#Spells to stop divorce in Alaska

[profwemakapo]

[mamagrace]

LOST LOVE SPELL CASTER  +27665024928 FAMOUS TRADITIONAL HEALER  in USA, UK, AMERICA, UAE, US, NEWYORK, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, London, United Kingdom, IRELAND,ITALY,KOSOVO,LATVIA , LIECHTENSTE, KUWAIT ,LITHUANIA,LUXEMBOURG TUSKEGEE, ALASKA, ANCHORAGE, CORDOVA, FAIRBANKS, HA IN KUWAIT ES, HOMER, JUNEAU, KETCHIKAN, KODIAK, Malaysia, Estonia, Croatia, Belgium, Austria, Germany , Australia, Sweden, New Zealand, Canada,  indonesia, Seychelles, Bahamas, Panama, Finland

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[midlifemusingsfromthemidwest]

Charlatans, Liars, and Frauds

Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction, and this is one of those times. I have long been an avid reader of the trashy British tabloid that masquerades as a newspaper, The Daily Mail. Every morning for years, I have enjoyed reading the DM as I drink my morning coffee. I read the stories and laugh at the acerbic comments, as the Brits do have a way with words. When Meghan Markle arrived upon the scene while dating Prince Harry, suddenly every story was about them. As an American, I was amused by their painting of her as a star and well-known actress, because no one, and I mean no one, outside her immediate family and friends, had ever heard of this chick. Not only that, no one I have ever talked to watched the show Suits, where she played a supporting role. Suddenly, Meghan Markle was everywhere, and quickly I came to the conclusion that she was a complete social climber who was dating poor dumb Harry to advance her desire for fame. In the comments of the Daily Mail, someone mentioned a Facebook group devoted to shared dislike for Meghan, and on a lark, I joined it. The group was known as Meghan Markle The Charlatan Duchess, often shortened to MMTCD. I'll be honest, the group was a lot of fun as women from all over the world dished and bitched about what a fraud Meghan Markle was. We laughed at her horrific wigs and her clothes that cost millions, yet were always ill-fitting. We chuckled over how dim Harry was, and we guessed how long it would be before the divorce proceedings were started. Some of the women believed more outlandish tales such as that Meghan was born a man, that she wore a moonbump and was never pregnant, and that Archie (I am still scratching my head over that choice of name…Archie????) was, in fact, a doll, and not a real boy. Maybe Meghan should have named him Pinocchio instead of Archie. All in all, it was good fun…not nice, yet good fun.

Now, the interesting part of the story is that the founder of the group was a woman who referred to herself as "Lady L”. Lady L claimed she was a high-ranking member of the British aristocracy with strong ties to the British Royal Family. She wrote in flowery prose about how she felt compelled to start a facebook group to help expose Meghan Markle as a fraud and charlatan. She was single-handedly going to save the British monarchy from the grubby clutches of the American interloper. Lady L claimed her grandmother had been a lady-in-waiting to the Queen, and that she had a huge ancestral home outside of Edinburgh. In fact, she often wrote that once Meghan and Harry divorced, she was going to host a huge party for the group in her ancestral pile in Scotland, oooh la la! Sadly, some women in the group actually started saving money for the trip so they would be able to afford to go. Seriously, shame on her for that. She wove the tale that she was a successful antique shoppe owner (notice the British spelling, which meant it had to be true), and that she came to the United States every year to buy antiques for her stores and shipped them back to the UK. Um, what? Why in the world would someone come from the UK, where antiques simply had to be older and more valuable, to the United States to buy antiques that were generally far less old and far less valuable. How odd, and the first red flag that made me think the Lady wasn't all she proclaimed herself to be.

After some time, Lady L introduced us to her cousin, Lilly Beth, whom she had recruited to help run the group, as Lady L simply couldn't keep up with it all by her little old blue-blooded self. Shortly after that, Lilly Beth became the self-appointed Queen of the group with every member hanging on her every post, all while competing for her attention. Lady L rarely posted in the group once Lilly Beth was brought on board to run the place. Occasionally when the group members became unruly, Lady L would pop in and shout at everyone to stop whatever they were doing to anger her, post a giant red angry emoji, and then "feck off" back from whence she had come. Lilly Beth claimed that her husband, fondly known as “Mister”, worked for the Crown and that she had "grown up with Wills and Harry." Hmmmm….ok then, it seemed somewhat implausible, but I was game to play along on the off chance it was true. Maybe she was just some rich bored British aristocrat hiding behind a laptop. I had been a member for just a few weeks when the group was rocked by a Daily Mail article that doxed or exposed, several anti-Meghan private citizens in a story that shared the pictures, names, and even twitter names of several women who happened to be members of the group. I still believe that Meghan Markle's people were behind the doxing, and it made me dislike her even more. The members of MMTCD panicked, and most of us then created fake facebook profile identities and rejoined the group under nom de plums. It might seem like an overreaction, but many of the women in the group whom I had become friends with were successful professionals. They didn't want to see their faces and names publicly shamed on the Daily Mail for having the audacity to dislike Meghan Markle. Not only that, but it was quickly become the modus operandi of Meghan and her band of flying monkeys, I mean supporters, to harass, defame, dox, and call every person who didn't like her a racist. Despite the influx of anonymous Facebook profiles, the group MMTCD flourished.

Over the next year, Lilly Beth became increasingly over the top, and she was an incessant braggart. She claimed that her husband, Mister, not only supposedly worked for the Crown, but that he also was a member of the House of Commons, owned a village, and that he had even surprised her with a mansion in upper New York where they would summer, amidst the ungodly heat and humidity. Who in their right mind would summer in New York where it is 100-plus degrees when one could be in much more temperate UK? Mmmhmm…sure. As time went on, Lilly Beth bragged more and more and more. She claimed she brought their entire household staff with them to the United States to the new mansion. She bragged that her daughter Violet was friends with Prince George and that there was a possibility she could even marry him someday. My goodness, was it possible that our humble Lilly Beth could someday be the mother-in-law to a future King? Would we all get invitations to the wedding? Should I start saving for a bespoke dress? She bragged that she was invited by the Queen herself to an upcoming ceremony—and that the queen had insisted that she attend. Well, goodness me, wasn't Lilly Beth becoming more and more important with every passing day? She would regale the breathless fans of hers in the group with tales of how Cook would whip up ten-course meals, and how she was ordering bespoke gowns. She tooted her own horn more than Meghan Markle, and that is no easy feat. Lilly Beth kept us up to date on her pregnancy and her newborn, "Master Jack" and even shared pictures of him and his sister little Violet with bright auburn hair and vivid green eyes, clearly photoshopped and poorly at that. The list of Lilly Beth's tall tales was vast. They included that she had met Kate several times, Mister was a RAF pilot, Cook make enough stew for their entire village of shut-ins, Mister waved rent for the entire village because of covid, she was a barrister, she was a buyer for an auction house, she was a violinist, she could sing beautifully, she was a muse for a famous artist, she got her ice cold milk straight from the village dairy (insert eye roll here), and on and on.

A monster was born. The more attention Lilly Beth got, the more she loved it, and the bigger the tales got. Not only that, but she also started getting sloppy. Her use of British words began to slip, her photoshopping skills were appalling, and her tales were becoming increasingly unbelievable. With each embellishment, I became even more convinced that Lilly Beth was a con artist who was no more a British aristocract than I was. During this time, Lilly Beth also set up a second group where she and other group members would verbally duke it out with Meghan Markle fans and then try to recruit members to come to their defense. It was like watching an episode of Jenny Jones show when it devolved into a fistfight amongst the guests. I got to the point where I posted less often, and I would go days or weeks without visiting the group. When I did, I would post and fly out of there. The entire group became like primary school kids trying to outdo each other to attract Lilly Beth's attention with their tricks. Watch this, Lilly Beth…No, watch me, Lilly Beth…Look at this Lilly Beth. A few times, I knew Lilly Beth was lying and full of "shite" as she would put it. Once, she said her husband, Mister, had been at a wine-tasting with Harry and that Harry had come in "knackered." I asked why Harry was tired, and she said, Nooooo, knackered means he was drunk. Hmmm…while I don't pretend to be British, I do have Brits as friends and have only heard of knackered meaning tired. As usual, when questioned, she slithered away and stayed gone for several days.

Finally, the beginning of the end happened one day when two former members who were booted from the group—something that happened on a weekly basis for one offense or another— blogged on tumbler some of Lilly's supposed "tea." Tea was the term the group used for inside information. The supposed inside information was a bit like the overly vague guesses of a carnival psychic. If the “tea” was specific, then it was usually a rewording of a DM or other tabloid story. Then, shortly after the Tumblr brouhaha, Lilly Beth posted that someone on twitter was saying she lived in Alaska and that Lady L lived in Arizona and how hilarious it was that someone was making such crazy accusations. She laughed maniacally about it…LOLOLOLOL!!!!! This was her trademark over the top response to anything even mildly humorous. Then, the balloon popped, the air escaped from the overstretched bladder in a split second with a whoosh. When members tried to access the site all that was there was a message that the group been archived. Like the carnies they were, the frauds scurried off into the shadows leaving behind hundreds of confused and incredulous former members. It turned out that Lady L and Lilly Beth were no more connected to the British Royal Family than am I. In fact, they were a mother and at least one of her daughters, posing as British aristocrats all the while living in the United States. For a year and a half, they had perpetrated a gigantic fraud on hundreds of unsuspecting, and some suspecting like myself, women from nearly every continent and country on the planet. Former members quickly found other groups to join to maintain the friendships formed within MMTCD. Everyone wondered, why would these women have gone to such lengths to fabricate such intricate and detailed lies? What was their end game? Were they setting the group up for financial fraud, were they data-mining for identity theft, were they just stroking their egos, or were they creating an alternative reality vastly more interesting than their mundane, sad lives? I doubt we will never know, but how very ironic that two complete charlatans and frauds created a group dedicated to uncovering another charlatan and fraud. Isn't it ironic, don't you think?

[winchesterprincessbride]

The Parent Trap-Part 5

Part 1         My Master List

Pairing: Sam X past reader, Sam X Ruby (currently)

A/N: Did you like the movie “The Parent Trap” as a kid? It is one of my favorite movies! I decided to write my own version, with a Supernatural twist, of course!

Summary: Mary Winchester and Annie Campbell meet at summer camp, and they quickly realize they look too much alike for it to be a coincidence.  They are twins! Their parents, Sam Winchester and Y/N Campbell divorced 12 years before, each taking custody of one girl.  Now Sam lives in California and Y/N in New York.  The girls hatch a plan to bring their parents back together, but will Sam’s new fiancee ruin their plans?

A/N/N: The girls' thoughts are in italics

Mary

New York City was like nothing Mary had ever seen before.  There were people everywhere, and the sounds and smells of the Big Apple were nothing like California. There was a frenetic vibe here that was completely different from anything on the West Coast.

“So Carlos has been asking me pretty much every day when you were coming home.” you told Mary conversationally.  “He’s been pretty mopey since you’ve been gone.”

Carlos.  He’s Annie’s friend that lives next door.  I got this!

“He just missed having someone to walk to the garage with him,” Mary said lightly, looking to you for your reaction.

You grinned at her.  “Well, someone has to make sure he doesn’t eat his Dad’s dinner on the way.  He is a growing boy.”

Conversation flowed easily as the two of you sat in the snarl of traffic out of the airport.  After what seemed like an eternity, the cab pulled up to a quaint, old building with dark marbled stairs worn smooth from years of feet, and tall narrow windows overlooking the street.  Many of those windows held boxes filled with flowers, and Mary was enchanted.  It was a scene right out of “West Side Story”, one of her favorite musicals.

She was struggling to drag Annie’s bag up from the curb when she felt a hand grab it.  Whirling around in surprise,  her eyes met those of a tall muscular boy and she froze for a second.

“ ‘bout time you’re back from wilderness prison!” He said with a smirk.  “So I guess you didn’t get eaten by a bear, huh?”

Inside, Mary was panicking.   Who is this? I think it’s Carlos., but I’m not 100% sure, so I’ll just play along until he clues me in.  He’s cute, like really, really cute.  I hope he IS Carlos.

“Yeah, you wish. I’ll try to get eaten by a bear next time,” she replied with Annie’s typical sass.  “So, anything exciting happen while I was gone?” she couldn’t seem to stop staring at him.

“Nah, same old same old.” The boy replied with a shrug,  still giving no clue to his identity.

As you headed up the front steps, you turned and spoke.  “ I know how much you like my beef stew, Carlos.  Why don’t you come over for dinner? I made it for Annie’s first dinner back.”

Carlos nodded.  “Sure Ms. C. I just gotta let my Ma know.”

He carried the bag to the top of the steps, and Mary grabbed for the handle, accidentally taking his hand in hers. His hand was huge with long callused fingers. She yelped and dropped his hand like it was on fire, hoping that you didn’t notice the awkward moment.

You gestured towards your daughter. “Are you coming, or would you rather fight Carlos for your bag?”

“What? No! I’m right behind you.” Mary insisted.

“See you later, Carlos. Say hi to your Mom for me!” you called over your shoulder.

You were already on your way down the hall.  Mary grabbed her bag and ran to catch up.  She turned to look back.  Carlos was still standing in the doorway staring after her, a confused look on his face.

The text message alert beeped on her phone, and Mary pulled it out of her pocket and scanned it quickly.

Dad has been “seeing someone”. She is coming to dinner tonight. Call to discuss. 11PM your time.

“Oh no!” Mary whispered.  This could ruin everything!  She quickly sent back a reply.

OK. Talk tonight. We need a plan.

Annie

The car headed up the long driveway and stopped in front of a sprawling split-level house.  A large black and white dog came bounding out the door jumping around excitedly and barking.  “Juliet, calm down you maniac!” A pretty blond woman said as she emerged from the house.

“Mary! Thank goodness you’re back! Finally another woman around here besides Juliet! I’ve missed you, Kid. Oh my god! Let me see your hair!” She took Annie’s hands, and Annie did an obligatory spin for her before she was pulled in for a hug.

“Hi, Donna! I missed you too!” Annie said as she hugged the housekeeper warmly.  Mary had shared how close she was to Donna, and Annie could already tell she was going to like her.

“I LOVE it!” Donna pronounced. “So chic! Who cut it?” She asked as she fingered it.

“One of my bunk-mates,” Annie said offhandedly, not mentioning any names.

“Juliet sure missed you! She pouted in your room the whole time you were gone.  Jules! Mary is home!” Donna called to the dog who was chasing something across the yard.

I am Mary. I am Mary. I am Mary.

“Hey, Juliet! Come here, baby!” Annie called, and the dog came running.  Before Juliet reached her, she stopped in front of her and looked at Annie warily.

“Jules, it’s Mary! What is wrong with you?” Sam asked as he joined them.

Oh, crap! The dog knows I’m not Mary!

Annie ran to Juliet, fell to her knees, and hugged her. “I missed you so much! Do I smell like the woods?” She kissed Juliet’s head, and the dog licked her face once and trotted off.  There was an awkward silence.

“That was weird.” Uncle Dean finally said after a moment.  “Got anything to eat, Donna? I’m starving!”

“What else is new?” Donna grumbled. “I can make some sandwiches.” Come help me, Mary. I want to hear all about camp!” Donna held out her hand, and Annie grabbed it and headed toward the house.

“We’ll be up as soon as we get the bags from the car,” Sam told Donna and he and Dean headed back toward Dean’s car.

“So Dad’s been seeing someone? What’s up with that? Who is she?” Annie asked, looking behind her to see if Sam and Dean were coming.

“Don’t even get me started on her,” Donna said with a toss of her shoulder as she opened the refrigerator and grabbed sandwich fixings and put them on the counter.

“Come on Donna….spill it!” Annie whispered eagerly.

Donna sighed, seemingly wrestling with herself.  “Okay, fine. He met her at some charity thing.  Her name is Ruby.  She is pretty, yeah, but she is so not his type! I know a gold digger when I see one. But your Dad’s been so lonely and he looks at her like she hung the moon.”

“Shhhh...Here they come!” Annie hissed.

“I hate airport food!” Dean exclaimed as he entered the kitchen, and Annie and Donna quickly separated.  Annie tried not to look guilty.

“Well don’t eat too much, because I’m making a special dinner tonight.“  Donna reminded him, not looking happy about it.

Annie turned to Sam as he entered behind Dean.  “So Dad? Who’s coming to dinner tonight?”

“And I’m outta here!” Dean said quickly, grabbing his plate and bolting from the kitchen.

“Coward!” Donna called after him.  “I’m gonna give you two some privacy, I think.” She said as she gave Sam a telling look.  “We’ll catch up later, okay, Mary?”

Annie nodded as she waited for her father to speak.  He took a deep breath.  “Mary, honey, you have been my whole world for as long as I can remember.  But as fun, as that’s been, I’ve missed being with someone.”  

I’ll try playing dumb, see where that gets me. Annie thought.

“But Daddy, you have lots of friends! And you always have Uncle Dean.” Annie said earnestly.

Sam frowned slightly.  “I know, Mary. That’s not what I mean. I miss being with someone, romantically.”

Annie smiled sweetly.  “But you were involved with someone romantically.  My mother.  But you never talk about her, do you?”

“Now Mary….” Sam began.

Annie stood up abruptly. “I’m gone two weeks, and you suddenly have a girlfriend?  What’s next, we’re moving to Alaska? I can’t believe this, are you TRYING to ruin my life, Dad?” Throwing her plate in the sink, she started to yell to throw Sam off his game.  “I bet you planned this whole camp thing to get me out of the way so you could shack up with your GIRLFRIEND while I was out of the way, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?”

Sam looked utterly gobsmacked. He had no idea what was happening.  One minute they were having a normal conversation, and now Mary was screaming.  What the hell was going on?

The next thing he knew, he was in the kitchen by himself, and he could hear Mary stomping up the stairs to her room. “I HATE YOU!” He heard her yelling.

Dean returned now that the coast was clear.  “She seems thrilled about Ruby.” He deadpanned to his brother.

“I haven’t even told her yet,” Sam said quietly.

“What now?” Dean asked. “Then what was all the screaming about?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t.  One minute I’m telling her I miss being with someone, then she brings up Y/N, then she’s screaming and stomping away.” Sam looked worried.

Dean sat down across from Sam, looking thoughtful for a moment.  “She brought up Y/N?  What did she say exactly?”

“Something about how I never talk about her, and then she accused me of sending her to camp to get her out of the way so I could “shack up” with Ruby. She’s never yelled at me like that before.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.  “She sounded just like her.”

“Like who?” Dean asked, confused.

“Like Y/N,” Sam said sadly, memories washing over him.

“Better get used to it, man. She’s a teenager.  Are you sure this dinner tonight is a good idea?” Dean questioned. “Maybe give her a day or two to simmer down.”

Sam shook his head. “I promised Ruby.  We want to tell her tonight.”

Dean looked shocked. “Her first night home? Are you sure? Especially after this?  She’s your daughter Sam, but if I were you, I would tell Ruby to slow down a little. If she wants you, Mary is part of the package too.”

“I hear what you're saying, but I want Mary to meet the woman I love, the sooner the better. She and Ruby will get along great, I know it.” Sam said stubbornly. Ruby had him under her spell, and Dean saw it, even if Sam couldn’t.

“It’s your funeral, dude,” Dean said finally. “ Maybe you should take Ruby and Mary out tonight? Someplace that’s neutral territory?  Then they will both be on their best behavior, and me and Donna don’t have to be there.”

Part 6

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[decorous-biohazart]

Trigger warnings to all who read or watch this. Just like the video says, the thematic nature of it’s content as well as my entry cover very sensitive topics. 

I saw this tonight, and the words of it along with the recent implications of situations as well as encouragement from those I confide in I wanted to share this. 

But moreso, I want to speak. 

Normally I’d say ‘you don’t have to read this’ or ‘it’s just a vent musing ignore it haha’ but not this time. 

Not talking, keeping things to yourself, and having apathy for your situation will only make it worse and lead you to doing things that hurt others just as bad as yourself. 

My story, my experience, is what pushed me to start art and speak out about abuse. But recently I’ve started to waver, lose my push forward to chase that dream and instead wallow in thoughts and memories. 

They need out, and I’m going to let them out. 

So I ask, as selfish as it sounds, please read. Just this once.

If you did read all of this, I thank you for listening and I hope it helped you just as much as me. If not, I encourage you to at least watch this video if you have battled with any kind of abuse.

Because of this video and what has come from it, I had the courage to send a message to my former youth pastor to speak with him and his wife to tell them the truth about what they didn’t know about my father. Not out of a vendetta, but as a Deacon in their church he deserves to know who he is. 

But above that, I need closure, and I won’t be denied any longer.

You are not alone in this. We are not alone in this.

Speak up. Be heard. Let them keep you silent no longer.

I stumbled across this video tonight, and at first I didn’t open it. 

The title was so stunning, what felt like a missile directed right at me that would sink me deeper in to the fog I was already in and I almost didn’t click it. 

But I did, and I don’t regret it. Instead, I wanna tell my story. 

It’s what I have wanted to do since I set out to become an artist. To make my story worth something. To share the characters, thematic worlds and designs I’ve created that served so long as my sanctuary from what was real. My way of expressing what I was going through and what was in my head. 

I remember, ever since a young age, for some reason I was always afraid of my father. Now, to some extent all children are. They fear getting in trouble, upsetting their father for things they did. I got that, so I thought it was normal to feel how I did. 

The nights I spent crying in terror, the days stuck in the car where he pushed me to my limits with threats for losing one point on a spelling test for talking. 

I thought it was normal. So I took it. 

Then I got older, and I started to see things different. For what they were. When he divorced our mother things stayed relatively like that. I had my suspicions, but never capitalized. 

Then our first step-mother came along. Now, she wasn’t the nicest, and it was such an unfamiliar concept to us. In a lot of cases she was much more assertive, much more controlling and somehow our father became our haven from her. 

That it was her fault for what we were feeling, and we had to rebel against her. Eventually, we drove her off. But still it continued. 

The yelling, the runarounds in conversations that left us no ground to speak for ourselves other than to say ‘yes sir’ and admit to whatever he wanted us to. 

During the time with our first step-mother he started pushing us into church. I remember the day he asked if we ‘wanted to go to church’ like we had some kind of choice.  That was when he was ABSORBED, absolutely overtaken by his ‘faith’ that I didn’t see until years later was a ploy to give him divine affirmation to do the sick things he did to us. 

The way he made his word law, and questioning it was heresy against God. To go to church time after time and even be court ordered at our mother’s home to be taken there. Where we would cry and beg not to be taken to church but she had to by juristic requirement. 

Then the real agony started in middle school. When I started to wake up to what was happening to me. 

When I started taking drastic measures just to get anyone to notice what was happening to me. 

Not bathing, showing up to school in dirty clothes, letting my grades slip, starving myself. ANYTHING to get someone to ask what was wrong. 

But instead, it reflected on our mother and not our father. It almost got my brother and I taken away so many times and I had to stop. To pull it together. 

Although, even when I tried in school, it wasn’t enough. Second grade I was testing at a college level. He’d say we were ‘destined for greatness’. 

So when life started to catch up and wear us down, when the work got harder and we had real life things to get in our way it was unacceptable when we could not succeed. 

When we had horrid acne that ruined our esteem he would berate us for how awful our faces looked and send us away so he did not have to look at us. 

Then he put us on Acutane to clear it up. Those days were some of the most physically agonizing I had to experience. 

For those who do not know what Acutane is: it is an acne medication that works to extreme measures for chronic acne. It fills the blemishes with the medicine to clean them out before it would start clearing up. 

This not only made the acne worse by making it swell to painful levels, but also would make the user break out in bulbous yellow heads and dry out the skin and lips to severe degrees. 

It was torture, but the verbal berating we got when we stopped taking the medication consistently was worse. 

One day I was stood in the garage, just so overwhelmed while we were doing yard work by the utter weight of my father. So much so, that I found myself holding a pair of hedge clippers to my neck. 

I almost did it. I almost quit. Left this world at such a young age. 

But I didn’t. And I put them back. It wasn’t the last time I thought about it, but it was the last time I tried. 

Then came high school and I chose to get baptized. I wanted to pursue my own path of faith and try to find my own place within it rather than conform to his view of it. 

At least that’s what I told myself, but in hindsight I believe I did it to please him. 

So when word got back we messed up once at our mother’s house and he went into another hours long lecture it was worse for me because I was baptized. 

That being submerged in that tank made me not allowed to make mistakes anymore, then he swatted a phone across the room. One of his many times he sent objects flying in a rage. There was a knick in the kitchen counter at our old home where we lived with our mother where he threw the island counter top at her. 

Our second step mother, who he is still with, obediently picked up the pieces as he went on. 

Then, it happened one day. The first time, I had an anxiety attack. 

I was pale, shaking and couldn’t breathe. I had to leave class, go to the counselor’s office to help me get my grip back. I had to go home that day because being outside struck a fear into me like none I had ever known. 

But when I forewent the church trip that weekend I was looking forward to, as an escape for the weekend rather than going to his house for those few days, he crossed an nonredeemable line. 

He started by parking across the lawn from our mother’s house instead of pulling in the driveway like he always did. 

When I got in the car, he was playing a Weird Al Yankovich song because ‘it always cracked him up’. 

I had the hope, just for a second, he understood. That it was gonna be okay, and he was gonna listen.

But when I said on the sidewalk outside his house that I was glad the week was over I was proven so horribly wrong. 

He said, and I quote, ‘don’t talk about what happened this week until we’re in front of a therapist otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety. Understand?’ 

Of course I said ‘yes sir’. 

‘Good man!’ 

That was his response, in such an unfitting spirited voice before he went about going to the neighbor with me to feed their dog while they were out of town. 

I snapped that day, seething in fear and anger but all I could do was sulk on the couch. 

Then he sent me upstairs because he didn’t want to see me do that. But that wasn’t enough, he came up there and DEMANDED that I pray and apologize for my actions. 

I had to APOLOGIZE for what HE DID to me. And I did, like the obedient child he molded me to be. He started praying too and touched my foot, and every time I think about it I want to break his nose. 

One day we confided with our step-mother about the many incidents she didn’t know about before her time there. 

The threats, the shows of power, even threatening our last step-mother with a gun. 

The current one told us about a time she had to pull a knife on him when he pushed her against the counter and tried to get her to break down crying. 

But she never said anything about it to the church, just like we didn’t, because she knew no one would believe it. 

Time after time, more and more incidents until finally college came. 

Summer before, we’re going on a cruise to Alaska to celebrate our graduation. 

And on that trip there was an insignia on the cards that we were given (because we registered before we were 18) that allowed us to participate in activities with attendees 12-17. 

Now I had no intention to attend these, rather they were an alibi to avoid him. 

But he said it would probably be better not to for the image it’d give. And you know, for the first time we agreed on something. At least I said I agreed and meant it for once. 

But when our step mother asked us to dance on the deck of the ship and I refused due to my raging social anxiety (guess where that came from) he instead saw it as protest for now going to those events because we wanted to touch the kids. 

That’s right. He believed, because we did not want to dance that we were pedophiles. 

Now, he is a cop. And just like his job at the church he uses it as affirmation to do the things he does. 

So he said time and time again during that lecture, nay, that interrogation that he was speaking to us as an officer and not a father. That this was his worst nightmare. 

Now if this were true, he would have sent us back to the US on a plane to be processed like he said he would. 

Instead eventually he just left the room, leaving us behind to simmer with that classic, obnoxious edgy arrogant thing you see badly written characters (or people with huge egos) do where he gave one last quip over his shoulder before leaving. 

Then, it was like it never happened. 

Now, how could it be him talking as an officer if he did not take his job serious enough to process us? 

Nah, he got his rocks off doing that. It’s how he always did, but this time was one of the most extreme and that was easily why he was in such a good mood the rest of the trip. 

Our first summer was approaching out of college, and he wanted word back from our summer job at the local pizza place about getting our job back for the break. 

Now I knew early on I wasn’t cut out for that place, and the day I was going to quit he demanded that we request 20 hours a week from them. 

Because of that, I believe was why they shined us on and didn’t tell us they were going to fire us. 

But of course, it had to be our fault and that we were not trying. 

So finally, we put our foot down. We had to gather in my work at the Conduct office with my bosses, my brother’s boss, and an Auraria Campus police officer to tape the call while we had it JUST to tell our father we needed space. 

We asked for space and said we needed to cut contact. We didn’t tell him how the night before when we ignored his calls we hid in a friend’s room two floors above ours at our dorm until our mother picked us up to hide out at her apartment. 

His response: I am cutting your phone plans and medical care. Don’t give me this bullshit (his response to when I said I didn’t want this to be permanent and that this would hopefully make things better between us) you want to go live entitled with your mother. I will let you be homeless in a box before I enable you (one of his favorite lines). 

I’ll see you when you crash and burn. 

It’s been two and a half years, those were the last verbal words he said to me. 

Last year, I started antidepressants in part of my desire to pursue art. To get better. But they didn’t work, none of them did. So I finally saw a psychiatrist by the behest of my physician. 

He, along with the other I went to for a second opinion, both asked me extensive questions and told me a diagnosis I never thought I would hear. 

‘You have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder’. 

PTSD. 

I had PTSD. 

What was I going to do with that information? 

How could, even after all that time and thought about how bad it was, did I not believe he really did that much damage to me? 

It made me realize just how in my head he was. 

Then my brother went back to him. Tried to patch things up, and it actually looked like things were going well. 

He made it clear he would not be putting up with his crap any longer. That things were to be different. 

He told him about my diagnosis, and about a suicide attempt my brother had made the semester before in result of what happened. 

Never an apology. Never. 

Instead he said ‘no matter how much you hurt us, we will always still love you’. 

He had ALL  the facts and instead still twisted it to make us the perpetrators. 

That was it. That was enough. 

But still I suffered, battling this mental disorder and the ghosts of my past. 

Then I saw this video, and just like with the medication I felt free to speak publicly. 

I started medication because an artist by the handle RinTheYordle started talking in her stream once about doing what it takes to get better at your craft. Studying, school, tutorials, medication. 

I felt like that was the green light to start what I had always been told was fake, that I was faking and didn’t need it. I was told yes from someone who I held at a higher opinion than the one who said no. 

Just like with this video, I saw it good to finally speak publicly. That it could change a life. Even just one. Even just mine. 

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@officer--dimples

First thing first. Making a new post because of how insanely long the other one is. I apologize for not replying sooner. I will attempt to be civil with you here because you obviously put a lot of work writing this.I also won’t reply to every single topic but I will try to cover what the main points are.

First we must define Assault Rifle. An Assault rifle is capable of automatic fire, uses detachable magazines, uses an intermediate cartridge, and is used in the act of assault. Assault is a verb. A comb can be an assault comb if you attack someone with it. Intermediate cartridges are rather low powered. The rounds themselves are pretty bad at killing Human sized animals because of this. The M16 when first used in the Vietnam was hated by soldiers because it would poke holes in the enemy while the M14(which used a much stronger, heavier bullet) would kill a man in 1 or 2 shots(more on this later). Automatic weapons are extremely regulated in America. More regulated than all guns in Australia and Britain and most countries you are likely to see cited for their gun crime rates. Unpaid parking tickets, unpaid child support, a pending trial, a divorce, and even being put on trial and found innocent are all possible ways to be kept from owning an Automatic weapon. Many things can result in your weapon being taken away. You must always have the physical license from the ATF with the gun at all times. You can’t have it in the car in the parking lot when you are at the gun range. The ATF can inspect your house and take it away for no reason. You must have an approved gun dealer in your will who will take possession and usually destroy the gun when you die. You must destroy the gun under certain circumstances. An AR 15 is not an assault rifle. An M4 or M16 used in combat is.

Let me explain why the AR 15 is one of the best guns for self defense.

This is 5.45 bullet that has been cut in half. It’s not the bullet commonly used in AR 15s but it operates in the same manner. It has a hollow cavity in the tip. The basic function is that this bullet travels very quickly and the tip breaks as soon as it makes contact with anything. Whether it be a wall, an animal, a human, or a tree branch that tip caves in when it makes contact and the bullets flips like a kicked American football. This decreases the energy of the projectile by a lot. This means that a 5.56 or 5.45 are the best rounds to use in neighborhoods, apartment buildings, or in homes with children around. This bullet will hit drywall and be less deadly. A 9mm pistol bullet can go through an entire house. a .30-30 bullet commonly used to hunt deer can go through multiple apartments. You could hit a home intruder and a shotgun slug can go through him and into the neighbors house.

On the topic of hunting. AR 15s chambered in .300 Blackout are the premier way to dispatch our wild boar invasion in farm lands. Pigs can destroy millions of dollars in property, crops, and livestock damage. They are an enormous problem. AR15s are needed because they are light, quick, and not too bulky so a farmer can have one in his truck and use it as soon as he sees boars. AR15s in 5.56 are great for hunting other animals like skunks, raccoons, wolves, coyotes, and rabbits to name a few.

Moving on to the topic of fear. Fear is an emotion and is therefore relative. Right now I am feeling cold. If someone in a colder area like Alaska or Norway is standing in front of a warm fire place covered in thick blankets while a blizzard rages outside does it mean it is warmer in Alaska than in Texas? Of course not, it just means I need to put some socks on. You feel safe, good for you. I do too, good for me. I am not living in fear, I am hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. I have canned goods because I once went with limited food for weeks during and after a hurricane. I drive a car with lots of safety features because I know people who died in car crashes. I brush my teeth because I know people in their 30s with dentures. I have a gun because my people were unarmed when they were murdered by their government. It’s one of the reasons my family came to this country and it’s one of the reasons those problems did not.

Regulations are great. I used the regulation that says food products need to be labeled with expiration dates today. I would have had some bad milk and been sick for hours without that. I don’t mind a government, but I do mind a lot of government. The police do not prevent crime, they arrest criminals after they have committed crimes. Look up what the average length of time it takes for police to arrive on scene in your area. The answer, no matter, what is too long. In the time it takes you for to pull out your phone, dial, the operator to respond, and the police to drive is less than it takes for a human to be beaten, kidnapped, murdered. 5 minutes may be ok if you call them because someone was spray painting a wall, but that is not ok if your friend is bleeding out. Literally in this recent case that no doubt inspired OPs post, an armed policeman stood outside of the school mere feet from the shooter and did nothing as people died. Your government does not care about you and they do not protect you. They try, but they fail too.

“Please educate me, if I get this wrong: you want to defend yourself with a gun. Why is that? Because you fear that one could attack you with the gun they are allowed to carry, right? You want a gun bc others have a gun”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUk3HEqjf8c

This is Dutch MMA fighter Alistair Overeem. He is 6′3 and in his prime was 3% body fat and weighed 280 pounds. He is famous for his ability to get knocked out in devastating fashion. He’s a good fighter despite this, but hitting him in the right spot just puts him to sleep. Him and his brother(a less skilled, less fit mma fighter who has more knockout losses than some UFC champs have fights) once beat the living shit out 5 security guards armed with clubs. The five guards needed emergency care, Allistair hurt his hand because he punched a guy in the face and cut himself with his victims teeth. In a different incident he pushed a lady and with one hand sent her flying and she was injured after hitting some poles. Would you fight this man? I know it’s a extreme, he’s bigger and more well trained than 99.99% of the world but a guy even half as big and half as skilled and with twice the ability to make a punch would you say with confidence you could fight him off? Let’s think of someone else. Do you have an elderly person in your life or a very young person? A 5 year old nephew, a 70 year old grandparent? Not to mention any disabled people in your life. Maybe even people who are currently sick with the common cold or have a stubbed toe or pregnant or dealing with period cramps right now. Do you think you could beat Allistair Overeem in a 1 to 1 fight? Do you think every single person you care about could beat him at any given moment? If a man that big and even a fraction as skilled came into your home would you be ok? Would the police respond in time? The answer is no because even if you managed to call the police before he was face to face with you he has choked people until they fainted or knocked them out in less than a minute despite them being his size, strength, nearly his level of skill, and fully prepared to fight him. On the opposite end of the spectrum, do you think you, barring any personal thoughts and restraints could stop him if he attacked you and you had a weapon whether it be a gun or a taser or pepper spray? Which would you pick? Should training martial arts, taking steroids, and lifting weights become illegal?

“Let me tell you a secret: if the other isn’t allowed to own a gun, you don’t need a gun” Allowed is the keyword. Allowed is very different than has or owns or uses. In America we are a free people. My government doesn’t allow me to do things. We allow the government to do things. We allow the government to tax us, we allow the government to operate, and we allow the government to arrest and punish people who do certain actions. You have defined what freedom means to you. That is not freedom but you are free to think that way and to desire your life be that way.

On the topic of race and countries of origin and all that let me just go on a little tangent here. My Dad’s side is white, Norwegian mostly but I have a great grandma who’s ancestors were in the original US Navy under the great John Paul Jones. The cannons on said ship were privately owned as were all the small arms. They even had a gun that shot multiple bullets in a row. It wasn’t as advanced as an M60 machine gun but it was considerably faster than a musket. These people knew inventions were coming that would do things more effectively. Whether it be better ships, better guns, or better way of communication. You believe the change of technology should effect the right to bear arms. Do you believe the government should restrict speech? Do you believe people should be incarcerate for speech? If so, what kind of speech? Do you think it would be ok if in 20 years you holding that opinion became illegal and that put you in jail?

Finally let’s talk about guns and swimming pools and cars. Swimming is a recreational activity, exercise, sport, and therapy. Cars are transportation, sport, and hobbies. Guns are also used in sports, hobbies, exercise, recreational activities, and therapy. Earlier this month a friend told me a child in her neighborhood(a three year old) fell into a swimming pool and drowned. Last year a guy in a truck ran over and killed a lot of people in London. Last week a guy with a gun killed a lot of students at a school and at that same event a policeman with a gun stood outside without confronting him. Should we attach floaties to every child? Should we outlaw trucks? Should we outlaw guns? Sorry for any spelling errors.

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Wish That You Were Here

| NOTES: Anything canon after season two of Scream is not included. This is time line and canon divergent. There are MANY mentions and allusions to other pieces of literature and horror films so if you get even a few of them congrats. If It’s reblogged enough, I could make a part two.Be aware there will be spelling and grammar errors. |

SUMMARY: Inspired by Florence + the Machine’s Wish That You Were Here. Audrey comes home to Lakewood after a fourteen year period serving Special Forces. There she has to resolve the demons she thought she buried years ago in her violent military history and realizes her definition of home could be blonde hair and brown eyes. (braudrey. one shot? no rating. warnings for graphic/triggering etc content. if reception is well, there might be a part two or more.)

PLEASE REBLOG, DO NOT REPOST. THIS IS AN ORIGINAL WORK.

Audrey turned the key over in her fingers. She felt the weight of her dog tags slide towards her on the chain. “Here’s your coffee ma'am.” The woman blinked and remembered where she was.

“Uhm, t-thanks. Sorry.” Putting the chain down, she stared at the cup in silence. The diner’s red neon sign washed in through the dirty window casting Audrey a pale pink.She glanced at her green beret sitting on top of a pile of unopened letters. She had never written back, but the letters had never stopped coming even if they had slowed in volume. Nearly every single one was from Brooke.

She let her icy eyes fall on the Christmas card sitting on table as she touched the old house key sitting among the dog tags around her neck. Opening the card one more time, she read Brooke’s near immaculate hand writing.

[WISH THAT YOU WERE HERE.]

Audrey took in a deep breath as she closed it. It had been very easily at least a decade since she had set foot in Lakewood. She hardly ever breathed her home town’s name out loud in fear of it catching up to her.

(“Audrey?” Sheriff Acosta’s voice sounded tight over the telephone. “Did I get a ticket again?” she half joked as she wiped the candy counter down. “I’m sorry for this news.” The teenager stopped a moment as she stared at a scratch on the bright red counter top. Audrey scratched at an itch in her throat that never seemed to go away. “Your dad was hit by a drunk driver off highway 45.” Audrey tried to swallow the itch down. It became a tickle that would turn into a hiccup of a sob.)

She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the tears that still burned as if she had heard the news only yesterday. Joining the special forces had never been part of her own agenda. Hell, her agenda had been to get back into film making and not letting anything ruin that for her again. The idea had been a footnote given to her by her Dad. She recalled him laughingly mentioning it while they were making pancakes one morning.

(His eyes were starting to regain a little bit of their light. Her mother had passed only four years before. Audrey was in eighth grade and Emma sat across the table. They were playing footsie and laughing while stuffing their gross pimply faces with pancakes. She could barely hear him talking on the phone with Uncle Mike. He was laughing about her newborn baby cousin, Thomasin. “Our girls are tough, I’m sure Audrey or Thomasin is gonna carry on the Jensen military legacy.” )

At the time Audrey would huff and roll her eyes. She hadn’t gone home since the funeral. She had thought about chucking the house key in Wren lake, but she didn’t have the guts. Her rough fingers hesitantly reached for the pile. She was almost afraid of what they would say. Tearing open the second most recent letter. A few pictures fell out, they were of Emma and a tiny little baby. Turning them open carefully, she read the notes on the back.

[Emma & Eisley].

She picked up the letter for answers.

[Hey its me again. Just keeping you updated on stuff. Emma had her first baby. Her name is Eisley and she’s the cutest. Her eyes look a lot like yours. She’s so lucky to have colored eyes since her dad has brown eyes. Emma was scared she was gonna look more like her dad, but she's a good 50/50. Love ya, hope to hear/see you soon]

It took Audrey hours to sort through the letters backwards. Emma had met some guy in med school. Noah was a big time crime writer -- Brooke was kind enough to include his debut Vanity Fair article about the Texas Debutante killer. She had to laugh about the irony about it all. She touched these items as she read to make their lives more real to her again. Stavo and Brooke had divorced amicably and according to Blondie he was doing pretty well with his foot in the animation department. He was working with Konami for a new generation of horror gaming.

They had done so much in her time away. She touched her split lip which was a reminder of what she had accomplished in her own time away from them. Audrey had polished her steel and sharpened her edges. She had channeled her grief and anger into power and bloodshed. Picking up the letters, she filed them into her duffle bag’s side pocket. Putting a dollar bill under her untouched coffee cup, she slowly moved out of the diner’s booth. Her wary eyes flicked around carefully to take in the people around her.

In her nearly twelve hour seating, the diner had acquired a new set of hard asses. Most of them were from the near by base and Audrey made her way to the restroom with her green beret in hand. The bathroom resembled one she would find at a shitty seven eleven.

Dropping her bag on the floor she took a look at herself in the mirror. She had retained some of her baby face, something she was thankful for. Her blue eyes had gotten paler with age. Maybe it had something to do with extended periods of staring into flood lights. There was a shadow of a black eye around her left eye. Her jaw clicked when her mouth parted to observe the split in her lip.

Shrugging out of her uniform carefully, Audrey noted had more freckles on her bare shoulders probably from sun exposure. She passed a finger over old bullet wounds on her right arm. Some scars were uglier than others. The brunette pulled her white tank top over her head quickly to pull on a loose fitting charcoal colored tee. Her shoulder still ached from tearing her rotary cuff.

Shucking her uniform pants off, she pulled the metal belt from it to lace it through her black jeans and sighed at the new space. Her clothing was cold and at least a few years old. Her jeans were worn at the knees and if she had been a few years younger she would have thought it stylish. She put her arms into her trusty leather jacket before carefully pulling her long brunette hair over it’s collar. She made a note to cut it when she got the chance.

The dog tags clinked as she finished dressing and she put her uniform back into her duffle bag in a neatly folded and now empty corner. She lugged the green bag over her shoulder as she pushed her way out of the restroom.

“Bye ma’am! Happy holidays!”

Audrey cast a glance at the waitress and for a moment she didn’t know what to say as she went out the door, “--T-thanks.”. The cold air hit her and her breath fanned out into the air in cool white clouds. Making her way to her beaten red jeep she threw the duffle into the back seat. The vehicle wasn’t warm, but she had spent time in places colder than hell in less clothes. Tying her hair back, she turned on the GPS to set it.

CURRENT LOCATION - BARROW, ALASKA

SET DESTINATION - LAKEWOOD, LOUISIANA

She gave a white puff as she plugged the key in the ignition and sparked up a cigarette.It was a bad habit she had picked up when she was alone. She let the jeep’s engine warm up before cranking up the heat. The windows fogged and she looked at the gold watch on her right wrist to hide a scar. It was her mother’s, a gift from her dad before she had passed from cancer. The piece was delicately detailed and it reminded her that her parents were finally together somewhere.

Looking at the watch made her feel as if a hundred years had passed since she was eighteen. Covering it up with the leather jacket, she wiped away a spot on the passenger’s window to see the mirror. Her limbs were starting to feel heavy. Rolling her head back against the jeep’s headrest, she debated if she was really going to go home on such a shit impulse.

“Fuck it.”

Audrey glanced at the rear view mirror as she pulled out of the parking lot and made her way down to the first high way. For the next five days, she spent her time seeing things she had missed and stopping at scenic routes to take short videos and quick pictures before coming across a beauty salon.

She put down her camera. She was only about thirty minutes from home and suddenly, she didn’t like the idea of parting with her long locks just yet. Audrey had changed too much to go back to who she was. Entering against her best instinct, the brunette was greeted by a bored looking stylist, “Hi, how can I help you?”

“Uh yeah, I’d like to get a hair cut? Maybe some color?” She had dyed it once a long time ago, a glossy blue black and she was offered an array of books and color samples. Determined not to be overwhelmed, she chose out a short crop that would sit just below her chin and a glossy black color. The process took longer then she had expected and Audrey was starting to feel the nerves when the excess was being washed away.

She closed her pale eyes to avoid looking at herself in the mirror until it was all done. Audrey had to laugh at the stylist’s commentary. “You kinda look like Kate Beckinsale-- what was that movie?” She shrugged, she was laughing too hard at her own reflection to remember as the cape came off. The shorter crop made her feel a little lighter. Not bothering to hear a price, she shelled out a hundred and made her way out. “Happy holidays,” Audrey stated through a sigh before the door closed behind her.

She slid on her sunglasses as she ran a hand through her wet black hair and stared up at the sun with a grimace. She looked back down at her watch. With every step, her dog tags felt heavier and the key seemed to be the heaviest weight on her chain. Climbing back into the jeep with a groan, she sat in the driver’s seat.

The rear view mirror declared Louisana’s temperature at a nice solid 60.

Audrey gave a sigh as she drove her way out of the parking lot. She didn’t have anymore excuses between her and Lakewood. “Fuck --” she hissed under her breath as she sped down highway 45. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her Dad’s worn old cross with fresh flowers. It wasn’t like he was fucking buried there and she made a sharp u-turn to take a good look at it before peeling out.

She stared at her GPS as she navigated the town’s streets. She recognized various things here and there, but it had changed so much Audrey almost felt lost. Who the hell in their right mind had sunk so much money into Lakewood? She spied a street sign [Quinn Maddox Memorial]. It was a grisly reminder of why she wanted to leave Lakewood. It took everything special and turned it to shit.

She raked her calloused finger through her hair as she drove slowly to see what had changed. Maggie had sold her house to be closer to Emma and Eisley from the looks of it. Unfamiliar faces played in the front yard with their children and grandchildren. Audrey found herself driving by Noah’s house to see his dad and mom pleasantly still settled in their house. She passed her house without a blink and sighed as she tried to ignore the weight of the key around her neck.

She found herself navigating to the familiar address on one of the letters. It was Stavo’s old house. When Sheriff Acosta had been fired, he had been relocated and Brooke had followed, initially as her letter depicted and she had come back. It was hard to imagine the Maddox princess living so humbly in the old Acosta house. Bringing her jeep to a stop across the street, she stuck her head out the window to see who lived in the house as she put a cigarette in between her lips.

‘Stalker alert,’ she thought to herself as she put the lighter to the menthol and exhaled it’s poison into the cool Louisiana air. Setting her head back into the jeep, she let her head rest as she watched the house and finished off her cigarette. Lakewood still smelled like Wren Lake and she took in a deep breath of that cold sweet water air. She waved away her cigarette smoke and sighed when she saw nothing moving.

She peered at the bright red envelope sitting in her passenger seat. Taking it in her hands again, she passed her thumb over the date. It was the most recent and the only dated for the current year. She passed her fingers over the glossy picture of Emma and Eisley before sticking it in her in her sun visor like they were going to look over her and hopefully keep her safe, mainly from herself.

Audrey had more than one demon to pick a bone with. She glanced at the gold watch. Slowly she moved to unclasp it. An angry red scar stared back at her. She couldn’t forget how she had acquired it. She closed her eyes a minute and even with all her anxiety she couldn’t ward off the tiredness she felt to her core.

When she slept, she never dreamed and if she did, she never remembered what she had dreamt about even when the feeling of fear remained. If there was anything she hated most in the world, it was the feeling of being powerless.

(The knife slashed at her arm. The burning red pain of it had her gasping as the killer stepped back. She could hear Piper’s laugh ringing in her ears still to this day. “What the fuck, Piper! That’s not funny! I was scared you were gonna kill me!” She hissed this low and under her voice as she clutched her arm. Small rivets of blood ran down her pale skin.

“Audrey live a little, geeze,” Piper stated as she flipped her long brown hair much like Emma did when she didn’t really think about it. It made Audrey think of a shampoo commercial. “What the fuck are you doing with the mask? And dressed like that! There’s a real killer on the -- loose--- ” Her words were starting to die in her throat.

She could see Piper’s visible irritation and also the gaff of a mocking laugh, “Yeah, I fucking know, Audrey.” The slow pronunciation of her name brought chills to her spine. The cold knowledge of suddenly putting everything together set in and Audrey felt the itch in her throat she hated so much. “Y-y-you lied to me--?” 

She hated the shrill sound of her voice as it turned to anger, “You bitch!” The teen froze when she heard shouting. Her first instinct was to protect anyone else from harm and her head shot to the left. When she turned back, Piper was gone before Audrey could give the bitch a piece of her mind.)

Whenever Audrey fell asleep, she dealt with the dark dreams. She would never be fully rid of the guilt. She would always carry it with her like the key around her neck. It was humbling and grounding. She ran her fingers over her chain as she glanced at her watch.

It was almost nine and the sky was dark.

She took in a deep breath through her nose and the cool air had turned sharp in her lungs. Louisiana had always been less industrial then the east and west coast. That was probably why the gulf had always been her favorite. She wiped at her tired pale eyes and glanced at the house. It was still vacant. Her tongue swiped out to taste the scab on her lip as she debated staying the night at the Crescent Palms hotel.

Did the place even exist still? The question suddenly seemed more realistic when she realized that her house had been unoccupied for a few years. She leaned over to turn on the GPS and the headlights of an oncoming car blinded her. The GPS page presented her several options for hotels in the area.

A hard knock on the jeep’s metal jolted her nearly out of her seat.

“Audrey?”

Brooke had changed so much since she had last seen her, yet not at all. She still had the biggest, saddest eyes she had ever seen. Like someone had really gone and broken her heart. Audrey opened her mouth to say something. The Maddox princess was as pristine as ever, dressed in white like an angel and she reached out to touch the birth mark on Brooke’s cheek.

She pushed open the jeep door slowly and Brooke made her way around to meet Audrey half way. The blonde in her arms was a little more filled out then she had remembered and she smelled a little more like sandalwood than vanilla, but she made no arguments against the pleasant scents. She felt Brooke squeeze her back harder.

“I-I I thought I was never going to see you again.”

[theamericanjewitch]

Mun interview

1) Are you really ready for 111 questions? Yes! 2) Where are you taking this test at? Work 3) Was your last real relationship a mistake? Yes. Because apparently it was nothing more than a ‘fling’ to them when originally they’d told me were partners. 4) Who did you last say “I love you” to? My mom 5) Do you regret it? Never 6) Have you ever been depressed? I have depression and am dealing with it right now 7) Are you a boy or girl? I’m a girl 8) Do you have a job? Yup. 9) What is your relationship status? I have poly partners (2 to be exact) but they feel more like cuddle buddies than dating… so I’d go with saying I’m single 10) How do you want to die? … Given my current emotional state it’s better I don’t answer this one. 11) What did you last eat? Egg and Cheese quesadilla 12) Played any sports? Yoga, Swimming, and Self Defense for a bit 13) Do you bite your nails? No. 14) When was your last physical fight? Never 15) Do you have an attitude? I’m sarcastic and sassy 16) Do you like someone? …No. Not any more 17) What is your real name? Gabriela Matana K------ (Full Names have power) 18) What is the background of you computer screen? It rotates my cosplay photos with my friends 19) Are you gonna get high later? I will never do drugs 20) Do you hate anyone at the moment? Yes. At least 3 people. All of whom led me on and then treated me like a fucking dirty secret afterwards. They lied and denied our relationship, and claimed they did nothing wrong. 21) Do you miss someone? Yes. Several people. 22) Twirl or cut your spaghetti? twirl 23) Do you tan a lot? I burn. 24) Have any pets? At my moms I have a Yorkey named Chief 25) How exactly are you feeling?! Numb on the inside 26) Ever eaten food in a car while someone or yourself is driving? Yes 27) Ever made out in the bathroom? No 28) Would you take any of your exes back? FUCK NO

29) Are you afraid of spiders? Ish 30) Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? Yes! 31) Do you regret anything from your past? Yes 32) What are your plans for this weekend? Friday to Saturday with my friend CC, Saturday to Sunday with my younger biological sister, Sunday to Monday I’m going to a Ranch with my older biological sister to go horseback riding and unwind. 33) Do you want to have kids? I would like to adopt 34) Did you ever kiss someone whose name starts with an M? Yes. 35) Do you type fast? Yup 36) Do you have piercings? Ears 37) Want any more? I want a 2nd ear piercing 38) Can you spell well? Uh… FUCK YES 39) Do you miss anyone from your past? Yes… absolutely. 40) What are you craving right now? Dark Chocolate 41) Ever been to a bonfire party? Yes 42) Have you ever been to jail? Hell Nope 43) Have you ever been on a horse? Yup once when I was little 44) Kissed someone in a pick up truck? NO 45) Have you ever broken someone’s heart? …maybe? 46) Have you ever been cheated on? Yes. 47) Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? Yes. It was mutual crying though. 48) What time is it currently? 10:45 am 49) Would you live with someone without marrying them? Sure 50) What should you be doing? Nothing I’m on my lunch break. 51) What’s irritating you right now? The World… and myself. 52) Have you ever liked someone so much that it hurts? Yes. 53) Does somebody love you? Yes. 54) What is your favorite color? Purple 55) Have you ever changed clothes in a vehicle? Yes 57) Do you have trust issues? Yes, and abandonment issues 58) You are over half way done with this. Are you sure you want to continue? Sure. 59) Do you have any siblings? I’m adopted from birth, from my adopted parents (who are divorced and remarried to new people) I have a stepbrother and sister, I have 2 half sisters and 1 half brother.

Biologically I have an older and younger half sister. 60) Do you have a good relationship with your parents? Mom and Stepdad I’m close with. My stepmother is emotionally abusive and my dad is uninvolved. 61) Do you live with anyone? Nope. 62) Do you believe your most recent ex thinks about you? I don’t even fucking care. 63) Who was the last person you cried in front of? No one. I cry alone and silently. 64) Do you give out second chances too easily? Yes. And I need to stop. 65) Is it easier to forgive or forget? I wish I could forget. 66) Is this year the best year of your life? 2016 and 2017 have been shit for me. 67) What was your childhood nickname? Gobstopper, Lobster, Nobster, Keiko, Darcy, Gabster. 68) Have you ever walked outside completely naked? Fuck no 69) What is your motto in life? All of us lay in the gutter but some of us are looking up at the stars ~ Oscar Wilde 70) Do you believe everything happens for a reason? Yes, we just may not know what it is just yet. 71) What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? Watched youtube and played tsume tsume 72) Do you have a best friend? Yes. 73) What is bothering you? My entire life. 74) Have you ever been out of your country? Yes 75) Do you play the Wii? Meh. Give me an Xbox 76) Are you listening to music right now? Yes. Halsey. 77) Do you like Chinese food? Love it. 78) Do you know your fathers b- day? January 25th 79) Are you afraid of the dark? Very 80) Is cheating ever okay? FUCK NO 81) Are you mean? Hufflepuff’s can be VICIOUS when slighted. 82) Can you keep white shoes clean? No 83) What was the last song you listened to? Issue’s – Julie Michaels 84) Do you believe in true love? Fuck no 85) What are you currently wearing? Red jeans, tennis shoes, and a Gambit from X-men t-shirt 86) What do you wear to bed? Nothing. 87) What is the weather like right now? TOO FUCKING HOT 88) Do you like the outside? Meh. If it’s overcast or rainy 89) Are you currently bored? A little bit 90) Do you wanna get married? It is my life goal 91) Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? If it’s a girl I don’t mind, but it’s kinda creepy if a dude does it  92) Are you hungry? No

93) Have you ever made out for more than a half hour straight? I hate even the IDEA of making out. 94) What makes you happy? Puppies, cute animals 95) Would you change your name? No 96) Ever been to Alaska? No 98) Do you watch the news? Nope, I watch Trevor Noah and Philip D Franco 99) What’ s your zodiac sign? Pisces/Leo 100) Do you like Subway? Sometimes yeah. 101) Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? No 102) Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? Seeing as he’s my brother and engaged to be married…. 103) Do you talk like your friends? Don’t really pay attention. 104) What do you plan to do with the rest of your day? Work, get shit done, then see Spiderman and Apes in theaters with a friend. 105) Have you ever seen someone you knew & purposely avoided them? Uh, fuck yes. 106) Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? My big bro in all but blood, John 107) who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? Andres 108) Does it matter if your boyfriend/girlfriend smokes? Yes. I hate the smell.  109) Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? My coworker 110) Favorite lyrics right now? Wish I could be just a little less dramatic Like a Kennedy when Camelot went down in flames Leave it to me to be holdin’ the matches When the fire trucks show up and there’s nobody else to blame Can’t get revenge and keep a spotless reputation Sometimes revenge is a choice you gotta make My mama came from a softer generation Where you get a grip and bite your lip just to save a little face Go and fix your make up, girl, it’s just a break up Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady 'Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together Even when you fall apart But this ain’t my mama’s broken heart Powder your nose, paint your toes Line your lips and keep 'em closed Cross your legs, dot your eyes And never let 'em see you cry

-Miranda Lambert “Mama’s Broken Heart”

111) Tag 10 people

@amagizoologistscase @creatureprotector @percival-grave-s @allforthegreatergood @loveisforchildren-percivalgraves @tolcveistodestrcy

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[artificialqueens]

Just Tonight (#5) Shalaska - Babe

AN: Alrighty, here’s chapter 5 and after some consideration, I’m gonna end this at chapter 12. So we’re almost halfway there and I’ve planned exactly what’s going to happen. Also I’ve made a lil sideblog @aqbabe where I might post stuff so follow me idk.  As always, thank you for the beautiful feedback xoxo

“Truth or dare? What are we, 12?” Jinkx muttered as Sharon poked her tongue out at her best friend. The redhead looked down at her phone at gasped at the time, not exactly sure where it went.

“It’s getting kinda late,” she said as she stood up, Ivy jumping up with her. “It was lovely to finally meet you, Alaska. Kinda nice to meet the girl that Sharon doesn’t shut up about.” Ivy agreed with a giggle as Sharon’s pale cheeks started turning red.

“Fuck off, the both of you,” the rocker replied as the girls quickly left the apartment. Alaska waved as they left, happy to finally have Sharon all to herself.

“What can we do now?” Sharon asked, drawing out her words slightly.

“I have an idea,” Alaska replied cheekily, crashing their lips together. Sharon smirked into the kiss as she pushed the other girl back onto the couch.

“I like your ideas.”

—————————–

The next day, Alaska sat at Sharon’s dining table, typing furiously into her laptop while Sharon absentmindedly strummed her guitar. Before Alaska had arrived last night, Sharon and Jinkx had talked about writing more music instead of playing just covers, something that stressed her out a tad. It wasn’t that she didn’t think that she was creative, but she was really good at playing other people’s music. Call her unoriginal, but it was the truth in her eyes.

“Why is song writing so hard?” Sharon cursed, Alaska looking up from her assignment at the sound of the other’s voice. “It’s as if everything’s already been done before.”

“I mean, you wrote that other song and that wasn’t hard, was it?” Alaska questioned, another question popping into her mind as she shut the laptop and moved to sit next to Sharon on the couch. “What exactly was that song about?”

“What, Just Tonight? Firstly, I was really high at the time. Secondly, I was thinking about all the hook-ups in my life when it’s just been all about sex or drugs or no commitment. I wrote it because if I wondered if someone actually knew who I really am, would they stay or would they leave? Or would I stay now knowing that I had handed over my vulnerability. I spent a lot of time blaming people for leaving but it was really my fault, and that’s kinda what the song’s about. Now that’s I’ve been in that situation, I’m not going to leave, I promise.” She placed the guitar to the side as she pulled Alaska onto her lap, kissing her forehead tenderly.

“You know, it’s kinda our song,” Alaska mused, a content smile on her face. After all, it was the song that sucked her in not once, but twice. It had some serious power over her but the blonde wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Kinda messed up song to be ours, if you think about it,” Sharon replied with a small shrug. “A song that’s about falling in love over hedonistic pleasures and then leaving to save yourself. I don’t want to be saved if it means leaving you.” Her lips met Alaska’s briefly, the older girl pulling away as an idea popped into her head. “How about I teach you to play?”

Alaska crinkled up her nose in reply, a giggle escaping her lips. “I’ve tried before, I might just stick to piano.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Sharon insisted as she picked up a capo (which Alaska likened to a large hairclip) and her discarded guitar. “I’ll teach you something easy, three chords and I’ll strum. Jinkx and I worked on this last night, it just needs lyrics.” Alaska sighed and sat fully on Sharon’s lap as the other girl placed the guitar in her hands. She gently positioned Alaska’s fingers into the right shapes, explaining the names as she went.

“Okay, so hold the G chord for two lots of eight, then the Dm for one and the Cmaj7 for one,” Sharon explained patiently as she wrapped her arm around tighter to reach the strings. When she started strumming, music filled the room and Alaska’s eyes lit up, a part of her wanting to squeal in accomplishment but feeling connected to the music.

“Do you have lyrics for this?” Alaska asked after a while, turning to face Sharon. The blonde shook her head sadly.

“Unfortunately, Jinkx and I have been working on it,” Sharon sighed, but Alaska leapt off of her lap and grabbed her laptop excitedly.

“I have a poem that I think would go well with the music, but it’s kinda mushy and personal, so get ready for that,” Alaska rambled, making Sharon giggle.

“Anything you write is probably amazing, Princess,” she smirked, listening stoically when Alaska started reciting the lyrics, she instantly knew it was about her parents’ divorce and how that affected the younger girl, but the way that it continued showed that it was also about Sharon, and how meeting her was a game changer for Alaska. It was lovely to think that silly old her could change someone as extraordinary as Alaska, make her open to love again, but it made her fall for the other girl just a little more. When Alaska was done, Sharon clapped and they spent the next hour fitting the poem into Sharon’s music, arguing over wording but finding a compromise at every turn.

“We’ve got no chorus, half a bridge and no outro,” Alaska sighed as she brought over two cups of coffee from the kitchen. Placing one gingerly on the coffee table for Sharon, she sipped at hers slowly as the cogs in Sharon’s mind kept turning.

“For the outro, I like the line you said about believing, it leaves the song on a positive note,” Sharon replied wistfully as Alaska put down her coffee and pencilled in the line. “As for the bridge, we’ve kinda left it by saying that they’re a realist who wants to believe again. Maybe the other person is exactly the same and might leave. Maybe the protagonist wants the other person to leave them proof that what they’re feeling and experiencing is all real.” Alaska spent five minutes rewording Sharon’s idea and fitting it in with the structure, leaving them with only one more thing to do.

“Now, the chorus,” Alaska said, but all that Sharon could do was cheekily grin. “What?”

“You’ve already done that part,” she replied as she looked at the original poem on the laptop. “Look how you’ve written a sentence between every verse of poem to link it together. That should be the chorus. Repeat the line four times and we’re done.”

Alaska looked down at the line. You are the only exception. At first, it didn’t fit to her, but now, it was perfect.

———————–

Sharon and Alaska had played through the song a couple times to make sure it was perfect when there was a sharp knock at the door. Neither of them was expecting anyone but Sharon still stood up and answered the door, despite her still being in her pyjamas at 2 in the afternoon.

“Dee!” she exclaimed happily as Alaska looked over her shoulder at the girl. She had bright yellow hair and the same shade of eyebrows and her makeup was bright and colourful. Her clothing was quite fashionable and it suddenly made Alaska feel underdressed in the flannel that she borrowed from Sharon. “Where the hell were you last night?”

“I’m so sorry, my darling,” Dee replied, her voice not sounding sorry to Alaska but that was beside the point. “Rox and I had date night and you know how she gets when I blow it off.” From where she was sitting, she caught a brief eye roll from Sharon as she stood up from the couch. “Shaz, who’s this?”

“Dee, this is Alaska,” Sharon introduced, getting excited every time she could introduce Alaska to one of her friends. They shook hands awkwardly. “Alaska, this is Detox, but we all call her Dee.”

“Is your name actually Detox?” Alaska blurted out, causing the yellow haired girl to laugh.

“Of course not, but I hate my real name so everyone around here calls me Dee. You must be the elusive Alaska that Sharon doesn’t shut up about.” Alaska looked to Sharon who shrugged.

“I can’t help it, you fascinate me,” the older girl replied as her arm snaked around Alaska’s waist. Their lips met passionately for a moment until she heard Dee clear her throat next to them.

“Anyways, I thought I’d stop around quickly and check to see what I missed in band meeting last night, but by the looks of it, not much,” Detox winked, causing Alaska to blush. Sharon, however, answered calmly, not fazed by the insinuation.

“You didn’t miss much, except Jinkx and I wrote a new song and Alaska helped with the lyrics, you wanna hear it?” Dee nodded as she perched on the couch, Alaska noting that the colours looked out of place in Sharon’s mostly black apartment. Alaska sang as Sharon played. The girls couldn’t help but make eye contact during the song, especially since a lot of Alaska’s lyrics were directed at Sharon. When it was over, Dee raised an eyebrow, her words breaking Alaska and Sharon out of their spell.

“Well, that sure was something.”

————————–

“I’m so confused, Adore,” Alaska confessed as she recounted to her friend the details of what had happened over the past two days. The dorm room was completely theirs for the night, something that she needed after leaving Sharon and having to go to work. She was tired, but so many pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit in her mind. “Sharon is so amazing. She says the right things and means them, she knows exactly where to touch me, she knows everything about me, the sex is amazing and we made the most amazing song today. Why am I still so afraid?”

“You’re afraid of it because your parents’ marriage didn’t work out and you don’t want to be hurt by love. A lot of kids our age face it. You just need to separate your memories and feelings from the ones we’ve been taught. From the sounds of it, you’re crazy about Sharon and she seems to be feeling the same way. Just admit it to yourself – you love her, and then tell her. Don’t be trapped in this spiral.”

Alaska’s mind turned for a while, knowing that Alaska was completely right. Things might end badly but how would she know if she never tried? In that moment, she decided that she was going to tell Sharon she loved her the next chance she got.

“Are you high or something? Because your advice is really on point tonight,” Alaska remarked, looking over at her friend who was in bed, reading a book. Adore never read, something that shocked the blonde greatly.

“Nah, but I am super tired, let’s sleep.”

“Alright, goodnight.”

Alaska didn’t sleep for a long time, instead Adore’s words played over and over in her head until she could memorise them and say them backwards. Another phrase played over in her mind, one that she didn’t think she’d ever say but she was completely and fully ready to say them out loud.

I love you Sharon.

[thesassybooskter]

THE CAJUN DOCTOR by Sandra Hill: Release Spotlight & Excerpt

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New York Times Bestselling Author Sandra Hill delivers another Tante Lulu Adventure as twin brothers leave Alaska to discover their Cajun roots

Dr. Daniel LeDeux and pilot Aaron LeDeux travel to the swampy bayous of Louisiana, where they discover a long-lost family. The usually stoic Daniel, a burned-out pediatric oncologist, is especially startled by the interfering LeDeux matriarch, Tante Lulu, bless her crazy heart, who wastes no time in setting him up with local rich girl Samantha Starr.

Scarred by a nasty divorce from a philandering New Orleans physician, Samantha has sworn off men, especially doctors. When Samantha’s step-brother gets into serious trouble, she must ask Daniel for help. But Samantha faces even more trouble when the handsome doctor casts his smoldering Cajun eyes her way.

The steamy heat of the bayou, along with the wacky matchmaking efforts of Tante Lulu, a herd of animal rescue rejects, including a depressed pot belly pig, and some world-class sexual fantasies create enough heat and humor to make both Daniel and Samantha realize that love and laughter can mend even the most broken heart.

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  Excerpt

She smiled at him as he stood to follow her. There were no longer any tears in her eyes. Forget about sparkling emeralds, he decided then. Her eyes were murky green pools designed to lure a guy in and make him do things he didn’t even know he wanted to do. And he was the dumb trout who’d taken her bait. Hooked, lined and hot damn sinkered!

It was probably some Southern voodoo kind of crap. Maybe he should ask Tante Lulu for a spell to ward off Samantha’s allure. He could only imagine the old bat’s reaction. She’d be calling for a fais do do, a party down on the bayou, and the theme would be, “Daniel LeDeux Ain’t Gay, hallelejuah!”

But then he watched Samantha’s buttocks move in the red silky pants as she walked out of the room. Was there anything prettier than a heart-shaped ass on a woman? And he decided, maybe not. And those long limbs . . . man, what a creative male could do with those!

Hot damn hell! He decided he could live with the spell or whatever the hell it was, thank you very much!

Any lewd thoughts he might have been entertaining were interrupted abruptly by a loud pounding on the front door. They looked at each other in question.

He arched his brows.

She shrugged.

The dog halted in its tracks toward the kitchen.

The cougar cat stopped mid stretch.

The pig raised its head and sniffed the air.

Then they all erupted with their respective sounds of alert. Barking, growling, meowing, and oinking. A female squeak of dismay, as in, “Oh, Rhett, the Yankees are comin’!” A male grunt of disgust, as in “What next?” All of which alerted the bird to voice its opinion, and the puppies and other cats to join in the chorus.

More pounding on the door.

“Let’s just ignore it,” she whispered.

The German Shepherd let loose with a wild howl that could probably be heard a block away, definitely through a measly door. Then the old dog lay down on the floor, its muzzle between its front paws, all tired out from the effort.

“I doubt whoever is there will just go away. Let me handle it,” he offered, also in a whisper. I gotta get my Rhett on once in a while, he joked with himself. Then, he added, “Do you have a gun?”

“No. Damn, I knew I should have bought a gun. Just this evening I decided to ask Tante Lulu if she had an extra one. But I didn’t have a chance to call her yet.”

He gave her a glance of surprise; he hadn’t been serious.

That’s all he . . . she . . . needed. Southern belle with a pistol. She’d probably shoot her eye out. At the least, everyone up and down the bayou would know about it, thanks to the Mouth of the South.

Daniel was beginning to feel like Alice in Wonderland . . . or rather, Alex in Wonderland . . . and he’d fallen down some crazy-ass Southern rabbit hole. Forget Scarlett O’Hara. His Alice would be wearing some silky red short shorts. And high heels. And nothing on top. And “Pretty Woman” would be playing in the background.

He could hear Aaron laughing in his head. Twins were like that sometimes. They shared long-distance thoughts and feelings. In fact, some scientists claimed that even during sex . . . well, never mind! Suffice it to say, it gave new meaning to multiple orgasms.

To the Aaron in his head, Daniel said, Hey, it’s my fantasy. If I want bimbo Alice, I get bimbo Alice.

More Aaron laughter.

Daniel and Samantha walked softly toward the front door where Samantha peeked through the security hole and declared in a whisper, “I think it’s the mafia.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, it’s not Nick. And there are two of them. And they look . . . mafia-ish.”

He pushed her aside to look for himself. What he saw was two men, their faces distorted through the fisheye lens in the peephole. They were scowling with impatience at their knocking not being answered. Definitely not Welcome Wagon, or Jehovah’s Witnesses, or a passing traveler in need of directions. No Gone with the Wind Yankees, either. The short one wore a tight “Sleep With the Fishes, Motherfucker” T-shirt over a muscular chest and bulging biceps; there were tattoos on his neck and forearms. The other dude . . . taller, but equally muscular. . . wore a T-shirt with the logo “Pit Bulls Rule” under an open denim shirt. There was a livid scar on his cheek that lifted one side of his mouth in a perpetual grin. The Mutt and Jeff of creeps!

Daniel could swear he saw the shine of a pistol under the denim shirt. He amended his assessment to “the Mutt and Jeff of dangerous creeps.”

Okay, definitely mafia-ish.

“Samantha Starr! You in dere, chère. We doan want no trouble here. Jist open the door, yes.” This from Mutt, the short one.

Okay, definitely Dixie Mafia-ish.

“Call 911,” Daniel advised Samantha.

She shook her head.

Daniel wasn’t convinced that her way was the best way, but there was no time to argue. He kicked off his shoes, toed off his socks, and used both hands to mess up his hair. He tugged out his T-shirt that had been tucked inside the waistband of his jeans. As an added touch, he undid the button on the fly of his pants and zipped down halfway.

“What are you doing?” she asked in an undertone.

“Pretending I was in bed.”

“Why would you be . . . oh!” Her cheeks bloomed with color.

He put a forefinger to his lips, signaling silence, then put the security chain on the door and opened it several inches. “Yeah? What do you guys want?” he snarled at the two figures on the doorstep.

Surprised, they backed up a step. They had to have seen him enter a short time ago, but apparently they hadn’t been expecting a man to answer the door, or him in particular, as evidenced by Mutt’s remark, “You ain’t Angus Starr.”

“No shit, Dick Tracey,” Daniel countered, starting to close the door.

But the taller, scar-faced dude, Jeff, stuck his booted foot into the opening. “Wait a fuckin’ minute. Where’s Samantha Starr? Bet she knows where that stupid-ass brother of hers is, guar-an-teed.”

“Angus isn’t her brother, exactly,” Daniel commented, as if that mattered. “He’s actually the son of one of her father’s—”

Scar-face made a growling noise.

“Why do you want Angus anyway?”

“None of yer damn bizness, you!” Mutt said, putting his hand inside his pants pocket, as if reaching for a weapon.

“Hold on. I’ll go get her,” Daniel said.

Stepping behind the door, he acted quickly. Messing Samantha’s hair into a sexy mess, he pressed her up against the wall and, before she could yell or kick him in the nuts, he leaned down to kiss her, hard and deep, even nipping at her bottom lip so that she would open for him.

Then he forgot why he’d made a move on her.

  About Sandra Hill

Sandra Hill is a graduate of Penn State and worked for more than 10 years as a features writer and education editor for publications in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Writing about serious issues taught her the merits of seeking the lighter side of even the darkest stories. She is the wife of a stockbroker and the mother of four sons.

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THE CAJUN DOCTOR by Sandra Hill: Release Spotlight & Excerpt was originally published on The Sassy Bookster