYS without even looking or googling the site for me. are there parts that i miss? absolutely. i miss the people i met, i miss the memes, i miss having a place where i could unload all my dumb thoughts and then delete them after 5 minutes, and i kind of do have thoughts about people i could have been closer with if i stayed. however, if i did end up staying, i would have never been able to forgive myself. it’s hard undoing the mentality i’ve learned from my time on it and i know it’s easier said than done when it comes to not letting it affect you, but i’ve done the most important step and that is leave a space that was no longer bringing me joy. i don’t know if i’ll ever come back, but i do know i made the right decision in abandoning the site for good and i don’t regret that. the future is scary and i’ll never deny that. that being said, knowing that i’m not on the site anymore and that i’m on the right path to becoming a more secure person in myself and not having to rely on validation from strangers for comfort is what matters.

tl;dr it’s weird finally making it to a year without looking or checking twitter or even being an active participant on the site, but i made the right decision and i don’t regret it one bit. it’s a bit lonely, but honestly, would much rather have be alone and have time to truly get to know myself without twitter especially since i’m gonna be closer to thirty than twenty than be on a site where i’m not happy and only give 25% of myself than the 100% the people i care about deserve.

[punkpoemprose]

December 6th- Fuck 2020

Universe: Modern AU Rating: M (Mature, a little explicit, this is porn without plot for the most part) Length: 4383 Words A/N: The title says it all. This fic is about Kristoff and Anna having sex on New Years Eve. TW: Mentions of COVID-19, quarantine, and generally the shittyness of this year. This is the last of my decades AUs. Hopefully someday someone will write something more flattering for the 2020′s.

Anna closed her laptop and collapsed back onto the couch. She was exhausted mentally and emotionally, but her body wasn’t tired enough to let her sleep. It had been what she’d been suffering with all year, or at least since March when the world had gone from its usual level of chaos to being utter and total bedlam. She still remembered the day she’d learned that her kids wouldn’t be coming back to the classroom, and the only slightly more terrifying day where she learned that they would, in fact be coming back.

Her head was still awash with words she’d never thought she’d need to say to a room full of five-year-olds. We have to keep our masks on. Remember, six feet apart guys, that’s like two big dogs in a line. No, I’m sorry, I can’t give you a hug. She’d had to separate desks, and clean and not wipe away little tears like she normally would when a child was having a bad day.

The kids, she thought, had held up better than she had. They’d listened as well as they could, they’d followed the rules as much as they were able, and they were kind about the policies in a way that even grown adults were not. But even with all the work they’d done, even with all the kids doing their best, the second wave had hit, and now they wouldn’t be returning to school until after the middle of January, and then when it finally came about, it would be online. There was talk of vaccines in the news, and while it gave her some small spark of hope, all the changes have meant turning her holiday break into lots of online classroom prep.

It still wasn’t the worst though, she’d rather be tired than sick, and she couldn’t help but relax a bit and listen to the shower running in the next room over.

Kristoff had been given the afternoon shift for New Year’s Eve, and as per their new normal, he’d stripped down at the door after returning to their apartment, tossed all his things into the wash, and was currently showering. In the beginning, before they’d known just how bad things were, before PPE was supplied to every EMT in the county, he’d caught it.

Anna had remembered the pain of having to see him so ill, watching him suffer through what was determined to be a “mild” case of the virus while he was sequestered to their bedroom and she spent the week sleeping on the couch and barely seeing him at all except to occasionally bring him something to eat when he’d felt particularly weak. There was something particularly terrifying in watching the strongest person Anna knew, her rock, her one and only, barely able to take care of himself. He’d insisted the whole time, vehemently, that she leave to stay with her sister on the other side of town, be she’d been unable to bring herself to do it. She couldn’t and wouldn’t leave him alone when he was so sick she wasn’t sure if he’d make it through.

But, of course, he had. His voice had been strange and unlike him for weeks after he was cleared, and Anna had spent many nights in a cold sweat thinking about just how close he’d been to being in much worse shape. They’d started their procedure then, come in the door, take off your clothes, wash anything that went into work with you, and then shower. She’d done it too, but to less of an extreme because while she’d been around kids who had potentially been sick, he spent every day with Sven facing the positively ill together and trying their best to keep them well enough to get to the hospital.

The mental strain it was putting on them, Anna having to worry everyday about him getting sick again, or one of her students or even herself catching it was a lot. But Kristoff, kind and wonderful man that he was, kept checking in at the hospital to learn whether the transports he and Sven had brought in had made it. She saw the darkness in his eye, behind his attempts at levity, on the days where they lost someone.

The water shut off, and Anna let herself imagine him behind the door, stepping out of the shower, putting his towel on, walking over to the mirror to shave and comb his wet hair. He’d started keeping it shorter than usual as a precaution, and while he always looked handsome, Anna missed the days where she’d been able to put short braids into his hair and then comb them out with her fingers. She missed the days where he’d come home, flop onto the couch and that would be the end of things until one of them made dinner.

“Hey,” he said, as she heard the bathroom door open and shut, “Are you asleep or?”

She opened her eyes and tipped her head, looking at him from across the room. He was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, nothing fancy because of course, despite it being New Year’s Eve, they weren’t going out anywhere. She was dressed similarly, but overtop her plain shirt, she’d thrown on her nicest cardigan, creating the illusion for the videos she’d pre-recorded, that she wasn’t on her couch in her pajamas, but instead was dressed in full teacher gear and was to be listen to closely.

“I don’t think I can do an early bedtime tonight,” she said, “Or even a nap. I have to be awake to see this year end.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t so much the sort of laugh he did when he thought she was being funny. It was much more of a chuckle, as if he were going to follow it with an expression of agreement. They both were rather done with the year, just like everyone else they knew. No one wanted to be living through a pandemic.

“Just imagine,” he said, “Maybe next year we’ll actually be able to go on a date or something.”

“Or,” Anna replied sadly, “Actually be able to reschedule our wedding.”

They’d planned a June wedding the year before. It was going to be a small affair. Just his family, Elsa, and some friends from work. They were going to have it at a ski-lodge in the mountains that also doubled as a summertime spa and nature retreat so that it would be like a vacation for everyone who attended. She could still imagine the way that they’d wanted to decorate the place, all sunflowers and mason jars and white ribbons. She had bought a dress and everything, and it was still stored in her sister’s bedroom closet.

They’d pushed it to August, but had given up on it past that, knowing as soon as September hit and she returned to school with in person students, that nothing would be changing anytime soon. Even her hope for the next year was a tentative thing, like a butterfly with a broken wing trying its damnedest to fly.

“Fuck 2020,” she said quietly, noticing the way he frowned at the mention of their cancelled wedding. He’d been looking forward to it as well, and she knew that this year had been just as upsetting for him as it had been for her. She tried not to swear very often, particularly because she was worried about being able to censor herself around the kids, but ultimately, the year deserved a middle finger and some very strong language.

He crossed the space and took her laptop from where it rested on her stomach, placing it carefully on the coffee table before he scooped her too, up and off the couch. He never had much trouble lifting her, but each time he did so unexpectedly, she was half afraid of falling. She flailed for a half a second in his arms, gasping at the change in height as it occurred.

“I’d like that,” he said with a grin, “The wedding. I know it’s just a formality, and that we’ve agreed not to do it at a courthouse or anything, but I’m so ready to call you Mrs. Bjorgman.”

“And have my students confused?” she teased, “Maybe you should be Mr. Arendelle.”

He laughed at that, but the shrugged and started walking in the direction of their bedroom, holding her bridal style as if it were already all over and done with.

“Why are we heading to bed?” she asked, only allowing herself a little hopefulness beyond her confusion. She knew why she’d like to be heading to bed, but maybe, she reasoned, he was just tired and wanted some company for a nap.

“You said, ‘fuck 2020’.”

She could see the cheeky smile on his face as he glanced down at her, still heading toward the bedroom, like a man on a mission.

“It sounded like a good idea to me.”

***

“So,” Anna said from her place below him on their bed, “In this analogy am I 2020 or?”

Kristoff laughed, and she was treated with a kiss on her knuckles as she obediently raised her arms up for him to remove her shirt. His laugh was one of the things that got her through the day, knowing that he could find humor in any situation, that she could make him laugh, was a blessing. It made things feel normal, and it was a joy for them both that they sorely needed.

“No. It’s more like we fuck each other, and we get a little extra enjoyment out of the year ending. Honestly, I didn’t think it through very much, I just wanted you and it seemed like a good excuse.”

That made her laugh, and she nodded appreciatively at the sentiment. She didn’t think that they needed to really contemplate it much as she was just happy with the opportunity to enjoy her fiancé for a little while.

“It’s a good way to pass the time until midnight,” she offered once she was free of her shirt, “I’m sure we’ll manage to keep each other awake.”

Her hands went up his shirt in return, letting her fingers travel over his the soft but muscled planes of his torso until he too removed his shirt, giving her better access to touch him as she leaned up to allow him to undo her bra’s clasps.

“It’s what? Seven?” He asked, tossing her bra in a rapidly growing pile of their clothes, “I can’t promise five hours straight, but I’ll do my best.”

His hands went up her sides, his thumbs rubbing appreciatively at the dips of her waist and across her ribs until they came up to he breasts. He cupped them gently first, and her hands moved to tracing up and down in spine in return as they found a comfortable position where she was somewhat seated in his lap, facing him. He pinched a nipple and she treated him to an appreciative moan and dragged her nails, lightly down his back.

They hadn’t had much time for intimacy as of late. Between what they both experienced at work and the stress of the holidays, even from a socially distanced standpoint, they’d mostly been using their bed for sleeping. It felt good for it to be put to better use.

“Of course, we’ll need to take a break for dinner. Maybe you’ll need a second shower with some company. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

The appreciative almost growl he made as he ducked his head down to her neck went straight through her spine and made her want to peel the rest of their clothes off and get down to business immediately. Shared shower or not, she already knew that she’d need to change her panties. If, of course, he was planning on letting her put any on before the next morning.

He squeezed and kneaded her breasts while his lips kissed down her neck and she allowed herself to surrender to his touch. Everything around her was Kristoff, his hands and mouth on her, the smell of his shampoo all she could smell as she tilted her neck to give him better access and shifted a hand up to his still wet hair. Despite him being fresh from the shower and in the cooler air of their bedroom, he was hot to the touch, exactly what she wanted as her hair stood on end from the temperature and his touch.

He moved lower then, his head ducking down to lave attention on her nipples as one arm wrapped around her back to support her leaning away and the other moved down, down, across her lower stomach and to the place where her waistband still sat.

“Off?” she asked, the word all she could form as she gave herself over to the sensation of his mouth sucking and nipping at her.

“Not yet,” he replied, barely moving his mouth from her as he answered and switched sides, leaving her wet nipple to pebble against the cold.

His fingers slid a bit lower still, under the waistband of her pants, but not into her underwear as he dipped her even lower.

His arm was strong at her back, keeping her aloft and exactly where he wanted her, even as she squirmed and bucked her hips against the hand that was moving closer and closer to her clit. She knew exactly what he was doing, but it didn’t keep her from jumping when his fingers grazed her through the fabric. He knew that she was sensitive, that he needed to work her up to his direct touch, let alone anything more. They’d had their fair share of quickies of course, but when he wanted things to last, when he wanted to see her come again and again, he worked her up first.

Anna moaned, and arched in his arms, not so much from the sensation, but from the promise it offered. He really was going to try to make this last all night long.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“I ask myself the same question.”

She gasped as he slowly stroked his fingers up and down her, no doubt feeling how wet she was through her panties but not commenting on it. Instead, using his mouth to once again kiss down her body, moving from the valley between her breasts lower and lower, tipping her back onto the bed as he went.

Not to be outdone, Anna reached up to him as she was leaned back, letting her hands travel down and over his back, reaching for his rear and giving it a squeeze. He laughed against her skin, and she felt rather satisfied by the sound as he picked up the pace on her clit and kissed her navel. Her hands slipped forward then, moving across the waistline of his sweatpants, and dipping her fingers below them as he had.

It was a bit of an awkward angle, but she did her best to wrap her hand around him. It was a challenge, but it was worthwhile to hear his breathing quicken when she managed to slide her hand up and down over his already hard cock through the fabric of his boxers. She recalled the first time they had done this, what felt like many years before, but was just a little over a year and a half ago. She remembered touching him for the first time and being scared that she wouldn’t be able to take him. The thought would have made her laugh now, if it weren’t for the fact that his attention on her clit was making her gasp instead.

When his lips had kissed as low as possible in their current position, he sat up a bit and slipped his hand from her pants. He offered her a questioning look, as he always did, and Anna stroked him again in response, sliding her hand up and down his length and rotating her wrist a bit as she did so, knowing that it was what he liked.

“Off?”

“Off,” she replied, finalizing the unspoken agreement in words before adding, “You too.”

He nodded and she rubbed her thumb against his head before she too extracted her hand, giving him a small taste of what was to come. She fully intended to take him into her mouth if he would let her. It had been too long since she’d seen him fall apart like that, staring down at her with dark eyes and strong muscles trembling under the weight of his climax.

Maybe, she thought, she might even do it while he was laying down, so she could feel him under her and enjoy the building of tension in his body that always came before the release that left him panting and melting beneath her. She loved that he let her give him pleasure. There was so much he did everyday for her, all the care to not get her ill, the many nights he cooked dinner after a long shift, how he always listened to her stresses before offering up his own, and she liked to return his kindnesses in the bedroom.

He pushed himself up and off of her, pulling his pants down with one hand, using the other in a delightful display of his strength to hold himself aloft. He kicked them off a bit creatively, one leg at a time as if he were doing some kind of strange yoga, but never removing his eyes from her as he watched her buck her hips up and slide her own bottoms off.

He tossed them both somewhere to join their pile, and they were left, staring into each other’s eyes wearing nothing but their underwear.

She shivered a bit, both from the intensity if his gaze and the cool air around her. He noticed, his gaze softening as he lowered himself to her a bit and pressed a kiss to her lips. She responded by tipping her head up a bit, deepening the kiss as her arms raised up to wrap around his back and pull him down onto her.

“I’ll have to see if I can warm you up,” he said, their temperature differences more evident as his chest pressed into hers.

He was making a valiant effort, despite her pulling him down, to not crush her under his weight. There had been occasions where he’d allowed his whole weight to press down onto her, and while she didn’t exactly consider him light by any instance of the word, he wasn’t ever going to crush her quite so much as he made an excellent weighted blanket when he wanted to be.

His tone was lascivious though. There was no doubt in Anna’s mind as his hips rocked gently into hers that his plan for warming her up included more of the touching he’d just been doing moments before. When he kissed her again and let his lips trail, once more down her body, lower and lower, she knew that there would be nothing so simple as a blanket in his plans to warm her.

When he reached the waistband of her panties he didn’t stop, instead mouthing at her through the fabric, causing her to call his name and tangle her fingers into his hair. She felt his breath on her, hot, the inhalations and exhalations adding to the sensation as his lips nipped carefully at her clit. He slid down after a few moments, pressing kisses to her labia and center through the fabric, nudging her bud with his nose.

He could be devious with his mouth, a fact that she took immense pleasure in. He could kiss her mouth and pussy with equal skill, and she knew it came from a combination of natural talent, and plenty of practice with her and only her. His mouth could bring her to heights she’d never been able to reach alone, and the anticipation of him doing so had her trembling.

“Do you want me to?” he asked, glancing up at her from between her legs, seeking permission as he always did.

“Yes. Always.”

It was all he needed, flashing her a smile as he hooked his thumb under her waistband and pulled.

She lifted her hips obediently and was rewarded with an appreciative squeeze on her rear as he tugged the fabric off her. When it got to her knees, he leaned back and she set her bottom back onto her bed, watching him whip the fabric off her legs and onto the floor.

She would not be looking for them, she decided ultimately, until laundry day.

He spread her legs a bit more and rearranged them both on the bed until she had two pillows under her rear, elevating her, and he was half kneeling before her.

Once the matter of fabric and positioning was settled, he set upon her like a man starved. Evidently the foreplay had been enough for him, and she already felt it was enough for her, when he kissed her clit again, and then set to running his tongue over her. He went from the bottom of her slit, tasting her and groaning in appreciation, up to her clit, his tongue teasing at her before flattening against her, moving down, and repeating the process.

Her hands, desperate to show him the same appreciation he was showering her with, reached out as far as they could to rub just her fingertips, less artfully, but no less effectively, against the bulge straining against his boxers. His groans only added to the sensation as he tasted her, the rumbling of it tangible as he licked and took her into his mouth. The sound mingled in the air with her own moans, and soon, she stopped being able to tell who was making which sounds.

His tongue darted between her folds and she rocked her hips into his mouth. He rocked just far enough back that she could no longer touch him, and as such, her hands held onto him in other ways, one hand wandering across his shoulders while the other tugged at his hair.

He added his fingers to the business after a short while, taking only a moment away from her to watch her face as he slipped his fingers along her entrance, coating them in her before he, with trained dexterity, slid them inside her and began the search for the place on her inner walls he knew set her closest to the edge.

He got a satisfied look on his face when her moans grew louder, when she pleaded with him and thanked him for the new sensation, and it was a grin that she saw last before his face descended, again, to mouth at her clit with new fervor.

It was only a matter of time before she fell back against the bed, pillows falling from under her rear as she went stiff, then limp, under the force of her orgasm.

She tasted herself on his lips when he kissed her.

***

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Anna had been somewhat surprised that they made it to midnight, both of them thoroughly spent with the amount of time and energy they’d put into their private celebration. She wasn’t counting down with the people on the television though, she couldn’t even see them as she knelt before the couch, feeling Kristoff’s tensed legs at either side of her. She couldn’t count anyway, she had her mouth full.

She’d wanted to manage to get him to come right at midnight, thinking about how funny and gratifying it would be to ensure that her fiancé, the man she loved most in the world, started the new year out right. She supposed though, as she bobbed her head up and down, her tongue running up and down his length as she breathed through her nose, that he wouldn’t mind if it was just a minute or so late.

“Anna,” he groaned, his hand on the back of her head, not pushing but encouraging her to maintain her speed, “Baby I think I’m going to…”

She hummed, keeping up her speed, flattening her tongue against him and doing her damnedest to give him the same pleasure he’d given her earlier in the day. They’d done plenty in the hours between, but this was the first time for the day, and now for the new year that she’d pleasured him with her mouth.

She hoped that the sounds she was making were encouraging as his hips rocked almost imperceptibly, his hand that rested on her shoulder tightening as the one in her hair pressed a little more than it had been.

When he came for her, she could feel the shuddering of his muscles, particularly his thighs which she was using for support, even under the fabric of his clothes. They’d only recently finally donned clothes again for the first time since dinner, and she had decidedly not let it stop her, particularly when it was easy enough to shift the fabric down enough to suit her needs.

“Anna,” he repeated, panting as she too came up for air, swallowing him.

She could feel herself flush, and saw the blush mirrored on his cheeks. He was frazzled, and when she leaned up, using his thighs for support, to get a better look at his expression, she was surprised by his dipping down to kiss her lips.

“Happy New Year Anna,” he whispered, hands already moving on her, pulling her closer as he showed her his appreciation.

She couldn’t help but laugh, accepting her New Year’s kiss as he sat before her with his pants still askew. If it was an omen for the year, she was glad for it. She’d rather the year be an amusing one than the way the previous one had been.

“Happy 2021 Kristoff,” she replied, kissing him again and letting herself enjoy the sensation of his touch before reaching down to tug on his waistband, helping him readjust before turning to shut the television off and drag him off to bed.

They’d had a long, but very enjoyable day. The perfect way, she thought, to usher in the New Year.  

[ourimpavidheroine]

Okay, @peoniequeen, here are your stories.

How many people do you know moved across the world for love? 

Well, you all know about this one. I met my late wife online in late 1998 on an X-Files message board, we emailed and then called, etc. until she came to the U.S. from Finland in September of 1999 to live with me for a year. After the year was up we relocated to Finland, in part because she could not legally immigrate to the U.S. during that time as a same-sex partner (Finland was a huge fucking pain in the ass about it but eventually they let me immigrate there based on our relationship status) and in part because we thought Finland would be a better place to raise kids due to healthcare, schools, etc. When I arrived in Finland it was the first time I had even been to Europe, never mind the country I was going to live in and the airline accidently left my two dogs in Amsterdam instead of putting them on the plane to Helsinki and I spent my first moments in my new home sobbing about my dogs until the very nice airline lady called for my late wife over the loudspeaker and let her come back and take me in hand (much the way Mako takes Wu in hand, if you must know). (Don’t worry, the airline put us up in a hotel next to the airport and the dogs came on the next flight and came to us there in a taxi the airline made arrangements for. They were completely fine and in fact weren’t sure what the fuss was about.) It was kind of a big culture shock. The end.

Or worked as a college radio DJ? 

I did! I had a show on Tuesday mornings from 4-6 am that nobody listened to but about 10 loyal people. (Kind of like my blog here, come to think about it.) I played a lot of old blues and jazz stuff that I’d grown up listening to. My Dad worked part time as a DJ at a local radio station so I knew how to work all the equipment and such thanks to him. (I also had a two hour slot on Wednesday nights there in high school where I played stuff teenagers wanted to listen to and not the never ending country western that the station owner and manager wanted played 24x7.) Yes, this was in the late 80′s-early 90′s when I was at university so it was all vinyl. I still have a collection of albums that have the gold stamp on them saying they are not for sale, that they are for radio station play only! (Some of them the aforementioned station manager gave me since they were not country and he was basically going to toss them into the trash and some of them were albums that I might have gotten through less altruistic means.)

Or was a makeup assistant to Drag Queens? 

I took a stage makeup course while I was majoring in theater at University and did so well with it that the guy who gave the class asked me to come and assist him at the San Francisco opera while they were essentially painting all of the singers brown in a classic racist move that was pretty well accepted in the 90′s but, thankfully, would be extremely frowned upon now. As I was doing it I struck up a friendship with one of the chorus tenors; it turned out he was a drag queen who sometimes did performances when he wasn’t doing opera. He was a Madonna impersonator (not a very good one, sorry to say) and he wanted me to help him design his makeup for it. So I went to the club he performed at a few times to get a better feel for how drag queens worked and then hung around backstage and ended up doing some designs for some of the other queens. The pay was basically me getting to see their performances for free and getting fed afterwards at whatever was open at 4 am but God it was fun. Also, now I am the most Judgy McJudgerson of ever when it comes to drag makeup on RuPaul’s Drag Race. The end.

Or wrote a letter to their Archbishop when they were twelve and got a personal answer in return? 

I was very put out by the fact that boys could be altar boys but girls got shit (I was Catholic, in case you haven’t guessed) and I was talking about it to my Grandma one time and she told me I should write a letter to the Archbishop and ask him why. Now see, my maternal Grandmother was married to a labor union president (my grandfather was still the president when he died of a heart attack when I was 8) and she was a good old fashioned liberal rabble rouser. Like, she got arrested with nuns protesting nuclear power plants in her muumuus and Birkenstocks, okay? She wrote letters to EVERYONE. So I sat down and very carefully wrote the letter and my Grandma made a few calls and got me the address and we sent the letter. I don’t think my Grandma actually thought I’d get a letter back (it was more of a teaching moment, if that makes sense) but he did send me a letter back! He was very kind, although his answer was the usual Catholic BS. I still have the letter but it is packed away in storage so I very sadly will not be producing it at this juncture in time.

Or drove from Los Angeles to Philadelphia in a 20 year old Volvo? 

My friend from university was going to Grad School at Temple University and her parents didn’t want her to drive the entire way by herself. So I drove with her in an orange 1971 Volvo sedan. (In fact, I drove about 90% of the trip because she didn’t like driving.) The air conditioning fan died as we were driving through the Mojave Desert on the way to Vegas and I realized that if I floored it the cool air would actually move itself and so I floored it all the way through the desert and we are lucky that fucking ancient hulk of Swedish steel did not die and leave us stranded to be baked to death. We stopped in Vegas (which was not as impressive in 1992 as it is today, trust me) and found a guy who could actually fix the fan and spent the night in one of the casino hotels before continuing on. We did stop in Chicago to stay with her grandparents for two weeks (where so many elderly Jews kept responding to my last name with confusion as they assumed I was Jewish that I eventually started to do genealogy and found out that I am, indeed, Jewish on my father’s side) and also we saw the original Buffy the Vampire Slayer film in Des Moines and went to a cowboy bar in Cheyenne (I learned how to line dance and my friend got completely trashed and I had to practically carry her back to the hotel) and many other adventures until we finally arrived in Philly and her parents flew me back to California. It was a great road trip and short of the reeeaaaally sketchy and filthy motel room in Salt Lake City that had both a half-empty Chinese takeout box and a soiled condom under the bed we had a grand time.

Or was part of a thruple? 

I have been part of two thruples. Well. Sort of. One thruple and one wanna be thruple. The first one, with my first husband and my girlfriend was a huge mistake from the get-go. (Oh god, she was so hot and the sex was so fucking good but she was really an awful person and my ex kept trying to control the entire thing and basically forced her into living with us instead of being just my girlfriend with benefits and the entire thing blew up and while it wasn’t the reason why I divorced him it didn’t help either.) The second one was with my late wife and our mutual boyfriend and it worked very well but he had a little boy from a former relationship and his son got very ill and died and he didn’t handle it at all and he disappeared out of our lives. It’s been 20 years, give or take, since I’ve talked to him. He asked us to no longer contact him and I’ve always respected that. And before you ask, he knows where I live and my email address is the same as it was all those years ago. If he wanted to find me it would be very easy for him to do so. He clearly doesn’t and I respect that. I wish him love and peace, wherever he is. I miss him still.

Or beat up the drunk lady in the hallway to get back a little girl’s keys?

Ah, I’ll tell this one tomorrow.

[maraudersandlily20]

Repetition of History

James sat around with his friends, discussing their most recent missions. James and Sirius had been off to locate a Death Eater hideout, while Remus and Peter and Fabian were sent out to do ministry detailing. They were waiting for Frank and Gideon to return to report the settling of different wizarding families that had been affected by the fights. It was busy work, they felt like they hadn’t slept in days. But they were all buzzing, feeling the highs of their different victories. It was their typical lighthearted behavior.

Sirius was retelling a rather dangerous moment that had played out to the boys and they all laughed or cheered for him as he recounted facing the death eater. Lily stood in the doorway, arms folded, quietly watching the boys and their rambunctious natures clearly at play. James looked almost wild with excitement. 

“You know, boys, in a way I’m glad we’re all in this together. Those pricks don’t stand a chance against the likes of us!” he declared, laughing. “There’s nothing they can do to stop us! We’ll get this war out of the way in no time.”

It was words spoken by someone who had yet to really experience the hardships of war, or loss, or pain. They were pompous, arrogant words, laughing in the face of fear. And they were completely idiotic. 

When Gideon and Frank returned and the boys left the flat, James wandered into the kitchen to find Lily, furiously washing dishes. “Love?” He called, watching her stiff movements in curiosity. 

“Yes?”

“Are you alright? You look like you’re about to break that plate in half.”

She suddenly set the dishes back into the sink and braced herself on the counter, taking deep breaths in and out. When she seemed to get her bearings, she turned back to James with fire in her eyes. His look of confusion colored his face. 

“Do you think that this is a joke?” She said, her voice cold.

“What?”

“These battles. These missions. This war. Is it all some kind of big joke to you? A fanciful time to play hero with your mates?”

“What, Lily what are you-”

“Do you have any idea what is actually happening James? Do you understand how… how important what we are doing actually is?”

“Yes, Lils, I do. That’s why I’m going out on missions and risking my life. Because I know how serious this is.”

She growled in anger and fisted her hands. “I don’t think you do!” She yelled, her voice getting higher in pitch. 

“Lily,” James said, trying to soothe his fiance, “what’s going on?”

After a tense moment of silence, she grabbed her jacket from its hook and tossed James his as well. “Put that on. I have something I need to show you.”

He had barely obeyed her order before she grabbed onto his hand, and he felt the sudden gut flinging feeling that only came with apparation. When the moment was over and they had arrived at whatever location Lily wanted to show him, he felt the chill in the air. 

It was late September and the fall was coming in quickly and with a vengeance. You could feel it when you breathed. James took a moment to orient himself as Lily stepped away from him. They were standing between two large buildings, red bricks stacked on top of each other, the top layer looked a tad cleaner than the lower ones. He could see they were standing on a makeshift street, similar buildings lining up side by side. He stared up at them in wonder, confused as to their purpose and their sinister feeling.

He turned and found that Lily had walked away from him and was standing beside a small tower that held a compass arrow on top. It stood, like a bearer of death, in the clearing between buildings. The sun was going down, casting the entire place in a golden light, but it didn’t seem kind or warm. He went to stand beside Lily, hoping she would explain to him what was going on.

“I asked Minerva, once, what wizarding school was like before Hogwarts. Eleven years is a long time to go without a proper education. She said that some families sent their children to muggle primary school. Others, like your family, that had money, were able to send their children to group tutoring, like a pre-Hogwarts.” James nodded, confirming this. He had been sent to tutors before Hogwarts, a perk of his parent’s wealth. Lily pushed on. “I asked what was taught to these students throughout this time. She said it varied from teacher to teacher, but it was heavily focused on controlling young magic, as well as the history of the wizarding world in Britain and greater Europe. And I asked her,” she turned to look at him, “if muggle history was ever taught. She said that no tutor she had ever met taught much muggle history, unless they were passionate about it.” 

She walked toward the tower, her palm resting on the bricks. “My mother would never stand for that. She didn’t much like public school, so she and my dad would read us history books. They wanted us to know what the world was like, what was good and what was bad, and how to tell the difference. They took us here when I was fifteen.” She turned to look at him with a tightlipped smile. “I was heavily immersed in magic and saw no real reason to continue my muggle studies. But my mother said that I would continue to learn about all aspects of the world, wizard or no.” 

Her eyes scanned around the buildings, as if seeing memories in her mind that James could only imagine. Like there was a world right in front of her that he was not able to see. “Standing here, it’s almost like I can hear them.”

“Hear who?”

She looked at him sadly, and simply said, “The dead.” Her voice was unsettling. He shifted at her words, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. “This was what is known as Roll-Call square. The prisoners would be pulled together into this square every morning, having their names called off one at a time, wondering if that day was going to be the day they would die. Their captors would make examples of a few of them, having mass hangings of those suspected of escape attempts. Hundreds of people were killed every day.” She started walking, as if taking James on a tour of this place of death.

They walked past another building on their left, and the building on their right had what looked like large chimneys sticking from the roof. With a sinking feeling, he began to have an inkling as to where they were. Lily turned right past the chimney building and James could see a large imposing fence, made of barbwire. It was something out of a nightmare.

“Is this…” He started, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

“It’s called Auschwitz.” She stated calmly, her hands burrowing into her jacket pockets. They headed toward the fence as Lily continued talking. “My parents brought Petunia and I here as teenagers because they wanted us to understand how terrible human beings could be. I think, in their minds, you didn’t understand the world unless you knew about Nazis.”

“We did learn a bit about this,” James murmured, trying to keep his tone low. “I guess I just had never really understood the weight of it all until I was, well, here.”

They walked a bit in silence, taking in the buildings that surrounded them and the fence they approached. There was a huge feeling of history in the air, as if this place had never really moved on from the terrible years it had experienced. It was as if someone had gathered all of the bad memories, the bad feelings, anything associated with death, and wore it like a cloak. It was suffocating. When they reached the long stretch of wire, Lily reached out her hand and enclosed it in her grasp. 

“So many people died here. It’s estimated that over 1 million people were killed within the confines of this fence. Hangings, shootings, gas chambers, starvation, dehydration, illness. Some people were even experimented on. It never ended.” Without looking at his face, she reached down and grabbed James’ hand, pulling him to the fence. He followed her actions and grabbed hold of the wire beside her, as if it were a talisman into another world. 

“When people got off of the train, they had no idea what was waiting for them.” He felt as if he could see the scene she laid out for him. People hurried into the camp, trying to keep hold of each other, and failing. “They had been sent away from their homes and upon arrival were stripped of all of their belongings and clothing. Then, they were shaved and branded, like animals. It was like losing their dignity one moment after the other.” There was an emotion on Lily’s face, like she was seeing the same scene, a movie that neither of them wanted to watch, and it hurt him to see her like that. “Families were separated, many of whom were never able to reunite again.” She looked up into his eyes. “If ever I were allowed to forget about history, erase something completely from the world, it would be this. I can’t imagine being part of a race that undertook the killing of so many people simply because of who they were, what they believed, how they were born. They had no judge, no jury, no verdict. They were sentenced to death the moment they were born.”

James took a moment, listening to his fiance speak, to look at the world around him. He could hear them, then. The voices. The screams, the soft singing, the moaning, swirling around him like the fall leaves. It was haunting. He was beginning to understand and feel the gravity of this world that Lily had brought him to. 

“I never really understood what it meant to kill people needlessly until I came here. So much of muggle history is ignored by the wizarding world because it is seen as lesser or not as important, and it isn’t right. Their history is our history.” Lily said. “Museums and memorials are all fine and dandy, but they only tell stories. This place holds lives. Experiences. Torment. Regret. Hatred. Love. It’s so much more than words on a page. It’s like a piece of the world, stuck in time, replaying the same horrible movie over and over again, until human beings don’t need to see it anymore.” 

And James could feel it. He felt the pain and sorrow that seemed to seep out of the dirt. 

“Why did you bring me here, Lily?”

She turned and grabbed his other hand. “Because I need you to understand, even just for a moment, what this war is going to mean. To all of us. To everyone. It’s not a game, or exciting missions, it’s not something to sit around and joke about. It’s going to be earth shattering. Voldemort is doing to the wizarding world what the Nazis did to the Jewish world, the Polish world, the Austrian world. He is going to take every opportunity he can to steal the chances of millions of innocent people. MY people. Mudbloods.” She had tears in her eyes as she explained her reasoning, her emotions bubbling to the surface. 

“Pureblood families will never understand the chains that come with being muggleborn. We face oppression for something that we have no choice over. People are killing us because of how we come into the world. That is what this war is about. No about being a hero, not about bravery or courage. It’s about people believing that some are better, more elite, more important than others. It’s not a war for the sake of fighting, it’s a war on the existence of people who are different. 

“So if you’re going to fight in this war, you need to understand what you’re fighting for. It’s going to be for muggles, who have no idea what is going on. It’s going to be for mudbloods, who had no choice in their heritage. It’s for people who cannot stand and fight for themselves. That’s why we’re fighting, James.”

She grabbed on to both sides of his face, as if to emphasize her point. “I love you. I love how brave and kind you are, how willing you are to risk your life for people. I’ve always admired that quality in you.” He tried to hold his tears in at her confession, wondering how he could ever convey his sorrow or his fear about what was happening. He was terrified. And Lily knew that. But she didn’t care. She needed him to be brave. “And I am asking you to stay that brave. Because these missions aren’t always going to end in a comfortable circle, full of jokes and laughter. People are going to die. People we know and love are going to die. It’s going to happen.

“I’m fighting in this war because I cannot let what happened here happen to anyone else ever again. I’m fighting because I want our children to grow up in a world where they won’t be judged by the purity of their blood. By ideals that separate good people from each other. I can’t, James. I will bend over backwards if it means giving anyone who has ever felt like me the chance to feel accepted and normal and loved, despite their parentage. If my legacy is dying for people like the ones who lost their lives here, then I will die proudly.”

He gave a sad laugh and pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her. She sighed into his embrace. Her hand rubbed gentle, soothing circles against his back and she tried to compose herself once more. 

“The world doesn’t need anymore of this hate, James. It doesn’t need another Auschwitz. It needs freedom, light, understanding, love. It needs you. Because you are all of those things.” He was crying in earnest and was glad that her head was buried against his chest. “It’s our responsibility to fix the world now, because no one else will. I can’t let this happen to anyone, ever again.”

“It won’t Lils. This will never happen again. I promise.”

And they stood together, arms wrapped around each other, beside the wire fence in Auschwitz, hoping that they would see a better world then the one they had been given. And the fall air, holding the memory of millions of people who had lost their lives, settled around them. The echo of screams on the wind faded slowly into nothing. 

((This felt very fitting, considering the political climate of the world as of now. If you believe in something, you fight for it. We are the ones who have to remember, we’re the ones that are responsible for fighting. I wish it wasn’t that way, but here we are. So stand up, be honest, and make sure the world we are creating for our children won’t ever look like the one our parents have given to us))

[deadstrangeblog]

The Sad Case of The Lipstick Killer

North Kenmore Avenue is a much sought-after residential area in the city of Chicago, with a children’s park surrounding the apartments and transport links within walking distance. It lies around the corner from a prestigious Catholic school and the uptown setting is popular with young families and elderly residents alike, it’s safe atmosphere and cheap living costs appealing to people from all walks of life. North Kenmore wasn’t always as safe though. In 1945, in Apartment 4108, a woman was brutally murdered there.

It was June 5th when 44-year-old Josephine Ross was found slain on her apartment floor. Police were greeted by a messy scene– Pools of blood surrounded Josephine and the smashed up apartment indicated there had been a struggle. She had been stabbed multiple times and a dress had been wrapped around her head. Usually, when a killer covers the face of a victim, it suggests that they feel a great deal of remorse about the crime they have committed and that death is almost always the end result of an impulsive sex crime. However, this seemed different. No evidence of sexual assault was present and death had definitely been the result of a frenzied attack. Police found a clump of dark hair in Josephine’s hand, as if she had been in a violent struggle with somebody. Naturally, police turned to her ex-boyfriends and ex-husbands, all of whom had an alibi. Although the neighbourhood was frightened at the prospect of a murderer living close by, the police assured people there was nothing to worry about and that Ms. Ross had been killed by a startled burglar. Her murder didn’t make the front page, and she was sadly written off by investigators.

Six months later, and we are in December. Our killer strikes again but, this time, police begin to take notice. On the 10th of the month, divorcee Frances Brown was found dead in her apartment. She had been stabbed and shot, the bread knife used in her murder still lodged in her throat when a cleaning lady discovered the body. The grim message shown above, written in unusual handwriting, was scrawled on the apartment wall in red lipstick (earning the killer his moniker) but apart from that, little evidence was found. Compared to the first murder, police did have a bit more to go on: a bloody fingerprint and a possible eyewitness. John Derick, the concierge for the lobby, said he saw a nervous man and heard “possible gunshots” at around 4 a.m. Given the lack of surveillance technology during the 40s, it was impossible to confirm John’s account.

The last known murder of the deluded “Lipstick Killer” was a truly shocking crime against an innocent little girl. Six-year-old Suzanne Degnan (below) was snatched from her bedroom in Edgewater, Chicago, on January of 1946. Her bedroom window had been left open and a wooden ladder was still propped up against it. At the time, police had no reason to believe her abduction was connected to the Lipstick killer, as kidnapping little girls didn’t fit his modus operandi. A ransom note left at the scene read “GeI $20,000 Reddy & wAITe foR WoRd. do NoT NoTify FBI oR Police. Bills IN 5’s & 10’s. BuRN This FoR heR SAfTY.” That night, a man persistently telephoned the Degnan residence demanding the ransom, only to hang up as details were being exchanged. Those phone calls would later turn out to be a cruel joke performed by two high-school students, Vince Costello and Theodore Campbell. Sick with anguish, her family could only hope that the police could find Suzanne before it was too late. Sadly, their worst fears were confirmed. Acting on an anonymous tip, detectives travelled to a sewer just a block away from the Degnan residence and found Suzanne’s decapitated head. Where was the rest of her body? Investigators were now faced with the grim prospect that somebody had dismembered a little girl, and they were unfortunately right. They found her torso in storm drain, and both her legs had been discarded in separate catch basins. Her tiny arms were found a month later in another sewer. Blood, presumed to be Suzanne’s, was found in the drains of laundry tubs in the basement laundry room of a nearby apartment building. This crime was truly grisly, and without advanced forensic technology, it was hard to bring the killer to justice.

In a desperate bid to catch the murderer, police questioned hundreds of suspects and gave polygraph examinations to about 170 of them. In several press releases, they claimed to have captured the killer terrorising the city of Chicago, but they were always mistaken. All suspects were eventually released.

In June, 17-year-old criminal William Heirens (below) was burgling an apartment when he was confronted by the janitor and fled. Police were called, and Heirens was subdued by an off-duty police officer who dropped several flowerpots onto his head to render him unconscious. From the day of his arrest on June 26, 1946, things travelled on a downward spiral for Heirens and this once lucky burglar had run all out of luck. For some reason, police believed that Heirens was the Lipstick Killer and decided to question him. For six consecutive days, he was interrogated by police officers. He was denied food, water, and the right to an attorney, and two psychiatrists even gave him Sodium Pentothal (a potent barbiturate) without his consent. Most shocking of all, the 17-year-old was given a spinal tap without any anaesthesia. For days later, he was in incredible pain and couldn’t perform a polygraph test because his adrenaline-fuelled heart was beating too fast. Eventually, he cracked. He confessed to police that he had committed these crimes under an alter-ego named “George.” He explained to psychologists that he always took the rap for the crimes of “George” including theft, murder, and everything in between. The Chicago police department were suspicious of this defence, and accused Heirens of lying in the hopes of getting an insanity defence in court. Apart from his confession, police had nothing to go on. No evidence linked Heirens to the murders, and this polite University of Chicago student seemed incapable of such heinous crimes. It seemed like a bizarre arrest, but for the general public, it was good enough.

As suggested by his defence attorneys, Heirens confessed to all crimes. On his court date on August 7, 1946, Heirens took full responsibility for the three murders. The prosecution had him reenact the abduction and murder of Suzanne Degnan in court multiple times, all of which he did inconsistently. On the night of September 4th, Heirens attempted suicide in his cell and had timed it to coincide during a shift change of the prison guards. He was discovered hanging and was revived successfully by prison guards. He said later that sheer despair drove him to attempt suicide; “Everyone believed I was guilty…If I weren’t alive, I felt I could avoid being adjudged guilty by the law and thereby gain some victory. But I wasn’t successful even at that. …Before I walked into the courtroom my counsel told me to just enter a plea of guilty and keep my mouth shut afterward. I didn’t even have a trial..”

The next morning, the prosecution and defence were making their closing statements. The judge, Chief Justice Harold G. Ward, formally sentenced Heirens to three life terms. Somehow, he had been lucky enough to avoid the electric chair. As Heirens waited to be transferred to Stateville Prison from the Cook County Jail, Sheriff Michael Mulcahy asked Heirens if Suzanne Degnan suffered when she was killed. Heirens simply replied: “I can’t tell you if she suffered, Sheriff Mulcahy. I didn’t kill her. Tell Mr. Degnan to please look after his other daughter, because whoever killed Suzanne is still out there.”

Likely innocent, William Heirens still spent the rest of his life imprisoned. In 2002, a petition for his release was filed but eventually denied. In his older years, he suffered from diabetes and was confined to a wheelchair with limited eyesight. He died of natural causes on March 5th, 2012, due to complications with his illness.

In 1994, Dolores Kennedy formed a team of forensic experts to look into the murders and they found several inconsistencies, most notable was that Heirens’ confessions didn’t fully match the evidence. Heirens claimed that he was forced to confess by the police, and this is also supported by other evidence. They also concluded that the handwriting of the lipstick message and that of the ransom note were not the same and that neither matched that of Heirens. They also looked into the police force working on the case: Before Heirens was arrested, police had taken particular interest in a janitor called Hector Verburgh. 65-year-old Hector was from Belgium, and struggled to write fluently in English. With this in mind, isn’t it odd that police still arrested him and accused him of the murders? How could a man with no knowledge of English writing, scribble such an eloquently written note on his supposed victim’s wall? It didn’t stop there. Like Heirens, Verburgh was subjected to extreme torture. For two days, police interrogated him and beat him so badly that he sustained a dislocated shoulder. After his terrifying ordeal, he successfully sued the Chicago Police Department for $15,000.

“Oh, they hanged me up, they blindfolded me … I can’t put up my arms, they are sore. They had handcuffs on me for hours and hours. They threw me in the cell and blindfolded me. They handcuffed my hands behind my back and pulled me up on bars until my toes touched the floor. I no eat, I go to the hospital. Oh, I am so sick. Any more and I would have confessed to anything.”

With such atrocious behaviour from the police department, it’s safe to say that the man convicted of these crimes was not the real killer, merely a scapegoat for shoddy police work. The true identity of the Lipstick Killer is yet to be discovered, and, sadly, it seems that those who were murdered were not the only victims in this disturbing case.

[spooniemumoftwo]

This is me!

Have you ever heard of ME CFS? Do you know anyone with ME CFS? Have you ever heard the phrase ‘counting spoons’? 

Having read a huge number of blog posts on ME CFS over the past few years, this is my own answer to some of these questions. Please bear with me – this has been a work in progress for a while now.

Me – Could I have M.E?

As a teenager, and even recently, I never imagined that I would find myself writing about my experiences of life with a chronic illness, and yet, here I am. I am 33 years of age, a wife and mother to two beautiful children, and I have a diagnosis of Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME CFS). 

Over the past few years, I have come to realise that ME CFS is something you can’t fully understand or describe to someone unless you have the experience of this debilitating illness yourself.

Where do I start?

Over the last three years, there have been ups and downs; life has been interesting, and the learning curve I have found myself travelling on has been almost vertical at times. I am not there yet.

Back in Summer 2017, I woke one morning to find I had no voice at all. This was unusual for me but not the first time it had happened. Things had been busy and a little fraught with two small children, whilst I was also working almost full time, so I thought nothing of it. I now suspect, as do the consultants I have spoken to since, that this was my body’s way of fighting the Chicken Pox virus, as my youngest came down with Chicken Pox two weeks after I first lost my voice. A week without my voice went by, writing notes for my husband to ignore as he felt appropriate, and giving my children 'the look' instead of telling them what I was thinking, and I spoke to my GP who diagnosed me with Acute Viral Laryngitis, and prescribed me three weeks off work and TOTAL voice rest, much to my husband’s delight and amusement. Three weeks later I returned to work, having slept all day for at least two of the three weeks I’d had off work. I was shattered. I never imagined returning to work after only three weeks off would be that tiring, but I did it. I underwent a further six months of speech and language therapy sessions (ironic considering my own role as a speech and language therapist) to help me work on my returning voice and my worryingly limited breath support, something I had only noticed since losing my voice.

Nearly twelve months on, in April 2018, I found myself signed off work again, this time with suspected Labyrinthitis. I experienced dizziness on and off, and again, I slept for most of the time I was off work. I was finding it hard to put sentences together, and felt like my whole body was being held down by a weighted blanket. Three weeks off work again and then I returned to work and my usual routine, with a promise to myself to take things easier this time. The dizziness continued but not enough for me to be off work, so a referral to a cardiologist followed to check it was nothing cardiology related. A 24 hour ECG followed by a 32 day ECG test demonstrated nothing significant, and therefore this was put down as yet another symptom I had no answers or reasons for.

By August 2018, I realised I had spent the majority of the summer term in schools telling myself ‘if I can make it to the summer holidays, I will be okay’ and yet, there I was, at the start of the summer holidays, and I hadn’t allowed myself to slow down at all. I have always, even as a pre-teen and a teenager, worked towards the school holidays, and continue to do so as an adult. I recall, as a teenager, regularly sleeping for the first one or two days of a school holiday, or suffering with a cold and feeling generally unwell for the first few days after allowing myself to slow down or to relax, and yet, here I was, putting the same pressure on myself as I always had. This time, however, I did not allow myself to rest. I knew what would happen if I did.

August 2018 saw me celebrating my own mini achievements regarding my engagement in a Couch to 5K running programme. I have never been sporty, and running was my least favourite exercise. However, for some reason, in 2018, I decided I was going to make myself enjoy running! I soon found running gave me time to myself with my thoughts, (unless accompanied by one of my chatty little people who often wanted to go with Mummy on a run) and running was my 'me time'. I managed to complete my first ever continuous 20 minute run in the middle of August, a very small achievement for many, however for me this was huge! I was becoming a runner, or so I thought. I only ran once more that month, and haven't managed a run since…

The summer holidays passed by and at the end of August, we celebrated my eldest child’s 5th birthday. I will never forget the call we received first thing that morning, to tell us that my grandfather had sadly passed away in the early hours of the morning.  On my daughter’s birthday. I held myself together and threw all of my energy into celebrating my daughter’s special day. I was heart broken, and yet, as always, my children came first, and always will. The day after, we hosted a party for our daughter as we had planned. I could think of any number of places I would rather be, than hosting a children’s party, but for my children, ensuring they were happy, and maintaining the usual normality, especially things they had looked forward to, was essential. After we had cleared up, and the children had been put to bed, revelling in the excitement of the day, I took myself off to the gym, and pushed myself to run as far as I could.  I managed a 35 minute continuous run, telling myself “it was just for you, Grandad!'’ I was exhausted, mentally and physically. Running had allowed me time to myself to clear my head and my thoughts on many occasions prior to this, however that night, I was broken. I could do no more. My head hurt, my legs hurt, even my breathing was draining me.  I was done.

Two days later, I lost my voice again, and this time, I listened. I listened to what my body was saying, and started to put a few of the pieces together in my story. I have always pushed myself as far as I could push, but I was spent. Emotionally, and physically, I had nothing left. I spoke to my GP in view of my previous significant voice loss, and was instantly told to take some time off work to recharge and rest my voice. I reluctantly agreed to take a week off to recharge before going back to work.

A week later, at the start of September, I saw my GP, accompanied by a very good friend, to make sure I gave the facts and was honest about what was going on. We talked about everything. With the support of my friend, I listed all of the symptoms I had been experiencing, and yet not acknowledged, things I was finding difficult - sensitivities to light and noise, complete physical exhaustion, difficulties concentrating, poor spatial awareness - there can only be so many times a person can walk into the same photocopier in the same position on the same day. (My record was five times one day.) I described the difficulty I had in expressing myself and communicating with others at times, and my concerns about the slightly narcoleptic speed at which I could fall asleep and still feel totally unrested when I woke up, no matter how long I slept for. I raised my concerns and questioned whether I could possibly have some signs of ME CFS, however my GP said that at this stage, she did not feel I had ME, and that there were a huge number of reasons I was feeling as I was at that time. She was right about that, there had been a lot going on. I reluctantly left the doctor’s surgery with a certificate signing me off work for four weeks, and I was under strict instruction to rest completely, and not to return to work within the next four week period. I have never taken time off work willingly, other than for the usual expected absences due to the usual common illnesses, and therefore this went entirely against my work ethic. But this time, I had to - I was spent. I had no idea what was wrong with me, and how long it would last.  I was worried and totally exhausted.

A month later, I returned to my GP to try and persuade her I was ready to return to work. We talked about how the last month had gone, how I was feeling, and what my thoughts about work were. I tried to list the positives to show I was feeling better but what were they? I was sleeping all of the time other than when I had to be awake to do a school run, or to look after my children, which I had been doing mainly from the sofa whilst they amused themselves in my sight. I was finding it difficult to carry out simple and regular tasks such as showering, which left me incapacitated and lay on my bed for some time before I could continue with the day. Cooking and preparing meals were a challenge, as this involved me being upright for longer than was comfortable. Having a conversation on the telephone was exhausting, and yet talking to someone in person was strangely slightly easier. I was often disorientated and a slight change in plans left me confused. On really bad days, I frequently could not have a conversation without losing what I was saying, and found it difficult to think of the words I wanted to say. My mind went blank. None of this made sense. I was 31 years old and generally healthy. What was wrong with me? I sounded like I was making this up and began to doubt myself. My GP informed me that she had been thinking about me, and had spoken to a colleague of hers for some advice. She advised that after some thought, she felt a referral to a specialist in Chronic Fatigue may be worthwhile, as it was possible that some of my symptoms could be signs of ME CFS. That made me anxious. I had suspected that this may be the case for me for a while, but to hear a clinical professional confirm my suspicions and want to investigate further sent chills right through me. How and why was this happening? We agreed that I would be referred to the consultant specialist, and I left the appointment with another four weeks off work, and a hope that I would return to work after another month, IF my energy levels had increased sufficiently.

Another month later, I returned to my GP, and despite me still experiencing significant fatigue, I was desperate to return to work and some normality. My GP reluctantly agreed to a phased return to work which would be monitored closely by her. I returned to work, initially for two half days a week, with a view to being back to my normal thirty hours a week by the end of December. I was still exhausted. Each day was a huge challenge, but it felt so good to be back at work! I tried to take things as easy as possible, as I was mindful that I needed to read the signs and listen to what my body was saying. I didn't feel like the person I was before, and yet just being 'me' again, in my usual workplace was a tonic.

In February 2019, I saw a consultant specialist in chronic fatigue, accompanied by another amazing friend. We talked through everything, literally everything! For a whole two hours, we discussed things I was able to do and things I couldn't do. Things I enjoyed and things I didn't. We talked in detail about my childhood, family history and medical history. I was referred for a sleep study to rule out sleep apnoea, and was advised that if the results of this study were unremarkable, then yes, I would be diagnosed with ME CFS. Otherwise, the diagnosis would be sleep apnoea. I felt sick, but with support from my friend, my husband and my family, we talked things through. But there were still no answers.

I am so lucky to have an amazing family and so many loyal and caring friends around me who know me better than I know myself at times. I can't express my thanks to each and every single person who supports us. Those who are there for me, to listen, advise and give the best hugs, and those fabulous friends who just know what to say and do when its needed. Those who try to understand what's going on, and those who know me best! My amazing family and friends regulate me and aren't afraid to tell me what I need to hear, despite this often being the harsh reality that I can't see (or don't want to!). I am often told to rest and that I need to put myself first, but that's not how I work, or it’s not how I've worked in the past anyway. I know I unintentionally frustrate the people I am closest to with my stubbornness and drive, and my reluctance to 'give in or give up', and I am so grateful for the support of so many people.  

I finally received my appointment for my sleep study at home at the end of May 2019. I was shown how to fit the oxygen tubes, oxygen monitor and all the gubbins that go with it and was sent on my way. Honestly, the sleep study was not the best night of sleep I've ever had...it turns out I'm a little more claustrophobic than I thought I was. But, by the following morning, the test was done and the equipment was safely returned to the hospital. My pending diagnosis was in their hands now. I received a letter at the start of July 2019, to say that I didn't have sleep apnoea, so there it was. A diagnosis of ME CFS.  Mixed emotions flooded me...relief that I wasn't going to have to wear a mask to sleep, and yet dread at reading the words I knew would be in my next letter from the consultant! On 25th July 2019, my letter arrived in the post. It simply said 'I can confirm that this patient has ME CFS. I will refer her to the local ME service for support'.  I was numb. 

So many questions!

How will this affect my children? What will happen next? Where do I stand with work? Will I need help? What does the future hold? All these questions filled my head. Many questions remain unanswered even twelve months on from receiving this letter. With no cure or successful treatment for this, I felt a mixture of panic, sadness and dread and telling my husband the results we didn't want to hear was hard. How would I be able to be the wife and mother I so wanted to be with this chronic illness? My children are still so young. My husband didn't sign up for this! This all felt so unfair!

Since my diagnosis, I've been supported by the local ME CFS service and their advice has been invaluable. The learning we have done as a family about the illness, the symptoms themselves and life as we know it, has been intense. I am able to recognise some of my triggers and my responses, though these constantly change and have increased in severity lately, but my husband, family and close friends will agree that I'm still pretty rubbish at really listening. I cannot seem to take it all in.  I am on overload.  I am a giver naturally...I don't come first in my head. I think of everyone else before myself - my children, my family and my friends. That is just me.  But it wears me out.  

My children

When I was diagnosed with ME CFS, my first thought was not for me, but for my children. This is not how I imagined parenting my own children. I felt a huge sadness that this would mean they had to grow up more quickly, to understand things a young child shouldn't have to, and that we may not be able to do all the lovely things we did when I was a child. I made a promise there and then...ME CFS wasn’t going to stop me doing things with our children. Our promise to our children even then, was that they would come first and that my husband and I would get through this together. This is not my children’s problem, it is mine.

My husband and I agreed very early on, not to give our children the details but just to explain, when needed, that Mummy just needed to rest. This worked for a while and kept questions at bay. I recall one lunchtime when I had prepared a 'picky lunch' at the request of our three-year-old son. I had laid on the sofa while they ate and watched a film. My daughter, aged around five at the time, touched my arm gently and gave me a crisp she had found, saying “Mummy, please have this heart-shaped crisp. It will give you more energy”. Wow!! I'm not sure how I held the tears in...I was completely taken aback! Without telling her anything other than that Mummy was sometimes a bit tired, this little sensitive soul had put two and two together and made her own conclusions. I knew we had to tell her a bit more now, if anything, to make sure she wasn't making her own ‘wrong’ deductions. 

We have recently been introduced to a fabulous book which has been integral in our challenge of giving our children the facts they need whilst not giving them too much. This book, 'Supercharged Superhero' by Gemma Everson has been written to help children understand why a parent with ME may not be able to play all the time, and that they can have fun in different ways with their family. We love this book, and my children often ask if we can look at it again. We've spent many hours reading through the story, chatting about the pictures and thinking of our own ways to have fun which I can join in with too. Find out more about ‘Supercharged Superhero’ and get your own copy of this gorgeous book.

The Journey so far – September 2020

My journey through diagnosis and learning to adapt so far has been uphill. There have been some huge changes I've had to make to my lifestyle, specifically our pace of life and my priorities. Having never been able to say 'no' to anyone or anything in my adult life, my major challenge is to start saying ‘No, no, no!’ Such a simple word, and yet I just can't do it! Others always come before me; my family and my friends, and yet I know I need to work on this. I know I unintentionally drive my husband and close friends to distraction...they know me better than I know myself often, and I am always being told to slow down, or to put me first, but I can't. Only when I have no option otherwise.

I spend my life falling asleep without planning to. I rarely see the end of a television programme or film. As a family, we often plan to go out on adventures in the mornings or early afternoon, as my more unpredictable time of day is usually mid afternoon to early evening. With careful planning, we do go out and make memories as a family of four, and we have lots of fun together. 

Everyday, I spend huge amounts of energy putting a brave face on to hide what I'm really feeling inside. I can’t do this anymore! I feel like most people only see me in a disguise, only my close friends and family know enough to understand what's really going on, and many of them can read me like a book. Conversely, I am constantly told I look really well, when in reality, I can barely stand up some days!  When things are really bad I can't easily hold a conversation, and I often focus all my energy on getting to the end of a day, an hour, a meeting or some other mini target I've set myself. I am wishing time away just to ‘get through’.  My illness is an invisible illness, and it is called that for a reason...it IS invisible!

On paper, my symptoms are fairly mild in contrast with others who have the same diagnosed condition. I am able go to work four days a week still, I am able to take my children to the park or on carefully planned day trips, I can still do some of the things I do for me, to allow me to be 'me', although these ‘things’ for me, are usually the ‘things’ I cut out if I need to slow down - leaving no time for Me!  

The Present and the Immediate Future   

In recent months I have seen a huge flare of my symptoms and have been much more debilitated than previously, but I am hoping this is just a blip in my journey. Working from home and home schooling two young children during the Covid 19 pandemic has not helped.  Life has been a bit mad for us all lately, hasn't it?! I can only imagine how people feel, who have much more significant symptoms, and I try to empathise with those whose symptoms are much more severe than mine. ME CFS is so varied and different for each and every person diagnosed with it!  

ME CFS is not well understood.  As it is ‘invisible’, others do not know I am suffering symptoms that often debilitate me. I cover it well by pretending I am ‘ok’ until I finally crash and burn at home. This is my reason for sharing my story, living with this condition, to promote awareness so that others may benefit from learning about how it affects a person and how people can make allowances. It is not going away!! Maybe I was ‘given’ this condition because I am naturally a strong person who is ‘driven’ to come through everything, no matter what. I do not know. I know that sometimes, I just can’t and I am worn out ‘pretending’. So I have chosen to share this and maybe I can make a difference to someone else. Acknowledging symptoms is just the start. Getting a diagnosis is paramount, and getting the right help is vital for any kind of future.

You've got this far, well done! Look out for how my story unfolds. Until then, we must stay positive!

XxXx

#chronicfatiguesyndrome #chronicfatigue #mecfs #me #myalgicenceohalomyelitis #cfsme

[kayteewritessteve]

If Only You Knew - 4/19

Description: You arrive home one day to find a wedding invite for two of your best friends from high school. You knew this day was going to come eventually, but even with that said, you weren’t prepared to return home. At least not after 7 years of avoiding Buckhannon, West Virginia. Or rather, avoiding him; your ex-best friend and the secret love of your life. But maybe it was finally time to face your past, to face him, and everything else that happened on that horrible night. Who would have knew that your prom would end up being a total disaster, and the very last night you’d spend in Buckhannon for the next 7 years? you certainly didn’t. That’s for sure.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 3,740 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Violence. Drinking. Bad and offensive jokes. Possible triggering thoughts, feelings and emotions. Moments of bullying and harsh name calling. Lots of curse words. And a very sloooow burn.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

July 2018 - Present.

“Isn’t that Mr. Y/L/N’s truck?” Steve asked from the driver's seat of his patrol car, as it sat parked on the side of the road. It was Bucky and Steve's turn to patrol the streets, and as it took about 30 minutes to get anywhere in town, they always went together. Saved unnecessary wasted fuel if they both needed to attend a call, and it made the longer stretches between calls way less boring.

“You mean Y/N’s dads truck?” Bucky smirked, still looking forward out the front windshield. Steve turned to glare at him, noticing Bucky’s smirk instantly drop from his face, as if it had been smacked off. Only to then be replaced by a prominent frown, as his eyes narrowed slightly. “Okay, I admit, that was low. But yes, that is Mr. Y/L/N’s truck, and it just blew that stop sign,” he pointed at it.

Steve's eyes snapped ahead as the truck was just exiting the intersection. “Shit,” he sighed then pulled away from the curb and flicked on his lights. He was just going to pull him over and give him a warning, then let him go on his way, no ticket needed. The truck instantly pulled over to the side and the engine cut. Steve pulled up behind it and put the squad car in park. “I got this one, Barnes,” he said then he opened his door.

“Mhmm. I know. Just like every other time we’ve pulled him over,” he smirked.

“Oh yeah, just like how you always handle Nat’s aunt?” He countered as he climbed out.

“That’s different, Nat’s aunt will be my family in 6 days. You know, because Nat and I are actually getting married,” he retorted excitedly, but then his eyes widened and he slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Wow. Low blow, jerk,” Steve shook his head then slammed the door.

“Fuck, you know I didn’t mean it like that!” Bucky yelled through the open passenger window at him. But he just ignored him and walked along the side of the truck, tapping the back of it as he did. And just before he reached the window he started to speak, “How’s it going today, Mr—“ but the words abruptly caught in his throat, as he came face to face with who was actually driving the truck. Y/N.

He froze, and the look on her face probably mirrored his perfectly. It was one of shock, discomfort and …relief? They both just stayed silent, for what felt like hours but was probably only mere seconds, then she broke the looming silence. “Ah, is there a problem, Officer?”

And hearing her voice for the first time in 7 years made an involuntary smile break out across his face. Well that, mixed with actually seeing her right in front of him, in the flesh. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more. And he lost himself slightly in just looking over her face, taking in every detail like he’d never see her again after this exact moment, so he had to memorize it, entirely. Much like he did the first time he ever saw her..

September 2009 - 9 years ago.

It was the first day of grade 11, Steve had spend the whole summer travelling Europe with his adoptive parents and his two brothers. An older brother Tony, and a younger brother Peter.

When Steve was just a baby his father was killed while away overseas, on a deployment, leaving just his mother and him on their own. Which from the little bits he could remember wasn’t so bad, Sarah was an amazing woman, and mother, but whenever Steve did have troubles remembering her, Maria would fill in the blanks for him. As Maria and Sarah had been best friends since childhood, Sarah had named them Steves Godparents when he was born. So when Sarah got ill, then sadly passed away, Maria and Howard stepped up to take Steve in. And then a few short months later the adoption was finalized, and Steve became a Stark. Though they did make his original last name, being Rogers, into a second middle name. Just so he would never forget where he came from, or the beautiful woman who had brought him into this world, and had mothered him in the beginning.

Tony was the only son Howard and Maria had parented themselves, he was a year older then Steve but they had always gotten along like brothers. They’d fight, and razz each other, but when push came to shove they always had each others backs. No one messed with the Stark boys, that’s for sure.

And the same went for Peter, the baby of the family. He was also adopted by Howard and Maria, when his parents had died and there were no living relatives to take him. He was 4 years younger then Steve, so they—Steve and Tony—always looked out for him. Just like they would had he been their flesh and blood brother. But who were they kidding, blood meant nothing to them. They were all true brothers in their own eyes, and a little thing like DNA wasn’t going to tell them otherwise.

So Steve had loved the summer away with his family, with his brothers, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t also super glad to be back home with his friends. Back to his normal life.

He’d arrived home two days before classes started, but the jet leg had kicked his ass, so he’d spend those two days relaxing in bed and catching up on sleep, knowing that he’d get to catch up with all his friends at school.

Over the summer he wasn’t able to talk to them often, either due to the time differences or the ridiculous roaming charges. But they all kept in touch here and there, though the conversations were short and sweet. His friends knew this was what his family did every summer, and they were all used to the limited contact during his trips.

So here he was, meeting Bucky and Sam in the student parking lot, on the first day of grade 11. The guys shared a couple warm welcome home hugs, then headed into the building to start making their way towards their lockers. Chatting about Steves trip the whole way in.

Soon enough they were in the school, walking the familiar hallways, just like every year before. Stopping to quickly chat and catch up with the odd friends, and losing Sam along the way to some cute girl, saying he’d find them later. So eventually Steve and Buck made it to right around the corner from their lockers.

But then a girl called out Steves name, and he turned around to greet her, Bucky however just continued walking.

“I’ll catch up in a second,” Steve said to his best friend who nodded in response. Bucky never liked Kiara, and Nat never liked him talking to her, so he avoided her like the plague.

After chatting quickly about what they both did over the summer, they said their goodbyes then Steve turned around to continue his mission at hand. However, just as he rounded the corner he slammed right into a smaller form. A way smaller form.

“Oof,” she said as she tumbled back and landed on her butt. Dropping her things all over the hallway, Steves stuff joining hers on the floor.

“Oh fuck,” Steve quickly crouched down to start cleaning up their scattered things, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you.”

“It’s okay. I’m pretty used to that,” she said as she shifted from sitting on her butt to sitting on her folded knees. They both began to collect up their own belongings and then Steve noticed one of his things next to her. He shifted forward to grab it but just as he did, she shifted forwards as well and they straight up head butted each other.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

“Shit,” she mumbled as she pulled back and rubbed her forehead, “I’m sorry, that was my bad this time. I totally bobbed when you weaved. Not a good combo.” She laughed, and the sound caused him to pause and finally look up at her, he hadn’t really paid much attention to her up until this point. She sat there, on her knees, rubbing her forehead where their noggins had collided, before she lowered her hand to finish collecting her things. And oh god, she was beautiful, his eyes roamed her face as if he was trying to etch it into his mind. He honestly wasn’t sure if he had ever seen anyone as pretty as her before, or maybe he had, but there was just something about this girl. Something in the air around her, he couldn’t quite place it, but he had this instant urge to want to know her, to know everything about her. Though it felt more like a need, he needed to know everything about her. About this adorable creature with the massive goose—

“Oh god,” he gasped as he just stared at the goose egg rapidly forming on her head.

“What?” She asked confused, “Is there something on me face?” She brought her hand back up, as if touching her face would magically answer her question.

He shook his head then flinched slightly. “Not exactly,” he said just as her fingers made contact with the massive bump on her head.

“Ouch. Shit,” she hissed as she pulled her hand away from her head like it had burned her. Her eyes flicked up and locked onto his, “oh god, is it bad?”

He scrunched up his nose, “Not too bad.”

“Great. Just freaking great. My first day in a new school and I head butt a cute guy hard enough to cause a massive goose egg,” she huffed then grumbled, “That’s just my luck.”

She may not have noticed what she said, but he sure did. Clearly she had been checking him out as well. “Cute, huh?” He raised a questioning brow at her.

Which caused hers to furrow, “What?”

“You said you head butted a cute guy,” He looked around the hallway, eagerly. “So, where is he?”

He meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, but the blank stare she gave him in return left him with the impression that she didn’t find it funny. And then his thoughts were instantly confirmed when her cheeks turned bright red, and she quickly looked away. “Okay, well, now that that’s over, I’m ah, I’m gonna go and,” she grabbed her stuff and abruptly stood up, “hide myself in a broom closet, or something.”

Steve grabbed his things then stood up as well. And once he reached his full height she looked up at him and her eyes widened. “Jesus christ, you’re a fucking giant,” she mumbled then looked down at her feet.

“I get called tall a lot, but I can’t say I’ve ever been called a ‘fucking giant’ before,” he laughed, “And fyi, a broom closet won’t help with your goose egg, you should really put some ice on that. It will help bring down the swelling.”

“Oh,” she looked back up at him, “the broom closet wasn’t for the,” she paused then waved a hand dismissively, “You know what, not important. Ice, ice is important.” She nodded then looked around. As if she was trying to figure out where she was. Or where she was suppose to go.

He smirked then leaned down just a bit to whisper, “You can get ice from the office.”

“Right. The office,” she nodded.

“You do know where the office is, right?”

“Of course,” she said confidently. “I’ll ah, see you around,” she turned on her heel and began to walk away. In the polar opposite direction of the office.

“Wrong way,” he shouted at her, causing her to freeze then slowly turn around to face him.

“Right, it’s that way,” she pointed in the direction behind him, opposite from where she was just heading.

“That it is,” he nodded, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from laughing. “You sure you don’t need me to walk you there?” He asked, amusedly.

“No, no,” she shook her head, “I’m all set now, thanks though.” She navy saluted him then walked passed him. He turned once she had and just watched her quickly walk away, before shaking his head and releasing the laugh he’d been holding in, as he headed to meet Bucky at their side by side lockers.

“Buck, who’s the new girl?” He asked as he approached his friend.

“Who?” Bucky asked as he looked around, “where?”

“No, she isn’t here. I’m just curious if you know who the new girl in school is?”

Bucky looked confused, “You mean Y/N?”

“Is that her name, Y/N?”

“I mean, I think she’s the only new girl in school. So, I guess?” He shrugged.

They both put their bags away then grabbed the stuff they’d need for their first block. As they headed down the hall towards their class, Steves mind kept drifting back to the new girl, and before he could stop himself the words left his mouth, “so, how did you meet, Y/N?”

“You really took a shine to her, hey?” Bucky smirked.

Steve scoffed, “No,” then shrugged, “I’m just curious, is all. We don’t get many new students here.”

“Right,” Bucky dragged the word out. Clearly not buying any of Steves shit. “Wanda introduced us all to her at the beginning of summer break. I guess they met when Mrs. Maximoff went to go welcome them to town. Her dad bought the old Lloyd house and Renchie’s.”

“What? Really? I didn’t even know Renchie’s was up for sale.”

“Yeah, I guess Donald wanted to retire,” Bucky shrugged, “But anyway, Y/N’s chill. She hung out with us all summer and everyone adores her. I swear Nat spends more time with her now then with me.” He paused then deadpanned, “No seriously, it’s becoming a problem for me.”

Steve laughed and shook his head, “If you need me to run interference, just ask.”

Buck turned to him, eyes wide, “Would you actually?”

“For you?” He slung his arm over Bucky’s shoulders, “I’d play interference with a cute girl, any day,” he laughed.

“See, I know you’d taken a shine to her!” Bucky laughed as well.

“No comment,” Steve shrugged.

July 2018 - Present.

“Steve?” She asked hesitantly, one brow raised.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” he shook his head. “I ah, I pulled you over because you actually ran the stop sign back there,” he pointed to the sign.

“What?” She whipped her head around and looked out the window at where he was pointing. “There’s a stop sign there now? Since when?”

“Ah, about 5 years now,” he pressed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing. “Have you been drinking at all today, Y/N?”

She glared up at him for a moment, probably trying to figure out if he was fucking with her or not, then she burst out laughing. “Oh come on, you think I can’t tell when you’re messing with me. Even after 7 years, I can still read your ass like a damn book,” she rolled her eyes.

He chuckled and shook his head, “It was an honest question, you did just run a blatantly obvious stop sign. I mean, there isn’t even any trees around it. And there is nothing hiding it, in any way.”

She scrunched up her nose, “Ah, yeah, about that,” she trailed off as a blush took over her face.

His smile faded, “Please tell me you weren’t texting and driving,” he paused for effect, “again.”

“I mean, I wasn’t texting, exactly,” she gestured both hands around as she talked. Which was always a sign she had done something wrong or was nervous about something. “It was more like reading and driving. There was no texting on my part.”

He sighed and shook his head again, “Y/N, you know you aren’t allowed to ‘read’ and drive. And furthermore, you were a horrible driver as a teen, and I can almost bet you haven’t gotten much better over the years. You need less distractions while driving, not more.”

“Hey!” She scolded, “I wasn’t that bad!” He just stared at her. “Okay, I wasn’t that good either. But I have gotten better over the years. I swear.” He just continued to stared at her, raising a brow as he did. She sighed, “fine, that’s a lie. I still suck at driving.” She hung her head, though he knew she was just playing it up.

“The first step to fixing a problem is admitting you have one.”

She looked back up at him, “Are you gonna haul me off to jail?”

He snorted, “you’re still just as dramatic as always, I see.” He shook his head, “And no, I’m not going to ‘haul you off to jail’. You ran a stop sign, Y/N. The worst I can do to you is scold you and hand you a ticket.”

“Scold me?” She cringed, “can I opt for jail time instead? Is that a thing I can do? Because a Steve Stark scolding is no joke.”

He rolled his eyes, “No, you can’t ‘opt’ for jail time instead.”

“So then are you going to give me a ticket?” She asked hesitantly.

“I probably should,” he paused, “but we both know that won’t stop you from texting and driving—“

“Reading,” she corrected. And he glared at her in warning. “Sorry. Sorry,” she quietly said as she raised her hands in surrender.

“As I was saying,” he shook his head for like the millionth time, “No, I’m not going to give you a ticket. But this is your only warning. If I ever pull you over for ‘reading’ and driving again, I’ll give you the most expensive ticket I can.”

“Shit,” she mumbled then nodded, “but okay, that’s fair.”

“Now, put your phone away and focus on the road, Y/N,” he scolded, somewhat playfully.

And she navy saluted him in return, “Yes sir!”

Causing him to sigh then pinch the bridge of his nose, “okay, you’re free to go.”

“Thank you, Officer,” she smiled.

“Don’t mention it.” And then he just stood there for a moment, not entirely ready to walk away from her just yet. Especially not after 7 years.

“Ah, Steve?” She asked slowly.

“Yeah?” He replied.

“I kinda can’t leave with you standing there. You know, me, bad driver,” she gestured to herself. “You, unsuspecting cop,” she gestured to him. “Probably not a good mix. What with my luck, I’d probably hit you. And I’m pretty sure I’d have to be given a ticket for that,” she laughed. Then cringed.

“Oh, right!” He quickly said then took a few large steps back, “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t mention it,” she smirked then put the truck in drive and pulled away slowly. He watched as she did, then when she was half a block away he sighed and headed back to his patrol car. He quickly climbed in and shut the door, “way to tell me Y/N was back in town, jerk.”

“Like hell I was going to tell you that. Shit, the last time I even so much as said her name, you ignored me for an entire day.” Bucky shook his head, vehemently, “Nope, fuck that. I refused to spend the whole day stuck in a car with you, refusing to say a damn word to me.”

“You knew it was her in the truck, didn’t you?” He raised a brow at his best friend.

Bucky just stared at him for a moment, “I mean, I didn’t know for sure. But I knew there was a small chance that it might be her, yes,” he nodded slowly. And Steve just remained silent, staring at him. “Okay, maybe it was a little bigger then a ‘small chance’. Probably more like a solid hunch,” Buck corrected.

But Steve just continued to stay quiet, watching him. “Alright, fine. You got me. I was positive it was her, but only because her dad would have never ran that stop sign. So that was a pretty huge giveaway,” he shrugged, “I’m surprised you didn’t figure that out as well. Your losing your touch, pal.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Steve shook his head then put the patrol car in drive.

“You can call me whatever pet names you want, at least that means you’re talking to me.” Bucky chuckled then quickly turned more serious, “so wait, seeing her after all this time, how you feeling about that?”

Steve thought it over for a couple seconds, trying to figure out exactly how he felt about seeing her, but then he just answered honestly, “I still feel the same way about her that I did 7 years ago.”

Bucky smiled, “so you gonna finally tell her?”

Steve scrunched up his nose, “Now’s not really a good time.”

Bucky loudly groaned, “That’s what you always say.”

“But this time I actually mean it. She just got back into town, Buck. I don’t even know how long she is staying and I have no clue if she is seeing someone or not.”

“Okay, the first excuse is valid, you can keep that one. But let me set the record straight on the other two. One, her ticket is open ended, so she can stay as long as she wants, or leave whenever she wants. Two, she is single. Like RSVP’d by herself, single. And a little red birdie told me she hasn’t even had a serious relationship in years.”

“Oh,” Steve paused, “so she’s had serious relationships before?”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky gaped at him, “out of everything I just said, that’s what you took away from it?”

“Just answer the question, Barnes.”

“Honestly,” he sighed, “I don’t think so. Or at least I have never heard of any. But I also can’t understand how a girl that pretty could stay single her whole damn life. That just boggles my mind.” He shook his head, “I mean, I know why she stayed single in high school, but you weren’t in Boston scaring all the guys away.” He paused then raised a brow, “Or were you?”

Steve huffed, “no, and I only scared away the fuckboys and the assholes.”

“So, basically every guy in our school then?” Bucky laughed.

Steve just shrugged as they continued down the road, “yeah. Basically.”

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

@hopefulmoonobject @harlequinash @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @imdiegohargreeves @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

Shanie’s Dream Fic: A Masterpost

The following is a Masterpost of all my various finished, started, and sketched out dream stories. They are listed here as the dreams originally were, not as the stories the dreams became. Listings are by Saga/Series, Story Title, and Month/Year of original dream. Also listed are the fandoms of the dreams and any specific warnings the fics might carry. For the record, this isn’t a post really for anyone on here. It’s mostly for my own records. I do have a copy on my cloud storage but I’m putting it here as well on the off chance anyone is curious. BTW: I’m putting this here so that I don’t have to list it every time. As far as the WWE dreams go. Absolutely NONE of them are Kayfabe compliant. That’s the problem with not watching the shows regularly. I don’t dream about the TV side of it often. The Zowens dream is close though. It’s sort of a hybrid. The rest? Well, all of them are some level of NKC, but some are not only non-kayfabe, they are straight up AU.  BTW2: In every single one of these stories involving me I am some manner of queer. I’m pretty sure in all but maybe one or two. I’m either wlw, ace, or both. NOT ONE of the first person dreams contains romance between me and another character. The best you get is a single platonic fake-relationship story. (That one did have a smut scene in it but it isn’t romantic.)

Anyway, list behind the cut!

ADVENTURES IN DREAMLAND Master Post

SAGA   A Family Beyond Blood

Part 1 Darkness Fallen (August 2019) I find myself trapped in a world where I died as a child. Now as a spirit I must find a way to restore the universe to it’s proper order. (Somehow my young death caused the entire universe to splinter) *McMahon Family and MCU Dream* Part 2 Death and Life on Planet Earth (August 2019)

Having saved the universe but not ourselves, I vow to do whatever it takes to return Shane to his rightful place with his family. *McMahon Family and MCU Dream*

Part 3 A World Restored to Fall (August 2019)

The universe has been reset again, and I have been returned to my proper timeline. Or have I? There’re odd happenings in a local bookshop and it’s up to me to figure out how to stop them *Original Dream Featuring IRL People*

Part 4 World War Winter (August 2019)

Nuclear Holocaust has occurred. The world is at war with the machines. As a soldier in the CAMP forces, I must leave everything I know behind and face down the android army. But, maybe there’s a familiar face or two in CAMP after all... *McMahon Family Dream* *VIOLENT*

Part 5 Of Queens and Kingdoms (August 2019)

The world is reset. AGAIN. This time, it’s me, Shane and Marissa in a new land where the middle ages and modern times are happening simultaneously and women are the dominant gender. And, somehow, I’m the bloody queen. *McMahon Family and WWE Universe Dream*

Part 6 Titans Reign (August 2019)

Having ascended to the throne and filling the royal court with WWE superstars, I must now find a way to rule over a land I barely know. Meanwhile, a sinister plot is brewing to put the patriarchy back in power. *McMahon Family and WWE Universe Dream*

SAGA That’s What Friends Are For

Part 1 Death of a Fangirl (and Birth of a Friend) (October 2019) [Only Published Story on List]

I find myself being given the chance to meet Shane. Unfortunately, my mental illness turns the dream into a nightmare and my life unravels. But don’t worry. Shane will save the day. He always does. *Shane O Mac Dream*

Part 2 With A Song In Her Heart (October 2019)

Shane has been ignoring my texts, so I hunt him down. My search finds me at a pride festival where a spontaneous song catches his attention a little too well. *Shane O Mac Dream*

Part 3 One Last Birthday to Celebrate (November 2019)

It’s Christmastime in Squirrel Hill. For some dumb reason, Shane McMahon has decided to visit me the day before his birthday. Naturally I surprise him with a present. The other surprise (getting caught in a domestic dispute) is far less pleasant. *Shane O Mac Dream* *VIOLENT*

Part 4 The Pink Rose (Not a Dream)

I survived the shooting. Waking up in a hospital, I find my mother and a room full of flowers from the WWE Superstars. But one flower, a lone pink rose, is unlabeled. Wanna take a wild guess who sent that one? *WWE Universe Story NOT Based on A Dream*

Part 5 Dreams and Demons (December 2019)

So, it seems that watching your friend nearly die in a hail of bullets isn’t the best for your mental health. At WrestleMania 37, Shane is presented with a choice. Me, or TV. Of course he chooses me, this is my dream, what other choice   would there be? *WWE Universe Dream*

[Are you starting to see why I never publish any of these. They are painfully bad self inserts and woefully self-indulgent. But they are also therapy, hence the writing]

SERIES   Trippy Shorts

Story 1 A Little Fall of Acid Rain (August 2019)

The world is ending – but only in NYC. I’m there. So are the McMahons. Destruction and danger abound. *McMahon Family Dream*

Story 2 I Know Who I Am (September 2019)

All of my favorites from TV, movies, music, and wrestling are turning up murdered. Each time, a cryptic message is left behind, written in blood. Can I figure out the connection before everyone I like is killed? *General Pop Culture Dream* *EXTREMELY VIOLENT AND DISTURBING*

Story 3 Fixed Points and Fixed Pairings [An Unfinished Symphony] (September 2019)

One night, outside the bar, I am approached by an older version of myself. She brings a time machine and a mission – go back to the attitude era and change time so Shane remains the heir apparent. But some people are just meant to be together, and others just refuse to listen – even to an angel from the future. *WWE Universe Dream*

Story 4 A Song of Summer [A Snapshot] (October 2019)

As an Agent of SHIELD, it doesn’t take a genius to see that Black Widow and Hawkeye are in love. So, through the power of music, I decide to try and hook them up. *MCU Dream*

Story 5 Journeys Beginning [A Snapshot] (December 2019)

One day at school, I find myself amid an alien incursion. But don��t worry, the Doctor is on the case. Also, Shane is involved because of course he is. *Shane O Mac and Doctor Who Dream*

Story 6 Arson, Murder, and Revolution (January 2020)

At a Hollywood LGBTQ party, I find myself caught in a plot by the Trump administration to commit mass murder. When it goes awry, revolution stirs and it’s up to me and several other progressive celebrities to light the fuse *General Pop Culture Dream* *VIOLENT*

[See, they aren’t all about Shane. Just... most of them]

STAND ALONE STORIES

Once Upon a Dream (August 2019)

I black out drunk in an alley one night and awake to find myself in a dream. It’s 1990 and I’m somehow a middle-aged black woman. Also sharing the dream is a young and angry Shane McMahon. Together we use the circumstances of the dream to fuck shit up for the NYPD. *Shane O Mac Dream* *VIOLENT*

The Many Deaths of a Tabhead (August 2019)

Five years after getting hooked on a new drug called Tabs, I find myself in an endless loop of getting murdered. The only way out is to survive. Too bad I have no memory, and everyone wants me dead *Original Story Featuring IRL People* *VIOLENT AND DISTURBING*

Champion of the Faerie Queen (December 2019)

Did you know that Marissa McMahon is the Faerie Queen and Shane is her consort? Neither did I. And, it seems, when war comes a calling, it’s up to me to save the McMahons and the country. But I’ve got superpowers now, so that helps. *McMahon Family, MCU, and DC Universe Dream*

To Earthquakes, Lovers, and Newfound Friends (May 2020)

In lovely SoCal, I’m watching a movie when an earthquake strikes. I soon find myself both blind and badly burned. The only hope I have to survive is a certain pair of lovers who just happen to be in the area for some R&R. *Zowens Dream*

Penny and Kicks vs The World (June 2020)

As a longtime WWE employee, I’ve been best friends with Shane for years. But in the fallout of Coronavirus, the public is looking for a scapegoat. Vince is more than happy to offer up my father. Now, the entire wrestling world is in turmoil and Shane and I are just trying to weather the storm. *WWE Universe Dream* *VIOLENT*

Virginia Gothic (October 2019)

In a world where my highschool sweetheart and I never broke up, we must forge a path on our own through hardship and rejection. But what is the meaning of the mysterious Jesus statue? And why is Bacchus being so damn shifty? *Original Dream Featuring IRL People*

Uzil (January 2020)

An mystical being from the horsehead nebula takes up residence in a little boy’s guinea pig. The miracles come quickly and soon they are inseparable. *Original Third Person Dream* (I wasn’t in this one)

The E-Manual (February 2020)

The end of days is drawing near. I have been chosen as a prophet of the end times by the Almighty himself. I must go out into the world armed with only scripture and a mystical magazine, trying to convert as many people as possible before time runs out. *A Mostly Original Dream* (Shane’s in the last two pages)

Seraphina and the Seven Wishes (April 2020)

The world is a video game and the McMahon’s are the Addams family. It only gets weirder from there. *McMahon Family Dream*

A Matter of Science (And Opinion) (May 2020)

I accidentally set fire to my apartment during a spell. I’m promptly arrested and call The Doctor as my defense. Sadly, the call is rerouted to Stormcage and SpongeBob SquarePants ends up on the case instead. This one is every bit as absurd as it sounds. *Doctor Who and SpongeBob SquarePants Dream*

A Revolution In This Century (Enter Me) (November 2019) The year is 2027. Climate Change has decimated the globe and revolution has reduced the Ruling Elite to food reserves. However, absolute power corrupts absolutely, and soon the new ruling poor become as ruthless as the 1% had been. In this horrible dystopia, I am a powerful government official who has taken on the McMahons as consorts for the sole purpose of saving their skins. *McMahon Family Dream* *VIOLENT, DISTURBING, AND A BIT SMUTTY*

Crystal Vision – A Dozen Birthdays (December 2019)

After showing kindness to an enchantress, I am given my hearts greatest desire – a place in Shane’s life. I am sent back in time to 2005 as a WWE Makeup tech and given 12 years in the life of my childhood heroes. But a lot happened in the WWE from 2005 to 2017 and not all of it good. How much can and do I dare change? *WWE Universe Dream* *Painfully NKC. Disturbing subject matter involved because 2007 is a thing.*

Dr. Slime and the Wondernerds (August 2019)

Three high school nerds find themselves in possession of a mysterious green substance. When it explodes during an experiment, they find they have been given superpowers. However, this is the real world and super-powered “freaks” get picked apart, not celebrated. Can the teens resist using their powers? *Original Third Person Dream* (I’m not in this one)

Planeswalking Like A Grecian (October 2019)

After death, Xena finds herself on the Astral Plane. Promptly running into Joxer, they must find a way to survive the dangers of the afterlife. But don’t worry. Gabrielle has a plan. *Xenaverse Dream* (I’m not in this one)

The Foresight Curse (June 2020)

The problem with knowing the future is that you usually don’t have the ability to change it. So when Radar O’Reilly realizes Henry’s fate the day before it happens, he has to spend the next day trying to drown out the feelings of dread and sorrow, if only for the Colonel’s sake. Funny thing though, sometimes fate takes a left turn and you get a second chance to say goodbye. *M*A*S*H Universe Dream* (I’m not in this one) Vampires, Wraiths, and Shades, Oh My! (December 2019)

In the middle ages, I am orphaned at a very young age by vampires and taken in by Vampire Hunters (AU Shane and Stephanie). Now a teenager, I fight alongside them to protect the world from the dangers of the night. *McMahon Family Vampire AU Dream*

WHEW! I’m pretty sure that’s all of them! I have so dang many dreams it’s hard to keep track of them all! Anyway, out of all of these, only a handful are finished, ONE is published (Death of a Fangirl) and a ton of them aren’t far past the sketch stage. So, this is my list. Every story on here I at least have sketched out. I doubt I will ever even bother writing many of these, but the intent is present.

[phoenixwithahoardoflibraries]

I read this book for the first time back in elementary school - probably around 3rd or 4th grade, because that was the period I was utterly fascinated with all things about Colonial America/Revolutionary/Post-Revolution U.S -- and particularly this period’s medicine. (Yes, I am aware the book is for young adults. I was the third grader who thought the unabridged version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame was a good idea for a book report; I read this just fine.) I loved it as a brilliant work of fiction, and would recommend it for adults just as much as for kids.

I never imagined I would ever live it.

And now I am afraid that I will. That we all will.

Like many of us, I have been stuck inside for the most part in voluntary quarantine against the pandemic. I’ve done a lot of schoolwork and scheduled a lot of virtual meetings with classmates and project partners, checked my temperature with a thermometer and worried if I’ll start displaying symptoms despite not yet having come into contact with someone or somewhere that tested positive.

The rare times I have gone outside, it has been scary quiet, and yet not quiet enough. Inside, I am tempted to use headphones - not to block out the street as usual, but to interrupt the silence of the city. The construction work in the house next door which has been ongoing for months has gone silent today, as the Massachusetts state government orders it closed along with all other construction sites -- and though the noise has been as distracting as a dentist’s drill, the silence is eerie. Out the window, I don’t hear any ambulance alarms or fire truck sirens, or any honking cars.

In Ohio, one of my friends is trying to vote; in Vermont, another friend is recovering from a bout of symptoms that may or may not be the coronavirus. I try and distract myself and hope that no one gets sick in my house.

Perhaps that is why I remembered this book yesterday, a book I haven’t thought about in years.

When the story begins on August 16 1793, Philadelphia is the capital of the United States. People are living in luxury. The narrator is Matilda “Mattie” Cook, age 14, who helps her widowed mother and father-in-law run a coffeehouse - a bustling, successful business, two blocks away from President Washington’s house. Customers eat, drink, talk, play backgammon and cards. Outside, carriages and carts crowd the streets. It is a busy and successful city. Mattie’s biggest worries are the heat, the smells, and her mother’s ambitions - until her old friend Polly doesn’t show up to work. Because Polly is dead - collapsed with a fever, dead less than an hour later.

A week later, sixty-four people are dead.

By the start of September, the entire city is panicked, fever victims are buried every day, and Doctors are predicting that the death toll may rise to a thousand - which would be one person out of forty in Philadelphia’s population. Mattie’s mother is sick, and her Grandfather, who fought the British and fears nothing, decides enough is enough, and to try and get Mattie out of the city.

By the end of the epidemic in November, when the first frost kills the mosquitos, that will rise to a tenth of Philadelphia’s entire population. Mattie is one of the lucky people who got ill and recovered. But she has lost so much of her life. And so have so many others.

Perhaps it was because I was reading as a child, but I do not think I remember realizing why Anderson began the story where she did - I thought it was just an appropriate place to begin. Now, though it has been years since I opened the book, I suddenly remember that, in the first scene, a mosquito bites Mattie before she can slap it. Now I realize that the story begins with the morning Mattie is infected, though she does not know it.

Sadly, the coronavirus has no handy mosquito bite for us to search for. Only symptoms and testings. And there is no frost or change of weather that will deal with the cause of the disease, either.

When I read the book, it was historical fiction. But now, I look at the headlines of this past week’s papers, and I want to laugh at the way humans still behave despite the advances in medicine and understanding of how disease operates in general. The wealthy flee the city to the countryside and remote locations with supplies, hoping to avoid the fever. The poor and the stranded are unable to leave, and dwell in fear. The doctors work as the patients pile up faster than they can treat, and even become infected themselves, frantically seeking answers. The streets empty, hoping to avoid infection by isolation, but a need for supplies or contact or updates bring them outside; the few people who must stay out avoid each other. The economy plunges. The stores close or are bought out of their wares.

We have only one real advantage over the past, it seems - the advent of the digital age allows us to communicate at a distance without risking transmission so much. But the grief, the fear, the uncertainty - the worry that, even if you survive, someone you know will not - these things are not changed.

If you don’t mind gore or fear, it’s a good book. If it hits too close to home during this crisis, I understand. 

My best wishes to you all, in this time of crisis.

[yhwhyireh]

open letters: to you whom Christ endows strength and voice

sending off a letter to a most beautiful, courageous, and faith-filled brenn. brenn’s full story below - it is a lovely read! praying for you! 

 I post letters through here

Hello : )  ,

It hasn’t been long since I started following your blog but I can say with full confidence that it was such a blessing when I stumbled upon it. It is difficult to find youth who treasure the word of God (at least in my area) and humble themselves to minister to each other; I myself find it challenging to speak to my friends about God because they do not take it as seriously as I wish or they think I’m being to ‘wishy-washy’ with them but I pray with a genuine heart that they will soon find His goodness. Scrolling through your posts delights me to no end, seeing how you are not afraid to exalt Him in this day and age. 

This isn’t so much a story but I am compelled to share something of my testament. I do warn that there might be triggers here but I promise, there is a good outcome.

I am currently seventeen and though I have been raised up in a christian household all my life, it is only now where I have taken a personal initiative to pursue intimacy with God. When I was younger, I only had a superficial exposure to christianity and lived life ignorant to how self-deceived I was in my faith, if you could even call it that. I experienced my darkest days when I was younger and for quite some time, I was in denial that I had an eating disorder and was blind to how depression was slowly destroying my welfare as well as my family’s. I don’t like to admit but I was very suicidal then; I turned my back to God and blamed Him for things that, knowing now, were my doing. Before all of this, I remember being outgoing, being unafraid and having fun but I quickly turned into someone quite the opposite: I was temperamental and was frightened of what others may think of me. I never received any professional help seeing as I lied to my doctors about my well-being but my parents knew what I was doing, although I never confessed it. After more than four years of self-recovery, I can’t say that I’ve completely removed myself from my former self but I know now that even when I was in the darkest of shadows, God’s light was always there, I was just simply too ignorant and denied Him access into my heart. 

Through my heartache, I have become more gentle and more quiet and though some may say that this is a good thing, I often find that my quietness is a product of my fear, the fear of what people may think; something I still have not overcome. I have only truly shared my story with three friends and sadly, my friendships have faded into nothing more than friendly smiles and small talk; perhaps this is why I am frightened to form relationships with people. 

But now, I face different struggles only this time, I am allowing God’s grace to shine on my darkness. I am now reading the Bible and yearning for God to reveal His nature to me whereas before, I selected scriptures according to my emotions and in this, I realised that this is the source of many of our struggles: we simply do not read the Bible holistically with an open heart. Though I still face many temptations and still fall short of the glory of God, I know that He is merciful to forgive us our sins. 

God has freed me of my eating disorder but I still find myself in episodes of depression and anxiety. It is something I keep to myself but I know the Lord hears my cries. Though now, I feel as though I am not doing anything for the Lord publicly, spreading His gospel. I feel inactive but I want to be able to use my gifts for the Lord but my fear of people’s judgement is quick to consume my goals. Instead, I immerse myself in my studies, almost as a defence mechanism. Though I sing and play the piano in my church with my dad, I want to be able to fearlessly proclaim my faith and I want God to use me and shape me into the person He wants me to become. I pray and pray for this but I am left waiting. But I come back, yet again, to my fear of people’s opinions and even worse, university starts this september for me (that is if I do well in my exams! haha). I hope that this new chapter in my life will be dedicated to the Lord but I fear that I will be too afraid of people in university that this will hinder my works for Him. I am excited and frightened of starting a new school, almost to the point I feel physically ill !

I apologise if this is too long, too messy and if my thoughts are too unorganised. But I thank you for the kindness of your heart. I really don’t have any close friends who are willing to hear my struggles like these so often I feel alone so it is very uplifting to get opportunities like these. Please don’t feel obliged to give me advice because your kindness and your time is enough : ) I just hope that perhaps somebody will relate to this in some way and realise that they are not alone in their journey of faith.

With love and warmth, Brenn.

[daughterofamercifulfather-blog]

Christmas Eve Night, 2016- St. Anthony and the Donkey Statue at the Franciscan Shrine of St. Anthony. 

My Shrine of Solitude- The Place of Miracles....An Angelic Voice In Jeopardy. 

Since my last post worked so well on trying to find a link of Padre Pio and Sunflowers [insert eye roll], I am for, who knows why, attempting to do this, again. As I said the first time, I don’t know how to do this site. Maybe this is not for asking, maybe people can’t help? I don’t know, but I’ve got to do something!  

I may appear pious and prayerful, but I am not. I am in a rush to try and just start Christmas shopping, make mass, get in Confessions, pray, to pray and pray for my beloved friend, for her health and conversion.With so little time, little sleep, wanting to give up, I can’t. And I know it’s all up to Jesus, but I have to pray, that’s all I can do. And I get mad because more problems happen that I suddenly don’t know about, I lash out at someone because I am trying to fix it and am exhausted, have gotten no where, so I have to go make amends, and back to the confessional I go. But this woman who means the world to so many in the world that was diaganosed out of the blue with stage 4 pancreatic cancer, on the day of historic terror- September 11. Or, as I will know call it, “The Day My World Went Purple (that’s the awareness color for pancreatic cancer).”. I did not know what a pancreas even was before I learned of her diagnosis, which came at the worst time, not that any time would be appropriate. But, I mean I was going through it, really, and a week before an ending that I thought would end torture (that was only just beginning, which I’ve had to separate from and give to Jesus for my friend, but ultimately for myself), is when I find out this woman, who was  my first co-worker in my first “real-world” job out of college, along with her sister. 

To make a long story short (as this isn’t on this topic and I tend to write lengthy these days that makes no sense as I’m up all night doing or praying, and not getting anywhere!), after getting a B.A. degree in Sociology, otherwise known as “pessimism”, but with a concern for the social welfare of others- to the extreme (blame Mitch Albom and Tuesday’s with Morrie, I wanted to be him, I wanted what he had, and I did get it, except a love of sports, ability to play piano, the ability to write like him and the ability to make a difference despite any efforts without going nuts), I naively, and perhaps even with pride, thought I would have people knocking on my door to offer me a position now that I had a degree. I had worked in politics in college, learned fundraising, campaign lingo, legislative initiatives, drafting various correspondence, etc., as that was what I originally was going to get into- I wanted to be an adopted Kennedy, only I don’t have the jaw line. And while our politics are not the same, while I am much more Catholic than I was at first, though always was an elephant due to our Governor at the time, but the job I was at never asked and I never told!  And truthfully, I was in the middle, happily like Switzerland. But, I pathetically thought with that experience, in a recession, unlike any we had ever faced, I would have to do nothing. And then, once Obama was elected, and the country was happy, and then the excitement wore off, I was still at home. Then came looking for a job, and looking. Then desperation and depression. Until, I finally, after almost 2 years stumbled upon what seemed perfect- an advocacy like job working with those with intellectual disabilities, running a department where I’d write funding plans and and speak up for benefits these individuals needed. NOPE! Not it. My first day on the job, along with 2 others,  was the first of a 6 week orientation where I met the Director of Nursing, who came in, took out a bowl, a Tupperware of cereal, and milk and ate her breakfast, as she had been on duty all night, while explaining that we had to have our Med Tech Certification since we would be working in the building with those with intellectual disabilities and be on an on-call rotation, so we needed it “just in case.” I thought she was absolutely insane- and I had just received a message on my phone about another job (when I had heard nothing for 2 years, and desperately needed to call these people back!). But, I stayed, and on about the 2nd or 3rd day of her training she took us to the building down the street, and introduced myself, the new residential coordinator and one of the young girls that would be working in the Day Program to this laid back, tall blonde, who was the Day Program Coordinator, whose name, was “Woody.” And again, I thought, I need to leave. But, that was a nickname...from childhood, as it turns out they were sisters, and the Day Program Coordinator was rather new herself. After the training, which I didn’t know I needed any of that and still am scarred from it, and cannot look at a grapefruit without thinking of an enema (don’t ask!), I got to work. My position was a coordinator that ran what one would think was easy- a department for those that had mild intellectual disabilities, could live on their own with mentor hours, or staff I supervised that gave a few hours a week to take one grocery shopping, running errands to keeping them occupied. Or, it also meant, children, those under 21, living at home in the care of their parents, who were still getting special education services at school. But, it wasn’t that simple. 10-15% of my time was writing funding plans which I loved! There were other issues, most staff was out on leave due to babies or family leave. But the clients, as mild as their intellectual disability was, all the more was their mental illness. I have a deep sympathy and empathy for anyone with a mood disorder and that is a cause I will advocate for, as I, too, have one. I started antidepressants that November, after waiting so long and arguing to not want to take them. I then needed anti-anxiety meds, and I’ve been on them ever since. The job was a nightmare, I saw horrors no one should see, or experience. And I had no choice but to quit. If it was not for the woman whose office was next door, I would never have made it through any day of the week. She had a grace about her. And the crazy sister, well, they both are crazy, but they were the most normal in a place that wasn’t operating things correctly. The Director of Nursing, because she knew what went on and with whom and what was right called the higher ups, always in another building out on their violations, and was wrongfully demoted and she left. I followed suit, but it took gusto to get out, because the guilt to leave the clients was the worst. They were a handful, in my department, they could have killed me with kindness, with heartache, with a sharp tongue to a shovel, but I loved them. And 2 weeks before I was to depart, giving 4 weeks as a supervisor, one had to be admitted to the psychiatric hospital and I requested to extend that 2 more weeks, to make sure that client that really wore me down, to drinking a bottle of vodka every night, was okay. It was granted, and she was okay. And I left, but not a week later I ended up in the hospital for my first suicide attempt.

It is NOT the job that did it, while yes it played a part, I was a depressed person. The idea of leaving to go sit at home and apply for jobs didn’t sit well with me, or the idea of another additional medication, as it made it seem like I failed everything. But you find out things quickly when moments like that happen, who cares and who doesn’t. Who are your friends, and who are not. When the world walked away, when there was not a soul in sight, it was my co-worker, turned friend, turned family, who plopped herself down and didn’t leave. Annoying as that was. It was her, that was there in my darkest, and not my only one, moment. And as if that wasn’t enough, after family a brutal, and mandatory, though I was an adult, meeting, when you have lovely and wonderful parents who just don’t get it, but promise a stress free home, no annoyances, and some rest, the day of discharge, your Mom finds out after a bunch of negative tests, that she does in fact have a very rare form, one that only 1% of the population gets, of Breast Cancer. So, while my Mom’s health is certainly important, all those promises- out the window. But, the ones to keep them, as well as care for my Mom, make sure she had answers on medicines after a mastectomy to anything she needed, while making sure I got out of the house for weekends away to the beach or “Girls’ Night” was my family- the two crazy sisters. And when I needed a primary doctor, my next door office co-worker turned beloved friend, convinced the most popular doctor to accept me when she could no longer take on new patients, it was who her and her sister went to, who we sadly are losing, as of 12/31 because while young and top-rated, it’s too much paperwork and too many rules on how a physician can treat a patient. And that was a project, I should have been able to fix, but I didn’t have time, not with my sick friend and praying and deaths to all these other disasters. My appointment was last Monday, and it was AWFUL. See, I’ve gone on too long, this is never going to work- but no one can describe this beautiful soul and everything she has been through. That’s not her story, not in the least. And pancreatic cancer, I’ve done the research, I’ve joined the groups and it’s awful. No advances, the statistics are crazy, the median survival rate for stage 4, well look that up, I can’t. And all she can get is chemo, because her cancer is on the tail, she cannot get something called a whipple, she cannot get radiation, she can just get chemo. And it’s already spread, to her kidneys, and lymph nodes (if that’s how you spell?) And that’s all I will say, as this wasn’t meant to be on here, but, you know, this is about St. Anthony and his miraculous intercession, so if someone is inclined, here is a link to a GoFundMe page for her medical expenses, that I am not responsible for making up, the credit belongs to someone else. And prayers always work, too. I’m maxed out, financially, not prayer wise, but God gives us all we need, so I have to give that worry up, too.   Until then, I will be getting healed and forgiving and seeking forgiveness as quickly as I can, from the code of one of the greatest mystics of our time. For more on the mystic, you’d have to read my first post, and if you do know the link on sunflowers and Padre Pio, please by all means, as that’s for another friend. 

But, the real meaning behind this post was because, years ago, after this work situation, after being a binge drinker and crashing into a table one night before a family wedding, my oldest cousin who was getting married for the 2nd time after having a baby with her now husband and having recovered from drug addiction. It was not that reason for what was going to be the cause of lots of complaining from judgmental and opinionated, maternal aunts, mostly just two, who I can only pray for, but that it was a bi-racial wedding. Which doesn’t make any sense, at all. I really had scared my parents. And it wasn’t just the wedding, my Mom was still dealing with cancer, well recovery now (Thanks to God!), with one more surgery to go. And I had no job. Our family goes way back with a walking saint, a prison chaplain, a minister to the homeless and one who has literally nothing- he gives everything away to others. When my Mom and her family met him, he was a seminarian, assigned to their family church across the street. So, he performs everything,from weddings, to baptisms of all the grandchildren. Now, its weddings of grandchildren and baptisms of great-grandchildren. The last thing he presided over for our family was this past June, my grandmothers funeral. But, he also helped those in our family in moments of crisis, an aunt (a judgmental one), the cousin whose wedding he presided and that night as he went to leave I knew I needed help, and he gave me his number. It took being drunk to call him and a couple weeks, but I did. And I owe him my life (side note: because I’ve been up all night, trying to type this and figure what to say, I just remember, he gave me his favorite prayer, because I’m such a worrier. I have it in my old wallet, as he will be a saint, but it was his favorite! And, I don’t recall what it was, but it was a St. Anthony one...I will have to go find it now to see, how odd, yet, not).

And who he has brought in it, including a woman, a convert who was an atheist who became pious, way more than a girl educated in the Catholic School Systems her whole life that took me randomly one day to a festival, a celebration honoring St. Anthony of Padua’s Feast Day, in which I went to humor her. But, my gosh I fell in love! And that became my new home, my sanctuary, my resting place. I love all the friars, I love the grounds and it is truly a place of miracles. You can’t belong to a shrine, but I go regularly, a two hour drive because it’s my church family. And I could go on about so many wonderful, miraculous things that happened. But, I can easily tell you my first miracle, it was hearing the voice of, what do you call it, a lector, music minister? Most churches have okay music, though I’ve found exceptional ones in the last few years! Exceptional! And it makes a big difference. If you’re in the states and go to Steubenville Conferences, the Franciscan University, how can one not appreciate Bob Rice, or Dr. Bob Rice, as he is known now? If the speaker list doesn’t entice you, his music will! But, at this place, there was the heavenly woman who stood up with a guitar and belted out songs...and I had never heard anything like it. And that is why I bothered returning. She’s more than that...her resume is remarkable. I think she can play anything! She teaches music, she is a dialect coach, she gets involved in producing plays, or the actors, to being in shows herself. I have a special name for her, which I won’t say, as everyone know’s that’s what I call her.  So, if someone did get on here, they couldn’t know it was me posting, as I don’t know if this is supposed to be out of the bag, or what. But, I bought her CD’s, and I finally had to look her up and I sent her an e-mail to let her know just how phenomenal she was. It’s funny how the world of computers work, nowadays we have to worry about cyber bullying, but when I was young and computers were first starting to get into people’s home, with dial-up, I met one of my dearest friends that way. I had a love for musical theatre from my Grandmother, who took me to my first live show, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, but had me watching classics when I was a toddler from My Fair Lady to Camelot. In middle school, while watching an Andrew Lloyd Weber Special, I fell head over heels for a UK singer, tracked him down as nothing was available in the states, joined a fan club, some mailing list that was too overwhelming to check and had to order everything overseas. Then one random day, I learn that very singer, the one whose head was imprinted on my pillow sheet, was coming to the states, and to my state and some woman got me in to the Public Television pledge thing, with the next day, this woman who was sending all these messages from the mailing list contacted me, an energetic woman from WA state who held get togethers in NYC every year for American fans, but come to find out she was my grandmothers age! But, it didn’t matter, because she loved what I did, and we began to e-mail multiple times a day and would mail each other playbills and when she got the chance she’d call on a special Sunday she was headed to Seattle to see a how (when cell phones costs extra to call half way across the country). She became one of my best friends. And my parents, as skeptical as they are, were in complete agreement to go to the gathering that following August in NYC, along with my grandmother, to celebrate our favorite singer, see shows, meet up with actors she supported-particularly one young man who I still support to this day in her honor and because he has talent and be friends, be present to one another in person. And the years that followed. Until she passed away, Valentine’s Day, 2005- which was fitting, as if anyone departed on a day of love, it would have been her. I took it not so well, didn’t listen to anything, didn’t want to see shows at the theatre, etc., until the angelic voice at the friary. She brought back the gift of music, and now look, as you’ll see post above (which that is much shorter than this turned out, so answer if you have a slight clue where to find the info, please!), while I’m no singer, or I don’t play a guitar, I now have another friend who wrote a musical that is brilliant, I’m helping as best I can to promote and market that and she is the one I knew to go to for direction on anything! And, I pledge a loyalty to this amazing talent, to do whatever I  can, though I don’t know yet what that is, as so much is being dumped on...and yes, selfishly, I need her music, especially now, too. 

Things change, I get that. Friars leave on new assignments, but some you cannot part with. One friar, I keep track of, though he doesn’t communicate through e-mail or computer and he is serving in a Spanish parish. We called him Padre Pio II. But he always has a place in my heart. And, this summer, a blow came when the Director, who as long as I’ve known about the friary, has been there, announced a big promotion- meaning he was leaving his post, though his new residence was just down the street, he’d be traveling. And that was hard to swallow, but I did. And he’s come back, and I keep tabs on where he’s at. A new director came in, and I grew to like him, was impressed by him, then went to a seminar, mini-retreat and did not like him, did not like his answers and refused to return. But I apologized, I did a Holy Hour and I did my best to make amends as he does do things that seem special, even humble. And I misunderstood the message, especially at the time I’m going through, it was not the time to go to such a lecture/teaching when you have a sick friend. And he was off the list, but in finally getting to this angelic voice and e-mailing her as she should be out there more, she’s super talented! I casually said something about her meeting with the new director and sarcastically said I hope this doesn’t mean you’re cut back any...but she is going to be. In a tiny chapel, this director, who has already brought changes that I don’t know if people do or do not like, depends on if they are a “regular” or a “pilgrim,” he wants to fit in an organ and a choir because it’s his dream. The faithful friar is young, and has well-meaning wishes, ambitious and wonderful ideas, tremendous devotions and even more than that to offer. But, if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it. And if it is his dream, not the dream of the others who buy her records in the gift shop, who cry at the staple song she sings on Good Friday, to thanking her after a mass she’s played at- how can he be shepherding a flock through his dream, and not through the message of the faithful Franciscan, St. Anthony?  This is someone who gives hope and peace, plus comfort, not to mention stories of Jesus from her own written songs to those who flock to the sacred shrine. This is more than just my first miracle of the shrine, this is the friary experience!

I am not sure on miracles today, I’m doubting Thomas, I’m the lost sheep, I’m the Prodigal son. But, I know this beloved shrine is in part beloved because of this woman’s music, and her heart. And in somehow trying to think how to link all this together, actually I believe I can, all of it, even the story on my sick friend. A homily I will never forget happened on one feast day celebration for St. Anthony, by my dear friar now somewhere else, who I said we called Padre Pio II. In saying, the importance of St. Anthony and what he meant, he told those in the church that whenever a problem arose, “Go to Anthony.” Because in his work, he was not just a Franciscan, teacher, preacher but he became a saint for the lost, a saint of miracles because of companionship. In each story I told, I found companionship, different places, at different times, always in a time of need. St. Anthony, as Padre Pio II said that day, and I’m butchering it, told us we should imagine what it is like to be the great pain, in tremendous suffering, to be at our loneliest and when we did to remember St. Anthony, because he was the ultimate companion, and always, no matter what the problem to remember to “Go to Anthony.”

If, you could pray for a miracle, to St. Anthony, or St. Francis of Assisi, or St. Cecelia (patron of musicians, arts, etc.), please do so, if you have a love of either 3, or for any saint you do have a love for, especially one that is also Franciscan- St. Therese, St. Claire (she’s the patron of TV, and gosh, that’s where this woman needs to be!), to my other saint who I send my guardian angel up to every day lately, Padre Pio. If you wish to support the work of this phenomenal woman, I am anonymous, and you came across her, and you can order a CD, or other product through her website.

If, I don’t know how this will work, but I just gave her website, so you can now tell what St. Anthony’s Shrine is being referred, but if this site works as intended, and I’m relying on St. Anthony and the Holy Spirit. So, with faith, with faith this long message is read, if anyone wishes to write a note, without mentioning the woman who’s site I linked, or that this plan is happening, this post, etc. Well, if you write it, I imagine you know what to do, but it would be addressed to The Shrine of Saint Anthony, c/o Director of the Shrine (you can look up as I can’t put name, first page of website, but don’t use email, that goes to office staff), address (bottom of the page). 

She’s too important to lose...no organ or choir, or fancy thing can replace the love of music, ministry and faith she has in heart. 

“The wisdom of God is reflected in the face of the soul: she will see God as he is, and she will know as she is known.”~St. Anthony of Padua, from Sermons of Saint Anthony of Padua

I know it’s Advent, and she does have a GREAT Christmas CD, Come to the Stable, but as in the post above, this Good Friday classic, Eyes, gets everyone every time- which is also available through website, on the CD, Love Makes Room. Or, at the very least, though not updated (but I’m trying to help with that when I get the time, hopefully, after Christmas!), subscribe to her YouTube channel! God Bless all who read this!

[koreanstudentiseul]

My Language Learning Experience (2006-2019)

Hello~ as requested, here is my language journey/experience post. So fair warning this is a very long post. Way longer than I meant it to be, but I did warn this when you guys asked for it so I’m sorry in advance.

For this, I’m going chronologically, but I’ll mark it clearly if you wanna just read specific bits, I don’t blame anyone who wants to skip sections it is a lot of text. With that said, let’s begin~

1st: Spanish.

My first experience learning language was in Primary school, at aged 10 (due to a late birthday) when we were surprised by a sparkly new class that wasn’t offered in the school before. Spanish. I don’t remember much from this point being nearly 14 years ago but I remember finding the class difficult because the teacher wasn’t very approachable and seemed to play favourites. At least in the context of only helping certain pupils rather than all the pupils. I picked up a few things, like 1-10 and some animal names but that was about it.

I continued Spanish in High school as it was a mandatory subject in the first 2 years, I learned more from these classes mostly I think because they were more used to teaching the subject but I can’t say that with any certainty. I have mixed memories from this time as we were forced to endless exercises that didn’t explain anything, yes/no style corrections which don’t help anyone, and my teacher told me off for knowing the answer (I still remember this clearly, she asked what the word for fish was, I said pez. Then she asked what the plural was, I said peces and she scolded me for knowing that. To this day, I don’t know why) so that was traumatising for me and meant I didn’t speak up in class again for well over a year.

At this point I’m 4 years-ish into Spanish and I think I’m doing okay, I can do the homework and the exercises with minimal issue (not always correct, but was done in a reasonable time) and we get to picking our subjects for our exams. At which point, my teacher who was talking to everyone about their choices as most did (this was to explain the exam courses and what to expect so you know what you’re choosing, which I think was a nice thing but they stopped doing this sadly) and when it was my turn, it was “implied” that if I picked the subject I wouldn’t be allowed to take the class. I was told that I wasn’t smart enough to pass so I couldn’t take either language course and that I’d to pick another department.

This knocked any confidence I had with languages, I thought I’d been doing okay, at parents night I always had good comments so I don’t know what prompted this delightful comment. And with it being their word against mine I couldn’t prove it was said, but I knew the school would have sided with them anyway. This is also the reason I have Spanish as a want to learn rather than can speak because aside from my fish trauma, I can count to 99 and do basic insa chitchat and that’s all I retained. Oh and the words for library and sharpener, because my favourite place is a library and un sacapuntas is just something that’s always amused me for reasons unknown.

2nd: Korean

So, fun fact, I’m surprised that Korean’s here because I actually had been counting it as 3rd until I actually thought about it for this. My derpiness aside, Korean comes in at the beginning of my 5th year so would be late 2011 (Our school year starts mid-August) when my friend introduced me to K-Pop and oh boy my mp3 player has never looked the same since. It was a serious exam year, so no great progress was possible, especially with trying to get into college. I didn’t find TTMIK till much later than this but for this point in time, I found the lyrics on live performances really intriguing. I mean it’s nothing I was used to seeing on our equivalent shows, they never had the lyrics up for songs, in fact I don’t remember them telling you the artist half the time was towards the end of their broadcasting time. That tangent aside, the words just looked really beautiful and by September that year I was enamoured by the sound of the language, so I started looking up things about Korean in between the onslaught of homework and assessments. Also according to old social media I was subconsciously singing it from the December onwards, so good to know that that was always a thing I did. It took me until March to be able to read enough to write and even then it crude as anything. There’s very little trace of anything from that time but I struggle to read what there is.

Sadly this is where things end here for now, exams and getting into college and having space to breathe after years of being up till 2am trying to get all my work done and not having weekends cause I had to study too kind of pushed it to the back burner. What can I say, it was the first actually free summer I’d had in 5 years and I wanted it to be a detox before college started just in case it was the same set up of no sleep. And then I bumped into the aforementioned Spanish teacher again over the summer who made a comment to the effect of “Bet you’re glad you didn’t take Spanish, otherwise you’d have a nasty fail on your results.” Which for one annoyed me because it implied I had any say in the matter, but also removed any confidence I had regained since our last encounter.

3rd: Japanese

Now this is going to be really underwhelming, you’ve been warned. So I picked up Japanese in exam season 2012 (’cause I clearly didn’t have enough going on) and if I recall correctly used Japanesepod101 for it. I just followed their podcasts so I never learned to read just speaking/listening really. I suppose the 3 alphabets scared me off some, still kinda does scare me but I have a plan of action now so it’s a long term goal rather than wishful/fearful thinking. Still not sure what prompted this though, maybe an anime revival, or just finally caving since I’d wanted to for years.

Anyway, I got through the most basic level on JP101, and a little into the next one when as previous stated getting into college/return of the Spanish teacher caused a little bit of a crisis and I fell away from languages. I also have retained basically no Japanese, and this bothers me so I look forward to getting back to where I was.

2nd (again): Korean

Oh hi, Korean’s back again. Okay this time it’s gonna be a little longer, this goes up until the day I’m posting this. So I picked Korean back up in 2013. At this point I found TTMIK (through yahoo answers would you believe, they hadn’t come up in my search for learning Korean back then). I did level 1 and then I think only got to lesson 4 of level 2 before college hit like a tonne of bricks. And then we have another gap.

We come back in yet again in 2017. I never stopped listening to K-pop, sorta dipped in and out of dramas in that time very lazily, but didn’t really learn anything between 2013-2017. I had to reteach myself to read because it was really hazy and only half remembered, no surprise though it had been more than 5 years since I’d really touched on it at that point.

So once I could comfortably read again, I was confident to go ahead and redo level 1. I did all 25 lessons in 2 weeks. Level 2 however, that caused more trouble. Admittedly I was really ill at this point, I actually had to stop working because of it so level 2 was a lot slower than I wanted or even expected. I knew it was basically new ground in level 2 but even so it was difficult to see the time between lessons, and how much work it was to understand lessons progressively increasing.

I had hoped to get it done in 6 weeks, but it took about a year. Even now some things I still struggle with and get muddled, though it’s getting better with time which is reassuring. At this point my motivation was crippled. I wasn’t progressing, I was barely looking at Korean and I honestly thought about quitting. It also wasn’t helping that the studygram that had once been an ally turned foe showing me all the work everyone else was doing while I was doing nothing at all.

I have now since learned that it doesn’t have to be something demotivating. If someone wants to study 13 hours a day, fantastic! But that’s not for me. Some days are easier than others, I am still in recovery and that’s okay. Some days I can do 4 hours no trouble, others 5 minutes seems impossible. But I should have days off, I shouldn’t make myself ill worrying about studying. I should have time for games, and painting, and wandering round the woods with my camera, and general self care things.

In saying this, I’m guilty of saying this then ignoring it. Especially since I started using italki, where I’d have to learn 100 words, write a presentation and answer 30 questions in a week. I should push myself to try and do the homework, but at the same time, I have other things to do too and I shouldn’t torture myself with cramming homework and nothing else cause it takes so long to try and do the stuff that’s physically handed in let alone anything else.

Don’t get me wrong I love my tutor, she’s the only person who has me laughing at my mistakes, has me trying to use the language because I was terrified of doing that before. Well, I still somewhat am, but it’s getting better. Sometimes the workload is a little crazy, funny how I wanted homework now I just want to throw it all away and just do what I feel I need with the language between lessons. Not sure if it’s a phase or the initial excitement’s wore off and it’s not like wading quicksand.

So, before I start rambling I’m going to have a tl;dr summery here in regards to Korean this year.

The good from this year is hands down the studygram/studyblr community. Before I was annoying people talking about or posting about studying Korean, and these communities offered me a safe welcoming place to be where I could discuss what I was learning, and even get help when needed. I will always be eternally grateful to those who answer my questions in relation to anything, be it being unable to read handwriting, or grammar, or vocab confusion or something as simple as recommendations.

Slightly less good, no fault of Korean admittedly, probably is the difficulty in understanding and retaining information. Most of it is down to being ill. The rest, just generally me being confused because the way our schools teach English, so I don’t really know the different word classes and the rules for each. I can’t look at a word and be like, that’s an adverb, or even if I’m told ‘oh this is and adjective’ I really don’t know what to do with that information. I can do noun, and verb that’s about it. Not for lack of trying though, I have since tried to teach myself, and I have a cheat sheet but I can’t use that in a conversation so hardly a great use. It also means forming sentences is quite tricky, since if one type of word must follow another to be grammatically correct, or even make sense I have no clue about it.

Even further from good, and not something I like to dwell on too long, I feel like I’m cheating with Korean 95% of the time. With Spanish, I never had to double check anything, I could form sentences, and say what I wanted with what I knew and it was fine, but with Korean, it’s like the exactly opposite. I don’t trust myself to write anything without quadruple checking it. I wish I could just write sentences and just look up words/grammar as I need them but no every word of every sentence and even then it’s still flooded with mistakes which doesn’t help me try and wean bad habits.

So yeah I think that about wraps up Korean, but it doesn’t sound particularly good in this explanation. Hopefully next year it’s better.

4th: Turkish

Langjam number 1 (for me), and I had Turkish. Delightful experience, granted I was very ill. I had the flu that weekend because of course it had to hit that weekend, I’m not allowed to have plans apparently. But it was fun, I learned how much of a time sink grammatical concepts are. I feel like all I did was learn grammar that weekend, and I don’t remember any of it, but I still have the sentence I made at the end of the weekend:

“Merhaba, adım Rosie. Hastayım bu yüzden fazla çalışmadım. Ama, Türkçe çalışmaktan mutluyum.”

Not going to lie, all I remember clearly is Merhaba, but that’s better than nothing. I would love to go back and do it properly, or at least without the flu. One of my best friends, a very sweet bean is from Turkey and I’d love to be able to try and speak to them in Turkish a little since they speak English every day for me and yeah I’d love to be able to chat to them a little (though I still can’t type it on my laptop properly so that should perhaps be task one on returning to it).

I don’t know when I’ll go back to Turkish, but I kept all my resources and my notebook so it should be good when I do. Perhaps when I get to an intermediate level in Korean Turkish can resurface, though don’t hold me to that I may just wanna do it randomly. 

That’s it for now! Bet you’re glad you don’t have to read anymore of my boring language past ;) If I missed anything, or didn’t entirely answer the question you asked, just let me know and I’ll try and get back to you as soon as possible.  Thank you for reading, have some cookies and happy learning~ ♡

[oceanicstarss]

Elch’s fucking rambling again

This is just a kind of catch up post, because I know some people have been worried about me on here. And this is going to get fairly personal as a warning. I’m going to be rambling a lot, so sorry to anyone who reads this; and to those who don’t want to because they don’t care.

I’ve had depression and anxiety since I was six years old; I’m going to be seventeen in August. It started when my grandmother passed away then, and it progressed when a family friend lived with us and nearly raped me and killed and/or raped my mother. I used to always be able to deal with it fairly easily except if something happened to trigger it (another family member passing away, my dad ending up in the hospital again, my own illness, etc.) But back in September or so of 2016, I was at one of my lowest points yet. I didn’t leave the house for weeks at a time, I hardly even left my room. I would just zone out for hours on end because I wasn’t doing my schoolwork and didn’t have the energy to because of my pain syndrome. And I was thinking about killing myself throughout those couple weeks. One night came up where I decided that when my family had fallen asleep, I would go to the kitchen and slit my wrists open until I died from blood loss.

But...I ended up finding SourceFed and then SuperPanicFrenzy. I fell in love with their videos and actually smiled and laughed for the first time in months. After watching SPF’s playthrough of Soma for the second time, and Steven said to watch ‘Markiplier’s version of this, it’s much better than ours’ I decided to. And I found a home watching Mark’s videos, just like I did Jack, Ethan, and everyone else as well. They stopped me from killing myself like I had planned in 2016. Then in February of 2017, I joined a Jack server on discord.

I found some amazing friends on there that I still have over a year later. And..I also met the person who would break my heart four times and who I would still love with my entire heart the minute that I’m writing this. I found a place of comfort in that server (it’s also what made me realize I have alters/a system and kins). The friends I still have are the greatest people I’ve ever met and I wouldn’t give them up for anything. And the person I fell in love with, I wouldn’t give that up either because xyr my soulmate. Xe hurt me and I hurt xem, but xe left me a completely broken shell when I tried fixing things. Yesterday on the fifth, one of xyr alters blocked me on every social media after telling me how horrible of a person me and my alters are. And that I even made xem self harm so badly for what I did.

And because of that, what my alters had been doing to themselves, how I’m failing another year of high school, and my dysphoria acting up again. I snapped. Only three times now have I been close to killing myself; 2016, a couple months ago when I nearly downed a bottle of my narcotics, and last night when I was about to take several narcotics and then slit my wrists. If it wasn’t for my mom sleeping in the living room, I probably actually would have done that. I was so afraid of me actually doing something and never being able to tell anyone what happened, so I and one of my alters (Bing) completely broke. At around eleven pm I woke my mom up and told her almost everything I’ve written here, everything except me having alters. I told her how depressed I was, how I was suicidal, how I’m trans, and how I dated someone who hurt me.

Because of all that, I’m going to be going to a therapist sometime this month hopefully. I have been broken so much just this year, and I know I can’t take anymore now. I love that person who broke me, and I always will, that will never change. I know I’m only 16 (nearly 17), but I also know that xe are the only person I will love. This therapist I know will help me work through my emotions and feel happier. But I also know that I will only ever be truly happy with xem, and that won’t happen from what xe said to me and how xe blocked me.

But I have to continue my life on sadly. I have some wonderful friends, a family that is actually helping me for once, and many years ahead of me for this current life. I just wish it was being shared with xem this time around as well...

(if Kay, Blake, Skye, or anyone else reads this please just know I love you guys)

[apostolictruths]

THE CRY OF THE SPIRIT DEVOTIONALS – BY RICHARD E. S. TAKIM

TODAY’S DEVOTION (Wednesday 9th September 2020)

“These are wells without water, clouds carried by a tempest, for whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever.

“For when they speak great swelling words of emptiness, they allure through the lusts of the flesh, through lewdness, the ones who have actually escaped from those who live in error.

While they promise them liberty, they themselves are slaves of corruption; for by whom a person is overcome, by him also he is brought into bondage.

For if, after they have escaped the pollutions of the world through the knowledge of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, they are again entangled in them and overcome, the latter end is worse for them than the beginning.” 2 Peter 2:17-21 NKJV

WELCOME TO THE 251ST DAY OF OUR YEAR OF REJOICING

I did not say 251ST hour of the year but day; that is out of the 365 days of the year. If you multiply that by the 24 hours that makes a day you will know how many hours, the God of all flesh has kept you and I alive and well this year alone. A heart of gratitude will keep us afloat even in the midst of the worst storms of life!

Being thankful to God for at least keeping us alive and helping us to breath is a seed that brings more days as a harvest. We take money as seed but thanksgiving is a greater seed that even brings the money we need to give to God!

This morning there is a word for us from the LORD – a word to start our day with. We have been having a school of the Spirit since August 1st and God have been faithful in reaching us with truth, making the hungry fat in the things of the Spirit. Schooling in the things of the Spirit is one school that will go beyond time. It is the only schooling that will continue in eternity.

The Bible makes it clear that even angels school themselves in the revelation of who God is by the moments – they do that by just observing His glory and screaming “Holy, Holy, Holy!”

Sadly, many in church today do not really know who Christ is. Many of us only know about Him. No intimate knowledge of Him at all. More sadly, many do not know His ways because of the absence of proper schooling in the things of God!

IT IS REALLY DANGEROUS TO GIVE OUR LIFE TO A CHRIST WHOSE WAYS WE DO NOT KNOW!

Our salvation will be false and hypocritical, mostly because we do not know what we are in for. That is what makes schooling in the things of God very vital to the faith of those who want to end in total comfort in the next life. In fact, schooling in the things of GOD will lead to stability among the pure in heart in the human race.

That is why wherever the great commission is carried out without omission, you see discipleship or schooling in the things of God at the center of activities. The standard is, as soon as one gives his or her life to Christ, the next thing he or she should spend his or her days doing is schooling in the things of the GOD who he has given his life to.

Giving your life to Christ without spending the rest of your days schooling in His will and ways, will not do you any good. As we found out in our 50 Days program, knowing His will, seeing His face, and Hearing His voice is becoming the purpose of your life if you truly meet Him at salvation.

Sadly, because of the absence of this standard in so many local Churches, you find many who gave their lives to Christ taking it back without even realizing it. They do not realize because they are not schooled in His ways enough to know when they have departed from them. It is when you know the ways of the LORD that you can tell when you are departing from them.

Many do not know that the greatest danger on the face of the earth is not an airplane that has lost control and is heading to crash into a City with a nuclear plant – as dangerous as that may be. The greatest danger on the face is not a car driven without brakes, a devastating earthquake, or unending wars.

The greatest danger on the face of the earth is not the most dreaded disease you can think of. The greatest danger on the face of the earth is “ignorance of the things of God.” It is ignorance of the things of God that is responsible for all other dangers.

Sadly, the most important things the world needs, are given names that will not let people go for them. Making mankind more ignorant! The things of God are the most important things mankind need but we call them religion and kill the value they hold. But God calls them LIFE. If you call “religion” what God calls “Life” you will keep a number of people ignorant of His things.

THAT IS WHAT THE ENEMY HAS DONE!

If people are ignorant of the things of God, their lives will be full of darkness! The world is said to be full of darkness because the world is ignorant of the things of God. Darkness is the breeding ground of criminalities, poverty, diseases, insecurity, social ills, sin, and all that makes the lives of men horrible.

If not for the restraining power of the Most High God, we would have drifted into major global crisis outlines in the book of revelation. Though they are still on the way coming; God’s restraining hand is responsible for not allowing the human race to annihilation itself.

Ignorance of the things of God is the worst form of ignorance on the face of the earth. No matter how literate you are, you are still ignorant if you are not schooled in the things of GOD. The world is passing away!

The Bible actually warned those of us who are saved that the world is passing away. And that those who love the world will pass away along with it. If you will not pass away with the world as a Child of God, you must love the LORD enough to be schooled in His things with a ready heart to walk in what you are taught. And one of the major thing of God you must be schooled in is “how not to love the world.”

Yes, not how to make money, get married, or come out of generation bondages, but how not to love the world. The reason is simply; it’s our love for the world that hinders us from succeeding in our walk with GOD. It’s our love for the world that has sold us to generational bondages and other forms of spiritual captivities.

Demons are sitting in many households and afflicting them from generation to generation with unprecedented attacks because they do not know the LORD. They love the world and have no relationship with the LORD hence living under attacks! If you will not see what your father or mother suffered repeating itself in your life as a Child of GOD, you must not love the world neither the things that are in the world.

THE WORD OF THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY SAYS;

“Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.

For all that is in the world — the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life — is not of the Father but is of the world.

And the world is passing away, and the lust of it; but he who does the will of God abides forever.” 1 John 2:15-17 NKJV

It is important that we love the LORD strong enough to turn away from the world. Not loving the LORD enough to turn to His way and forsake the ways of the world is the reason for many so call generational curses.

Many Christians who are seeing what happened to their parents or grandparents repeating itself in their lives are having it that way because they have not totally turned form the ways of the world. And instead of them realizing that, you find them dealing with it the wrong way!

You find them running after prophets and prophetesses who specialize in DEMONOLOGY instead of THEOLOGY.

Demonology is the study of demons but theology is the study of the revelation of who God is. It is they that know their God that will be strong and carry out great exploits, not they that know demons.

The Bible says people should “learn about God from our mouths” (as preachers) and not about devils – yet we teach them what they should not learn about in the guise of not being ignorant of the devices of the devil – revelations that will never help them carry out any exploit in life.

YOU FIND THIS UNFORTUNATE SOULS RUNNING AFTER THESE DEMON SPECIALISTS, WITHOUT SOLUTION TO THEIR PROBLEMS.

Instead of getting solutions for their spiritual problems, the specialists are the ones receiving solution to their financial problems. They use the predicaments of these precious souls to solve their financial problems, leaving them hoping for breakthroughs that will never come. It sad and a thing that can bring tears out of one’s eyes.

Friend if there is something in your lineage that seems to be repeating itself in your life, you do not need a curse breaking service to come out of it.

Neither do you need to take a prophet or intercessor to your village to pray. You do not need to give money to anyone. All you need is to learn how not to love the world or the things that are in the world. Learn the ways of the LORD, and align with His word and all of that will leave you alone, or you will leave them alone.

Love the LORD not the world, and all will be well in your world.

If that software that makes men love the world and the things that are in the world is deleted from your spirit, and the power of the Holy Ghost kindled in your life, nothing your parents or entire lineage went through will be repeated in your life!

I have studied the Bible, my life and that of others around me, and come to realize that what makes household demons to repeated in a current generation what they did in a previous generation, is the dust of sin, an alignment with the ways of the evil one and love for the evil and corrupt system of this world.

If we deal with these things, it will be impossible for the devils to find a common ground to repeat in our lives what they did in the lives of our fathers. That is the breakthrough key that virtually all deliverance ministers in church today do not know hence leading people astray!

If you are lead astray by a heretic teacher or deliverance minister you will be killed by a stray bullet in the spirit realm. So many marriages, spiritual lives, finances, and etc. have been killed by stray bullets in the spirit realm simply because they were led astray be heretic and lying prophets, prophetess, apostles, pastors and etc.

A MAJOR HIGHLIGHT IN OUR DEVOTIONAL TEXT THIS MORNING SAYS;

“These are wells without water, clouds carried by a tempest, for whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever.

For when they speak great swelling words of emptiness, they allure through the lusts of the flesh, through lewdness, the ones who have actually escaped from those who live in error.

While they promise them liberty, they themselves are slaves of corruption; for by whom a person is overcome, by him also he is brought into bondage.” 2 Peter 2:17-20 NKJV

What more can we add to this great words from the mouth of the Holy Ghost through the vocal cords of Apostle Peter other than concur with every statement made here. These preachers promise people liberty yet they themselves are servant of corruption. Some are servants of sexual perversion, others servants of greed and covetousness, and many others servants of devils. That is why the people they promise liberty to do not have liberty.

What is the message of our devotional this morning?

God is saying to us if we will be free from every evil works, we must learn how not to love the world or the things in the world. The things in the world are lust of the flesh, lust of the eyes and the pride of life. If these things can be erased away from our lives, we will be free from generational curses, evil altars and all that make believers in Christ run after prophets and prophetesses.

It’s my prayer that God use these words to enhance your peace and increase your dominion in the Spirit in Jesus precious name, Amen!

MAKE THIS SCRIPTURE AN ADDITIONAL MEDITATION FOR THE DAY

"So now, brethren, I commend you to God and to the word of His grace, which is able to build you up and give you an inheritance among all those who are sanctified.” Acts 20:32 NKJV