#aunt susan/susie

[kallmeweirdhprroe]

Hello it’s me I’m back from the dead and I have have an idea for a fic that I’m probably gonna make about Jacob & the peculiar gang

The fic starts in book 3 (libation of souls) when Jacob’s family sends him to a mental institution/ psychiatric hospital/ in-patient clinic and the peculiars stop them but in the fic that doesn’t happen and Jacob gets send into the mental institution / psychiatric hospital/ in patient clinic and after that he lives there for 5-8 (since he’s supposed to be there for 1 or 2 weeks

So yeah after that they go the metal institution/psychiatric hospital/in-patient clinic stays there and plan’s his escape with everything he’s brought and heads to miss peregrine & the rest of the peculiar gang and just lies there happily ever after & he also go missing again like last time so he’s hiding from the police

But I want a bit of help with the fic

1.whee does Jake gets sent too because I’m pretty sure that a mental institution/ psychiatric hospital/ in patient clinic are different places

2.should I add Ricky & aunt Susie busting Jacob or at Least sending him letters

3.should I add and of so Jacob isn’t lonely when he’s sent away??

[easterlyblue]

amelia and emmeline raising susan together though

[future-crab]

Finding character names is so difficult when you’ve got a big extended family. I need a name that would have been popular with American girls born in the 1950′s or 60′s but it can’t be the name of ANY of my aunts. Impossible.

[paracosmic-murdock]

i still got love for you

part four: i hope for you

pairing: francesca bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: leaving for bath out of the sudden was the hardest thing you had had to do, not particularly because you had left your parents and home behind, but because your friendship with francesca bridgerton was ripped away from you a sudden summer morning.

five years later, francesca arrived in bath for the season to practice pianoforte with her aunt winnie, and finally, you see her again after thinking you had forever lost her. how much you wanted for your love to live and beat still, how much you wanted for francesca to say so.

warnings/tags: sapphic francesca bridgerton, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, am i gay quiz but make it nineteenth century somehow, smut, minors dni, inspired by an emily dickinson intimate letter to susan hunington dickinson, song: seven (taylor swift)

word count: 3.7K

❁ part one | part two | part three | part five | part six

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

“Susie, will you indeed come home next Saturday, and be my own again, and kiss me as you used to? I hope for you so much, and feel so eager for you, feel that I cannot wait, feel that now I must have you — that the expectation once more to see your face again makes me feel hot and feverish, and my heart beats so fast.” (Excerpt from Open me carefully: Emily Dickinson's intimate letters to Susan Hunington Dickinson by Emily Dickinson)

“That is your favorite breakfast.”

You stopped playing with your fork and looked at him. “I am not hungry.”

He ate the last bite of his dish. “Oh, and why would that be? The last time you ate was for lunch yesterday and it was almost nothing.”

“I do not know. Perhaps I am tragically ill.”

“Clearly,” He scoffed sarcastically. “You miss her.”

“I don't miss anybody, Charles. I just feel unwell.” you stated.

“You, Sister, are a terrible liar.”

“And you, Brother, are delusional.”

He shook his head and stood up, putting the napkin you had embroidered on the table before storming off without any explanation.

You rolled your eyes, drinking your berry tea.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you were pensive because you missed Francesca.

You haven't seen her since dinner a couple of weeks ago, and you couldn't help but feel bad about it.

Three days after that evening, you went to her aunt's home but were told she was not there. You left a message for her: she was invited to join you for tea the next day or whenever she wanted to, for you would be at your home every day.

You canceled quite some plans just in case she went, but she never did. And you were devastated.

It was a lovely evening, and you thought everything went really well. Perhaps it was because you had called her darling. You felt it was proper at the moment, but now, not anymore. Now, in your mind, you have made her feel uncomfortable and lost her forever.

Charles’ mind was known for hardly being made up.

Dilemma was almost his second name, and it was no secret. Always a dilemma, and now wasn't the exception.

He hates to see you upset and hurting. You are his sister, and ever since you were born, he vowed to love you and protect you. And after your parents sent you away, it was his biggest purpose.

Right now, he had no choice but to tell Francesca Bridgerton, in front of him, the reason he was there.

Charles cleared his throat. “I suppose you have an idea as to why I am here.”

“Charles…”

“Frannie, did she do something wrong?”

“No, I just…” She sighed. “I have not been feeling very well lately, that is all.”

“Are you sure?” he questioned, not quite believing her.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“My sister has been punishing herself for your absence, and… it breaks me to see her like this,” he mentioned. Francesca felt her heart break at the thought of you hurting. “Why don't you come for lunch at our home? I shall have the cooks do something you like.”

“Uh, we were invited for lunch at the Maguire's home, I am sorry…” she lied.

Charles sighed. “When can we receive you, then?”

“I do not know.” she said, looking down to her hands.

He stood up. “I really hope you know she is hurting because of your absence. She did those five years, and she has these past weeks. She loves you, and I know you love her too. And no, not in a friendly manner.”

And, just like that, he left.

Francesca sighed and watched him leave, not able to decide what to do. To stop him. To ask him. To do anything.

In truth, the reason Francesca has not visited you in weeks is because she was scared of loving you. Not for being you, but for being a woman.

Her aunt Winnie had asked her if Lord Chadwick was courting her, but she didn't quite know what to say. She just said she did not know, but her aunt was convinced he was.

Understandably so, because no man would just invite a young lady to his home so many times if he didn't have any intention to court her. What she didn't know was that the one interested in her was you. Another lady.

After the implications regarding your brother, Francesca's aunt remarked how important it was for her to marry a gentleman, a good man, wealthy, and with title. The only one Francesca wanted was you.

You, you, you… No one else.

It pained her to know that her actions were affecting you, especially because the last thing she ever wanted was to make you feel bad. She loved you, and she knew that when you love somebody, you want that person to be happy.

But you could never feel fine or happy without Francesca. You couldn't deny that. Nor would she, especially now that you have reunited. And now that she knew that you loved her, too.

In all honesty, you calling her darling was unexpected and spooked her more than she was willing to admit. Maybe because it was a term of endearment and no one had used it on her before, or maybe because you used it, confirming she was your darling. Yours. Oh, how much Francesca longed to be yours.

So she thought about you during the lunch at Chadwick House she was invited to attend but wasn't intending to, during the afternoon she would've spent playing pianoforte instead, and during the evening she was supposed to get ready to sleep but didn't. Her aunt went to sleep, and she did quite the opposite, sneaking to the backyard to get you flowers, and leaving her home for the purpose of finding you.

Francesca did not particularly come up with a plan, so when she saw herself in front of the entrance to Chadwick House without a way to get in, she got worried. However, she didn't have to worry for much longer because Charles opened the door some minutes later.

“Charles!” She flinched and hid her hands behind her back as he suddenly appeared in front of her with a confused frown.

“Francesca?” He grinned. “What are you doing here?”

Francesca shook her head. “I- uh… I came to- nothing! I was just- I am going back.”

“Frannie, with all due respect,” Charles sighed, grabbing her forearm to stop her from leaving. “Shut up. My sister is in her chambers. Third floor, second door to the left.”

“Sorry,” She pouted. “I guess-”

“Lord save me! You two are driving me mad!” he exclaimed as he covered his face with his hands. “Get in there, Francesca, and don't you dare leave before resolving whatever it is that you two have going.”

With that, he left her there and got on the awaiting carriage she had failed to notice before.

Francesca sighed, walking inside the house and following your brother's directions until she reached your door.

She knocked, but received no answer, so she opened the door to find your room empty. Francesca guessed that, perhaps, you had gone out for a walk, so she went downstairs and ended up looking at you from afar.

You were sitting in the swing and looking at the night sky in utter silence, and she almost didn't dare to interrupt you. She, however, had a purpose for her visit and wouldn't let the courage she had gathered go to waste.

Francesca sat silently in the swing beside yours without saying a word.

“Charles, I told you to let me be.” you groaned, looking opposite from 'his' face.

She cleared her throat. “This is not Charles.”

You turned around abruptly to face her.

Dear God.

“Francesca-” you whispered, almost not believing it. “Are you truly here?”

“Yes, I am here,” She smiled, showing you the tulip of an unknown color in the dark. “But, firstly, this is for you.”

You smiled weakly.

At the silence, she spoke. “I, uh- I had to see you.”

“What for?”

“To apologize,” she replied and sighed, getting ready for the speech she had prepared the whole afternoon. “For not coming back after dinner. I… I was scared because you called me darling, and it made me realize that I might not be… alone in these feelings I find impossible to name. It felt real out of the sudden, and I was not prepared for it. I thought about them all those days and reached to a conclusion I was dreading: that I love you. Not like a girl who is fond of her childhood best friend or like a girl who has such dear affection for a sister, no; I love you like one loves the person that is to be their spouse, their love match. I know well enough that this is not something a woman is supposed to feel for another woman, but I do, and I have reasons to believe you do as well. Please, tell me I am not alone in this feeling, for I believe that love could never be as profound as mine for you were it not reciprocated.”

You grabbed the rope of her swing and pulled her close to you. “I love you, my darling. I love you so much that I fear the word love is not enough to grasp all that I feel for you. It is pathetic, the way your proximity makes my whole being combust in yearning; it is alluring, the way your eyes can heal all that chaos when they look into mine. Having you here with me, under the full moon and in a field of violets, is the utmost proof of how sacred this love is. How sacred we must treat it. Being yours is the ultimate purpose of my existence, and I would be beyond grateful to you if you allowed me to honor it by loving you devotedly and cherishing you adoringly.”

Francesca exhaled and hesitated for a single, intrusive second. She, right then and there, kissed your lips softly. There was doubt and insecurity, but you managed to wash it out by kissing her back with a passion she couldn't have even dreamt of.

“Would you like to stay for the night? It is far too late for you to return home by yourself and we do not have another carriage available. I fear Charles will not return until tomorrow.” you proposed, standing up and offering her your hand to do so, too.

Francesca nodded, now standing as well, and staring at your lips.

You smirked, closing the distance promptly.

You did not know how to kiss, but the two of you would certainly learn that night.

Of course there was an extra room, but there was no need for that. Despite the last sleepover being five years ago, there was still this feeling of comfort and intimacy shared between you and her.

“I know that sharing a bed has never been an issue for us,” you began. “But, if you wish, I could have the help bring another bed for you.”

“No!” she exclaimed, regretting the haste and reluctance of her answer. “I mean, no. It is not necessary, for your bed is big enough for the both of us.”

You nodded with a smile. “Would you like for me to get a maid to help you get ready to sleep? I might as well call-”

“No, There should be no need. We could help each other, is that not right?” she answered shyly. You were surprised to hear that, but thought nothing of it, ignoring the warmth taking over your body at the mere idea. “I- well, I- I did not mean it like… if you… if you want to. I do not have a problem. If you do, it is alright if you-”

“Yes, it is alright.” you agreed, approaching her and pointing to the bed with your head. “I had a maid bring a sleeping chemise for you… should you like for me to-?”

She nodded, undoing her coiffure before you got to her. “Yes, I should like for you to help me now.”

Francesca didn't know what was going on in herself. Her words seemed to come out before she could process them and her intentions were rather unclear even to herself.

Now, she was in front of you. Your hesitant hands trembled lightly as you started taking her dress off. Francesca let out a soft gasp when your fingers grazed her skin, noticing your closeness as she leaned closer to you, not creating contact just yet but desiring so, so very anxiously. You started undoing her corset slowly, trying to take in every second of proximity existent between you, the fervid hunger invading the moment.

Francesca let out a shaky breath, leaning toward you and, this time, she was actually resting her weight on you timidly. She whispered your name, almost silently enough for you to not hear.

But you always heard her.

Her head was resting on your shoulder, touching your cheek with her cheekbones. “I love you.”

You kissed her cheek gently and then went to her neck. You left slight bites on her skin and moaned as she pressed herself onto you slightly more.

“I love you, too,” you reminded her, and it felt as if it was the very first time you told her so. “I will never not.”

You kissed her shoulders and put your hands on her hips.

“I think we are…” you whimpered as she intertwined your hands with hers. “We are doing something we most likely should not.”

She exhaled with difficulty. “What would that be?”

“I saw them,” you began. “Anne and Petunia, my maids, they- I saw them doing this.”

“This?”

“Making love.”

Your answer left her in a place between confusion and oblivious understanding. She knew, but also she did not.

“What does it mean?”

“I went for a late night walk in the backyard and heard some noises,” you told her. “Chadwick House is not as big as the Devereaux Manor, so we do not need as much help, nor do we have enough room for more. Some of the help that stays at the house has to share a room, so my two lady maids do. I know where their room is, so, upon hearing the sounds, I peeked through the window in case something had happened. And I saw them… As soon as my shock subsided, I ran back to my chambers, but not without seeing them like we are now. They were kissing and touching each other, nude.”

Francesca frowned. “How do you know what it is called?”

“A few days later, I asked Charles about it, but I never said I had seen them. I told him I had heard it somewhere,” you answered. “He panicked and told me not to speak of such things ever again. Then, he said those are things men and women do after they marry, but that some men do it without marrying and that it was normal, but respectable ladies like me could not do so under any circumstance… So, naturally, I ended up asking Anna about it and blaming it on Charles. She said that it is called making love and that people do it to consummate their marriage. I told her that Charles said some men do, but that ladies like me cannot, so she explained to me that it is said that women lose their worth after doing that and must be valuable for deserving a marriage. Also, we could get pregnant when doing it with a man, but men do not have to worry about themselves being with child; I, then, asked if men did it with men or women with women, and she said it was possible but not well seen at all, so I should not do it unless I love and trust the woman, but that I must be careful and not tell a soul about it because it was a display of love, goodness, and intimacy that deserves to be cherished and not broken by society's discrimination. Anne also said that it is supposed to feel quite pleasurable. That is how I know.”

She nodded, taking a few seconds to think about it and analyze the situation.

“Can we… do that?” Francesca asked, some boldness whose origin she unfortunately ignored.

“Oh,” Your eyes met hers as she turned around. “Well, if you want to… I mean, I want to, but only if you do as well, uh… Do you want to?”

“Yes, I want to make love with you.” She smiled confidently.

“Are you sure?”

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Francesca assured you, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “Can I take off your gown?”

A soft exhale left your lips at the thought. “You can take all of me, my darling.”

Francesca smiled a little, pressing her forehead to yours. Your noses brushed each other's before you kissed.

And, when it happened, you could only describe it as mystical. With her, everything felt like magic.

You thought, more often than not, that you weren't built for this world. You weren't built for this society because you wanted nothing but her and to be able to dance with her at balls, to just say ‘this is my wife’ to everyone you met, to love her freely.

You weren't built for a society that kept you away from her.

You wanted to be with her like this always, to feel the tip of her fingers brush your skin and cause goosebumps, to stand naked before her and her before you, just like you were now.

“What are we supposed to do now?” she asked.

You shrugged. “Shall we find out?”

She chuckled nervously, feeling like the fire lighting up the room was actually inside of her. Francesca nodded, giving you the needed cue to end the distance between you two and kiss her.

It was hesitant at first. You didn't know what to do with your hands, so you just put her hair behind her ear, deepened the kiss, and then cupped her face. Meanwhile, Francesca freed your hair and rested her hands on your shoulders, not knowing what to do either.

She ended the kiss, looking at you with a glint of need in her shy hazel eyes. She sighed, all her fears leaving her body with that exhale. Her hands went to the back of your neck to pull you close and began kissing there, imitating what you were doing when you helped her undress.

You held her by her waist and her hands traveled your shoulders and her fingers drew burning, irregular shapes on your back. “This feels good.”

“It does.” She smiled against your skin.

In an attempt to get closer, you put your leg between hers and pulled her until your skin was on hers. Which also meant that you were close enough for your thigh to touch her core.

The moan she let out was almost delirious and the way her hips bucked in response caused her thigh to stumble upon you.

Your eyes met, both silently agreeing that what you just did felt, oh, so good.

Francesca swallowed hard and looked down as she bucked her hips to provoke the same feeling to both of you.

“God,” you moaned, holding her tightly against you and moving like she moved. “My bed.”

When you pulled apart to go to the bed, a strange emptiness took over you. It was not only emotional, as if missing each other a bit; it was physical, too. A warm and wet something was left on your thighs as a result of your pleasure, which came as a surprise because neither of you had any idea what any of what you were doing was, but you did know how good it felt.

Once you were finally sitting on your bed, you looked at each other as if asking for permission, but then you realized how absurd it was to ask, to wait, to hesitate, so you kissed, this time hungrily and intensely. The way you clumsily returned to your previous position gave away how much you needed each other.

You were so clumsy and careless, that this time it wasn't your thighs but your cores that met, and you cried out at how terribly delicious that contact felt.

“This… feels so…” Francesca began, not able to come up with the words that could describe how she was feeling, so she just kept moving with you and moaning your name loudly.

“Good?” you panted.

“Better than- than good,” she replied, her breath labored. “Great.”

Hearing her be vocal about this was unexpected to say the least. However, you found it exciting and hot. “How do you feel, Fran?” you encouraged her to speak, craving to hear her say things about this very wonderful moment.

“Great,” she replied, a strange pressure building inside her very being. “This- I like… this.”

You kissed her eagerly, harshly, to then ask. “Do you?”

“Yes…” She nodded, kissing you again as your hands traveled to her hips and then used the contact to guide her to be faster and pull her close enough to apply more pressure.

Francesca broke the kiss, her head falling back and giving you access to her neck. You sucked her skin, beginning to notice how she had some burning red spots on the places your mouth has been to before.

A desperate moan left your lips when a sensation started to form deep inside you, and she was feeling it, too. You could only describe it as if you were running from a great distance to a cliff, and everything you were doing in the earthly world made the inside you run faster and faster until you reached the edge. And there, Francesca was waiting for you to see how you slowed down for a second, only so she could hold your hand and jump with you.

In both the earthly and imaginary world, you moaned her name loudly as you fell off the edge of the cliff, or as you came with her.

She moaned and gasped, and hid her head against your neck to muffle the sounds she was making.

“Do not hold back,” you told her, feeling your orgasm last so very long. “I wish to hear you, please.”

Francesca obeyed you, pressing her forehead to yours and moaning your name against your lips.

It was so innocent, yet so sensual. It felt right, but, oh, so immoral. And carnal. And fascinating. Scandalous, beautiful, mystical, sinful.

You didn't stop until it was too much. Her embrace didn't end, and she wanted anything but.

“I love you.” you whispered, guiding her to lie on the bed with you.

She smiled. “I love you, too.”

“I am so happy that you still had love for me.” You kissed her softly.

“I will always have love for you.” Francesca replied.

You stared at each other in silence. Her hand was on your cheek, caressing it, and yours drew delicate patterns on the soft skin of her hips.

“Can we do this again?” Francesca asked.

You smiled. “Can we?”

“I should like that.”

“Me as well.”

taglist: @swiftholic-13 @kenzieisgone @urmultifandomfan

[harveybwabbit92]

[Jack and his fiancée are going to meet her family for dinner to announce their engagement. (let's call her Susan since both of mother of ultra's sisters are nameless)

Susan knocks on her sister's front door and Jack is nervously clear his throat ready to introduce himself to Susan's "Cute little nephew." Only for his soul leave his body when he comes face to face with a very confused Seven.]

Seven: What the hell are you doing here?

Jack, too stunned: *makes a pathetic croaking noise as he realizes who his fiancée's family is*

Susan: Seven, don't be rude! I told you all that I was introducing my fiancé today!

Seven: Y-yeah, and where is he?

Susan, clings to Jack's arm: He's right here silly.~

Seven: Oh...I see.~

Mother, from inside: Seven, don't hold them up, let them in!

[Seven reluctantly moves aside to let Jack and Susan in and they go straight to the living room where Taro and Ace stare at Jack confused why he was with their aunt?

Mother not noticing the tension in the air; happily ushers her sister away so they can gush about the engagement, leaving Jack to face the wolves alone.]

Seven, as he throws his arm around Jack's shoulder: Hey Guys, look! It's Jack! Our buddy and apparently Aunt Susie's fiancé.

Ace and Taro: *keeps silently staring at Jack.*

Jack, warily: *gulp* Hi guys....

[Needless to say, things were a little tense and awkward in the friend group for a while...]

[princesssarisa]

There are more meanings of Barbie characters' names?

I'll go through the whole list of Barbie's family and friends from Wikipedia for all the characters I didn't list before.

Barbie's family members

George (her father): "Farmer."

Margaret (her mother): "Pearl."

Tutti (her discontinued sister): An Italian word that means "all" – best known in the US from "tutti frutti" ("all fruits"), a term for mixture of chopped candied fruits or for sweets with a mixed fruit flavor. For Barbie's sister, it must be a nickname.

Francie (her cousin): Short for Frances, meaning "Frenchwoman."

Jazzie (another cousin): Jazz is a style of music; the slang term "jazzy" means bright, colorful, and showy, like the music. It could also be a nickname for Jasmine. It's obviously a nickname, at any rate.

Kirsten (another cousin): "Christian."

Lulu (another cousin): Probably short for Louise or Louisa, meaning "famous in battle," or for Lucinda or Lucia, meaning "light," or for Lucille, meaning "little light."

Millicent (her aunt): "Strong in work" or "unceasing strength."

Adele (another aunt): "Noble."

Female friends (she's had so many!)

Raquelle: "Ewe."

Grace: Self-evident.

Stacey: Derived from Anastasia, meaning "resurrection," or from Eustacia, meaning "fruitful."

P.J.: Unknown; we'd need to know what her initials stand for.

Steffie: Short for Stephanie, meaning "crown" or "wreath."

Cara: "Beloved."

Whitney: "White island."

Miko: "Delicious" or "entertaining."

Kira: "Young" or "black."

Becky: Short for Rebecca, meaning "tie" or "snare."

Kayla: Derived from Catherine, meaning "far off" or "pure."

Lea: "Weary."

Jamie: "Heel-grabber" or "supplanter."

Kelley: "Bright-headed."

Devon: "Calf" or "fawn."

Tracy: "Warlike" or "fierce."

Nia: "Bright" or "purpose."

Viky: Short for Victoria, meaning "victory."

Tara Lynn: Tara means "elevated place" or "star"; Lynn means "lake."

Lara: "Citadel."

Drew: Originally a male name derived from Andrew, meaning "manly."

Melody: Self-evident.

Simone: "Listening."

Shannen: A variant of Shannon, the name of a river in Ireland, which probably comes from a root word meaning "old" or "ancient."

Maiko: "Child in a linen robe" or "dancing child."

Harper: "Harp maker."

Renee: "Reborn."

Daisy: "Daisy flower," of course.

Tia: "Aunt."

Courtney: "Short nose."

Desiree: "Desired."

Ling: "Spirit" or "bell."

Dee Dee: Unknown; originally a nickname for anyone whose name started with D.

Dana: "God is my judge" or "wise."

Diva: A term for a singing star (especially an arrogant one), from the Italian word for "goddess." Obviously a nickname.

Tori: Short for Victoria, meaning "victory."

Susie: Short for Susan, meaning "lily."

Nichelle: A cross between Nicole, meaning "victory of the people," and Michelle, meaning "Who is like God?"

Marissa: "Of the sea."

Ana: "Grace" or "favor."

Gabbie: Short for Gabriella, meaning "God is my strength."

Chelsie: "Chalk wharf."

Marie: "Bitter," "drop of the sea," or "beloved."

Mari: "Truth," among other possible meanings.

Mariko: "Child of truth" or "jasmine child," among other possible meanings.

Isla: "Island."

Male friends

Blaine: "Yellow."

Derek: "Ruler of the people."

Curtis: "Courteous."

Todd: "Fox."

Steven: "Crown" or "wreath."

Kurt: "Brave counsel."

Ryan: "Little king."

Barbie's younger siblings have lots of friends too, but I'd be here all day if I tried to look up their names' meanings too.

[fiercefray]

introducing :: susan ‘susie’ frump

“Everyone expects all the creepy stuff from Wednesday. That’s why its fun when I do it. No one expects it.”

As the daughter of Ophelia Frump, Susie was marked as the ‘white sheep’ of the family since she was child. Her love of all things girly, pink, and glittery set her against her Aunt Tish’s more macabre side. Despite it all she adores her family and when she finds out Wednesday is going to be attending Nevermore Academy with her, she is thrilled.

While on the surface the two cousins appear to be as different as can be, they are quite similar. Beneath Susie’s ever present smile is an independent and curious girl who doesn’t mind the occasional torture or fencing lesson.

[youwontdie]

For the ask game I just RB'd from you; Chica's spirit! Either the one from canon (Susie) or a different one you might have as an OC like I do, doesnt matter to me.

^^ nw nw i figured!! thank u for clarifying tho :o3

AS FOR THE CHICER... i am a susie-haver, so,

🧸[full name]: susan diana rivera

❓[age]: 11!

🎂 [birthday]: march 8th, 1977

🎊 [personality]: happy-go-lucky, sweet, but oh the most conniving little girl you'd know. not in a particularly bad way, she's just always masterminding stuff like getting as many tickets as possible, or candy on halloween, she'll plan for weeks! the other missing kids kept her around before they died almost entirely for her smarts.

💗 + 💖 + 💞 [parents, siblings & family life]: she had her parents, jenny and nicholas, her aunt alice, and her sister samantha, who was her best friend. she loved her family more than anything, and had a pretty good home life. she didn't get in trouble very often, mostly because of all that Conniving™ of hers.

🐶[pets]: her dog, mars bar. named after her favorite candy, and went missing a week before her birthday. she was found a few days after susie disappeared herself.

⏰ [date of disappearance]: march 8th, 1988

🍒[why william chose them]: his first victim at freddy's. he'd seen her putting up lost dog posters around town, offered to hang one up in the restaurant window. he'd known her and her parents for a long time now, they'd been regulars at fredbear's once upon a time, and susie was a friend of his daughter's. susie trusted him already. she was an easy target.

🐇 [how they were lured]: william found her playing fruity maze on her birthday, trying to cheer herself up with her favorite game. he consoled her, offered her a cupcake from her birthday order early to help her feel better. she had no reason not to trust him.

☠ [how they died]: decapitation, as with all of william's victims.

🤖[who they possess]: chica, who was her favorite. :o)

💫[how vengeful they are]: she's not particularly vengeful, just sad. she'd like to go to heaven soon, so she does what she's told will free her and the others by the older kids.

🎀[how well known their case was]: extremely well-known. susie rivera's disappearance rocked the community terribly, even if you were somebody who hadn't know her or her family. nothing was ever quite the same after her.

[helluvaoutlaw]

Aunt Susie as in Susan the elderly lady? With the dead animal for a scarf?

Maybe.

There's a lot of Susans out there.

So who knows?

[kallmeweirdhprroe]

Okay so I wanted to add stuff that I hate the portmans for + Ricky

Okay so let’s start with Abe/ Abraham

I know that he is a victim of the war the possible or stuff that happened before the war if not his family was ( I could name multiple things that Abe has been thought in history witch is a lot for Abe)

List

1.black Tuesdays

2.the great depression

3.word war two

4. The Cold War

5.The division of Europe

6. The holocaust

7. The Korean War

8.The Vietnam war

—————

And with this information all of this will affect Abe’s life because nobody can forgot events like the ones I listed especially someone who has been thought them and lost all of their family & friends along the way

Witch is why Frank is an ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE for sending Jacob to Abe’s house (like the original post there could been multiple things. that could happened to Jacob and/or Abe too when he was in a panic but also ricky as well since he was there but just outside . any of them found have been injured because of Abe and his panicking but also Ricky has a gun in his car witch is a 22 I believe , he could have brought that gun if something happened anyone inside the house , HE COULD HAVE SHOT SOMEONE!!!!

But also Abe was a neglectful father and husband to his family witch cause the abuse because the abuser to Frank (basically the neglected becomes neglectful ). making him neglectful to his son and his OWN DAD because why on earth nobody decided that maybe it was a good choice to see if they can send. a nurse to Abe’s house when his health started to decline to help him or check up on him if they could .but yes I do understand why they wanted to send Abe to a home because Abe wound be able to get the help he needs.

But also to Jacob as well basically making Abe do all the parenting until Jacob was 15 and he FUCKING DIED!!! same with his mom if she was still alive when Jacob’s was born witch its a possibility since we don’t know anything about her😔😔 or when she died at all but we do know that that Abe didn’t take Frank truck or treating and she took of picture of him (I still don’t know why he didn’t take Susan maybe she went with friends or she was wasn’t born yet??) who knows.

The way he also broke up with Emma is just something but that something isn’t something that I like because why on earth did he send a picture of him with susan….. just why , like how on earth did he get the audacity to do that to her and also that his kids found one of Emma’s letters , got rid of it some how (I think they flush it down the toilet ) but it made them think that Abe was cheating on their mother with one or more woman

And I don’t blame them at all because if I found that out I wound believe that there was one or more woman but also they he was also neglecting his OWN wife too making her do all the parenting and if she was still alive when and died I do think that Frank’s reaction could different when Susan gave Jacob the book for his b-day

——————

Susan/susie

I really don’t have any problems with aunt Susan but I do wonder why she couldn’t give Jacob the book earlier since he was been dealing with grief & mourning for mine months I believe so?? , so why couldn’t she give him the book earlier , I mean the only things I can think is because she wants to Jacob fully heal before she gives him the book

——————

Franklin/frank

(I’ll mostly be repeating things I wrote for and for Frank I think)

Like I said in the beginning Frank is irresponsible for sending their own 15 yr old son ti deal his his own dad who has deal with many horrors of the past ( basically some of the stuff I listed) and not actually going to check up Abe him self since he doesn’t even have a job it’s volunteering (I don’t know if you get paid for it) he could have been a house husband at this point

Also making Jacob call out of work instead of Frank doing it and telling all the other volunteers that there is some family emergency 

Since the more responsible thing was Frank to go to Frank himself or ask Susan to go to check up on their dad who may or may not even recognize their own grandchild when he’s in a panic

And again Abe had a box cutter witch he could hurt himself or Jacob with where boxes cutter he could also do the same to Ricky

——————

Mary/maryann

There was no need for her to be the only one drinking in all adaptations of mphfpc she was drinking in the book , graphic novel , movie while everyone was completely sober during the “birthday party scene

Also that there wasn’t no need to even have a birthday party for Jacob at all when he wasn’t stable for it or that he didn’t even want one at all , hell she even threw a party for their own dog so she could just show off her house since she’s R-I-C-H

But also why did she and not buy any gifts for Jacob until he was 8 or 9 years old , THEY HAVE MONEY!!! or Maryann’s has the money because in the book she bought something from Italy or somewhere from Europe to south florida if she can do that she can buy gifts for her own KID!!!

And the fact she doesn’t even bother telling other relatives about his interest of even tries to learn his interest is just low because almost everything he has gotten are just stuff from his relatives that they don’t even want expect the book and the old Sudan that he got because his mom or parents are getting a new car and the new camera that he wanted but only to help Frank witch basically means that “ is this a gift for me or for you” type of situation for me in the scene

————————-

Jake/jacob

I don’t make much to say about him since this post is basically just about his family and not the peculiars

But something I did found funny but is kinda fuck too is when he said “ do I look like a truck stop hooker” when Ricky said are you my mom when Jacob asked him if he was smoking and also chewing 🍃 at his roof after Abe died and that Jacob was trying to convince him about the hollow that he saw

Also he knew that they both came from different backgrounds and he knew that he was richer or his moms side of the family is richer

But I also would like the point out how he thought if Ricky when I received a new car that costed more than Ricky’s car that he bought with a jar I coins but still has parry goers hit the car with something

——————

Ricky

Like Susan I don’t have many problems with him

But I do agree with Jacobs frustration when he discover that he was smoking & chewing 🍃 at the fight page and also that he muttered that Jacob needing brain shinier

While Jacob was dealing with the lost of grandfather and dealing with grief (I haven’t dealt with grief but I know it can be hard on the person who is dealing with it ) and the fact that he said

“ whatever, I’m just being straight with you,” he said. “ keep talking about monsters and they’re gonna put you away. Then you really will be special Edd

Witch someone who dealing with grief that his grandfather is now dead but also going to some physiologist that he didn’t even want to and also he thinks that the hollow was just some hallucinations and doesn’t like the fact that people are treating him like he’s crazy , doesn’t want to hear at alll

And I do think that Jacob may or may not made it clear that is isn’t the biggest fan of Ricky doing both but this is just an opinion

Why Franklin and Maryann Portman are the Worst™ (Part 1)!;

I want to preface this by saying that I know that by no means Franklin and Maryann Portman are the actual worst parents in fiction or in this series even. 

Of course they aren't. 

But that doesn't mean that I can't still refer to them as the worst™ for them being shitty. Even if I do believe that on some leave that they do care about/love their son. 

I also wanna point out that it's been awhile since I read the books so I'm going off my memory and the wiki for this. So I may forget some context of why this or that happens, and if I do that, feel free to comment it down below respectfully. And if I forget something that you find shitty that they did, also feel free to reblog or comment it down below because I would love to talk about these characters and fandom more.

Am I saying that Abe Portman is 100% perfect and did nothing wrong whatsoever? No, that would go against how his character is betrayed in the books—as a flawed traumatized man who did his best to be there for his family and keep them and himself (as well as others) safe and went about some things the wrong way. 

 Now that that's out of the way…

According to the wiki:

“Jacob was born on Halloween, and up until he was eight years old was convinced by his parents that trick-or-treating candy was birthday presents (something apparently revealed in Hollow City).” 

These people are rich. 

R-I-C-H. 

Rich enough that Jacob’s dad can study birds and volunteer and write mine books that he never publishes without the worry of them not having anything to eat. 

R-I-C-H enough that Jacob comments that “I did love her, of course, but mostly because loving your mom is mandatory, not because she was someone I think I'd like very much if I met her walking down the street. Which she wouldn't be, anyway; walking is for poor people.” And rich enough that they gave their kid their four year old sundan so that they could get a brand new car. 

And for eight years, they had their son believing that candy was a birthday present. 

1. Now, look. I get it. Birthday shopping is hard, especially for a little itty bitty kid but not actually having the money to buy your only kid gifts and choosing not to because people are handing out candy on that day anyway? That's not a very nice thing to do for that long. 

They let him go through three years of school thinking that and we never learned how he found out that was a lie. That's not even including the fact that the rest of their extended family let this lie continue (assuming they knew). 

Can you imagine if Jacob found out because he mentioned this to his classmates or a teacher? Maybe a teacher or family member could salvage the situation but little kids can be brutal, especially towards other little kids who they think are wrong and considering we know that in that same year, Jacob was pants-ed causing him to stop believing anything Abe said…. It's not entirely out of the realm of possibility tl believe that one of Jacob's classmates got in a fight with him over it and caused some kind of embarrassing, painful memory. 

Though I guess it's a good thing they didn't get Jacob birthday presents that early on considering my second point. 

2. The birthday scene. 

Look at his birthday scene. 

This scene? Shouldn't really exist. 

Not because I hate birthday scenes but because Jacob literally told his parents he didn't want a party which under normal circumstances is a reasonable ask within itself. But these? These aren't even normal circumstances. 

Jacob doesn't want a party because the one person he'd actually want there, in his own words, is his grandpa. His grandpa who died in his arms nine months before and who Jacob has been viciously mourning for said nine months. His grandpa whose death caused Jacob's ‘mental breakdown’. 

Whose house they had also cleaned out recently, doing shit all for the now sixteen year old’s mental health and grief. 

But what do his parents do? 

Throw him a surprise party.

A surprise party.

For their jumpy traumatized son who found his grandpa bleeding out in the dark after getting attacked by a monster (or ‘rabid dogs’) and who has been sleeping in the fucking laundry room. 

Why on earth would going against his wishes be good for him? He said he didn't want a party and under these circumstances, it's even more understandable. If you really want your son to socialize or to celebrate, then get him a cake or some food he likes and invite his friend over. Talk to him. 

Don't throw him a party he doesn't want and don't throw the kid who's been having non-stop nightmares about the monsters who killed his grandfather a fucking surprise party. 

To make matters, in this party:

One of his uncles he’s not close to tries to spring a summer trip to his house on him, listing shit that he likely knows Jacob doesn't like with no previous warning to the kid himself (his parents were just planning to ship him off, whether he wanted it or not). 

They're calling Jacob's apparent disorder ‘his thing’. 

And nobody is actually getting him anything he wants. Just shit they've been gifted and are trying to get rid of. 

Gifts like CD's of country Christmas music or subscriptions to Field and Stream (because his Uncle Les thinks he's outdoorsy, this one I can understand slightly since Jacob did want to be an adventurer but still). 

The only exceptions being:

 1. The key to the family four-year-old sedan, which Jacob is embarrassed to be receiving in front of Ricky (who Jacob hasn't talked to in a long while after a fight they had). 

And 

2. A camera Jacob had been wanting for ages (since last summer) from his parents….who likely only gifted it to him because of his dad's new book.

Which leads to his mom drunkeningly making front of her husband at her sixteen year old’s birthday party…. Real classy. 

Oh and 3. A book that belonged to Abe that Jacob's parental Aunt Susie snagged trom the house when they were cleaning it out. A book titled “The Selected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson”. 

She gave this to him, saying it was from Abe because he'd written Jacob's name in it. 

Thoughtful right? 

Well everyone else doesn't think so because they go quiet. Jacob's mom, Maryann even while drunk, tries to say it was thoughtful and that she didn't know Abe was a reader.

Meanwhile Jacob's dad, Franklin, is barely hiding how pissed he is. 

Like dude. 

Dude. 

Do you really hate your own dad so much that you don't want your grieving son to have even just a book of poems that the only member of the family who he was close to left for him? Are you still, even after that disastrous day where you cleaned out the fucking house with him there and fought with him, refusing to let him have any ties left?

To be fair, you can say that this is because of his own history with Abe and that it's because Jacob is in a worrying state. But that doesn't really hold up considering that they let Abe babysit Jacob often and fill his head up with stories they thought he embellished  due to his own trauma and because they thought that Jacob was well enough to handle trashing and donating all of his dead grandpa’s stuff. 

Sure, they don't take the book from him but the fact Franklin can't even hide how pissed he is is shitty. 

That's not even considering this little tidbit here:

“My mother leaned toward me and in a tense whisper asked if I needed a drink of water, which was mom-speak for keep it together, people are staring.”

….

Do I even need to say anything?

The fact that Jacob thinks this probably means that his parents—or even just Maryann—have said this to him before. Frequently so, even. To the point where he's trying to escape the room, feeling like he might cry, and instead of thinking that his parents (or anyone in this family) might be able to potentially comfort him in this hard moment, this is what he's thinking. 

It's infuriating.

But not as infuriating as my last point for now!

3. Franklin sent his then fifteen year old son to deal with what he thought was his dementia ridden, war world 2 veteran father having a PTSD attack/episode. 

Franklin gets called when he's volunteering at a bird rescue in what is either early afternoon or night by his worried fifteen year old said who tells him that Abe called him ‘flipping out’. 

He asks if he's taken his pills today and Jacob tells him Abe wouldn't tell him. 

At this point, any reasonable adult would go and help their poor ailing father who may be having an episode or PTSD attack about the war, what happened to his family. The monsters. 

At this point, any reasonable adult would send their son home out of danger and call up a friend or sibling or in-law to go deal with the situation. 

What does Franklin do?

He sends his fifteen year old, who is at his job, to go check on Abe. Who again, Franklin thinks is having an episode. 

Now, even if there was a chance that Abe would still recognize Jacob and wouldn't be a danger to him, who would risk sending their son to check on an ailing relative by himself when there's every chance that when Jacob gets there he'll be having flashbacks to the horrors he witnessed. I mean, it's understandable if you or another adult is there and need help calming the man for you to maybe have your teenage son there. Especially if he may be caring for him one day out of choice.

But sending your fifteen year old there by himself to handle the situation when he probably won't know what to do and when he probably hasn't seen one before?

And doing that when you know that your dad was in a war and still has a sea of weapons hidden away behind lock and key (a key which you have) because you can't be half assed to tell the shelter your volunteering at that there's a family emergency?

Franklin literally sent Jacob into a traumatizing situation that could turn dangerous (for Abe or Jacob, if Abe didn't recognize his grandson) under the assumption that all of his paranoid dad's weapons are stored away. 

And what did Abe die with in his hand?

A box cutter. 

Which just proves that Abe had things lying around that he could use as a weapon if needed. Things he could improvise with. 

Just think for a moment about what could have wrong if Abe wasn't actually in danger from a wight but something he was actually imagining—a memory from his past. Imagine what could have happened to Jacob if Abe had mistaken him for a burglar or a wight or what Franklin thought he was imagining.

Jacob can't fight. 

It's dark. 

Things could easily go wrong.

And what would happen if they did?

Jacob would be hurt and traumatized or dead and Abe would likely be in a horrible place if he wasn't, all because Franklin didn't care enough about his dad to go check on him himself. Hell you can he didn't even care about Jacob enough here, because he didn't care about what Jacob could possibly see if he sent him to deal with his grandfather.

Like, not only is he being incredibly shitty to his son but to his own ailing father who was at the very least convinced he was in danger and who was actually in danger (for all Franklin knew his dad could have actually heard someone breaking in but he didn't even take the time to think about it). 

That's all I have time to write for today but there's several other things that they do that are pretty crappy where their son is involved that I will happily discuss.

Hope this doesn't disappoint, @kallmeweirdhprroe .

[pinkhairlegionnaire]

DOSSIER CHEAT SHEET

LEGAL NAME: Susan Uri NICKNAME[S]: Susie, Su, Legion DATE OF BIRTH: March 12, 1969 GENDER: Cis!Female PLACE OF BIRTH: Del Rio, Texas, USA CURRENTLY LIVING: Ormond in the Entity's Fog SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Spanish, English, French EDUCATION: High School drop out HAIR COLOR: Pink or Blue / Formerly Blond EYE COLOR: Blue/Gray HEIGHT: 5'3" WEIGHT: 111LBS

FAMILY INFORMATION

SIBLING[S]: Zoe Castillo (step-sister) Rosemary Castillo (step-sister) Alicia Castillo (step-sister) Lupe Castillo (step-sister) PARENT[S]: Gabriel Uri (father) Yesenia Castillo (mother) Humberto Castillo III (step-father) RELATIVE[S]: Several aunts, uncles, and cousins CHILDREN: None PET[S]: None

RELATIONSHIP INFORMATION

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Multiship/Multiverse- main verse single SINCE WHEN: Since Always

Stolen from my main blog :D Tagging anyone who wants to :D

[kallmeweirdhprroe]

Aunt Susan/susie & Jacob pt.2 (and other stuff abt the family mostly Maryann’s family)

Now here’s pt.2 because pt.1 would be pretty long if i wanted to add more stuff and now i wanna

So now let’s talk about the business smart aid that Maryann’s family owns and the fact that Jacob is next in line to own/run the business witch probably means that Jacob is the oldest of all the kids in the family

or that he’s just a middle cousin and all the other of his cousins already work or run/own the business already

(If you’re wondering what a middle cousin it’s basically the middle child but expect it’s with cousins and not siblings)

And like I said in the parts that take place in Jacob’s party Jacob doesn’t really have a good relationship. with his uncles & cousins at all or just the 2 uncles that were supposed to teach him about the business

(Ok now we can talk about Susan & Jacob)

I like that image that they would have a mother figure & son relationship but when Jacob was like in 5th grade-now since I think before 5th grade Susan’s & Jacob’s relationship was strain since Jacob mostly spends his time with Abe

So after a few years they probably they got a good relationship (and this is a what if) and if maybe Susan has kids or just a kid maybe Jacob would get along with them

or maybe like them more than his other cousins

And that maybe Susan would listen to Jacob about the peculiars and not call him crazy since he does have evidence and also she did give the book

[annarellix]

END OF STORY by Kylie Scott (Excerpt)

Fans of bestsellers like In Five Years will fall for this unexpected love story about a woman and her contractor who discover a divorce decree with their names on it … dated ten years in the future. When Susie inherits a charming fixer-upper from her aunt, she’s excited to start living her best HGTV-life. But when she opens the door to find that her contractor is none other than her ex’s (very good looking) best friend Lars—the same man who witnessed their humiliating public break-up 6 months ago—she isn’t exactly eager to have him around. But, beggars can't be choosers and the sooner the repairs are done, the sooner she can get back to grudgingly accepting the single life.

Things go from awkward to unbelievable when Lars knocks down a bedroom wall and finds a divorce certificate dated ten years from now…with both their names on it. It couldn’t possibly be real...could it? As Susie and Lars try to unravel the document’s origins, the impossibility of a spark between them suddenly doesn’t seem so far-fetched. But is any kind of relationship between them doomed before it’s ever begun?

Buy Links: BookShop.org Harlequin Barnes & Noble Books A Million Amazon

The Author: Kylie Scott is the New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal and international bestselling author of 19 novels including the Stage Dive series, the Dive Bar series, the Larsen Brothers series, and West Hollywood series. Her most recent release, Pause, debuted on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into fourteen languages, and she has sold over 2 million copies worldwide.

Social Links: Author Website Twitter Facebook Instagram Goodreads

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE “This is awkward.” The big blond man standing on my doorstep blinked. “How are you, Lars?” I gave him my very best fake smile. “Nice to see you.” “Susie. It’s been what…five, six months?” Setting down his toolbox, he gave me an uneasy smile. It was more of a wince, really. Because the last time we saw each other was not a good night. Not for me, at least. “Something like that,” I said. “This your new place?” He nodded at the battered arts and crafts cottage. “The office said you had some water damage you wanted to start with?” “Yeah, about that. I was told Mateo would be doing the work.” “Family emergency.” “Oh.” He gazed down at me with dismay. The man was your basic urban Viking marauder, as his name suggested. Longish blonde hair, white skin, blue eyes, short beard, tall and built. I was average height and he managed to loom over me just fine. In his mid-thirties and more than a little rough around the edges. Nothing like his sleek and slick bestie. An asshole whose continued existence I’d prefer to be reminded of never. But we don’t always get what we want. I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll show you…” “Okay.” “Don’t worry about taking your boots off. The shag carpet isn’t staying.” Heavy footsteps followed me through the living room and into the dining room where we turned left to enter the small hallway. From this point we had two options, the bathroom or the back bedroom. We headed for the latter. “The water was getting in through a crack in the window for who knows how long,” I explained. “I only inherited the place recently. There were all these boxes piled up in here. No one could even see it was an issue.” He grunted. “I spent the first month just sorting through things and clearing the place out.” Beneath the window frame, a large stain spread across the golden-flecked wallpaper. As if it weren’t ugly enough to begin with. That was the thing about my aunt Susan; she wasn’t a big fan of change. The two-bedroom cottage had belonged to her parents and everything had pretty much been left untouched after they passed. Apart from the addition of Susan’s junk. Which meant that while the wallpaper and carpet were from the 1970’s, the bathroom was from the 1940’s, and the kitchen cabinets from the 1930’s. At least, that’s what I’d been told. The place was like an ode to 20th century interior design. The good, and the bad. He got down on one knee, inspecting the damage. “The bottom of this window frame is warped and needs replacing.” “Can you do that?” “Yeah,” he said. “I need to have a look behind here. You attached to the wallpaper?” “Heck no.” He almost smiled. “The sooner I can repaint and get new flooring down, the better.” Nothing from him. A knife appeared from the tool box, sharp-pointed with jagged teeth. He punched the blade through the drywall with ease and started cutting into the wall. “How is he?” I asked the dreaded question. Curiosity was the worst. “Enjoying London?” “Yeah,” was all he said. “And how’s Jane?” “We’re not together anymore.” Not a surprise. Lars went through various girlfriends during the year I’d been with what’s-his-face. Neither he nor his friend were down with commitment. Which was fine if you just wanted to have fun. But Jane was a keeper, smart with a wicked sense of humor. Lars definitely had a type. All of his girlfriends were petite, perfect dolls who behaved in a ladylike manner. The opposite of buxom, loudmouthed me. He pried a square of drywall loose. “You thinking of living here permanently or flipping and selling the place, or what?” “Haven’t decided.” “Great location. A bit of work and it’d probably be worth a lot of money,” he said, keeping the conversation on the business at hand. As was good and right. Using the flashlight on his phone, he inspected the cavity. The man was all handyman chic. Big ass boots, jeans, and a faded black tee. All of it well-worn. And the way his blue jeans conformed to his thick thighs and the curves of his ass was something. Something I hadn’t meant to notice, but oh well, these things happened. Maybe it was the way his tool belt framed that particular part of his anatomy. For a moment, I couldn’t look away. I was butt struck. Which was both wrong and bad. It would not be smart for me to notice this man in the sexual sense. Though it was nice to know my thirst meter wasn’t broken. I don’t know if Lars and I were ever really friends. We had, however, been friendly. Though that was romantic relationships for you. One moment you had all of these awesome extra people in your life and the next moment they’re gone. I tugged on the end of my dark ponytail. An old nervous habit. “At this stage, it looks like the damage is only superficial,” Lars said. “These two sections of drywall have to go. Once I’ve done that, I’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” “Okay.” “But it wouldn’t surprise me if some or all of that one needs replacing too.” He pointed to the wall the bedroom shared with the bathroom. “See how there’s bubbling along the joins of the wallpaper there?” “Right.” “Do I have your approval to get started?” I nodded. None of this was exactly unexpected. Old buildings might have soul, but they could also have heavy upkeep. Renovations cost big bucks. While my savings were meagre, lucky for this hundred year old house, my aunt left me some money. Which was a point of contention for a few of my family members. Like any of them had time for Aunt Susan when she was alive. Besides being my namesake, she was also the black sheep of the family. A little too weird for some, I guess. But weird has always been a trait that I admired. “I’m going to make myself coffee,” I said. “Would you like some?” “Yeah. Thanks.” “How do you take it?” “White. No sugar.” “You’re sweet enough, huh?” And the moment those words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake. Talk about awkward. He snorted, then said, “Something like that.” * Lars didn’t mess around. By the time I returned, he’d removed the first two panels of drywall. Hands on hips, he stood staring at the interior of the wall with the problematic window. Mostly it looked like a lot of dust and a couple of cobwebs. But then, I’m not a builder. When I handed over his mug, he gave me a brief smile before taking a sip. “How is it looking?” I asked. “Your house has good bones.” “Great.” “As long as the damage on that wall is due to the moisture spreading from the window and not a leaky bathroom pipe, this should be pretty straightforward,” he said. I’d taken over the main bedroom, but this room still held a lot of sentimental value for me. Whenever Mom and Dad were busy or needed a break from us kids, my brother would stay at a friend’s house and I’d be packed off to Aunt Susan’s—to this bedroom in particular. Which was fine with me. Andrew was an outgoing jock while I’d been kind of awkward. In this house, I was accepted for who I was. A nice change. With my parents divorced, growing up between three households and living mostly out of a school bag sucked. But Aunt Susan gave me the security that was lacking elsewhere. “Is the floor okay?” “Let’s pull up some carpet and see.” He set his coffee on the windowsill. Then, knife back in hand, he got busy with the shag. It was impressive how the tool became a part of him. An extension of his body. “You’ve got good solid hardwood under here.” “Ooh, let me see.” He tugged the tattered underlay back further. “Oak, by the look of it.” “Wow. Imagine covering that beauty up with butt ugly brown carpet.” “No sign of water damage. You were lucky.” I smiled. “That is excellent news.” “Now let’s see what’s behind this.” I took a step back so he could start removing the next section of drywall. He had such big capable hands. Watching him work was pure competence porn. . As a mature and well-adjusted thirty year old woman, I definitely knew better than to have sexy times thoughts again. The best friend of my ex is not my friend. Confucius probably said that. “Looks like there’s something back here,” he said, setting a panel of drywall aside. “Something good or something bad?” I winced as a big hairy spider scurried out of the cavity. “Ew.” “It’s just a wolf spider. Nothing dangerous.” “But there might be more.” Without further comment, he reached down and picked up a piece of paper. It looked old. Which made sense. Lord only knew how long it had been in the wall. It was kind of like opening a time capsule. “What is it?” I asked, more than a little curious. His gaze narrowed as he read, his forehead furrowing. Next his brows rose and his lips thinned. His expression quickly changed from disbelief to fury as he shoved the piece of paper at me. The open hostility in his eyes was a lot coming from a man of his size. “Susie, what the fuck?” “Huh?” “Is this your idea of a joke?” “No. I…” The paper was soft with age and the writing was faded but legible. Mostly. Superior Court of Washington, County of King was written at the top. There was also a date stamp. This was followed by a bunch of numbers and the words Final Divorce Order. “Wait. Is this a divorce certificate?” “Yeah,” he said. “For you and me. Dated a decade from now.” I scrunched up my nose and ever so slightly shrieked, “What? Hold on. You think I put this in there?” “No,” he said, getting all up in my face. “I know you put it in there, Susie.” “Take a step back, please,” I said, pushing a hand against his hard chest. He did as I asked, some of the anger leaching from his face. Then he grumbled, “Sorry.” “Thank you.” “Why would you do that? Actually, it doesn’t matter. Find someone else for the job,” he said, gathering up his tools. “I’m out of here.” “Can you just wait a second?” Apparently the answer was no. Because the man started moving even faster. “I don’t know what game you’re playing. But I’m not interested in finding out.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I did not put this in the wall, Lars. Think about it. You’re a builder. Had any of the wallpaper or drywall been disturbed in the last forty or fifty years?” “You could have accessed it from the other side. I don’t know.” “I didn’t even know you were coming here today.” He grunted. “Only got your word for that.” “And I’ve only got your word that you didn’t put this in in the wall for some stupid reason,” I said, thinking it over. How did that not occur to me? “Of course you put it there. I wasn’t the first one to have access to that space. You were. A quick sleight of hand is all it would have taken. This is so unprofessional.” “Very nice. I’m sure you prepared that speech at the same time you planted it, knowing I’d inevitably be the one who first touched it.” “And I’m sure you prepared that speech at the same time you planted it, knowing I’d suspect you.” He glared at me. “Why the hell would I, Susie?” “Why the hell would I, Lars?” I bellowed. “This is ridiculous. I just want my house fixed. That’s all. And I specifically asked who would be doing the job because I didn’t feel the need to see you again.” With his back to me, he paused. “No offense. But I knew it would be wildly uncomfortable.” “Why’d you use the company I work for then?” “Because I know they’re reputable and do good work. You yourself said that’s one of the main reasons why you’ve stuck with them. Because they don’t encourage you to cut corners or use shoddy materials and they treat their staff well. Also, they pretty much do everything. These things matter.” I raised a finger. (No. Not that one.) “Take car repairs for instance. Because I know little to nothing about cars, I get ripped off by repair shops—I’m sure of it. I didn’t want that to happen here.” Another grunt. What an animal. “I wish neither to marry nor divorce you, Lars. And I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual. So this piece of paper I’m holding in no way benefits me. Look at me. Am I laughing? No, I’m not. Nor am I enjoying all this drama. Confrontation stresses me the fuck out,” I said, my shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what else to say. This is ridiculous.” “You already said that.” “It’s worth repeating.” He gave me a look over his shoulder. “If you’re messing with me…” “I’m not. Are you messing with me?” “No.” “Then what the hell is going on?” I asked the universe. Without another word, he got to his feet and strode out of the room, heading straight into the bathroom next door. There he made quick work of checking everything. The tiling and paintwork, around the white pedestal basin, inside the mirrored cabinet set into the wall, and the end of the claw foot bath tub. Then he turned around, face set to cranky. “Access point for the attic?” “Hallway.” In no time flat, he had the ceiling hatch open and the ladder down. Then up into the darkness he went. His cell phone doubled as a flash light again. “Lot of stuff up here,” he commented. “That does not surprise me. My aunt was kind of a hoarder. Not as bad as the people on those TV shows, but…yeah.” He sneezed. “A lot of dust, too.” “Bless you. I haven’t even been up there yet,” I said. “Cleaning and clearing space out down here has taken all of my time.” His big boots disappeared up the last rungs of the ladder while I waited below. After all, I’d only be in the way. It had absolutely nothing to do with my fear of creepy crawlies. Someone had to wait below with the weird ass document. The sounds of him stomping about and things being shifted came next. Something heavy was pushed aside. Something else fell and glass broke. “Sorry,” Lars called. “I’m sure it was nothing valuable. Hopefully.” Then his face appeared in the dark hole overhead. “Looks like they built the attic to use as another bedroom or office at some stage. The floorboards and everything are tight. No real access into the walls below.” “Mm.” “Plus there’s about an inch of dust on the ground and no sign of any footprints other than mine.” “Good work, Nancy Drew,” I said. “Is the basement next?” He gave me a flat, unfriendly look. “Yes.” Maybe I’d be better off finding another builder. In fact, I knew I would be. Though it would only be trading one peace of mind for another. While Lars would no longer be in my face, I wouldn’t be able to trust the new builder’s work to the same degree. Which would be anxiety-inducing and possibly costly. Talk about a no-win situation. Back into the dining room then through to the kitchen at the back of the house, we went on our not-so-merry adventure. I opened the door to the dingy staircase. “I like to call this the murder room. Dark, dank, dangerous. It’s got it all.” No response from him as we made our way down. Tough crowd. It was just a basic concrete room with a boiler, laundry area, and more assorted crap. But the old boiler, the one before this one, used to make creepy noises. Hence my childhood fears of the basement. Helping with the laundry was always an ordeal. I usually avoided it by offering to do the dishes instead. Lars began examining the ceiling. “When did you find out you had this job?” “Around eight this morning. The office called,” he said. “Mateo’s boyfriend got hit by a car riding to work.” “Is he okay?” “A few bumps and bruises and a sprained wrist.” “Phew.” “Yeah,” he said. “The job I was on was close to finishing and they could spare me, so they asked me to come here.” “What gets me is that the paper looks old. I mean, the way the text is faded and everything.” I carefully turned the certificate over in my hands. “I wonder if we could get it tested, somehow.” He scoffed. “You don’t actually think it’s real?” “I honestly don’t know,” I said. “What I do know is, if you didn’t put the certificate there to mess with me—and I guess I believe you when you say you didn’t—then I can think of no rational explanation for how it got there.” He frowned harder and kept right on inspecting the ceiling. Even he had to admit that it was highly unlikely I’d put the decree of dissolution in the wall. Surely. “Does your middle name start with A?” “Alexander. Yes.” “So the details are right, at least. No money judgement ordered. No real property judgement ordered. This marriage is dissolved. The petitioner and respondent are divorced. Not much information there to go on.” I chose my next words with care. “You know, my aunt, she was kind of eccentric. She was always burning candles and buying crystals.” Looking back over his shoulder at me, he raised a questioning brow. “The thing is, she used to talk to the house sometimes,” I finally said. “Like it was an actual living breathing entity. And yes, maybe she was lonely or a little strange. Please don’t say anything mean or dismissive about her.” “I’m not going to say anything about your aunt.” “Thank you.” He didn’t even blink. “But it’s not supernatural, Susie. This was no ghost or spirit or whatever you’re suggesting.” “Okay. Fine. I just thought I’d put that out there,” I said. “Did you find anything down here?” “No.” “So now what?” Face set, he walked over, staring into my eyes as if he could read my soul. “Susie.” “Lars.” “I want to believe you when you say you had nothing to do with it. You always seemed like a pretty honest person to me,” he said. “A bit too honest, sometimes.” “How so?” I asked, only mildly annoyed—although I was exercising great restraint. “Some of the stuff you come out with sometimes is…unnecessary.” “Let’s agree to disagree,” I said. He shook his head. “I would point out, however, that I’m not brutal. Ever notice how people who say they’re just being honest usually are?” His nostrils flared on a deep breath. How that was in any way attractive I had no idea. Something must be wrong with me. Guess my vibrator was getting a little boring. Maybe it was time for me to get out there and meet some men. Then again, not dating for the rest of my life would also be great. “For the last time,” he said, speaking nice and slow, “did you put that piece of paper in the wall?” “No. I swear.” “Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck,” I agreed. He sighed. “Someone’s messing with us.”

Excerpted from End of Story by Kylie Scott. Copyright © 2022 by Kylie Breakey. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

[my-fair-fiction]

I have to say, my Valentine's Day read was terribly superior than I expected. Must have something to do with this hunk of a man, Lars.

❣️End of Story by Kylie Scott ❣️

5⭐ For Lars. 5 More for drunk Lars

•While I'm certifiably in love with Lars I don't think I'll let him name my Cat. He's awful at it. But he makes it up with his prowess in bed. Man's wild in that department.

•I absolutely ADORE Susie. She's so cute and I love people who lack a verbal filter. (Cue my ex-girlfriend)

• But Lars, oh my sweet, he's sooo good. He even reads Tessa Bailey books (that's right. Tessa Bailey)

•I ABSOLUTELY LOVED THE SCENE where he gets so jealous he literally panics and does something cute. (You'll know)

•What I enjoyed was the humor. Kylie has a witty way of narration and I love it.

•So enough of all that, the story goes like this- big handyman shows up to renovate Susie's ol' aunt Susan's house and they discover a divorce certificate with their names on it dated ten years into the future. While to some it would feel cute, to them both it felt like a mindfk. Which is understandable because Lars is a keeper and Susie wasn't ready to do any keeping. So they try to do everything to avoid each other but like some broken magnet they snapped back together every time (okay wait that's how magnets are supposed to work. My humor is the thing that's broken here. Just like Suzie's bed. Oops)

•Whatever. The spice is hot. But you know what I loved most? Tore. Lars' wee bro who is funny and stuff. I need a book on him for the sole reason of being in love with him.

•While there is a faint touch of paranormal activity in it, I'll add it to the list of my favourite Romcoms.

You need to read this. You don't have a choice. I'm literally thre@tening you.

Happy Valentine's. This girl dreams of having a Lars one day #RomanticComedy #BoyFallsFirst #FoundFamily #GrumpySunshine #FriendstoLovers #bookclub #bookish #booklover #booksta

[docrotten]

SLEEPAWAY CAMP (1983) – Episode 219 – Decades Of Horror 1980s

“Eat shit and die, Ricky!” “Eat shit and live, Bill.” Yup. Sounds like your typical summer camp version of witty patter. Join your faithful Grue-Crew – Chad Hunt, Bill Mulligan, Crystal Cleveland, and Jeff Mohr  – as they finally cover the notorious Sleepaway Camp (1983).

Decades of Horror 1980s Episode 219 – Sleepaway Camp (1983)

Join the Crew on the Gruesome Magazine YouTube channel! Subscribe today! And click the alert to get notified of new content! https://youtube.com/gruesomemagazine

Angela Baker, a shy, traumatized young girl, is sent to summer camp with her cousin. Shortly after her arrival, anyone with sinister or less-than-honorable intentions toward her gets their comeuppance.

  Writer/Director: Robert Hiltzik 

Makeup Department: Ed French (makeup illusions)(as Edward French)

Special Effects: 

William Bilowit (special effects coordinator)(as Bill Billowit)

Ed Fountain (special mechanical effects)

Selected Cast:

Felissa Rose as Angela / Peter Baker

Maximo Gianfranco Sorrentino (credited as Frank Sorrentino) as Young Peter

Colette Lee Corcoran as young Angela

Jonathan Tiersten as Ricky Thomas

Karen Fields as Judy

Christopher Collet as Paul

Mike Kellin as Mel Costic

Katherine Kamhi as Meg

Paul DeAngelo as Ronnie Angelo

Susan Glaze as Susie

Thomas E. van Dell as Mike

Loris Sallahain (credited as Loris Sallahian) as Billy

John E. Dunn as Kenny

Willy Kuskin as Mozart

Desiree Gould as Aunt Martha Thomas

Owen Hughes as Artie

Robert Earl Jones as Ben

Frank Trent Saladino as Gene

Rick Edrich as Jeff

Fred Greene as Eddie

Allen Breton as Frank the Cop

Lisa Buckler as Leslie

Michael C. Mahon as Hal

Dan Tursi as John Baker

James Paradise as Lenny

Paul Poland as Craig

Alyson Mord as Mary Ann

Carol Robinson Alexander (credited as Carol Robinson) as Dolores

Sleepaway Camp is one of Crystal’s favorite movies. In fact, she loves it right from the opening scene depicting a boating accident and describes the film as intentionally funny. She loves Desiree Gould as Angela’s Aunt Martha and the two camp snarks, Judy and Meg. She also issues the caveat that you shouldn’t watch it if you’re not open to some politically incorrect attempts at humor.

Chad differs from Crystal and does not think Sleepaway Camp is intended to be funny, but he does think it’s an okay slasher with good makeup effects. Bill went in with low expectations but was pleasantly surprised by Sleepaway Camp, calling it a slice of 80s cheese. Back in the day, Jeff heard the rumors about Sleepaway Camp and its shocking ending so he rented the video to verify it for himself, and indeed, the rumors were true. He was shocked. Now he enjoys the film, its appropriately juvenile humor, and its inventive kills.

It might go without saying but it will be said nonetheless. The 80s Grue Crew unanimously loves Felissa Rose. 

At the time of this writing, Sleepaway Camp can be streamed from Peacock and several ad-based services. A Blu-ray disc is available from Scream! Factory.

Every two weeks, Gruesome Magazine’s Decades of Horror 1980s podcast will cover another horror film from the 1980s. The next episode’s film, chosen by Chad, will be Akira (1988), a “Japanese animated cyberpunk action film directed by Katsuhiro Otomo, … based on Otomo’s 1982 manga of the same name,” according to Wikipedia

Please let them know how they’re doing! They want to hear from you – the coolest, grooviest fans – so leave them a message or comment on the gruesome Magazine Youtube channel, on the website, or email the Decades of Horror 1980s podcast hosts at feedback@gruesomemagazine.com.

Check out this episode!

[helluvaoutlaw]

Striker stepped into the saloon, his eyes scanning the room. He tipped his hat to the bartender, a silent nod of acknowledgment. The bartender returned the gesture, sliding a small, worn package across the counter.

"Reckon this is fer you, Striker."

He said.

Striker took the package, his calloused fingers brushing against the rough paper.

"Much obliged, Hank."

He muttered, tucking it under his arm.

It was early in the afternoon, and there was no one around because of the awful heat. He mounted his horse outside, feeling the weight of the package as he rode back to his hideout. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows over the rugged terrain.

Once inside his secluded hideout, Striker lit a lantern, its flickering light casting an amber glow.

He set the package on a rickety table, pausing for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he tore open the paper, revealing a neatly folded letter.

Unfolding the letter with care, Striker began to read:

Dear Grand Nephew,

For the last decade, I have watched you grow from a dusty greenhorn cowboy to the successful man you are now. The skills you've honed have shot through the layers of Hell like divine light. I've seen you face your challenges and losses with grit and perseverance, with a tenacity that most people could not even begin to muster. I've watched you mature, in many ways beyond your mustache and your weird teeth. Your loyalty is unmatched to those you care about. You're a ruthless killer, and it makes me smile every time the paper tells me you've succeeded. But the bloodstains have never once washed away the side of you that has made this old withered soul feel alive again.

Your wild Wrathian spirit reminds me of a time I can only call a memory, and your visits bring joy I thought I had lost so long ago. From the day you first visited in your patchy overalls, to your tattered oversized duster, to now, you've given me a gift Earth and the Heavens have not.

And so, Beanpole, I want to give you a gift that I hope will help you on your new journey.

The first is a gift that I had made with the help of Keenie, so that when you are able to, you'll have a place to safely hang that beloved hat of yours when you rest. — And yes, these are his shoes.

The second is for you to wear when you are standing there waiting for your Harp to walk down the aisle. I know how close you hold your family to your heart, and I wanted them to be as close to you when you two are married. They're made from a pair of bullets you left behind in my walls a handful of years ago.

Happy Father's Day, Grand Nephew, and congratulations.

With every ounce of affection and pride,

Your loving Aunt Susan.

Striker's rough, weathered hands shook slightly as he read Auntie Susie's familiar handwriting.

His eyes welled up as he read her words of encouragement and unconditional love. The tough exterior he'd built up over the years began to crack. He felt a lump in his throat, and a few tears escaped, trailing down his dusty cheeks.

He sat down heavily on a nearby chair, clutching the letter to his chest.

"Aw, auntie Susie..."

He whispered, his voice breaking.

He let the tears fall freely, grateful for the reminder that he was not as alone in the world as he had thought.

Striker carefully unfolded the rest of the package, revealing the gifts tucked inside.

His breath hitched when he saw the pair of bullet cuff links shaped into delicate lily flowers.

How could two 'messangers of death' be transformed into small, beautiful pieces of art?

He picked them up gently, the craftsmanship clear in the fine details.

"Damn, Auntie Susie."

He muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

"Ya always know how to get to me."

He turned the cufflinks over in his hand, gasping at the initials of his lost loved ones. Since they wouldn't be at the wedding physically, at least they would be at his side in spirit.

The lilies, symbols of purity and new beginnings, seemed almost out of place in his rugged life, yet perfectly fitting at the same time. They were a piece of beauty in a world that often felt anything but.

Then his eyes fell on the hat rack, fashioned from horseshoes.

The hitman couldn't help but chuckle.

"So that's why I couldn't find two of 'em..."

He grinned, looking at Bombproof from the window.

"Ya were into this too, weren't ya?"

The stallion merely shook his head and snorted, going back to his meal.

Striker wiped away the tears with the back of his hand, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

The gifts, and the love behind them, filled his heart with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. He carefully placed the cuff links and the hat rack back into the package, his fingers lingering on the polished metal of the horseshoes.

"Auntie Susie, ya sure got a way with words and gifts."

He smiled.

"I gotta make sure to thank both Susan and Keenie proper-like after I pay my respects to Pa."

He tucked the package under his arm and glanced around the hideout, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

With Love Grand Nephew

@helluvaoutlaw

"Miss Susan?" Called the shop keeper. She looked up and saw the demon push a tray over towards her. "Could you please check if its to your liking?" To her liking, she knew it would be. This particular craftsman was well known for their reclaimed metal jewelry. She had seen his work a number of times in the paper and online. And she knew he wouldn't disappoint. She opened the box and there they sat in a velvet box polished to a shine but also had a faint patina to show their age and their use were a pair of bullet cuff links shaped into a pair of flowers . On the side just below the oxidized colored petals and on the brassy sepals each of them were stamped with the initials A. J. E. J. and C. One for each the folks who could not attend the wedding in person. The shop keep leaned over their counter with a mild smile. Their claws dingy and well callused from their work. The Sinner's eyes were glistening with the pride they had for their work and service. "Are they to your satisfaction?" The lid clicked closed and Susan smiled. "A job well done. They came out beautifully, thank you." The shop keep handed Susan a small silk bag and a slipped a small piece of paper into it. "I doubt he will need it, but care instructions if they ever do. Come back any time. It's been a joy Miss. Susan. I haven't created anything this sentimental and tender in a long time. " He said tapping the case below them pointing to an pendant that clearly once was a wedding band. "I use to make things like that for the widowed, but not many people come in for that, not in Hell." Susan breathed a somber smile, "Well...if I do come back, it won't be for that. It'll be celebratory." "I'd like that, Miss. Susan. Here's the other one you ordered." He said hoisting a much heavier box onto the counter revealing the warmly stained wood. Susan let out a laugh at the sight of the horseshoe hat rack. "This is perfect too!" Running her fingers over the burnt silhouette of Striker and Bombproof. Keenie had done a great job of getting her the horse shoes.

"For the same man?" "They sure are." "Hell don't make funny Grannies like you anymore."

Susan smiled closing the lid. "Many people would disagree with you. but thank you." Now it was a matter of getting these items to him. Always a challenge considering he was always on the move and his hideouts were secretive. But there had to be drop points. Maybe if she could find the vicinity of where he was she could deliver it there. "Oh! That's right he did write something down for me once." She muttered as she flipped through her phone for the address. It wasn't a place she could ever visit, no casually anyway, but Striker had put in regardless. "Here it is." A saloon in Wrath. Boxed up and wrapped up securely she gave the package an extra level of security with a personal stamp. After all the contents were precious to her. The metal stamp lifted from the surface and a lily with grape leaves glistened with yellow sparks in blue ink and its light slowly crept around the package. If anyone beyond Striker tried to open it, they would find their hand a burnt stump.

She watched the imp postal worker carry the box into the back and breathed in a breath hoping that it would make it safely down to Wrath. Tuck within the box were his two gifts and a letter.

Dear Grand Nephew,

For the last decade I have watched you grow from a dusty greenhorn cowboy to the successful man that you are now. The skills you've honed, have shot through the layers Hell like divine light.

I've seen you face your challenges and losses with grit and perseverance. With a tenacity that most people could not even begin to muster. I've watched you mature, in many ways beyond your mustache, and your weird teeth. Your loyalty is unmatched to those you care about. You're a ruthless killer, that makes me smile every time the paper tell me you've succeeded. But the blood stains have never once washed away the side of you that has made this old withered soul feel alive again.

Your wild Wrathian spirit reminds me of a time I can only call a memory, and your visits bring joy I thought I had lost so long ago. From the day you first visited in your patchy overalls, to your tattered oversized duster to now, you've given me a gift Earth and the Heavens have not.

And so, Beanpole. I want give you a gift, that I hope will help you on your new journey. The first is a gift that I had made with the help of Keenie, that when you are able to, you'll have a place to safely hang that beloved hat of yours when you rest. — And yes, these are his shoes.

And the second, is for you to wear when you standing there waiting for your Harp to walk down the aisle. I know how close you hold your family to your heart , and I wanted them to be as close to you when you two are married. They're made from a pair of bullets you left behind in my walls a handful of years ago. Happy Father's Day, Grand Nephew and Congratulations. With every ounce of affection and pride.

Susan