#Stay Galveston

[billa-billa007]

Stay Galveston Central District

Galveston has a rich history that dates back to its founding in the early 19th century. It was an important port city and one of the largest cotton ports in the U.S. during the 19th century. The city played a significant role in trade, immigration, and the development of Texas.

[anushkaanu]

The Spot Restaurant Galveston | Stay Galveston

Experience the best of Galveston cuisine at The Spot Restaurant! Located in the heart of downtown Galveston, The Spot offers a wide selection of delicious seafood dishes, as well as unique takes on classic dishes. Enjoy cozy atmosphere, friendly staff, and a menu that will tantalize your taste buds. Come to The Spot and enjoy a memorable dining experience in Galveston!

[thechanelmuse]

Juneteenth is a Black American holiday. 

We call Juneteenth many things: Black Independence Day, Freedom Day, Emancipation Day, Jubilee Day. We celebrate and honor our ancestors. 

December 31 is recognized as Watch Night or Freedom’s Eve in Black American churches because it marks the day our enslaved ancestors were awaiting news of their freedom going into 1863. On January 1, 1863, President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. But all of the ancestors wouldn’t be freed until June 19, 1865 for those in Galveston, Texas and even January 23, 1866 for those in New Jersey (the last slave state). (It’s also worth noting that our people under the Choctaw and Chickasaw Nations wouldn’t be freed until April 28, 1866 and June 14, 1866 for those under the Cherokee Nation by way of the Treaties.)

Since 1866, Black Americans in Texas have been commemorating the emancipation of our people by way of reading the Emancipation Proclamation and coming together to have parades, free festivities, and later on pageants. Thereafter, it spread to select states as an annual day of commemoration of our people in our homeland. 

Here’s a short silent video filmed during the 1925 Juneteenth celebration in Beaumont, Texas:

(It’s also worth noting that the Mascogos tribe in Coahuila, Mexico celebrate Juneteenth over there as well. Quick history lesson: A total of 305,326 Africans were shipped to the US to be enslaved alongside of American Indians who were already or would become enslaved as prisoners of war, as well as those who stayed behind refusing to leave and walk the Trail of Tears to Oklahoma. In the United States, you were either enslaved under the English territories, the Dutch, the French, the Spanish, or under the Nations of what would called the Five “Civilized” Native American Tribes: Cherokee, Creek (Muscogee), Chickasaw, Choctaw, and Seminoles. Mascogos descend from the Seminoles who escaped slavery during the Seminole Wars, or the Gullah Wars that lasted for more than 100 years if you will, and then settled at El Nacimiento in 1852.)

We largely wave our red, white and blue flags on Juneteenth. These are the only colors that represent Juneteenth. But sometimes you may see others wave our Black American Heritage flag (red, black, and gold).

Juneteenth is a day of respect. It has nothing to do with Africa, diversity, inclusion, immigration, your Pan-African flag, your cashapps, nor your commerce businesses. It is not a day of “what about” isms. It is not a day to tap into your inner colonizer and attempt to wipe out our existence. That is ethnocide and anti-Black American. If you can’t attend a Black American (centered) event that’s filled with education on the day, our music, our food and other centered activities because it’s not centered around yours…that is a you problem. Respect our day for what and whom it stands for in our homeland. 

Juneteenth flag creator: “Boston Ben” Haith 

It was created in 1997. The red, white and blue colors represent the American flag. The five-point star represents the Lone State (Texas). The white burst around the star represents a nova, the beginning of a new star. The new beginning for Black Americans. 

Black American Heritage Flag creators: Melvin Charles & Gleason T. Jackson

It was created in 1967, our Civil Rights era. The color black represents the ethnic pride for who we are. Red represents the blood shed for freedom, equality, justice and human dignity. Gold fig wreath represents intellect, prosperity, and peace. The sword represents the strength and authority exhibited by a Black culture that made many contributions to the world in mathematics, art, medicine, and physical science, heralding the contributions that Black Americans would make in these and other fields. 

SN: While we’re talking about flags, I should note that Grace Wisher, a 13-year-old free Black girl from Baltimore helped stitched the Star Spangled flag, which would inspire the national anthem during her six years of service to Mary Pickersgill. I ain’t even gon hold you. I never looked too far into it, but she prob sewed that whole American flag her damn self. They love lying about history here until you start unearthing them old documents. 

In conclusion, Juneteenth is a Black American holiday. Respect us and our ancestors.

[strandnreyes]

so much for summer love

rating: explicit

chapter word count: 5,575

total word count: 11,998

The summer before his senior year of college at NYU, TK finds himself in Galveston, Texas, working at a restaurant on the beach. It’s there that he meets Carlos, a fellow server with a heartstopping smile and a need for a temporary break from his own life back in Austin. Without planning it, the two of them fall into a whirlwind romance that’s a bad idea for a million different reasons, yet they can’t figure out how to stay away.

Chapter One | Chapter Two

updates on fridays

thank you to @lightningboltreader and @rmd-writes for beta reading and to @reyesstrand and @welcometololaland for the additional love and encouragement <3

[herpsandbirds]

Saw some of the jellyfish you posted and wanted to ask what your favourite marine invertebrate/s are (jellyfish or otherwise)?

As a marine biology enjoyer, I like learning about cephalopods, nudibranchs and jellyfish. Plus I think they're very pretty.

But I'll stay well away from the cone snails, the blue-ringed octopus and the venomous jellyfish species. 🤣

Thank for this question!

I am more of a terrestrial biologist, but I absolutely love marine biology. More to the point, I absolutely love marine invertebrates, and it's hard to narrow down which ones are my absolute favorites. 

1.  Cephalopods are one of my favorite groups of animals, and within that I really love the cirrate octopods.

2. Sea Pigs are just really wonderful creatures, and I always include these strange little deep sea benthic holothurians in every list of favorite animals. 

3. The Sea Hares are a group of marine gastropods that I think don't get enough love. One time Paxon and I saw one next to a rock jetty on Galveston Island, and I squealed and almost fell in the water.



[ereardon]

That Summer || Part One [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

A Bradley Bradshaw AU

Summary: One night during the summer you turned eighteen, you woke up to a surprise. Your father, a retired Navy Admiral, had posted bail for the son of a former colleague who was now orphaned and had gotten himself mixed up with the law. Instead of letting him get lost in the judicial system, your father signed himself up as Bradley Bradshaw’s guardian to prevent him from going to juvie. You were explicitly told to stay away from the boy in the attic room. But as the summer went on, you and Bradley struck up an unlikely friendship that turned into a forbidden relationship. Bradley tipped your world upside down, challenging everything you had once thought you knew. How could the two of you think it would end any differently than it did when your father called the cops the night he found the two of you in bed together?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, illusion to violence, mention of dead parents, angst

Wordcount: 3.5K

Series masterlist here; Part Two here

“Do you know him?” 

You looked over. The familiar dark hair. The tanned, even skin. The dazzling smile. You could hear his laugh in your ear even though it had been years. You could practically feel the vibrations of his voice and the way it used to smooth over your skin in the middle of the night as the two of you laid side-by-side on the queen mattress, the stars twinkling through the skylights of your childhood bedroom. 

You would know Bradley Bradshaw anywhere. It didn’t matter that it had been fifteen years since you had last seen him. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t heard your name fall from his lips since the night the two of you were ripped apart. It didn’t matter that you had once told yourself you’d never love another person the way you loved Bradley, only for him to be gone in an instant.

He was bonded to you. He was infused in every single atom in your body. He ran through your veins alongside your blood. He haunted your dreams. He patrolled your memories. His touches were tattooed on your skin like a glow-in-the-dark map that only you could see.  

You looked up one last time. And watched as Bradley turned, his hand pulling at the sunglasses that sat squarely on his nose until he was looking, staring, at you. And it was just the two of you, once more. It was like none of it had ever happened, and also everything had happened. And you were eighteen again, on the beach, in Galveston. And he was just a boy who held your hand and promised you the world even though he didn’t have a dime to his name. Even though he had no right to offer you a future, even if you both knew it was a lie.

You looked away. “No,” you whispered softly. “I don’t know him.” 

***

In the middle of the night, you jolted awake in bed. The sound of voices in the foyer and the familiar thump of the giant wooden front door as it sealed closed caught your attention. Your father ran a tight ship and an even tighter house. It was incredibly unusual that anyone would drop by unannounced in the middle of the night. You turned to the clock on your nightstand. It was after two in the morning. 

Silently, you eased out of bed and tiptoed out of your room into the hall, peering down from the railing of the curved staircase. Two stories below, you heard voices and spotted several figures moving into your line of sight through the wooden posts on the stairwell. 

You saw your father’s familiar, formidable, figure first. Tall stature, hair grayed with age. You could tell, just by how rigid he was standing, that this wasn’t a positive interaction. He radiated anger and disappointment, even from two stories away. You were all too familiar with this side of him.

The next person who popped into your field of view was a police officer, dressed in uniform. You frowned. Your father, a retired Admiral, wasn’t unfamiliar with the local Galveston police force. But they didn’t make it a habit to come to your house at two o’clock in the morning, unannounced. 

Finally, a third figure floated into view. You sucked in a breath. He was young, late teens, with sandy brown hair, wearing a ratty t-shirt and a pair of shorts. You watched his body language. How he kept his eyes trained on the ground, head bowed so low his chin must have been touching his chest. How even from all the way on the third floor you could tell that he was in desperate need of a shower. 

And then, finally, the voices ceased. The policeman held out a hand to shake your father’s. He looked at the boy, who raised his eyeline and nodded solemnly. And then the door was shut and it was just your father and the boy, staring at each other in the foyer. You leaned down, close to the white wood posts in the railing, trying desperately to hear what they were saying. And then you watched as your father sighed, shaking his head, heading for the stairs. 

Before you could scramble out of your crouched spot, the boy looked up, catching your eye. 

That was the first time you saw Bradley Bradshaw. 

You were seventeen, about to turn eighteen. You had your entire life ahead of you. You had kissed boys before. You had thought, wrongly, that you had experienced pain before. You had thought you understood the world and its intricacies. You thought you knew exactly where your life was going to go. 

Everything you had ever known went out the window that night as you looked down the curved flights of stairs and saw Bradley. Everything you had ever thought was true was flipped on its head the second his warm brown eyes locked on yours. 

You scurried back to your room, closing the door as you heard your father’s footsteps on the second floor platform, starting his ascent to the third floor. You waited with baited breath as two sets of footsteps passed your room, turning down the hallway toward the attic tower room. 

Your family had moved to Galveston five years prior once your father finally retired from his post at Top Gun in California. The first time they brought you down to Texas, you gawked at the house. It stuck out like a sore thumb. A giant Victorian monstrosity near the beach, with a steep, gabled roof and a round tower on the right side. 

The tower room remained empty for as long as you could remember. It was mostly storage for your mother’s hideous Christmas decorations or whatever hobby she decided to have that week that would inevitably get stored away once she turned her mind to something else. 

The sounds of their footsteps grew more muted as the two of them climbed the stairs to the tower room. 

You closed your eyes, trying to wash away the haunting image of the boy staring up at you only moments before. But it was burned in your retinas. 

Somehow, even then, you knew. He was going to change everything. 

***

When you woke up the next day, you had almost forgotten about the entire event the night before. 

That was, until you floated downstairs in a tiny white cotton pajama set and spotted an unfamiliar, but somehow familiar, person sitting at the breakfast table, their back to you, just a head of brown curls in view. 

You looked up at Louise, the housekeeper, with a frown. She shrugged. 

“Y/N.” Your father’s voice boomed across the expanse of the kitchen. You turned as he strode into the kitchen through the side door, already dressed for the day with nowhere to go. Thirty-five years in the Navy had acclimated him to a sleep schedule that you could never wrap your head around. 

“Daddy,” you said softly, stepping further into the kitchen. The boy at the table remained still, not facing you, instead looking out through the bay window next to the breakfast nook, overlooking the ocean. 

“Louise, can you get my daughter some coffee, please?” he asked and she nodded, returning in a moment with a delicate china cup filled coffee with cream, exactly the way you liked it.

“Thank you,” you whispered softly. 

Your father’s eyes rolled over to the boy at the table. “Y/N. This is Bradley Bradshaw. He will be staying with us for a while.” 

Still, he didn’t turn. You stepped forward, sliding into the bench seat that hugged the curve of the bay window, setting your coffee cup down gently. “Hi.” 

That’s when Bradley finally met your gaze. You had to stifle a gasp. He had cuts and scrapes across his face and down his neck, and a black eye that you hadn’t been able to distinguish in the darkened lighting the night before. His lip was split. He looked at you silently for a moment before uttering, “Hey.” His voice was timid. Broken. He didn’t sound at all like what you had expected. 

You weren’t sure what you had expected. 

Your father put his hand on your bare shoulder. “Bradley’s father and I served together at Top Gun back in the day.” 

“That’s nice,” you said, taking a sip of coffee. “Is he still in California?” 

“He’s dead,” Bradley said and you sank back in shock. The way he said it had the effect of curdling the milk in your coffee. It was cold. Detached.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

Bradley turned to look back out the window, ignoring the plate of eggs in front of him. 

“Y/N,” your father said, “can I speak to you in the living room please?” 

You nodded, sliding out of the booth seat and following him through the doors into the wider living room. 

He turned to you. “I need you to be careful,” he whispered. 

You frowned. “Careful about what?” 

“That boy,” he replied. “Bradley. He’s deeply troubled. His father, Nick, was a good man. But it seems that Bradley has gone down a rather troubled path.” He paused. “Stay away from him. Promise me, Pumpkin.” 

Pumpkin. The nickname your father had called you since you were born. Your parents had wanted a house full of children, running and screaming and creating chaos. And instead, they had gotten only you. And the weight of that sat on your shoulders every day that passed. 

“You may see him at meals, but don’t fraternize with the boy,” your father warned. “He’ll only bring you trouble.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the top of your head. 

“Promise me?” 

You nodded. “I promise.” 

He smiled. “Good. I’ll see you at dinner.” It didn’t matter that he was retired. Your father always had somewhere to be, no matter what day of the week. He frowned upon sleeping in and relaxing. 

“Daddy?” you asked as he turned to leave. “What did he do? Why is he here?” 

Your father sighed. “He was in trouble, and needed help. That’s all you need to know.” 

“But what did he–”

“Y/N.” His voice was firm. It was his military voice. You knew it well. “Don’t ask questions you don’t need answers to.”

***

The move from California to Texas had been extreme. Your parents were Texas born and raised, and they had taken their ideals and their tendencies with them to California. But growing up in San Diego has been a blessing. You visited cousins and grandparents back in the South during the holidays and the summer, but it wasn’t until your father retired that you had truly understood what it meant to be from Texas. 

Your mother never worked. Not a day in her life. She was raised to be someone’s wife, someone’s mother. And that’s why it was such a disappointment that you were her only child to care for. It’s why it was such a disappointment that you hadn’t turned out at all like the daughter they had hoped for. 

You wore bikinis all day during the summer and let your hair get bleached by the sun and you read books with sexual themes and you resisted going to bible study youth group and you were not the daughter that they had expected. 

So when your father retired and moved the three of you to Texas, your mother signed you up for a debutante ball at the end of the summer. As if spinning around a dated country club ballroom in five layers of taffeta would have the effect of making you a lady, someone they were proud to call their daughter.

“Mother,” you whined when you found out. “I am not doing that.” 

“Y/N Sullivan,” she warned and you just knew that your full name rolling off her sharp tongue was never good. “You’re doing this and I’m not going to hear otherwise.” 

You turned and rolled your eyes behind her back. And that was how you ended up buying elbow-length gloves for the end-of-summer Ball at the Galveston Artillery Club. 

The gloves, and the dress, hung in perpetuity in your walk-in closet. Every morning when you went in to get dressed they taunted you. 

August 15 could not come and go soon enough. 

***

You didn’t see Bradley again until dinner. 

As usual, your mother was nowhere to be seen. You spent the day on the beach, tanning on a towel, reading books with your head ducked beneath a thin linen shirt, letting the Texas sun scorch you until you were so hot you had to run into the water. 

By the time you had showered and dressed for dinner, it was closing in on seven. Dinner was always at seven and it always required an outfit change. Other kids had grown up in TV dinner houses or with takeout meals eaten on the couch. You had grown up with a strict dinner time and a dress code. 

You smoothed the silky fabric of your slip dress down with your palms, making your way through the living room to the formal dining room. 

Once again, it was only you and Bradley. He looked up as you entered. He was wearing a collared shirt, obviously one of your father’s from years past, that was too large on his frame, the orange color highlighting the injuries on his face. 

You sat down in your normal chair across from him at the ten-person table. “How’d you get those?” you asked, nodding toward him. 

He frowned. “Thought you weren’t supposed to talk to me.” 

“Shit,” you whispered. “You heard that?” 

Bradley nodded. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “My father can be temperamental.” To say the least. 

Bradley shrugged. “Whatever.” 

At that moment, your parents entered the room. Your mother’s eyes swept over where you sat across the table from Bradley, a permanent crease between her eyebrows taking hold. “Y/N,” she said softly before turning. “And you must be Bradley.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, head bowed. 

Your father grunted and sat down at his normal spot at one end of the table. Your mother took the other end. It feel surreal, like an extremely fucked up Norman Rockwell painting sprung to life. 

The entire dinner was consumed in near silence. Just the sound of forks and knives scratching at the china plates that your mother loved so dearly. Your eyes drifted across the table to Bradley, who looked like he was in pain when he chewed. He kept his eyes trained on his plate, only lifting them when he was asked a direct question. 

You were sawing through a piece of undercooked asparagus when your mother’s voice slid across your skin. “Have you found a date for the debutante ball yet?” 

You put your silver fork and knife down. “Not yet.” 

“It’s in less than two months,” your mother replied. “You need to move before all the escorts are snapped up.” 

“Maybe I’ll hire a real escort then.” 

Her jaw dropped. “Y/N, don’t even tease.” 

“Sorry mother.” 

“What about the Althans boy? He’s charming.” 

“He’s five foot four and smells like pickled onions.” 

At the other end of the table, your father snorted. You looked up and smirked. “Daniel!” your mother scolded. “Can you please tell your daughter she’s being a brat.” 

“Y/N,” he said, turning to you. 

“Yes, daddy?”

“You’re being a brat,” he replied and as you opened your mouth with a retort he added, “and you’re right about the Althans kid. He smells God awful.” 

You laughed. “What about Frank Turner’s son? The engineering student.” 

You grunted. “Pass.”

Your father sighed. “And what’s wrong with him?” 

You didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. That you had been at a bonfire last summer and Ethan Turner had made a pass at you and you had lost your virginity to him on a beach towel in the dunes. It had been awful and ever since you avoided Ethan the best you could. The last thing you wanted was for him to be your escort. 

“Fine,” he said, setting down his knife. “You have until the end of July to find a date, Y/N. And then your mother and I choose for you.” 

You took a sip of water. “Fine.” 

***

You heard him that second night. At first, you thought maybe it was the wind. But when you got out of bed and looked out the large windows facing the water, you saw that the dunes were still. It was just another hot, oppressive June night without a whisper of a breeze. 

And then you heard it again. A soft whine. A thrashing. You tiptoed out of bed and creaked open the wooden door, tipping your head out into the hallway. It was coming from the tower room. If you had been a child growing up in the house, the attic in the tower probably would have held some sort of exotic magnetism over you. A forbidden playground. Instead, it exclusively gave off Bertha Mason from Jane Eyre vibes. 

The moaning and groaning from behind the door didn’t help. You debated seeing what was wrong. But your father’s words rattled around in your head. So you crept back to bed, sliping a pair of foam earplugs into your ears, drowning out the sounds of the boy upstairs. 

You heard it for two more nights before finally you got up the courage to reach out and twist the door handle, gently tugging it open, ascending the wooden stairs up to the tower room. 

The staircase tossed you out into the middle of the room, which you saw had been cleared out of holiday decorations. Instead, there was a dresser against one wall, a small reading chair, and a double bed underneath the main window. 

On the bed, Bradley was tossing in his sleep violently, the white sheets tangling between his bare legs. You slowly stepped off the top step onto the hardwood floor, and the creaking noise caused Bradley to sit straight up in bed.

You noticed first that he was panting, like he had just been chased down the beach. Second thing you noticed was that he was shirtless, sweat dotting his entire chest, along with scratches of varying hues. 

You raised your hands up in a surrender pose. “I heard you fussing,” you said softly. “And wanted to check and make sure you were OK.” 

Bradley blinked, hard, shaking his head a few times like he was trying to orient himself. “I’m fine,” he whispered gruffly after a moment. 

“I think you were having a nightmare.” 

“Is it a nightmare if you have them every night?” he asked quietly. “Or is it just how I dream?” 

You frowned, stepping closer. “Every night?” 

Bradley looked down at his hands where they were gripping the white sheets but didn’t respond. 

“You never told me how you got those scars,” you whispered, pointing to the ones on the side of his face. 

“You should go,” he said after a moment. 

“Why?” 

“Because if they find you in here, they’ll kick me out.” 

“Do you care?” you asked. It was a genuine question. All you had seen so far from Bradley Bradsahw was indifference. 

Bradley’s eyes landed on yours. You felt the look all the way to your toes. It tingled across your veins. “I have nowhere else to go,” he said quietly. “So yeah, I care. I have to.” 

You nodded. “OK, I’ll leave.” You turned to leave, hovering on the top spiral step. “Bradley?” 

He hummed. 

“Third door on your right,” you replied quietly. “If you need me. Or if you want to talk. That’s my room. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Back in your own bed, you pulled the covers up to your neck, thinking about the raw animalistic terror in Bradley’s eyes the second he woke up. There was something about him that drew you in. Something you couldn’t let go of. 

He was as lost as you felt. 

***

You had exactly one hundred days until you left for Stanford. 

One hundred days of summer. Nothing but the debutante ball looming over you. 

You had wanted to get a job, something to do to fill the hours of the day. But your mother was old fashioned. She begged you to get a volunteer position instead. Your father agreed. You capitulated. 

“Being well-rounded is good for a girl your age,” he said, sipping on a glass of whiskey as you stood at the large built-in bookshelf in his office. 

“I can be well rounded and serve fried clams at Nick’s Kitchen.” 

“Over your mother’s dead body,” he laughed and you sighed, choosing a tome off the shelf and bidding him goodnight. 

You spent your days languishing on the beach, volunteering at the animal shelter on the other side of the island, reading for your courses in the fall. It was supposed to be a banal summer. Ordinary. 

And then Bradley showed up and everything was suddenly, undeniably, altered. 

A/N: I had originally considered posting this as one LONG piece, but this felt like a good natural stop for the first part so it will be split into parts, not sure how many (at least three)!

Tag list (or turn on notifications for my library page @ereardon):

@double-j @topguncultleader @hangmandruigandmav @minamisulemisa @blue-aconite @shawnsblue @seresinhangmanjake @brehonodea @babyminghao @crthurston

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[the-darling-house]

The Grand Manor Mansion, Galveston, TX

I stayed in a room here last week, and while I'm not one to wax poetic about an air b&b, I honestly did not want to leave. Built in 1905 and kept in beautiful condition, it’s such a wonderful house, and I loved staying here!

[lonestarbattleship]

Since Texas is being hit by sub-freezing temperatures right now, I thought I'd share this photo of Galveston covered in snow.

It was photographed by Water's Edge Digital Photography and shared on their Facebook page: link

"Good morning!

With this arctic blast, I decided to share a photo from the last time we had snow on the island, back in February of 2021. It is an extremely rare occurrence of snow on the beach. I was lucky enough to get out for a couple of hours and capture the moment. Have a great day and stay warm.

Galveston, Texas"

[ktwritesstuff]

Then Comes Marriage (a Last of Us fic)

Title: Then Comes Marriage Fandom: The Last of Us (no-pocalypse AU) Rating: PG Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x plus size!Reader Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: The rough and ready followup to First Comes Love. Wedding day fluff.

A/N: Apologies for the lack of smuttiness, but I feel that wedding night sex is overrated. Un-beta'd, may God have mercy on my soul.

-

In lieu of a bachelor party, Joel and Tommy chartered a fishing boat out of Galveston the week before the wedding.  You hadn’t vetoed strippers–it would hardly be fair after the Cirque du Soleil-level adult performer your sister had hired for the bachelorette weekend you spent with her in New York.  You suspected it was more for Sarah’s sake than yours, but Joel had politely insisted (to Tommy’s great disappointment) he was getting too old for that sort of thing.  

While the Miller boys spent some quality time on the Gulf, you and Sarah got to have your own girls’ weekend.  You went to the mall for mani-pedis and had lunch at the Chinese buffet.  In J.C. Penney, a saleswoman at the makeup counter helped you both pick out new lipstick and eye-shadow for the big day.  Just because it was a simple courthouse affair didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun with it.  After you took Sarah over to the jewelry counter as well.  

“Why don’t you pick something out?” you said.  “I want to get you something for being my bridesmaid.”  

Sarah looked over the display case and ran her fingers over a display of charm bracelets.  Her fingers paused on a gold bracelet bearing the word MOM.

“What should I call you,” she asked.  “After you and my dad get married?”

“You can call me whatever you want,” you said.  “I’d love it if you decide to call me mom one day, but I certainly don’t expect it.” 

Sarah shrugged.  “Do you think you’ll have kids of your own?” 

“We’ve talked about it,” you said.  “We’re going to try, but it doesn’t always work out.”  

Neither you nor Joel were exactly spring chickens and unless you wanted to be mistaken for grandparents in the kindergarten pickup line you’d have to get started.  The truth was you had already thrown protection to the wind the past few months, so far without success and you could already feel the anxiety mounting.  You told yourself that three was enough; three was a family, but there was still a powerful yearning inside you.  

Of course, Sarah didn’t need to hear about that.  You could sympathize with her reservations.  Not many of her friends or classmates had a thirteen year age gap with their siblings.  

“I know it’d probably be weird for you to have a baby brother or sister,” you admitted.  “But I hope you know no matter what, you’ll always be your daddy’s baby girl.”  

Sarah turned the bracelet over in her hands so the lettering formed a different word as she waved it in front of your face.

“Wow,” she teased.  “That was cheesy as hell.”

“You know what I mean,” you said, nudging her arm.

“No wonder you and my dad fell in love,” she said, rolling her eyes.

When the clerk came back around the counter, Sarah chose a teardrop shaped ruby on a gold chain that would compliment the dress that Joel had gotten her to wear for the ceremony.  

“I think you should have a baby,” Sarah said as you walked through the parking lot, content with your purchases.  “I charge $20 an hour for babysitting.”  

You laughed.  “You drive a hard bargain.”

“$15 once they’re out of diapers,” she added.

“Fair enough.”

You took Sarah home and stayed with her until Joel and Tommy got back, sun-kissed and still a little hungover.  You and Joel had agreed not to see each other again before the ceremony on Friday, which gave you some time to pack up your apartment and put the finishing touches on the flowers.  

Your sister flew in the day before to scout the best locations around the courthouse for family photos.  She did your hair and makeup in the morning and offered to drive you to the courthouse, but you didn’t quite trust her behind the wheel.

Once you made it through courthouse security you met Tommy in the lobby and he wrapped you in a warm embrace.

“Are we all checked in?” you asked.

“Yeah, they’ve got us in courtroom 6,” Tommy pointed down the hall.  “Supposed to be about a half hour.”

You realized you were shaking as you swapped out your flats for a more elegant pair of heels and Tommy reached out to steady you.  

“How you holding up, buddy?” 

“You know, I’m good,” you said.  “How is he?”

“The same,” Tommy said with a bright smile.  “I think he’s really keeping it together; only asked me about 50 times if I thought you were still coming.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you said, letting out a peal of nervous laughter. 

“I’m running down to the cafe to grab a coffee, do you want anything?”  

“Water,” you said, your stomach churning at the thought of fried food and burnt coffee.  “Maybe a ginger ale–with a straw–” Your sister would kill you if you ruined your lipstick before taking a single photo.

“You got it, Sis,” Tommy gave you a thumbs up.

“Emma’s got your boutonniere if you want to grab it on your way down,” you explained, pointing back to the metal detectors where your sister was still reinstalling her various piercings.

Once you were both sorted, you gathered the rest of the flowers and started down the hall.  Then you saw Joel.  He was pacing back and forth across the hall, but froze on the spot when he saw you.  

You always thought he was handsome (or at least, almost always) but seeing him all put together in a dark navy suit, with a vest no less!  It was surreal, for a moment you forgot this was the man you were supposed to be marrying in a little less than half an hour. 

“You look beautiful,” Joel said, leaning over to kiss you.

“Not on the mouth!” Emma screamed, still lagging a few steps behind you and Joel leapt back in alarm. 

“I did not bring enough makeup wipes to clean you both up,” she warned, combing her fingers through Joel’s hair unsolicited, arranging his curls more to her liking.  For his part, Joel was very patient with her or at least too nervous to protest.   

“You two shouldn’t be kissing before the ceremony anyway,” Sarah chimed in.

“You look beautiful, sweetie,” you said, beaming at Sarah.

Emma handed you Joel’s boutonniere and snapped a few pictures as you pinned it to his lapel–a red rosebud and yellow alyssum to match the sunflowers in your bouquet with a few sprigs of evergreen for balance.  

“You look very handsome,” you said, resting your hand on his chest.  

“I’m glad you’re here,” Joel said.

“Me, too,” you giggled. 

Joel rested his big hands on your bare arms and pressed his forehead toward yours.  You felt like a teenager with butterflies in your stomach and bubbles in your throat. 

“We got you something, too,” Joel said, taking a small box out of his jacket.  

Inside was a delicate gold necklace with “MOM” in cursive letters suspended between the two sides of the chain.  As simple as it was, it felt like a great honor as Joel reached to fasten it around your neck.  

“Dad, you put it on wrong,” Sarah protested, reaching for the charm nestled at the base of your throat and flipping it over  “It’s supposed to go like this.  Now you’re my Wow.”

You laughed, holding the charm between your fingers, contemplating your own special nickname. 

“I love it,” you said, pulling Sarah into a hug.  You heard the click of Emma’s camera as you embraced, but you ignored it.  “I love it so much.”  

Emma had the three of you pose for more photographs and then you took a seat on the wooden bench while she had Sarah and Joel stand together on their own.  

“For the bride,” Tommy said, trotting down the hallway with a can of soda in hand.  “With a straw.”  

“Now let’s get one of the boys,” Emma said, herding Tommy and Joel into the good lighting.

Sarah took a seat beside you as you sipped the ginger ale to try settle your stomach.

“How are your feet?” you asked, watching her point and flex her toes in her sweet little kitten heels.  “Mine are already killing me.  Try not to lock your knees–cuts off the circulation.”

Sarah shrugged, leaning against your shoulder.  You reached for her hand, looping your pinky finger around hers.  You never imagined as a child that your wedding day would come complete with a nearly grown up daughter, but now that it was here you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.          

“We’re ready for you,” a clerk announced, poking his head out the door.  

In the judge’s chamber you signed the marriage certificate and recited your vows with Tommy and Emma as witnesses.

“I’m told you’re exchanging rings,” the judge said. 

“Oh shit,” Tommy rifled through the inner pockets of his jacket while you laughed nervously.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel groaned as Tommy finally handed over the rings.

Joel went first, gripping your hand as if he still expected you to try to run as he repeated after the judge and slipped the ring on your finger.  Then it was your turn.

“Joel,” you said.  “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, my faith in our strength together, and my covenant to learn and grow with you.”

“By the power vested in me by the great state of Texas,” the judge declared finally.  “In the presence of God and the witness of friends and family, it is my great privilege to pronounce you husband and wife–”

Without hesitation, Joel took your face in both his hands and kissed you on the mouth.  You smiled against his lips as a wave of relief flooded your body.  A tornado hadn’t destroyed the courthouse, aliens hadn’t invaded, you had done it.  You were officially married.

Tommy had a friend from the service who had opened up a Salvadoran restaurant in San Antonio who had offered you the use of the back room to host a small reception with friends.  You ate pupusas and drank sangria and danced your first dance when “Love Me Tender” came on over the classic radio station playing from the bar.  

You were surprised to learn Joel was actually a quite willing dance partner, at least after a few beers.   His strong arms and firm hold on your waist made it easy to follow his lead despite how out of practice you were.

By the end of the day you were so tired (and at least a little tipsy) that you nearly got into a car with one of Tommy’s army buddies while Joel went to pull the truck around and gave everyone a good laugh.

“I’m going to stay with Uncle Tommy tonight,” Sarah said as you loaded up the car.

“Are you sure?” you asked as Emma made sure you were safely arranged in the passenger seat of the truck.  You worried about putting Sarah out of her home as your first act as her step-mother.  

“I’ve got her, don’t worry,” Tommy said, handing you a doggy-bag from the restaurant.  “This is from Dan and Gia.  Good night, guys.  Love you both.”

“I love you, too,” you crooned out the window as he closed the car door for you.  “I always wanted a baby brother named Tommy.”

The last of the guests waved sparklers as Joel pulled out of the parking lot.  You opened the bag on your lap and squealed with excitement at the sight of a large piece of tres leches cake.

“Oh my god, this was so good,” you moaned.  “I had two pieces!  I had seis leches.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Joel chuckled as you ripped open the little plastic package of flatware.  “I’m pretty sure that’s for the anniversary.”

“You think I’m going to let this cake get freezer-burn for a year?”  

You stabbed the cake with a fork, scooping the moist, creamy cake into your mouth.  And just to be fair, you held the next bite out to Joel as you were stopped at an intersection.  

“That’s good, right?” you said, wiping a bit of cream from his chin.  “You want more?”

“I’m stuffed,” Joel waved you off, pulling the car into the driveway.  “Home sweet home.”

Joel came around to open the car door and help you out of the truck.  On the porch you both paused, having a moment of internal debate.  Joel clearly thought he should carry you over the threshold, but you didn’t want him throwing out his back on your wedding night.  

“I can lift you,” he said.  “It’s bad luck, you know, for the bride to walk over the threshold.” 

“It’s bad luck for the bride to trip,” you said.  “Just don’t let me fall.”  

You reached for Joel’s hand, lacing your fingers through his.  

“I won’t.  I promise.”    

Inside the house you indulged in loud moans and sloppy love-drunk kisses on your way to the bedroom, but once your ass made contact with the bed you remembered all at once that you had been up since five in the morning being primped and poked and coiffed to perfection.

“I’m so tired,” you moaned.

“You don’t want to?” Joel paused, his hands knotted in your panties already half-way down your thighs.

“No,” you sighed.  “I want to, just don’t be offended if I nod off half-way through, okay?”

“You’re sure,” he said, sitting up in bed.

“Yeah, just let me wash my face first." You reluctantly climbed out of the bed.  

Joel let his hands linger on your face, placing a kiss on your mouth.

“Unzip me?” you said, turning your back to him and sweeping your hair off your neck.

“Of course, Mrs. Miller.”

Joel slid your zipper down carefully, but as he moved his hands lower you ducked away from him, wagging a finger in his face.  You slipped out of your dress and went to the bathroom to scrub your face, putting on a satin night dress.  

Back in the bedroom Joel was stretched out on his stomach in bed, snoring softly, and you chuckled, slipping under the covers beside him. You snugged yourself against his solid warmth and ran one manicured nail down his nose as he slept.

“I love you, Mr. Miller.”  

[mermaidgirl30]

Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller chapter 5 sneak peek

You wipe the last tear away from your cheek and look at yourself in the mirror across the room. You definitely look like you’ve been crying with your tinted red eyes and wet sleeves that leaves traces of tears on the back of the aquamarine color. You feel like a complete mess.

Just then, you hear the click of the door handle and the squeak of the hinges as Joel opens the door and slowly shuts in behind him. You silently gasp as you hope he doesn’t notice you were crying, but he probably will. He always notices.

“Hey, you okay there, darlin’?” Joel asks as he comes over and sits on the bed beside you, his eyebrows knit together with worry as his brown eyes stare intently at you.

“Mhm,” you hum out faintly as you keep your eyes locked on the cream carpet.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing to me,” he says as his hand brushes up against the side of your thigh, almost calming you down as your insides still rage like a hurricane.

“I’m fine, just a little upset is all,” you mumble out, holding back anymore tears that may spill over the edge.

“Hey, look at me,” he says gently as he cups your chin carefully and turns your face to him. His brown eyes are full of concern, and his gaze doesn’t waver from yours at all.

“Where’s that smile that I love so much, huh? C’mon, baby. Let me see it,” he coaxes as he lifts the corners of his mouth into a warm smile, the sight instantly calming you down.

He slowly unfolds you, and you can’t help but break when you see his crooked smile splayed across his face. It’s your favorite thing in the world. You drop the frown and replace it with a gentle smile as he trails his calloused thumb against your jawline, making you relax into his touch.

“Ahh there’s my girl. The one with the beautiful smile,” he presses as the words send a quick giggle out of you. “Atta girl,” he praises as you get lost in his soft brown eyes. He leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, making your insides coat with tingles at the warmth of him.

“Thanks for making me feel a little better,” you sigh as you fall into his chest and lean your head into the crook of his neck as he gently runs a hand through your hair, soothing you into a calm state.

“I’m sorry about this weekend,” he apologizes as he gently combs his fingers through your hair.

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault my parents canceled at the last minute. It’s whatever. I didn’t even want to go that bad anyways,” you pout as you jut your bottom lip out.

“Oh, yes you did, sweetheart. I saw how upset you got down there. This trip meant a lot to you, didn’t it?” he asks as he trails his large hand up and down your back repeatedly.

“Yeah, it did,” you sigh, letting the thoughts wash out of your head so you don’t get upset again.

“What if you could still go?” he asks as your body goes still underneath his touch.

“Huh?” you ask as you pull your head up and sit up straight. “Still go? What do you mean?” you ask, confused because the trip had already been canceled.

“What if you could still go, would you?” he asks as he pushes a fallen stray curl away from his forehead.

You ponder his question, wondering why he’s asking such a silly thing. “Of course I would, but why are you asking?” You raise an eyebrow and look at him curiously, trying to decipher his meaning.

“Because,” he starts, straightening out his button-up blue flannel, “what if I take you?”

Your mouth drops open and your eyes go wide. “What?” you ask with a locked jaw expression, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth.

“What if I take you? Just you and me. We could stay the weekend, get a little sun, maybe swim some, explore Galveston.”

“You’d do that for me?” you ask with teary eyes as he connects his hand with yours, entwining his fingers with yours as you feel them burn the back of your skin.

“I’d do anything to see that pretty smile, sweetheart,” he says with the curl of his lips and the dimple that presses deep into his cheek.

He’s so fucking beautiful and sweet and so loving. How did you ever get so lucky?

“Joel…”

“Let me take you to Galveston, please. I’d love nothing more, truly,” he says with genuine brown eyes.

You start to tear up, vision blurring as the tears lick at the edges of your eyes and start to fall against your cheeks. Joel cups your face with his big hands and wipes away the falling tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Hey, hey. What’s the matter? Why are you cryin’, darlin’?” he asks worriedly as he looks into your eyes intensely, concern lathered in those doe eyes of his.

“You’re just… you’re just so good to me, Joel. Why are you so perfect?” you cry out as another hot tear falls from your eyes. Joel catches it with the tip of his thumb and brushes it away effortlessly.

“I’m nowhere near perfect,” he chuckles as he keeps his brown eyes on you, “I just know how much the trip meant to you, and there’s no way I’m letting that get taken from you. You wanna go? Then we’re going. I’m not gonna see you disappointed, baby. I’ll take you there myself, and I’m gonna make sure you enjoy every second of it,” he confirms as he drops his hands from your face.

You suck in a breath and slam into his broad chest as you wrap your arms tightly around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you. God, I love you so much,” you breathe into his ear, feeling one of his hands come to cup the back of your head and the other wrapping around your waist.

“You’re so welcome. And I love you, too, sweetheart. Never gonna stop,” he says slowly into your ear, making every part of you completely lose it for him.

[billa-billa007]

StayGalveston Downtown District | Stay Galveston

StayGalveston Downtown District is a hotel located in the heart of Galveston's historic downtown district. The hotel is housed in a beautifully restored historic building and offers guests a unique blend of old-world charm and modern amenities. The hotel is located just a short walk away from Galveston's top attractions, including the Strand Historic District, Galveston Island Historic Pleasure Pier, and the Galveston Island Railroad Museum.

[anushkaanu]

Rum Shack | StayGalveston

Experience the tropical vibes and savor the taste of the Caribbean at the Rum Shack on Galveston Island. Enjoy a wide selection of rum, craft beer, and specialty cocktails all in a fun and relaxed atmosphere. With great music and friendly staff, you're sure to find the perfect drink to help you unwind and enjoy your stay in Galveston. Come by for a great night out and an experience you won't forget.

[naturesfirstgreenisgold]

Childhood lovers with Jake ‘H_ngm_n’ Seresin

All the Pretty Girls- Kenny Chesney

American Kids- Kenny Chesney

Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or Not- Thompson Square

Austin- Blake Shelton

Beautiful Crazy- Luke Combs

Buy Dirt- Jordan Davis, Luke Bryan

Carrying Your Love With Me- George Strait

Chicken Fried- Zac Brown Band

Cover Me Up- Morgan Wallen

Cowboy Take Me Away- The Chicks

Crash My Party- Luke Bryan

Craving You- Thomas Rhett, Maren Morris

Diamond In My Pocket-Cody Johnson

Die A Happy Man-Thomas Rhett

Dirt On My Boots-Jon Pardi

Dirt Road Anthem-Jason Aldean

Do l- Luke Bryan

Drunk On You-Luke Bryan

Even Though I'm Leaving-Luke Combs

Fast Car- Luke Combs

Feathered Indians- Tyler Childers

Fire Away- Chris Stapleton

Footloose- Kenny Loggins

Forever & Ever Amen- Randy Travis

Galveston- Glen Campbell

God Gave Me You- Blake Shelton

Greatest Love Story- LANCO

Hard To Love- Lee Brice

Heading South- Zach Bryan

Head Carolina, Tails California- Jo Dee Messina

Heartache On The Dance Floor- Jon Parti

Heart Like A Truck- Lainey Wilson

He Could Be The One- Hannah Montana

Hold My Hand- Lady Gaga

Home- Blake Shelton

Hometown Girl-Josh Turner

Honey Bee- Blake Shelton

Hotel California- The Eagles

I Ain’t Worried- OneRepublic

I Don’t Dance- CHAD, Ryan, Disney

I Don’t Dance- Lee Brice

I Don’t Want This Night To End- Luke Bryan

I Drive Your Truck- Lee Brice

If I Didn’t Love You- Jason Aldean, Carrie Underwood

If I Was Your Man- Blake Shelton

I Like The Sound Of That- Rascal Flatts

I’ll Name the Dogs- Blake Shelton

I’m Comin’ Over- Chris Young

I’m In A Hurry (And I Don’t Know Why)- Alabama

I Wish Grandpas Never Died- Riley Green

The Kind of Love We Make- Luke Combs

Last Night- Morgan Wallen

Life in the Fast Lane-Eagles

Life’s a Dance- John Micheal Montgomery

Like I Love Country Music- Kane Brown

Love Like Crazy-Lee Brice

Lovin' On You Luke Combs

Meet In the Middle-Diamond Rio

Must Be Doin' Somethin' Right-Billy Currington

My Maria-Brooks & Dunn

New Kid In Town - Eagles

Night Shift- Jon Pardi

Nobody But You- Blake Shelton, Gwen Stefani

ONE BEER- HARDY, Lauren Alaina, Devin Dawson

One Of Them Girls- Lee Brice

One of These Nights -Eagles

One Thing At A Time- Morgan Wallen

Playing with the Boys -Kenny Loggins

Play It Again- Luke Bryan

Renegade- Styx

Rhinestone Cowboy-Glen Campbell

Rumor- Lee Brice

Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)-Big & Rich

She Got the Best of Me- Luke Combs

She Had Me At Heads Carolina-Cole Swindell

She's Country- Jason Aldean

Sixteen-Thomas Rhett

Slow Dance In A Parking Lot-Jordan Davis

Small Town Boy- Dustin Lynch

Sold- John Michael Montgomery

Somebody's Problem-Morgan Wallen

Something in the Orange-Zach Bryan

Song of the South-Alabama

Southern Nights- Glen Campbell

Stay-Florida Georgia Line

Strawberry Wine-Deana Carter

Sure Be Cool If- Blake Shelton

Take It Easy -Eagles

Take My Breath Away -Berlin

There Was This Girl-Riley Green

Things a Man Oughta Know-Lainey Wilson

Thought You Should Know-Morgan Wallen

Til You Can't- Cody Johnson

Two Dozen Roses- Shenandoah

Unforgettable- Thomas Rhett

Wagon Wheel- Darius Rucker

The Way I Talk -Morgan Wallen

What Ifs- Kane Brown, Lauren Alaina

Why Don't We Just Dance-Josh Turner

Write This Down-George Strait

You Should Be Here-Cole Swindell

[quasarlasar]

MELISSA AND THE ALLIES OF GAIA ART DUMP 1 - THE SUPERCELL

In episode 9 of the story "Melissa and the Allies of Gaia" I posted on Wattpad in August, Melissa and her storm avatar partner Hurricane Carla (shown in her miniature form) face off against a sapient high-precipitation supercell over a salt marsh in Alabama. A pair of fisherman have been using the tornadoes/waterspouts it creates to catch fish, having used an artifact of evil weather magic to take control of the storm.

Since actually moving to Alabama (I had no idea I would end up there at the time I wrote the story chapter) I have kind of developed a new fondness for this character. Most of the characters in the story I have done art previously for but I have never drawn this one.

While I don't specify this in the story, I imagine this supercell to use she/they pronouns (insert mammatus cloud joke here) and the tornados are like her "children" that she lets out to "play" (I mean if you scaled up a toddler to the size and strength of a tornado you'd probably get as much destruction). I plan for her to come back in a sequel, though of course Melissa will end up calling her something like "Mr. Thunders." (not that I imagine she would care all that much, of course, being a giant storm and all).

Like the hurricane avatars, she has a miniature form (shown in the top image) that she stays in when conditions aren't right for her to build up her massive supercell body. It looks like a cute little cumulus cloud with a thunderbolt crest. She doesn't speak any human language, and in the story she only briefly speaks in the wind language of storms to Carla, so she isn't very talkative. For this reason I imagine Melissa might one day try to keep her as a pet, which of course goes terribly wrong (as you can see in the first page with "Mr. Thunders" pooping huge spiky hail all over her apartment ["Mr Thunders! Not on the car!"]).

Shown in the top image is also her standing off against the miniature form of Labor Day and glaring at him with lightning. This happens in the story because Labor Day gets really hungry after the wind shear causes dry air to be entrained in his circulation and he basically loses control for a brief moment and tries to eat her waterspouts. Needless to say "Mr. Thunders" doesn't like this one bet, and attacks Labor Day. Fortunately it turns out "Mr. Thunders" also is hungry for some warm moist air too and they end up just kind of returning to Gulf Coast Headquarters and having lunch on some tropical air from the Gulf of Mexico.

The final drawing on the first image shows them snuggling with their tornado children. Ultimately I imagine she only wants what is best for them. It just so happens that sometimes what is best for a tornado isn't what is best for humans.

Some more notes on her design:

-Since she's a high precipitation supercell I imagine she has a lot of precipitation falling both from her anvil and from her base, which obscures anything like the wall cloud etc. This also conveniently means I don't have to draw all the features in the base of the supercell because I can't make heads or tails of how they are arranged lol (you can tell I have more experience with tropical cyclones)

-I basically imagined her thunderhead anvil is like her hat. It actually extends far ahead of and behind her head (it is extended by the upper level wind shear) but since she's viewed from the front it is foreshortened. From the side it would be quite long.

-Her eye color is supposed to be the deep green seen in storms with a lot of hail as the sun sets. I imagine her triangular pupil actually looks like a conical tornado up close.

-I had previously in the webcomic drawn Melissa as having a peace sign beanie or skullcap, but I realized when writing the story that that sort of hat doesn't make sense for her home of Galveston, which has a hot climate. I imagine it's more of a sunhat now. (Okay this isn't about the supercell's design but I think it's important)

[strandnreyes]

What is the summer love AU about?

it’s the summer before senior year of college and TK and Carlos both end up in Galveston for different reasons, both working at a restaurant on the beach. They fall into a whirlwind, 0 to 100 romance that’s a bad idea for a million different reasons yet they can’t figure out how to stay away

[lochlander]

Happy New Year! I've been away from Kainai for the holidays, but I return with an introduction to Kainai's miners. Since they don't have their own homesteads yet, there is less to take pictures of--a lot of mining and tree felling and planting--but they each have their own story.

Lawrence Goode would better be called Olesia's future business partner than a miner. His father was a blacksmith in Philadelphia and Lawrence inherited his sense of hard work and responsibility. After serving in the Union Army in the Civil War he had planned to claim some small plot of land with a military bounty land warrant--but the Homestead Act promised more land and great opportunity. He's been in Kainai for four years as of 1870 and is well on his way to his own homestead.

Homer Edgefield has just arrived in Kainai but shares a little bit of history with Lawrence. Homer fought for the Union too, but he had to head north from a plantation in Mississippi to do so. He also stayed on longer, heading all the way to Texas to help enforce the Emancipation Proclamation and was in Galveston on June 19, 1865--the very first Juneteenth. After traveling back to Mississippi for a few years to help get his brother's family settled, Homer decided to make his own way West.

The youngest miner is Li Hong Tao, who is too young yet to claim a homestead but has already seen more of the world than many. Born in Sacramento to a Chinese mother and a white man who promised to marry her and didn't, a series of events led him to work on the Transcontinental Railroad. After an accident in 1866 left him wounded and two of his friends dead, Hong Tao snuck away from the railroad camp in Utah and never looked back. Four years in Kainai have been good for Hong Tao--by the time he reaches 18, he'll have already put away enough for his own homestead.

Last but not least is Vasil Misilevič, who has someone yelling at him or frowning in every picture I have of him. I don't know exactly why he gets on everyone's nerves. Maybe he talks too much--he's constantly dropping actions from his queue to go chat with people. I find this kind of endearing--I also have Russian parents and ADHD. The annoyance factor is probably why he left New York in 1869; though it could have something to do with being raised in a one-room tenement with four older siblings. He hasn't made much headway toward a homestead yet, but he's certainly already developed a reputation.