#Three Days Grace Dallas

[mayblossomss]

Whumptober Day 16: Wound Cleaning

Ponyboy was never known for being graceful. Quite the opposite, really. If there was an award for "World's Most Clumsy Person" it would go to Ponyboy.

It wasn't a surprise to see a new bruise or cut on the boy, as it seemed he was constantly running into things, or tripping over his own two feet. It was a common fact amongst the gang to never let him handle valuables.

On one particular day, the only three people inside of the Curtis home were Ponyboy, Dallas, and Two-Bit. Perhaps the most immature group to have left alone unsupervised, but it seemed unlikely that anything bad was going to happen.

Well, until Ponyboy started doing dishes. Two-Bit sat in the living room, chatting loudly with Dallas, who was leaning back against the couch, eyes closed. Pony's hand were wet and slippery as he took the dishes from the sink and dried them off.

Grabbing a knife from the pile of dishes, Ponyboy's grip on the handle slipped, and before he could register what was happening, the knife toppled to the floor and pierced his foot. He screamed, stumbling backward against the counter, eyes wide with horror at the sight of a knife peeking out of his foot.

Two-Bit and Dallas perked up from the other room, briefly sharing a look with one another, before bolting into the kitchen. The first thing they see is a hysteric Ponyboy, but then they spot the knife lodged into his foot. Blood was beginning to pool around it, staining the kitchen floor.

"Oh, holy shit," Dallas breathed, mouth agape as he stared at the bloody sight.

"What the hell did you do?" Two-Bit questioned, growing slightly queasy, even as he turned away.

"Dropped a knife on my foot," Ponyboy snapped, gripping the counter behind him desperately. "Do something!"

Two-Bit didn't need to be told twice, and he hurried off into the bathroom. A few moments of cupboards opening and closing later, he returned with a few items. He had bandages, soap, and rubbing alcohol.

Dallas, who had cleaned himself up numerous times after particularly bad fights up in New York, guided Ponyboy over to the table and sat him down. Taking the supplies, he crouched before him. "This is gonna hurt."

"What's going to--" Ponyboy cuts himself off with a shout of pain as Dallas removes the knife from his foot. "Dal!"

"Sorry, kid," he hummed, pressing a cloth to his foot and holding it there. "Keith, take this, would you?"

Two-Bit looked pale as he stepped forward to take the bloody knife. "What do you want me to do with this?"

"Clean it?" Dallas offered, rolling his eyes.

After a few minutes, Dally took the cloth away and started using a mix of water and soap to rinse the wound out. Ponyboy bit down on his lip, hard, to keep from whining pathetically. Finally, Dallas got to the worst part. "Okay, kid, this is gonna sting."

"Dammit, Dally," Ponyboy grumbled, hands clenching into fists. "Do you have to pour that into it?"

"Yeah," he grunted, opening the rubbing alcohol. "It keeps the wound from getting infected. Would you rather lose your foot and never run track again?"

"Now I know that ain't true," Ponyboy murmured. "I ain't a kid, you can't trick me with tha--" Dallas poured the rubbing alcohol into his wound, causing Ponyboy to break off with a cry.

Two-Bit looked on, completely stunned by the sight. Dallas simply kept tending to his wound before rinsing it off one last time and wrapping it in a bandage. "Should be good."

Ponyboy sat in the chair, miserable, as he stared down at his bandaged foot, sighing. Two-Bit silently inched forward to pick up the bloodied cloths. "Gross."

"It's just some blood," Dallas huffed, shrugging nonchalantly, before turning back to Pony. "You good?"

He nodded, looking from his foot to Dallas. His eyes betrayed the lingering shock and terror of the situation, but all in all, he seemed to be fine. "Thanks. For cleaning me up, I mean."

"Shoot, Dal," Two-Bit said, resting an elbow on the shoulder of the other boy. "When did you get so good at playing nurse?"

"Shut your trap," Dallas scowled, slapping his arm away and putting some distance between the two of them. "Be thankful it was Pony and not you, because I wouldn't have patched you up."

"Hurtful!" Two-Bit exclaimed dramatically, his playful attitude returning now that he'd gotten over the shock.

Dallas grinned a bit, before turning back to Ponyboy. "How about you lay off the dishes for a bit, huh, kid?"

Ponyboy nodded, completely agreeing with Dallas. The next time he held a knife, it would be pointed away from any part of his body.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14B: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

Now and then when I see her face She takes me away to that special place And if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry

- Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” (1987)

Tucson || July 1988

It didn’t matter what Colum or the label or anyone else said – all recording studios looked the same on the inside.

Sure, there were always small differences. The really comfortable couches at Sound City in Los Angeles. Electric Lady in Manhattan still had the really cool paint scheme that Jimi Hendrix himself had designed. Muscle Shoals in Alabama oozed coolness.

But this studio, whose name he couldn’t and didn’t care to remember, nestled down a back street in Tuscon was…tired.

Almost as tired as Jamie.

The “quick three week tour” had stretched to eight weeks, with no end in sight. Theater shows had been upgraded to arenas. Playing to thousands and thousands of ecstatic fans. Pouring their hearts out night after night after night, and squeezing in radio promos and sound checks and business meetings during the day.

Fucking exhilarating.

Everybody wanted a piece of Print – their music, their story. Jamie still hadn’t granted too many interviews this tour, but the press ate up every word he said about sobriety and music and forgiveness. Insatiable for details about the woman he had met in rehab, and written all the new songs about, and refused to name publicly.

Print was making more money than they knew what to do with. The label had sprung for a private plane, and nobody in the band missed the rickety and smelly tour bus (except Claire, because it was still all so new to her, which Jamie added to the list of thousands of reasons why he loved her). Their hotel rooms were bigger. Catering in the dressing rooms was much nicer.

Fucking exhausting.

So many people wanted a piece of Jamie every day. Ian and Angus, to run through the new material that just kept pouring out of them. Colum, to talk ticket sales and adding second and third nights in each city. The suits from the label, who kept finding them in Dallas and Kansas City and Detroit, slapping Jamie’s back and pushing terrible ideas for duets with pop stars or contributing to a movie soundtrack or pleading to do the acoustic set in a special for MTV.

And on top of that, some dirtbag reporter from the National Enquirer had figured out who Claire was, somehow got a hold of her personnel file from the hospital, and tracked down her shitty ex-husband for an exclusive interview. Splashed her life all over the tabloids, complete with very grainy photographs of the she and Jamie together, holding hands, on a rare day off in Nashville when he took her to a few honky-tonks. The one saving grace was that thankfully, nobody at The Ridge had said a word about anything about her time there, or the time they shared together.

Claire took it all in stride. She always understood. Holding him in the bathtub of their suite in Denver as he shook from another panic attack. Smiling over a three AM hamburger at a diner in Topeka. Whimpering as he came off stage in Atlanta, sweaty and keyed up from singing about her, hoisting her in his arms for a long kiss against the lighting equipment at side stage, heart stuttering to see his eye makeup smudged against her cheeks.

The man he was on the last tour – unhappy, unfulfilled, so deep in an addition he didn’t care to acknowledge – would not recognize the man he’d become on this tour.

“In ’86, we played seventy eight dates. We had a number one record. I bought my house, and my motorcycle, and my car.” Quietly he sipped coffee in their suite in Seattle, watching the city wake up, running his thumb over Claire’s shoulder as she settled against him in front of the window.

“You had everything you had always dreamed of.”

He snorted. “I was a mess. All I could think about during every show was how to find a girl or a bottle or a baggie as quickly as possible. And the crew would always do that for me.”

The crew respected his – and Claire’s – request for no drugs or alcohol backstage this tour. What the techs and roadies and production crew did on their own time, in their own hotel rooms, with whoever they wanted to – Jamie didn’t care. But for everyone to help with, to respect, his sobriety was a gift. And he never stopped saying thank you.

“If only those reporters could see you now – Jamie Fraser swaggering off stage for an Evian.”

He smiled. “And to kiss this beautiful doctor who for some reason keeps following him around. Because he loves her, more than any man has ever loved any woman.”

He wanted to provide for her. To shelter and protect her. To never leave her side ever again.

She didn’t need him to do any of that, of course. They’d talked about it many times. But she wanted him to do that. And the fact that she chose him, kept choosing him…that was why they kept going. Kept each other sober. Kept holding each other up.

They’d agreed that this time on tour was for her to understand this part of him – and to help both of them decide how and where they would live once the tour was done.

Which is why the radio silence from Boston, four weeks after mailing the letter from Philadelphia asking, politely, just what the hell was going on…was so fucking crushing.

The stress of that – and the grind of touring – did make it just a bit more difficult every day.

Thankfully Colum had scheduled a week-long break at the end of the month. Angus was already planning a trip to Aruba with the two groupies, who truth be told had grown on the rest of the band. Ian was planning to spend the week with his wife, Jamie’s sister Jenny, and their kids.

And Jamie and Claire – well, they’d be getting married.

Only a few people knew, with good reason. Ian and Jenny, of course. Alec and Faith, in New York. Colum. Dougal MacKenzie and his wife Gillian, who had helped both Jamie and Claire so much at The Ridge. Uncle Lamb, who would officiate. And Claire’s friends Joe and Gail Abernathy, who had quite literally saved her life by getting her to The Ridge in the first place.

The service would be simple. Exactly what they wanted – what they needed.

And after that…well. They would truly be husband and wife.

But there was a lot to do – a lot to take care of – between now and then. Not the least of which was, wrapping up this recording session.

The time laying down acoustic tracks in Philadelphia last month was very well spent. They weren't so rusty. But the guys were eager to hear the songs in electric form. And since they were in Tucson, and Colum knew Bobby Higgins – who not only owned this studio, but who had also produced that really killer Ratt album in ’84…

“OK, Jamie.”

Jamie took a deep breath, and looked up through the glass at Bobby, hunched over the console in the control room.

“Ready for take two?”

Jamie looked left, to Angus – and right, to Ian.

“Yup.”

“OK – this is In My Veins, take two.”

Jamie grit his teeth.

Caught Claire’s eye in the control room.

She smiled.

He relaxed.

Angus counted in on his drumsticks, and then started the heavy beat like they’d discussed.

Four bars – and Jamie’s guitar and Ian’s bass joined in.

--

“That was really, really great, Jamie.”

Claire handed him a new bottle of water, cap already twisted off. He drank it in four deep gulps.

“I know you’re not shitting me. So thank you.”

Quickly she looked over her shoulder – Angus’ cheeks were being loudly kissed by the groupies, and Ian played around with his bass, and Colum and Bobby were deep in conversation in the control room.

“Where are you?”

She had pulled him away before, when the panic attacks were coming, and he knew she’d do it again right now if needed.

He wiped his mouth with the back of a sweaty hand. “About an eight out of ten.”

“Do you need a break?”

He met her eyes. “I need a meeting. Been thinking about my old friend Jack Daniels all day.”

“Did you see something?”

He sighed. “I’ve only played electric a handful of times since I got back from The Ridge.” He looked down at the gorgeous Stratocaster strapped across his chest, fist flexing. “I got this guitar because the black tone and white trim matched the label on the bottle. Stupid, I know. But it’s all I could think about today.”

“Not stupid. We’ll deal with it. You should call Alec. And I can find you a meeting.”

He leaned in, and kissed her forehead. “I love you. I’ll call him. And I need to sell this guitar.”

She nodded. “We’ll find a charity.”

He kissed her again. “I love you.”

She kissed him quickly, and returned to the control room.

Grateful that Jamie had turned away to talk to the guys, when Colum tapped her on the shoulder, and slid over an envelope postmarked Boston.

“Mail call. Do I want to know?”

She shook her head, folded the letter, and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Is there a Yellow Pages I can borrow?”

[donniesbabygirl28]

❝I watched you change.❞ ❝I could be mean. I could be angry. You know I could be just like you.❞

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏✪✭✪﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏✪✭✪﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem! Reader

Summary:After Dallas criticizing the reader's ways after thinking she was flirting with a Two-Bit, she decided to change.

Trope: Enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, Smoking, Dallas being a cute idiot. <3

Songs: Change - Deftones, Just like you - Three Days Grace

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏✪✭✪﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏✪✭✪﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You walked into the Curtis house, in a really good mood.

"Good morning! What's up?" you said with a bright smile as you shut the door behind you.

Everyone greeted you- well, some more bitter than others.

"Can you just shut up for once? And what the hell are you wearing? That band sucks." He said pointing to your cropped band t-shirt and your ripped baggy jeans in disgust before taking a puff of his cigarette.

"Oh. Sorry, I just woke up in a good mood I guess. Felt like wearing it. And you listen to the same band, Dally." You said, your attitude going from happy to sad real quick.

You were very sensitive and was very sweet to everyone. You didn't understand why he was being so mean to you.

"Dally, what is your problem? She's being nice to you and you're being a major dick." Johnny said.

Johnny never talked to his idol like that.

"She's being annoying, alright? So why don't you just shut up Johnny."

"Alright. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Bye Johnny." You walked out the house and didn't come back for the rest of the day.

"Fine then. Little bitch." He muttered under his breath as he watched you leave, covering up his regret.

"What's up with you, man? Why'd you talk to her like that?" Two-Bit said to his buddy, looking away from his show of Mickey Mouse for the first time. But he couldn't help but listen to the conversation between his two friends.

"Wouldn't you like to know, lover boy. Don't worry about it-"

"No I'm gonna worry about it. Y/N ain't did nothin' wrong since she got here and you're treating her like crap. You need to apologize, Dal."

"Yeah. I ain't gotta do shit."

°.✩┈┈∘*┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈*∘┈┈✩.°°.✩┈┈∘*┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈*∘┈┈✩.°

It was the next day. And instead of wearing your favorite band, you just wore a regular plain blue T-shirt and sweatpants.

Dallas walked in the Curtis house to see you smoking with Johnny and Ponyboy, laughing at Pony's joke about some girl at school.

"Oh my lord! She does walk like that-" You cut yourself off at the sight of Dallas' figure walking through the door.

You blew a puff of smoke, looking away from him.

He sat on the couch, looking at you from a distance.

"Got something to say, Dal? Hm?" You sassed, rolling your eyes before looking at Johnny and Ponyboy.

"What's your problem?" He said, seeming he has forgotten everything from yesterday.

"Oh I'm sorry. I guess I'm still being annoying since you still managed to notice me sitting right here." You said with sarcasm in your voice.

He looked at you, realizing.

"Since when did you smoke?" He said, grabbing the cigarette from your mouth.

"Since I was being annoying. I just thought I'd act just like you. Because you seem to love yourself a lot. You just can't get enough of yourself. You are a selfish person who I thought was my friend. I hate you, Dally." You got up, slamming the door behind you.

He stayed there for a minute, a pain in his chest soon spreading to his brain and the rest of his body.

"Dally, Go." Johnny said, pointing to the direction your went.

He though for a minute, walking out the door to see you on the porch.

"Hey, Doll." He sat down beside you on the steps.

"What do you want."

"Okay don't start your moody shit right now. If you're gonna start that, go flirt with Two-Bit some more." He said, looking at you with anger, also a hint of sadness.

"What?! Dal, you can't be serious right now. I don't think of Two like that and you know it."

"Oh yeah? Then why were you talkin' to him all cutesy at the drive in yesterday morning? Huh?"

"Well if you have to know, he was helping me get a gift for you. I was gonna tell you something but you started being a jerk. So I left." You said, handing him a customized lighter.

He held it in his hands, staring at the designs of the flowers and the skulls.

"Doll, I'm so sorry."

Dallas Winston felt terrible. He got it all wrong and made you feel bad for absolutely nothing.

"It's alright. I just hope we're at least friends again." You said with hope lacing your voice as you looked at him.

"Actually, I was hoping for something different.."

"Look, Dal. I didn't mean to be annoying yesterday. I was in a good mo-"

"Doll, it's fine. You're not annoying. I'm just a major asshole. Forgive me?" He smiled, grabbing your hand gently.

You nodded, squeezing his hand slightly, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

[pretzelforte]

PAYDAY HCS (MUSIC EDITION!!!)

Houston and Dallas !!!!!!!!! YAYAYAY !!!!!

ROCK AND METAL EDITION !!!!! (im self-projecting a good amount of these)

OKAY SO, DALLAS HEADCANONS !!!!!

dad rock *I REPEAT* DAD ROCK .

five finger death punch.

GODSMACK ?!??! HELL YEA.

really does NOT like nu-metal ...

TOOL. DEFINITELY A TOOL LISTENER.

maybe some slayer in the mix ,,,

ALICE IN CHAINS !!!!!!

STONE TEMPLE PILOTS !?!?!? YES.

introduced houston to most of the bands he likes

brother bonding fr 🤝

HOUSTON TIME !!!!!!!!!!

loves nu-metal,,,

korn, a lot of korn.

SOAD !!!!! (the only nu-metal band dallas remotely likes listening to)

stp (dallas introduced him to them)

THREE DAYS GRACE !!!!!!!

LIMP BIZKIT FOR REAL !!!!!!

honestly doesnt really like likin park,, one of his least favorites

deftones in the mix, not very familiar w them all that much though

[kittenkes]

We'd wake up early, back when the weight of things weren't so heavy. We'd pile in the car and watch our breath plume in the frigid air until the heater stole it away. I'd lean my head against the window and sleep the 2.5 hours it took to get to my grandparents' farm. My sister would sleep on my shoulder while my dad weaved through the complicated highways of Dallas until we hit open agricultural fields swaying in the morning breeze. I'd jolt awake when the tires hit the gravelly dirt road. We were almost there. We would pull into the narrow dirt road that led to the farm. The cows lazily grazed in the dew-covered paddock, and the chickens would scatter as our tires kicked up dirt. We'd pull in, and I'd run inside and greet my large, seemingly perfect family. I would hug my grandma and grandpa close as they'd ask me about school and life. I'd find my cousins and we would run out to the gully and play in the dirt for hours. We'd explore the woods on the edge of the paddock and throw dried cow patties at each other. My dad would come find me, and we would shoot at beer cans until dinner where we would say grace and I hoped that God found me an acceptable disciple.

The years passed and I grew into myself. I developed my own ideas about life, love, and sex. Thanksgiving day became a place where I pretended to be the same little girl I used to be. Innocent, naive. But I noticed the resentment between my family members. Some relationships faltered and their disagreements clouded their love. My cousins and I had experimented with our own personal relationships. At one point we were all in some form of a serious relationship. I visited the gully by myself as my cousins’ curled up with their partners by the fire contributing to whatever discussion felt important at the time.

I continued on, trying to find myself. I dated a few girls but never had the guts to bring them to meet my family at Thanksgiving. I had already been chewed out and grounded for having posted a picture of us kissing on social media. It was better for them to pretend I was normal. I’d sit at the dinner table at the farm, listening to the ignorance and hate that accompanied religious-centered topics. We would say grace and I would bow my head and wonder who I was praying to. I watched as my cousins were proposed to. I watched them announce their pregnancies on social media. I watched as the once unbreakable bond between us was shattered by the perceived normalcy of traditional values.

I watched my once strong and independent grandparents put the farm up for sale. I cried, knowing that it would be impossible to keep the farm in the family. I would no longer wake at 6am and take a three mile walk with my grandparents as they pointed out Painted Buntings in the brush. I would no longer kneel in the garden and harvest the freshly grown food. I would never again taste a farm-to-table meal from my grandmother. I would never get to skip rocks down at the tank or sit in a deer blind, hoping to God nothing crossed our paths.

Now, my grandparents live in an outdated home that is falling apart much like their own bodies. My grandpa doesn’t even recognize me. When he does he chastises me for moving to another state. My family asks when I’m planning on getting married. When I plan to have kids. That is as deep as the conversation runs. My cousins appear and my family’s attention is ripped away by the new life that they have brought into this world. They ask if I want to hold the baby and watch intently as I hold it, wondering why I’m not immediately falling apart at the seams with desire to procreate. I look down at the little drooly human grabbing at my hair and wonder why I feel nothing. I pass it off to someone else as soon as I can. I sit and listen to the bigotry, the hate that spews from my family over those who are different, not understanding that I sit among them. I watch my grandpa piss himself and my grandma slide into her wheelchair to help my grandpa to the bathroom. Thanksgiving dinner is served and none of it made with love by my grandmother who now walks crooked and falls asleep on the couch. I watch as my parents ignore each other. I watch as my mom grows old with dissatisfaction and anger. I watch as my dad stops giving a fuck. I watch as my sister pretends to be a happy family with her new husband and step daughter. I pretend to be a good aunt. I pretend to have my shit together. I pretend that this was the same family I saw when I was growing up.

But the truth is I just grew up and discovered the bullshit. The bullshit of family. The bullshit of politics. The bullshit of love. The bullshit of marriage. The bullshit of life. The facade of normalcy and belonging. So I avoid those gatherings like the plague. When I say I miss my family, I miss what they once were. Or perhaps I miss what I did not know.

So happy fucking Thanksgiving. Another useless reminder that I’m alone and nothing is what I once thought it was.

[areyouafraid]

DALLAS 20 F HE / SHE / THEY WHITE TME [26-2-24: MORE INFORMATION REQUESTED]

bisexual butch woman nu metal + industrial metal fan i like cartoons & horror MUSIC: KMFDM, Rammstein, Type O Negative, The Cure, The Cramps, Nine Inch Nails, Slipknot, Sevendust, Dope, Three Days Grace, Depeche Mode, Static-X, Alice in Chains, Mudvayne, Korn, System of a Down, The Jesus and Mary Chain GAMES: The Elder Scrolls, Resident Evil, Pokemon, Faith, Heretic, Doom, Everhood, The Binding of Isaac, Cookie Run, Animal Crossing, The Sims, Undertale / Deltarune, Blood, Bloodborne, Mario, Sonic the Hedgehog, Neopets, Subeta, Silent Hill, Mother, Dungeons & Dragons LITERATURE: Dragon Ball, Dorohedoro, Middle-Earth, Chainsaw Man FILM AND TELEVISION: Star Wars, Invader Zim, The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy / Evil Con Carne, Aqua Teen Hunger Force, The Walten Files, Petscop, The Amazing Digital Circus PAST URLS: mosquitodefender, biomechabug, hatespeed, diewithme, areyouafraid DISCORD: psychotrope777 SUBETA: telemetry TOYHOUSE: biomechabug friend requests on other sites = OK!

[the-flaming-nightmare]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag, @snowviolettwhite! 💙

Here's a tiny snippet from Day 17 of Regressuary:

Judd glanced down at his watch, the time reading 8:41pm. Owen told him TK's bedtime was at nine-thirty, but if experience with putting his own daughter to bed was anything to go by, Judd knew that getting a head start on the bedtime routine was always the best bet when handling a toddler. Especially a fussy toddler who was missing his daddy something fierce.

Owen had left just this morning for a fundraiser in Dallas being held by a group of fire captains from the surrounding areas, and since those things usually tended to run well into the night, he hadn't had much choice but to book a hotel for the night. With TK having been regressed for the last couple of days, though, Owen asked him and Grace they'd mind looking after him until he returned. They happily agreed to it, since it had been a minute since they had some time with their favorite nephew, and since were currently an empty nest while Charlie was spending the week with Grace's parents.

But with this also being TK's first time being away from Owen while regressed for an entire day and night, the drop off went about as well as any of them had expected. TK had been inconsolable for the first hour after Owen left. No matter what Judd and Grace did, the kid just wouldn't stop screaming and crying his heart out. It wasn't until Grace found a recording on her phone with Owen on it from the last get together they had. Mercifully, that had managed to calm the boy down. So long as they kept playing it on loop, at least.

A combination of the early morning and all of his crying inevitably led him to an exhaustion induced sleep, though. It was while he slept that Grace ended up getting a call from her supervisor at the dispatch center called her and asked if she'd be willing to go in today, since apparently three people called out due to a case of the Rona. Grace reluctantly agreed to go in, but not before Judd told her not to worry, that he and TK would be just fine.

By the time TK woke up three hours later, Grace had already left for work, which left Judd to find ways to keep the boy occupied long enough not to focus on Owen's absence. Somehow, with the Lord's help, he managed to do just that. It hadn't been an easy feat, and there had still been some tears along the way, but overall the rest of the day turned out pretty alright.

Tagging (if you wanna): @angelique-of-the-volturi-guard, @snarkythewoecrow and anyone else who wants to join!

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Oooo! I’m excited for an Outsiders ship!

-Ok so, my hair is side tails and my bangs are dyed bubblegum pink, the rest is brown.

-I’m 4’11 and all my friends call me “4 foot of fury” or “Baby Coon”

- My favorite color is pink

- My style of clothing goes between Bimbo, Pastel Goth, Goth Bimbo, and Trad Goth!

- I listen to metal and rock (Three Days Grace, Skillet, Slipknot, Marilyn Manson, Theory of a Deadman, Disturbed, System of a Down, Falling in Reverse, Evanescence, Metallica, MCR, Breaking Benjamin, Hollywood Undead, Saint Asonia, and TX2)

- I also enjoy Musicals (Hamilton, Six, Dear Evan Hansen, Be More Chill, Heathers, Mean Girls, Grease and Grease 2, Beetlejuice, Wicked, Epic, and I kinda count Hazbin Hotel as a musical)

- I also like club/sexual songs (Scotty Doesn’t Know, Sloppy Seconds, Such a Whore, Belly Dancer, Go Hard, Ashnikko Slumber Party and Stupid, Ayesha Erotica, etc)

-I also like drawing and cosplaying

-Have EXTREMELY bad mommy issues, daddy issues too but not as bad

Your Outsiders Ship: Johnny Cade!

Explanation: OK so starting off with appearances I think that Johnny Kay would be extremely attracted to you. I think he would stand out, especially with your Gothic bimbo style/traditional Goth. (Hey just like meee!) I personally think that he’s more into alternative people so I think he would absolutely love the way you look and just think about you all the time and always kind of have you on the back of his mind, but he would be scared as shit shit to come up with you, so Dallas would have to definitely push him (literally) to talk to you. I think that he really likes that you’re short and would definitely tease you about it. Based on your music taste, I think that you are kind of a bad ass and I think that Johnny would too. I think he really would like a lot of your music even if some of it is a little bit too intense for him he would let you know, and I hope that he would respect his boundary and you probably would. Speaking of which if you listen to sexual music around him, I think he would be so flustered he wouldn’t be able to even speak like he would just look at you with wide eyes like “what the shit is this man??” And I just honestly honestly don’t even even know if he would like it or not because he would be so flustered that he wouldn’t be able to even decide how he feels about the music itself. Anyway, you guys are kind of opposites, but not really vibes and I think you guys would be a really cute couple.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Julie Jargon

Published: Dec 16, 2023

Boys are struggling in middle school, stuck in an academic setting that they say rewards them for sitting still and taking notes—in other words, behaving more like girls. 

“It’s really hard sitting still for eight hours a day,” says Tyler Brausa, now 16. When he jumped from elementary school to middle school, the lack of recess and daily gym was a jolt. Tyler often got in trouble for talking out of turn and fidgeting at his desk. After school, he and his friends escaped into videogames—a realm where they have purpose and work together toward a shared goal.

School could compete with gaming if it felt more rewarding to boys, he says.

Some of them are. A number of all-boys middle schools—public, charter and private—have begun opening in recent years to meet boys’ needs. Inside the walls of these schools, boys get lots of hands-on learning, frequent breaks and plenty of movement. Some coed schools are also addressing the problem, dividing up boys and girls for certain classes. And they’re having success.

“Instead of making guys change the way we behave,” Tyler says, “maybe schools should change the way they’re structured.”

‘Bumping into things’

At the private, boys-only Field Middle School in the San Francisco Bay Area, which opened two years ago, students start some days sitting in a circle. The school’s 46 students, in grades six through eight, talk about what they’re grateful for and acknowledge mistakes they’ve made.

On other days, they begin by reviewing assignments, cleaning out backpacks and checking they have supplies such as sharpened pencils. Organization and time management don’t come easily to all adolescent boys, as I covered last week.

“Boys tend to learn by bumping into things,” says Jason Baeten, Field’s head of school. Dance classes held in the courtyard aren’t judged for grace and form. “That’s not always a metaphor—sometimes they’re too big for their bodies.”

At Field, 80% of the teachers are male. Overall numbers of male teachers in K-12 education have been falling nationwide, according to Richard Reeves, president of the nonpartisan nonprofit American Institute for Boys and Men. 

The administrators know how distracting technology can be to kids. Every morning the students turn in their phones and smartwatches to the front office for the day. They use iPads for some assignments in class but they aren’t in constant use.

Giving boys a chance to move around and work with their hands is a big focus at Field and other all-boys schools. The students get a 20-minute morning snack break, a 45-minute lunch period and PE three to five days a week. One classroom has standing desks.

The school has a class in which kids design products to solve problems or help people. One boy developed sugar-free recipes so his diabetic brother could enjoy dessert. The school also offers a build class; last year the boys built go-karts. On Mondays, the students cook lunch for each other and the staff. They regularly vacuum and sweep the classrooms.

‘Motivated by competition’

Field is too new to have high-school graduation success rates. But the Barack Obama Male Leadership Academy, a public all-boys school for grades six through 12, has proven results. The Dallas school, open since 2011, has a 91% graduation rate; the same percentage of students score proficient on reading, compared with the district average of 52%, according to U.S. News & World Report.

“The biggest reason our students do well is we have a committed staff. The brothers, as we call our students, know we care about them,” says Rashad Jackson, principal of the school, which has 541 boys. “It’s not just about A’s and B’s, we’re invested in their social-emotional well-being.”

The boys at the Obama Academy, as well as the students at Dallas’s two other public all-boys schools, have opportunities to get out their wiggles throughout the day. (The district also has three all-girls’ schools.)

At Dallas’s pre-K through-eighth-grade Solar Preparatory School for Boys, students rotate through a different learning station every 15 minutes because brain science shows boys need frequent movement, says principal Derek Thomas.

Timers buzz to indicate when students need to switch to the next task. 

“When you put a timer on something, it becomes a competition, and boys are motivated by competition,” he says. “If I tell them to work on organizing their binder and I give them two minutes, they’ll do it in one minute 30 seconds.”

‘The boys have voices’

These educators say middle-school boys feel freer to make and learn from mistakes when girls aren’t around.

That’s something administrators at Treasure Valley Classical Academy, a coed charter school in Fruitland, Idaho, also noticed. When middle-school boys and girls are together in PE class, the boys try to impress the girls, and the girls don’t participate as much, says school founder Stephen Lambert

The 580-student school, which serves kindergarten through 10th grade, began separating girls and boys in some PE classes two years ago. The girls became more engaged and competitive and the boys more focused, teachers said.

The school did the same for some music and art classes. When together, girls tend to out-sing the boys, Lambert says. “The boys’ voices are cracking and they’re embarrassed and self-conscious and they won’t sing,” he adds. “When you split them up, you realize the boys have voices and they want to make them heard.”

All students get plenty of time to move, with recess for all kids in kindergarten through eighth grade, and an extended hangout time after lunch for the high-school students.

Leonard Sax is a family doctor who has studied more than 500 schools over the past 20 years, and wrote several books on gender differences. He says that any school could replicate these approaches without being disruptive—or discriminatory.

“Schools can be friendly to boys without being unfriendly to girls,” he says.

==

Apparently, bludgeoning the maleness out of boys doesn't make them better students. Males and females are inherently different. Imagine that.

A program like this would never fly at many co-ed schools where activists masquerade as teachers. For reference, one of the Grievance Studies papers is called "The Progressive Stack: An Intersectional Feminist Approach to Pedagogy" and described thusly:

This is our most appalling paper, and it’s deeply concerning that how it is being treated at the highly respected journal Hypatia. It forwards that educators should discriminate by identity and calculate their students’ status in terms of privilege, favor the least privileged with more time, attention and positive feedback and penalize the most privileged by declining to hear their contributions, deriding their input, intentionally speaking over them, and making them sit on the floor in chains—framed as educational opportunities we termed “experiential reparations.” [..] The reviewers’ only concerns with these points so far have been that (1) we approach the topic with too much compassion for the students who are being subjected to this, and (2) we risk exploiting underprivileged students by burdening them with an expectation to teach about privilege. To correct for this, the reviewers urged us to make sure we avoid “recentering the needs of the privileged.” They asked us to incorporate Megan Boler’s approach called “pedagogy of discomfort” and Barbara Applebaum’s insistence that the privileged learn from this discomfort rather than being coddled or having their own experiences (suffering) “recentered.”

When scholarship around pedagogy - how things are taught - is organized around and motivated by cruelty, malevolence and spite, it seems unlikely that activist scolds will be in favor of sparing boys - even black boys - from an intersectional haranguing. If boys are allowed to be boys, what hateful, sexist harridan will get to shame and berate them into understanding that they'll never, ever have to experience being discriminated against based on their sex?

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Jon IX (Chapter 44)

Queen Selyse descended upon Castle Black with her daughter and her daughter's fool, her serving girls and lady companions, and a retinue of knights, sworn swords, and men-at-arms fifty strong.

+.+.+

He met the queen's party by the stables, accompanied by Satin, Bowen Marsh, and half a dozen guards in long black cloaks. It would never do to come before this queen without a retinue of his own, if half of what they said of her was true. 

+.+.+

You should hear what Cotter says of you. "I am sorry for that, but I fear Your Grace will find conditions at the Nightfort even less to your liking. We speak of a fortress, not a palace. A grim place, and cold. Whereas Eastwatch—"

"Eastwatch is not safe." The queen put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "This is the king's true heir. Shireen will one day sit the Iron Throne and rule the Seven Kingdoms. She must be kept from harm, and Eastwatch is where the attack will come. This Nightfort is the place my husband has chosen for our seat, and there we shall abide. We—oh!"

Where is she getting that from? Hm?

On the show the Night King attacked Eastwatch.

+.+.+

An enormous shadow emerged from behind the shell of the Lord Commander's Tower. Princess Shireen gave a shriek, and three of the queen's knights gasped in harmony. Another swore. "Seven save us," he said, quite forgetting his new red god in his shock.

"Don't be afraid," Jon told them. "There's no harm in him, Your Grace. This is Wun Wun."

[...]

Wun Wun began to laugh. A giant's laughter could put to shame a dragon's roar. Patchface covered his ears, Princess Shireen pressed her face into her mother's furs, and the boldest of the queen's knights moved forward, steel in hand. Jon raised an arm to block his path. "You do not want to anger him. Sheathe your steel, ser. Leathers, take Wun Wun back to Hardin's."

[...]

He turned back to the queen's knights. "My lord father used to say a man should never draw his sword unless he means to use it."

"Using it was my intent." The knight was clean-shaved and windburnt; beneath a cloak of white fur he wore a cloth-of-silver surcoat emblazoned with a blue five-pointed star. "I had been given to understand that the Night's Watch defended the realm against such monsters. No one mentioned keeping them as pets."

Another bloody southron fool. "You are …?"

"Ser Patrek of King's Mountain, if it please my lord."

MARTIN: Well there's this guy named Patrick St. Denis, who runs a fantasy website called Pat's Fantasy Hotlist. And Pat is a big Dallas Cowboys fan. So we would have a standing bet for a number of years about whether the Dallas Cowboys or the New York Giants would do better. And I won the bet the first two years. But finally, in the third year the Cowboys finished ahead of the Giants. And what I had to do if he won the bet was to kill him horribly within the books. So I invented a character called Ser Patrek of King's Mountain and described his heraldry as looking somewhat like the heraldry of the Dallas Cowboys with the silver star on a white field. And then I had him ripped apart by a giant. (Link)

+.+.+

"In the dark the dead are dancing." Patchface shuffled his feet in a grotesque dance step. "I know, I know, oh oh oh." 

Dancing is usually Daenerys, but this one feels more like the Others.

+.+.+

The banker [Tycho Nestoris] pressed his fingers together. "It would not be proper for me to discuss Lord Stannis's indebtedness or lack of same. As to King Robert … it was indeed our pleasure to assist His Grace in his need. For so long as Robert lived, all was well. Now, however, the Iron Throne has ceased all repayment."

Could the Lannisters truly be so foolish?

Yes.

+.+.+

"You cannot mean to hold Stannis responsible for his brother's debts."

"The debts belong to the Iron Throne," Tycho declared, "and whosoever sits on that chair must pay them. Since young King Tommen and his counsellors have become so obdurate, we mean to broach the subject with King Stannis. Should he prove himself more worthy of our trust, it would of course be our great pleasure to lend him whatever help he needs."

"Help," the raven screamed. "Help, help, help."

Good thing Bran's hearing this.

+.+.+

"We need a loan as well. Gold enough to keep us fed till spring. To buy food and hire ships to bring it to us."

"Spring?" Tycho sighed. "It is not possible, my lord."

What was it Stannis had said to him? You haggle like a crone with a codfish, Lord Snow. Did Lord Eddard father you on a fishwife? Perhaps he had at that.

It took the better part of an hour before the impossible became possible, and another hour before they could agree on terms. The flagon of mulled wine that Satin delivered helped them settle the more nettlesome points. By the time Jon Snow signed the parchment the Braavosi drew up, both of them were half-drunk and quite unhappy. Jon thought that a good sign.

The three Braavosi ships would bring the fleet at Eastwatch up to eleven, including the Ibbenese whaler that Cotter Pyke had commandeered on Jon's order, a trading galley out of Pentos similarly impressed, and three battered Lysene warships, remnants of Salladhor Saan's former fleet driven back north by the autumn storms. 

Baby's first contract negotiation. ❤️

+.+.+

"Let us hope so. The narrow sea is perilous this time of year, and of late there have been troubling reports of strange ships seen amongst the Stepstones."

"Salladhor Saan?"

"The Lysene pirate? Some say he has returned to his old haunts, this is so. And Lord Redwyne's war fleet creeps through the Broken Arm as well. On its way home, no doubt. But these men and their ships are well-known to us. No, these other sails … from farther east, perhaps … one hears queer talk of dragons."

"Would that we had one here. A dragon might warm things up a bit."

"My lord jests. You will forgive me if I do not laugh. We Braavosi are descended from those who fled Valyria and the wroth of its dragonlords. We do not jape of dragons."

No, I suppose not. "My apologies, Lord Tycho."

There's so much to love about this.

Braavosi have deep-seated hatred of Valyrians ... The Iron Bank will never aid Daenerys ... Jon is reminded dragons are no laughing matter.

It's all great.

+.+.+

Three of the queen's ladies sat together, attended by their serving maids and a dozen admiring men of the Night's Watch.

I'm going to need Brienne, 12 men, a wolf, and a brother on Sansa at all times when she arrives.

+.+.+

When he espied Jon Snow, Axell Florent tossed a bone aside, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and sauntered over. With his bowed legs, barrel chest, and prominent ears, he presented a comical appearance, but Jon knew better than to laugh at him. He was an uncle to Queen Selyse and had been among the first to follow her in accepting Melisandre's red god. If he is not a kinslayer, he is the next best thing. Axell Florent's brother had been burned by Melisandre, Maester Aemon had informed him, yet Ser Axell had done little and less to stop it. What sort of man can stand by idly and watch his own brother being burned alive?

Laugh out loud.

<- Daenerys VII

🎨 steamey

+.+.+

"Lord Snow, if I may ask … this wildling princess His Grace King Stannis wrote of … where might she be, my lord?"

Long leagues from here, Jon thought. If the gods are good, by now she has found Tormund Giantsbane. "Val is the younger sister of Dalla, who was Mance Rayder's wife and mother to his son. King Stannis took Val and the child captive after Dalla died in childbed, but she is no princess, not as you mean it."

It's Jon who will learn this lesson the hard way, and I can't wait.

+.+.+

It gave him an uneasy feeling. Braavosi coin would allow the Night's Watch to buy food from the south when their own stores ran short, food enough to see them through the winter, however long it might prove to be. A long hard winter will leave the Watch so deep in debt that we will never climb out, Jon reminded himself, but when the choice is debt or death, best borrow.

He did not have to like it, though. And come spring, when the time came to repay all that gold, he would like it even less.

Lumber trade, Jon. Look around you.

They have no trees, she realized. Braavos is all stone, a grey city in a green sea. - Arya I, AFFC

x

"There's no more wood." Dareon had paid the innkeep double for a room with a hearth, but none of them had realized that wood would be so costly here. Trees did not grow on Braavos, save in the courts and gardens of the mighty. - Samwell III, AFFC

+.+.+

Tycho Nestoris had impressed him as cultured and courteous, but the Iron Bank of Braavos had a fearsome reputation when collecting debts. Each of the Nine Free Cities had its bank, and some had more than one, fighting over every coin like dogs over a bone, but the Iron Bank was richer and more powerful than all the rest combined. When princes defaulted on their debts to lesser banks, ruined bankers sold their wives and children into slavery and opened their own veins. When princes failed to repay the Iron Bank, new princes sprang up from nowhere and took their thrones.

As poor plump Tommen may be about to learn. No doubt the Lannisters had good reason for refusing to honor King Robert's debts, but it was folly all the same. If Stannis was not too stiff-necked to accept their terms, the Braavosi would give him all the gold and silver he required, coin enough to buy a dozen sellsword companies, to bribe a hundred lords, to keep his men paid, fed, clothed, and armed. Unless Stannis is lying dead beneath the walls of Winterfell, he may just have won the Iron Throne. He wondered if Melisandre had seen that in her fires.

Stannis will die, so they might back Aegon VI? I forget if Kevan sorts out the Iron Bank stuff for Cersei.

One thing I do know is that they'll never back Daenerys when she has dragons.

+.+.+

On the morrow he would draft orders for Cotter Pyke. Eleven ships to Hardhome. Bring back as many as you can, women and children first. It was time they set sail. Should I go myself, though, or leave it to Cotter? The Old Bear had led a ranging. Aye. And never returned.

Silly boy, it's just as easy to die at Castle Black as it is beyond the Wall.

Unlike the show, book!Jon isn't a superhero with an action scene quota, so there will be no trips to Hardhome. Cotter Pyke and Tormund get to have all the fun instead.

+.+.+

Arya. Jon straightened. It had to be her.

"Girl," screamed the raven. "Girl, girl."

"Ty and Dannel came on her two leagues south of Mole's Town. They were chasing down some wildlings who scampered off down the kingsroad. Brought them back as well, but then they come on the girl. She's highborn, m'lord, and she's been asking for you."

"How many with her?" He moved to his basin, splashed water on his face. Gods, but he was tired.

"None, m'lord. She come alone. Her horse was dying under her. All skin and ribs it was, lame and lathered. They cut it loose and took the girl for questioning."

A grey girl on a dying horse. Melisandre's fires had not lied, it would seem. But what had become of Mance Rayder and his spearwives? 

I would also like to know what became of Mance.

Alys arrived alone on a dying horse.

✅ "A girl in grey on a dying horse. Jon Snow's sister." 

+.+.+

"Where is the girl now?"

"Maester Aemon's chambers, m'lord." The men of Castle Black still called it that, though by now the old maester should be warm and safe in Oldtown. 

+.+.+

"That's good." Jon felt fifteen years old again. Little sister. He rose and donned his cloak.

He's sixteen.

+.+.+

The snow was still falling as he crossed the yard with Mully. A golden dawn was breaking in the east, but behind Lady Melisandre's window in the King's Tower a reddish light still flickered. Does she never sleep? What game are you playing, priestess? Did you have some other task for Mance?

I would also like to know if there's some other task.

+.+.+

The best solution he could see would mean dispatching her to Eastwatch and asking Cotter Pyke to put her on a ship to someplace across the sea, beyond the reach of all these quarrelsome kings. It would need to wait until the ships returned from Hardhome, to be sure. She could return to Braavos with Tycho Nestoris. Perhaps the Iron Bank could help find some noble family to foster her. Braavos was the nearest of the Free Cities, though … which made it both the best and the worst choice. Lorath or the Port of Ibben might be safer. Wherever he might send her, though, Arya would need silver to support her, a roof above her head, someone to protect her. She was only a child.

Braavos sounds like a great place Arya Stark. Heh.

His hands are tied, but you still have to laugh at Jon planning to immediately ship her off somewhere else. I'm sure the Arya fans aren't bothered by that at all.

She was only a child.

Lol.

+.+.+

Jon stepped over a puddle of damp clothing. "Snow, Snow, Snow," the ravens called down from above. The girl was curled up near the fire, wrapped in a black woolen cloak three times her size and fast asleep.

Black woolen cloak. No other clothing mentioned.

❌ I must find the girl again, the grey girl on the dying horse. 

+.+.+

She looked enough like Arya to give him pause, but only for a moment. A tall, skinny, coltish girl, all legs and elbows, her brown hair was woven in a thick braid and bound about with strips of leather. She had a long face, a pointy chin, small ears.

You mean like a horse? Are you suggesting your sister Arya has horse-like features?

Capital punishment.

+.+.+

"I am told you have been asking after me. I am—"

"—Jon Snow." The girl tossed her braid back. "My house and yours are bound in blood and honor. Hear me, kinsman. My uncle Cregan is hard upon my trail. You must not let him take me back to Karhold."

Asking after Jon.

✅ She was racing to him for protection, that much Melisandre had seen clearly.

Running from a marriage to Cregan.

✅ I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. 

Take her back to Karhold.

❌ "I saw water. Deep and blue and still, with a thin coat of ice just forming on it. It seemed to go on and on forever." "Long Lake. What else did you see around this girl?"

The only body of water Alys could have come near is The Last River. The Last River is not a lake, it's a river. There would not be still water with a thin coat of ice.

+.+.+

For a moment the memory eluded him. Then it came. "Alys Karstark."

That brought the ghost of a smile to her lips. "I was not sure you would remember. I was six the last time you saw me."

"You came to Winterfell with your father." The father Robb beheaded. "I don't recall what for."

She blushed. "So I could meet your brother. Oh, there was some other pretext, but that was the real reason. I was almost of an age with Robb, and my father thought we might make a match. There was a feast. I danced with you and your brother both. He was very courteous and said that I danced beautifully. You were sullen. My father said that was to be expected in a bastard."

Still looking for the right dancing partner.

+.+.+

"You're still a little sullen," the girl said, "but I will forgive you that if you will save me from my uncle."

"Your uncle … would that be Lord Arnolf?"

"He is no lord," Alys said scornfully. "My brother Harry is the rightful lord, and by law I am his heir. A daughter comes before an uncle. Uncle Arnolf is only castellan. He's my great-uncle, actually, my father's uncle. Cregan is his son. I suppose that makes him a cousin, but we always called him uncle. Now they mean to make me call him husband." She made a fist. "Before the war I was betrothed to Daryn Hornwood. We were only waiting till I flowered to be wed, but the Kingslayer killed Daryn in the Whispering Wood. My father wrote that he would find some southron lord to wed me, but he never did. Your brother Robb cut off his head for killing Lannisters." Her mouth twisted. "I thought the whole reason they marched south was to kill some Lannisters."

[...]

"My uncle declared for Stannis, in hopes it might provoke the Lannisters to take poor Harry's head. Should my brother die, Karhold should pass to me, but my uncles want my birthright for their own. Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already." She rubbed away a tear angrily, the way Arya might have done it. "Will you help me?"

My oh my, look at all the things hiding in plain sight.

"Your uncle … would that be Lord Arnolf?" "He is no lord," Alys said scornfully. [...] Uncle Arnolf is only castellan.

"Lysa was murdered before the document could be presented for her signature, so I signed as Lord Protector. I knew that would have been her wish." - Sansa I, AFFC

He's my great-uncle, actually, my father's uncle. Cregan is his son. I suppose that makes him a cousin, but we always called him uncle. Now they mean to make me call him husband.

Running from a marriage to an uncle who isn't really her uncle?

"Wed?" Sansa was stunned. "You and my aunt?" - Sansa VI, ASOS

x

"Even here. In your heart. Can you do that? Can you be my daughter in your heart?" [...] "I am Alayne, Father. Who else would I be?" - Sansa I, AFFC

My brother Harry is the rightful lord

"Harry the Heir?" - Alayne II, AFFC

Before the war I was betrothed to Daryn Hornwood. We were only waiting till I flowered to be wed

If they do that … why, then we shall know that there is no taint in your blood, and when you come into the flower of your womanhood, you shall wed the king in the Great Sept of Baelor, before the eyes of gods and men. - Sansa IV, AGOT

My father wrote that he would find some southron lord to wed me, but he never did. Your brother Robb cut off his head for killing Lannisters.

When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. - Sansa III, AGOT

x

"But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!" - Arya V, AGOT

Should my brother die, Karhold should pass to me, but my uncles want my birthright for their own.

It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. - Sansa VI, ASOS

x

When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa . . . Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell. That's worth another kiss now, don't you think? - Alayne II, AFFC

Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already.

"Only Cat." He gave her a short, sharp shove. - Sansa VII, ASOS

So many similarities between this girl not in grey and Sansa Stark. Must be a coincidence.

+.+.+

"Marriages and inheritance are matters for the king, my lady. I will write to Stannis on your behalf, but—"

Alys Karstark slipped her arm through Jon's. "How much longer, Lord Snow? If I'm to be buried beneath this snow, I'd like to die a woman wed." - Jon X, ADWD

+.+.+

"Arnolf is rushing to Winterfell, 'tis true, but only so he might put his dagger in your king's back. He cast his lot with Roose Bolton long ago … for gold, the promise of a pardon, and poor Harry's head. Lord Stannis is marching to a slaughter. So he cannot help me, and would not even if he could." Alys knelt before him, clutching the black cloak. "You are my only hope, Lord Snow. In your father's name, I beg you. Protect me."

Why are you kneeling Alys? Is there a king around?

(Dagger for Stannis!)

Final thoughts:

That is no girl in grey, your honor.

We just went an entire chapter without Jon pissing off Bowen Marsh. I feel like celebrating.

-> return to menu <-

[magma-frog0]

Songs on my playlist that remind me of The Outsiders :)

This is all personal preference.

Ponyboy Curtis: Two Birds- Regina Spektor, Immortals- Fall Out Boy, Uma Thurman-Fall Out Boy, Paradise-Coldplay, Remember the Name- Fort Minor, Styles of Beyond, 

Darry Curtis: I Am Machine- Three Days Grace, I Will Not Bow- Breaking Benjamin, Come as you are- Nirvana, Basket Case-Green Day, Good Riddance-Green Day.

Sodapop Curtis: Never Too Late- Three Days Grace, Viva La Vida- Coldplay, I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE-Maneskin.

Dallas Winston: Godzilla- Eminem, Wasn’t Me-Shaggy, Mrs. Jackson-OutKast, Fix You- Coldplay, something in the way- Nirvana, The Kids Aren't Alright- The Offspring, You're Gonna Go Far Kid- The Offspring.

Johnny Cade: Freaks-Surf Curse, Yellow- Coldplay, I Hate Everything About You-Three Days Grace, New Americana- Halsey.

Steve Randle: Locked Out of Heaven- Bruno Mars, The Diary of Jane-Breaking Benjamin, Headstrong-Trapt, Kryptonite- 3 Doors Down.

Two-Bit Mathews: Bullet with Butterfly wings- The Smashing Pumpkins, Dumb- Nirvana, Misery Business-Paramore, Beggin- Maneskin.

​​

[ratwhowrites]

A day off

Superhero au

“How long have they been doing this?” Josh sat next to Grace and Maddie at the counter, watching Dallas and Romero wrestle each other for the second time that day. Flynn had found a safe spot behind the counter where she recorded the fight.

“Since they were little. You’d think they were high schoolers but no. These are grown ass men fighting over the best pizza place in the city. Honestly though, my money’s on Dallas. He may be an idiot but he’s crazy strong.” Flynn shuffled over to the other adults and placed a twenty on the counter. Maddie picked at her fries and scoffed.

“Please, Romero’s gonna send him flying at the wall again.” Romero chucked a pillow at Dallas, and attempted to knock him off his feet. But Dallas landed a blow to Romero’s gut, causing him to fall backwards.

“Dallas! You didn’t pick up the groceries like I asked you to,” Erin walked into the living room, her arms full of clean laundry. Julian waddled behind her, picking up any clothes that fall from her pile. Erin grins at the two men as Dallas elbow drops Romero.

“Kick his ass Romero. Loser has to go to the store. We need eggs.”

“You got it Tía!” Romero head butts Dallas, causing both to collapse. Julian bounces excitedly dropping a few socks in the process.

“Go Papa!” The four year old is then picked up by Josh who chuckles and carried him away. Romero uses his telekinesis to shove Dallas into the wall, knocking the wind out of him.

“I give! I give!” Dallas gasps for air, and closes his eyes for a minute, trying to catch his breath. Maddie snatches the pile of twenties with a grin. Grace and Flynn grumble about the loss of their money. Romero stands up and yanks Dallas up with him, a shit eating smirk on his face.

“You heard Tía, loser. Get going.” Dallas huffs as he grabs his coat and keys. He wipes away the small bit of blood on the corner of his mouth.

“You busted my lip, bastard.” And with that, he exits. Romero grabs a soda from the fridge, along with a plate of cookies.

“You think we’re gonna get another complaint from the neighbors? These walls ain’t exactly sound proof and that thud was pretty damn loud.” Grace asked, placing her sunglasses back on her face and leaning her head on Maddie’s shoulder.

“I’m sure they’re used to it by now. We’ve lived here for almost three years now,” Romero nibbled on the sugar cookie. He suddenly looks uneasy. He looks down at the plate of cookies and they don’t seem as appetizing as before.

“I’m gonna go rest for a bit.” He mumbles, making his way to his room.

Hey! This was just a bit from my superhero au. Basically, the twins and Romero are heroes and go up against a strange new villain who knows quite a bit about them. Feel free to ask about it! I enjoy writing about this au. Thank you for reading

[closedcoffins]

muses as the amazing devil lyrics

not all of them cos i couldnt find lyrics. for all of them

Claire Stanfield --- and what you see is not the dark / it's just the gods upturning inkpots / 'cause they know what you'll become

Graham Specter --- sometimes i fall to pieces / just to see what bits of me don't fit

Jacuzzi Splot --- oh what, these? these aren't tears / it's just the rain that wasn't brave enough to fall.

Nice Holystone --- over hedges we'd headlong / and on ledges we'd land / from every height i'd fall i'd call / i'd reach out for your hand

Huey Laforet --- because brick by brick you built us / and i'd fill in the cracks / nothing quite prepares you for / when they don't come back

Melvi Dormentaire --- if i have to be who i was ( "you're not." ) / do i have to be who i am?

Luchino B. Campanella --- ( "you are your own magician, let the ocean give to you" ) / and by my own admission, had no notion what to do

Luck Gandor --- there's a fire burning / and i'm learning to be / so much more than my tiredness

Sham --- well hello, my hollow holofernes! / i wink but you don't get the joke

Ronny Schiatto --- if you asked me for my lighter mate, i gave you my fire / i'd call as you climed / and i'd catch you every time you fell

Christopher Shaldred --- didn't the trees tell us their stories? / ( "yeah but we, we thought you were mental, you were talking to trees" )

Isaac Dian --- and you, you follow philosophies / but me, i laugh, i choke

Maiza Avaro --- can you pass me the lighter, mate / give me your fire

Chané Laforet --- i look at those secret worlds you call eyes / and wonder if we might---

Victor Talbot --- and i climb up the ladder / had i taken more care / i might have seen all the rot in the rungs

Keith Gandor --- and what you hear is not silence / it's just the trees waiting to hear what next you'll hum

Berga Gandor --- and the door shuts behind me / and i breathe in the air / and say 'yeah, well i'm sorry too'

Kate Gandor --- welcome to my table, bring your hunger

Laz Smith --- day by day, oh lord, three things i pray / that i might understand as best i can / how bold i was, could be, will be, still am, by god still am

Mark Wilmens --- i look into the waters and see a face i don't recognize / who's this / who are you / what changed, i ask / so strange, he replies

Roy Maddock --- my head's not yours, it's mine / and i'll take my fucking time / 'cause i know, i know, i know...

Edith Carmine --- and to those gods i will speak bluntly / we've an accord / if you ever touch or harm him / please rest assured / that you might not fear a man / but to a woman by the end you'll kneel and plea

Tick Jefferson --- i can't wait to show you / how much i know you can be / just let the rain come / let the rain come down, down

Tock “Tim” Jefferson --- be good to me, i beg of him / be good to me, i beg of him / be good, be good, be good, be good, be good, be good, be good, be good / and he replies / ( "no no, not i" )

Elmer C. Albatross --- and i stare at the soldiers before me / all my blossoms that have waited to fall / and i walk / and i walk / and i walk / and i walk / knowing every last one of them is painted in light / as i make myself acquainted with the saint of never getting it right

Dallas Genoard --- and when the rain came down / i made a vow out to the dark / please let her live just one more day / 'cause she is so much more than all her scars

Rail --- somehow now i'm drinking / and i'm lifting my glass / to that last good man grace / who has left me, he's left me at last / and i laugh, and i laugh / 'cause laughing right now, it's all, it's all that i have

Lua Klein --- and for a time there is timelessness / endless furore / to the dark i said pour and forgot to say when

Sylvie Lumiere --- and on that tree i'll carve your name / 'cause in years to come we both know we won't be the same

Gretto Avaro --- if she doesn't have the will / but it seems the whole world does, i'll stay because / i will be the man my father never was

Monica Campanella --- and i can hear him break / and he doesn't understand / and i wish that i could take his hand / but where i'm going is for me and me alone

Esperanza C. Boroñal --- and my saint, she is dancing / as every step i choose to take begins to set the world aflame / and the soldiers march behind me / i can hear them beat their spears

Nile --- welcome to the storm / i am thunder

Nader Schasschule --- i wish i'd done things different / i wish that i'd been brave / i wish i'd known these stones / were something i could save

Adele --- 'be good to me' i whisper / and you say 'what?' / and i say 'nothing, dear'

Ennis --- remember me, i ask / remember me, i sing / give me back my heart, you wingless thing

Mark Twain --- and what they hear isn't laughter, after all / it's just your voice learning for once to stand up tall

Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach --- and i can hear her sing / and i know she's giving up / and i don't know what to do, how to help her / how to bring her home

Yuri Briar --- it starts with love and comfort / becomes a strength of will / but all that strength made rubble / of those towers we built

[studentessamatta]

The three Fontana sisters: Micol, Giovanna and Zoe Atelier Fontana: Italian Fashion, Hollywood Glamour, and a TV Drama Atelier Fontana: Italian Fashion, Hollywood Glamour, and a TV Drama C’era una volta tre sorelle—Micol, Giovanna e Zoe Fontana—che cambiarono il corso della storia della moda italiana.Once upon a time, three sisters named Micol, Giovanna, and Zoe Fontana changed the history of Italian fashion. Il loro straordinario viaggio iniziò negli anni Quaranta e Cinquanta. Da bambine, impararono l’arte della sartoria dalla madre, Amabile, nel loro piccolo villaggio italiano. Ma i loro sogni ben presto superarono i confini del loro paese. Un giorno, Zoe dichiarò alle sorelle:Their remarkable journey began in the 1940s and 1950s. As little girls, they learned the art of tailoring from their mother, Amabile, in their small Italian village. But their dreams soon outgrew their surroundings. One day, Zoe declared to her sisters: "Andiamo alla stazione e prendiamo il primo treno che ci porterà lontano da qui.""Let’s go to the station and take the first train that will take us far away from here." Dal Villaggio al SuccessoFrom a Village to Stardom Quel treno portò le sorelle Fontana a Roma, dove iniziò la loro favola nel mondo della moda. All’inizio, affrontarono molte difficoltà, svolgendo lavori come riparare e orlare abiti per sopravvivere. Non potevano nemmeno permettersi i materiali per creare gli abiti di alta moda che sognavano di realizzare.That train took the Fontana sisters to Rome, where they embarked on a fashion fairytale. At first, they struggled, taking on jobs like repairing and hemming dresses to survive. They couldn’t even afford materials to create the high-fashion gowns they dreamed of designing. La loro fortuna cambiò quando una principessa romana accettò di indossare le loro creazioni a banchetti di gala in luoghi come Villa Torlonia. L’aristocrazia romana, affascinata dalla bellezza dei loro abiti, iniziò a commissionare vestiti su misura. Questo portò al momento decisivo nella loro carriera: la richiesta di creare l’abito da sposa per Linda Christian, madre di Romina Power, per il suo matrimonio con la star di Hollywood Tyrone Power.Their luck changed when a Roman princess agreed to wear their creations to gala banquets at places like Villa Torlonia. The aristocracy of Rome, enchanted by their exquisite designs, began commissioning their gowns. This led to the sisters’ breakthrough moment: designing a wedding dress for Linda Christian, Romina Power's mother, for her marriage to Hollywood star Tyrone Power. Vestire le StarDressing the Stars Da quel momento, le sorelle Fontana divennero sinonimo di eleganza e glamour. Disegnarono abiti e costumi per alcune delle figure più iconiche dell’epoca, tra cui Audrey Hepburn, Ava Gardner, Grace Kelly, Jacqueline Kennedy ed Elizabeth Taylor. Le loro creazioni illuminarono tappeti rossi, palcoscenici e persino il grande schermo.From then on, the Fontana Sisters were synonymous with elegance and glamour. They designed dresses and costumes for some of the most iconic figures of the era, including Audrey Hepburn, Ava Gardner, Grace Kelly, Jacqueline Kennedy, and Elizabeth Taylor. Their creations adorned red carpets, stages, and even the silver screen.Federico Fellini, affascinato dal loro talento, chiese loro di disegnare i costumi per La Dolce Vita. Il loro lavoro divenne parte di uno dei momenti più celebrati nella storia del cinema e della moda.Federico Fellini, captivated by their talent, enlisted them to design costumes for La Dolce Vita. Their work became part of one of the most celebrated moments in film and fashion history. L’Abito da Sposa Mai Indossato da Audrey HepburnAudrey Hepburn’s Unworn Wedding Dress Una delle storie più toccanti legate alle sorelle Fontana riguarda l’abito da sposa che Audrey Hepburn non indossò mai. L’attrice aveva commissionato un abito per il suo matrimonio con un lord inglese. Tuttavia, durante le riprese di Vacanze Romane, si innamorò del co-protagonista Gregory Peck e cancellò il matrimonio. Nonostante ciò, Audrey pagò per l’abito e lo donò a una delle sarte più povere dell’atelier, un gesto che rifletteva il suo spirito generoso.One of the most poignant stories tied to the Fontana Sisters is about the wedding dress Audrey Hepburn never wore. The actress commissioned a gown for her planned marriage to an English lord. However, while filming Roman Holiday, Hepburn fell in love with co-star Gregory Peck and canceled the wedding. Despite this, she paid for the dress and gifted it to one of the atelier’s poorest seamstresses, a gesture that reflected her generous spirit. L’Eredità di Micol FontanaMicol Fontana’s Lasting Legacy Tra le tre sorelle, Micol visse più a lungo, raggiungendo l’età straordinaria di 101 anni. Dopo la scomparsa di Zoe nel 1978 e di Giovanna nel 2007, Micol lanciò una linea di moda per i più giovani chiamata Micol Boutique. Scrisse anche un libro di memorie, Specchio a tre luci, che racconta il loro incredibile viaggio.Of the three sisters, Micol Fontana lived the longest, reaching an impressive 101 years. After losing Zoe in 1978 and Giovanna in 2007, Micol launched Micol Boutique, a line aimed at younger clientele. She also penned a memoir, Specchio a tre luci (A Mirror with Three Lights), chronicling their extraordinary journey.Micol fece persino un cameo nella fiction RAI Atelier Fontana – Le sorelle della moda, un dramma dedicato alla loro vita. Questa miniserie in due parti, diretta da Riccardo Milani e prodotta da Rai Fiction e Lux Vide, andò in onda su Rai Uno il 27 e 28 febbraio 2011. Alessandra Mastronardi, Anna Valle e Federica De Cola interpretarono le sorelle Fontana.Micol even made a cameo appearance in Atelier Fontana – Le sorelle della moda, a RAI drama about their lives. This two-part miniseries, directed by Riccardo Milani and produced by Rai Fiction and Lux Vide, aired on Rai Uno on February 27 and 28, 2011. It stars Alessandra Mastronardi, Anna Valle, and Federica De Cola as the Fontana sisters. Dove Guardare la Loro StoriaWhere to Watch Their Story Il DVD di Atelier Fontana – Le sorelle della moda è disponibile su Amazon.it. L’ho guardato di recente e l’ho trovato commovente e illuminante. È assolutamente da vedere per chiunque ami la moda italiana e la storia ispiratrice di queste sorelle pionieristiche.DVD of Atelier Fontana – Le sorelle della moda is available on Amazon.it. I recently watched it and found it both heartwarming and enlightening. It’s a must-see for anyone who loves Italian fashion and the inspiring story of these trailblazing sisters.Le sorelle Fontana non si limitarono a creare abiti; intessero una straordinaria eredità di arte, resilienza e innovazione che continua a ispirare gli amanti della moda di tutto il mondo.The Fontana Sisters didn’t just design dresses; they wove a legacy of artistry, resilience, and innovation that continues to inspire fashion lovers around the world. Trailer del film: https://youtu.be/qk1ppEtMU1M Read the full article

[sankirtan]

(via Celebrating 50 years of Sri Sri Radha Kalachandji Dham with the Temple Presidents and Vice President - YouTube)

Celebrating 50 Years of Sri Sri Radha Kalachandji Dham with the Temple Presidents and Vice President In a heartfelt gathering to commemorate fifty years of Sri Sri Radha Kalachandji Dham, prominent devotees shared their memories and insights on the temple’s legacy. Key speakers, including His Grace Ranadhir Prabhu and His Grace Yugala Prabhu, reflected on the journey, challenges, and growth that shaped this spiritual community. The speakers opened with a welcoming message for all attendees, setting a reflective and warm tone. Ranadhir Prabhu began with his early memories of becoming a devotee in the late 1970s, introduced to Krishna Consciousness by his close friend and future godbrother, His Grace Madhuratma Prabhu, in Nashville, Tennessee. The two frequently visited Murari Sevaka, a rural sanctuary for devotees, which sparked their spiritual path. In 1978, they were introduced to their future spiritual master, Tamal Krishna Goswami, who invited them to join the Dallas-based community he envisioned. Ranadhir Prabhu, along with three other families from Tennessee, moved to Dallas in 1979, committing to this new spiritual life. Ranadhir Prabhu reminisced about his early years at the Dallas temple, starting in a management role shortly after his arrival. He was entrusted with responsibilities as a temple manager and treasurer, quickly gaining firsthand insight into the effective leadership of Tamal Krishna Goswami. Describing his spiritual master’s approach, he noted that Tamal Krishna Goswami was like a CEO, who trusted his team and did not micromanage. Instead, Goswami took reports from various areas, synthesized them, and provided guidance. The temple faced significant transitions in the early 1980s, marked by the guru reform movement, as some of Prabhupada’s disciples voiced concerns about certain initiating gurus. This led to Tamal Krishna Goswami being called to India, and the Dallas community found itself without his guidance. Though difficult, these years taught valuable lessons to the devotees who had to manage without the seasoned support of senior leaders. In 1981, Tamal Krishna Goswami returned to his community in Dallas with a more focused area of responsibility, as the larger North American zone had been restructured. As a young devotee managing the Dallas temple, Ranadhir Prabhu shared that many challenges arose from needing to keep the community not only operational but thriving. Tamal Krishna Goswami led by example, always encouraging devotees in their Krishna Consciousness and reminding them to serve a higher purpose. His grace and guidance were felt throughout the temple and farm projects, including the construction of the renowned Kalachandji’s restaurant, a labor of love that would later become an iconic part of the Dallas community. Tamal Krishna Goswami was dedicated, visiting the construction site daily to oversee details and offer advice on the layout and design. Reflecting on the restaurant’s early days, Ranadhir Prabhu recalled an amusing memory. A visiting restauranteur, marveling at the harmonious atmosphere, asked Tamal Krishna Goswami how they managed to run the restaurant so smoothly in such a small space. Tamal Krishna Goswami humorously attributed it to Krishna’s mercy, noting that only in a devotional setting could so many people work together so seamlessly. Throughout his talk, Ranadhir Prabhu highlighted the sense of devotion and personal connection Tamal Krishna Goswami fostered in each devotee. He not only focused on temple projects but also deeply cared about each devotee’s spiritual life. Even amidst tight schedules, Tamal Krishna Goswami ensured that devotees took time to chant their rounds and made a point to check in with each member of the community, addressing their individual needs and challenges. Yugala Prabhu continued the discussion by reflecting on Tamal Krishna Goswami’s holistic approach to Krishna Consciousness. He explained that Tamal Krishna Goswami operated from a place of vision, a sense instilled in him by Prabhupada. This vision encompassed both practical management and genuine care for every individual’s spiritual progress. Tamal Krishna Goswami taught his disciples that embodying qualities like humility, tolerance, and respect would lead to spiritual growth and harmony. One speaker recalled a personal interaction with Tamal Krishna Goswami. During a private conversation, Tamal Krishna Goswami expressed his desire for honest, thoughtful dialogue with his disciples, as they were his closest association. This insight revealed the depth of his humility and his recognition of the spiritual relationship as one of mutual respect and support. Further discussions highlighted the evolution of the temple and the transition from a highly structured environment in the 1980s to a more inclusive and flexible culture in the years that followed. The early years were marked by strict protocols and standards, a reflection of the times, but as the movement grew, so did its understanding of the importance of accommodating individuals’ unique spiritual journeys. Tamal Krishna Goswami’s ability to adapt and encourage growth within his community underscored his wisdom as both a spiritual guide and a leader. The session ended with a round of questions, where devotees expressed their gratitude and shared personal anecdotes about the positive impact Tamal Krishna Goswami had on their lives. Many attendees acknowledged the tireless efforts of early temple leaders, who managed to keep the temple thriving during challenging times. Despite the heavy responsibilities, they were all motivated by their unwavering faith and Tamal Krishna Goswami’s encouragement. The celebratory gathering, brimming with cherished memories, showcased the incredible legacy of Sri Sri Radha Kalachandji Dham and the enduring love of its community members. Looking back on fifty years, the devotees honored Tamal Krishna Goswami’s vision, dedication, and the spiritual guidance that continues to inspire and uplift their community.

[walker-extended-universe]

The Only Constant in Life is Change, Chapter 1

Relationship(s): August Walker & Sadie Yoo, August Walker/Sadie Yoo, Geri Broussard/Cordell Walker, August Walker & Cordell Walker & Stella Walker

Tags/Warnings: Military, PTSD, Depression, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Hut/Comfort, Friends to Lovers

Summary: After a few years in the military, August is starting to lose his shine for life. Watching the rest of his family move on and be happy without him around isn't helping his mental state, so the next time he has leave, he heads for Dallas instead. What, or rather who, he finds there changes his outlook.

Written for @whumptober Day 29: Fatigue, Burnout

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

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

You would think August would be used to the whole routine by now. He flies to Austin, gets picked up by Uncle Liam at the airport, has a “welcome home” dinner, and catches up with his family for the week. He hears all about how things are going at Ranger HQ, how things are going at the Side Step (both the Austin location, and the one in OKC), how things are improving around the ranch, how Stella is doing in her law studies….

It was nice. Or, at least, it had started that way. In the beginning, when he was dealing with homesickness and wanted nothing more than to get back home in between bouts of “saving democracy” on the other side of the world. But, about one year in, things started to feel a little hollow. That was when hearing the stories on how well his family was doing (without him), while he stayed relatively the same, started to sting. That was when he started to count down the days until he went back to his base and caught up with his unit there.

Now, approaching three years in, he was starting to dread these returns home. Coming back to the same people in the same home- but nothing was ever really the same. Because Stella was thriving as she headed into law school and Liam was working his way back into the legal field in the mayor’s office and Mawline and Ben were growing their wedding business to include other events and Gramps was looking more toward retirement and Geri and Dad-

Geri and Dad were having a baby.

And August?

August had a little more trauma, but that was it. He still felt like the same insecure kid that was looking for a place in the world. Some days he felt like he’d found it, but most days he wanted to be anywhere else.

But where else would he go, except back home? To the people who felt more different than familiar, who wouldn’t know how to handle him now any more than they did when he still lived at home? To the place that felt stifling more than welcoming?

“That’s great,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. “I’m really happy for you. Just don’t expect any babysitting out of me.”

That got a laugh out of the rest of the table, which gave him enough social grace not to speak for the rest of the evening, the timer in his head ticking as he got closer and closer to getting back on that plane.

—-------------------

August knew he should go home to Austin. He knew his family would be happy to see him and give him updates on everything that had changed. He was especially sure his infant little brother had “missed him” despite never having met him before.

He just…wasn’t in the mood. Maybe it was selfish and stupid, but he wasn’t sure how many more times he could handle seeing his family be happy and thriving without him.

So, he decided to visit some other family instead.

“You sure you don’t have anything better to do on American soil than fix up this old place?” Uncle Willy asked, following him down to the basement to look at the water heater.

August shrugged. “I know how to do this stuff anyway. And…. I don’t know, Austin just doesn’t feel much like home anymore.”

Uncle Willy huffed. “Well, if you say so. Have at it then. Far be it from me to turn down free labor.”

August laughed. “Yeah, right. I’m getting food out of you at least.”

“Better than the plumber charging $800 just to look. Dinner is served at 6 and put away at 8. Don’t be late.”

But, his great-uncle was right; hanging around an aging B&B, while nice and relaxing, wasn’t the only thing he wanted to do with his limited free time away from his unit. So, after doing some more repairs (and eating a delicious meal), he got dressed and headed for a bar.

He tried not to make a habit of drinking, but it was a nice place to go to get away from things. And, if he got lucky, he’d get a nice, long, sexy distraction from his darker thoughts.

He’d just gotten a drink at such a bar when one such distraction found him.

“August? August Walker?”

He turned his head and saw- “Sadie?”

She grinned and took the barstool next to him. “I thought it was you when I walked in but I wasn’t sure…. I feel like it’s been forever.”

“Been a couple years at least,” he muttered, taking another sip of his beer.

“Yeah, I guess it has. You’re off in the military now, right?”

“Yeah, shipped off a few weeks after graduation.” He got the bartender's attention. “Buy you a drink?”

“Sure; far be it from me to decline a free drink.” She smirked and ordered a cocktail for herself when the bartender came over. After he left, she leaned on the bar, trying to meet August’s eyes. “So, what are you doing here? Are you on leave or….?”

He nodded. “I’ve got a couple weeks before I have to ship back out.”

“Right…. And you’re here instead of Austin with your family because…..?”

He sighed. “I needed a change of pace. Going back to the same place all the time gets boring after a while.” And if I’m here I’m not faced with all my worst mistakes. “Besides, Dad and Geri just had a baby and they probably don’t need the extra stress.”

Sadie hummed and sipped on her drink. “Yeah, they have been busy. I’m happy for them though; Geri’s a great mom and it’s kind of fun watching your dad run around trying to be SuperDad.”

August nodded, biting his tongue. The last thing he wanted to hear is how much better of a father his dad was now that his kids were grown up.

“So, what are your plans while you’re in town?”

He shrugged. “I’m staying at my great uncle’s B&B and helping him out with some repairs. I wasn’t planning on much else except some sight-seeing.”

Sadie nodded. “Well, I’m not doing much of anything either. Maybe we could hang out while you’re here? I’ve missed you….”

Such a stark admission made August actually meet her eyes. “Yeah, maybe we could. I-I don’t know if you have my number-”

“Give me your phone.”

He handed it over without a word and watched her tap on his screen. “There, now you have my number and I have yours. Call me tomorrow and we’ll do something. Thanks for the drink.” She handed his phone back with a wink, grabbed her drink and sauntered away, leaving him staring after her.

—---------------------

August did call her the next day, but he managed to make himself wait until after lunch. He wasn’t some lovestruck kid anymore; he was an adult that understood social cues.

Sadie answered and invited him to an outdoor theater not far from the B&B. “They’re doing a local talent showcase. I’m not in it this time but it’s still fun. At least the snacks will be good even if the acts can be…questionable.”

He’d agreed in a heartbeat and ignored Willy’s teasing as he got himself ready.

Honestly, it was a nice day out.

Until some kid got into the fireworks early and they got shot off, just a few feet away.

August covered Sadie instinctually, tackling her to the ground and holding her there, waiting for the word in his ear that it was safe.

Only…. He wasn’t wearing his comms. He wouldn’t be getting that order. He was in Dallas, Texas, not in the middle of a warzone. And Sadie wasn’t one of his fellow soldiers.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” He quickly got to his feet and helped her up. “Sorry about that…”

“It’s really okay.” She smiled. “It was about time for us to leave anyway. Wanna come back to my place? I’ve got some tracks I want a second opinion on.”

It was a thinly veiled excuse, but one that he appreciated. “Sure. That sounds nice…..”

—----------------

“I can’t believe your music career hasn’t taken off,” August said. “I mean, you really are amazing. You should be touring with Taylor Swift!”

Sadie giggled. “Yeah, yeah…. But really, what did you think? If I just wanted a yes man, I could’ve asked any of my simps on SoundCloud.”

“They really are good,” he promised. “Makes me wish I had some of my mixing stuff. I’d love to play around with some of those sounds.”

“Well, maybe next time.” Sadie hummed. “Are you still doing music stuff? Like, during your breaks?”

He shrugged. “Eh, kind of. I have some of my music in the bunks and there’s always instruments in our common areas that I mess with every now and then. Just…. I don’t have much time for it and when I do have time…. It’s hard for me to get in the mood, yaknow?” Between the rough schedules and the trauma, he couldn’t get in the right headspace to even try and “channel” all of that into music.

Sadie nodded. “And… That’s okay with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- You’re not happy. You’re avoiding going home, you’re not doing music anymore…. Are you really okay with that?”

August sighed. “It’s not that simple, Sadie….And it’s not that bad. I get paid and my family gets to brag about me. Plus I get that veteran discount….” He trailed off and tried to smile, but he could tell she wasn’t buying it.

“Are you really putting your future on the line for a crappy discount at a random restaurant?”

“You know that’s not why,” he muttered. “It’s- It’s complicated.”

Sadie looked like she had more she wanted to say, but just nodded and kept quiet. “Okay then. Well, if you want somewhere to crash besides your family, you’re welcome to sleep on my couch. I get lonely here, anyway.”

August managed a real smile this time. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

—---------------------

This time, Sadie was the one to drive him back to the airport. “When are you coming back?” she asked as he unloaded his suitcase from her trunk.

He shrugged. “Probably in a few months. It depends a lot. I’ll let you know before I head back though.”

Sadie nodded. “Sounds good.” She pulled him into a hug. “You be careful over there okay?”

August hugged back. “I will.”

“You better.” Sadie pulled back, then got on her toes to peck his cheek. “See you around.”

Surprised by the kiss, August just stared as her car pulled away.