#like i get i'm older but my 11 year old brother should not be allowed to throw an hour-long tantrum over not wanting to do the dishes

[usa-manors-library]

Toledo: Prologue

Wattpad Link for your convenience!

"Pout, pout, pout," Rhode Island mused, retrieving the discarded pillow off of the room's green carpet-decorated floor, "...That seems to be all you want to do today, eh?"

The victim of Rhode Island's comments continued to— you'll never guess what— pout, face buried behind his hair and in his pillows.

Rhode fluffed the cushion thoughtfully, taking a seat on the edge of the sulky boy's bed. He glanced down at his younger brother, wondering how on earth he was saddled with the responsibility of comforting him on this brisk afternoon. It was December for crying out loud. Shouldn't the kid be frolicking in a winter wonderland? Eating ice off the ground? Chucking snow at everything, inanimate or not? Contracting hypothermia? Whatever it was, he knew damn well that there were better candidates than him for the job of convincing the boy.

Alas, it would be admitting defeat if he left to find one right now. Especially if the only other soul he could discover was New York. Ew. Disgusting. Repulsive. If Rhode had a thesaurus on hand, he'd keep going for the rest of the chapter's word count. I can't allow that. I'm not that desperate yet. Besides, it's 1816. The first official thesaurus wouldn't be published for another 36 years.

"...Michigan, you shan't be carrying on like this at the old age of eleven if I can help it," Rhode Island joked light-heartedly, "Look at you. Lying here like a sack of flour. You should have a wife and children by now, if you had a shred of respect for yourself."

Curiously, the territory peered up from his bedding, "...Where are yours, then?"

"I gambled away my dignity years ago in a game of—" Rhode Island paused, having a small flashback sequence to a series of Virginia's threats regarding stories she saw unfit to tell the younger siblings. Traumatizing, "...None of your business. Now. That does it. Get off of the damned bed."

Michigan plopped his head right back into the pillow cave he made for himself, "...No."

Shoot. That was a convincing argument.

Rhode Island started to drag the child off the bed. Unfortunately, little Michigan had a grip of steel to the frame. Which was very disheartening yet impressive for Rhode Island, who (like many of his siblings) couldn't help but notice Michigan's serious lack of right arm since the War of 1812. He had to give the kid credit, losing a limb didn't make him any weaker. Or less stubborn.

What the fresh hell had Georgia been feeding this kid...? He'll never know. It might be crack. Actually, he's met Kentucky. It's definitely crack.

Rhode Island stood, grumbling a few not-so-Virginia-approved words to himself before huffing and turning back to Michigan, "You're being an addle-plot."

A very muffled voice responded with a little; "Your mother's an addle-plot."

"And your father's a whore."

"We have the same father."

"Well, you see, that's funny because—" Rhode Island raced over to the room's door and poked his head out, "OHIO!"

Listen, listen, listen. Calling someone in to take over the second he recognized their footsteps in the hallway wasn't quitting. No. He wasn't bested by a tween. It was calling in reinforcements. That's nothing to be ashamed of. He lasted about one minute and thirty-two seconds longer than he usually did, and he didn't think about smacking a child. He's a warrior. He's a leader. He's—

"Are you beefing with the 11-year-old again?"

He's moving out. He needs his own place. He doesn't need to get disrespected like this. How could they do this to him. It's not like he helped raise them or anything. It's not like he was the one to teach them certain rude hand gestures at the age of six. He knows he already has a spot in his state he could go to. It's a humble little mansion. He can move there permanently instead of using it exclusively for business. He can throw parties and not invite any of his siblings. He can—

Ohio whooshed past Rhode Island as the older continued plotting his escape to freedom. Taking Rhode Island's former seat on the edge of the bed, Ohio patted Michigan's back. Michigan responded by kicking his legs into the mattress.

"...You know you can't talk to him like that," The Buckeye State sighed, "He's little."

With that comment as a sharp slap of reality Rhode Island swerved around and squawked indignantly, "I—!"

Ohio blinked and glanced over his shoulder, "I don't believe I was talking to you."

A small, muffled giggle escaped from the pillows. This was just bleak. He was 0-4 right now. 

"I don't need this," The oldest grumbled, retrieving a book of his off of Michigan's small desk, "I have people to spite. Grudges to carry."

"Shelves to not reach?" Michigan's muffled voice suggested.

One day.

One. Day.

May the good Lord give him an abundance of patience, because if He gave him strength there would be lawsuits.

With Rhode Island gone, Michigan flopped from his stomach to his back and offered Ohio a nod, "Morning."

"Morning," Ohio greeted casually, "What's today's tragedy?"

Michigan lifted his head up ever so slightly, "Can't a territory around here act overdramatic and on the cusp of a devastation for fun...?"

Silence. The answer was definitely 'yes'— it's been done many times before by territories, states, and the country himself alike— but saying that wouldn't improve the situation at hand.

Michigan's head flopped back down, "I'm short."

"Devastating," Ohio deadpanned, wondering how he'd break it to his little brother that he was, in fact, a child, "What else?"

"No," Michigan rolled his eyes, "I'm shorter."

Ohio blinked, blank expression on his face. As of right now, Michigan was shorter than a lot of things. Not quite as short as South Carolina's attention span, but still, a lot of things. "...Than who?"

"Than ME."

"You're you. Who's this 'me'?"

"You're Ohio."

"Then who's you?"

"Me? I'm Michigan," Michigan offered a handshake, "Your favorite sibling. Nice to make your acquaintance—"

"That's not— No. Who's shorter?"

"I'm shorter."

"Than who?"

"Than me!"

"Who's taller?"

"Me!"

"You're you!"

"Right!"

Ohio took a deep breath, trying to channel his inner Virginia, "Territory of Michigan, I swear on the grave of New Jersey's hopes and dreams—"

Michigan wailed, quickly getting up to his feet. He grabbed Ohio by the left shoulder and shook him to the best of his ability, "Look at me! Just look at me!"

"Before— before you give me whiplash," Ohio managed to get out, somewhat playing along with Michigan as he pretended to be incapable of pushing back the shakes, "What- What am I looking at?"

"Brace yourself," Michigan released him and looked at him gravely, "Are you ready?"

Ohio nodded, attempting to smooth the wrinkles the territory's grip had left in his shirt, "As I'll ever be."

"I," Michigan solemnly confessed, "Have lost a whole ten miles."

Ohio paused. He glanced around on the room. He looked left. Right. Up. Down. And, if I may be so bold; all around.

"...Where'd you put them, then?" He joked lightly, pretending to check under one of the many pillows.

Michigan threw his left hand up, nearly hysterical, "This is a grave matter, Oheeo!"

"Gesundheit."

"I woke up shorter! I am a VICTIM of ROBBERY!" The younger declared, slapping his thigh for emphasis on each over-pronounced word.

Ohio raised his eyebrows incredulously. Michigan looked perfectly healthy, with his room in perfect order. Nothing seemed out of place, except... "The only thing you're a victim of is that haircut."

Don't judge him. It was his brotherly duty to bully the child. He was doing his job as an upstanding American citizen. All in a day's work.

Michigan guffawed indignantly, trying not to be obvious as he glanced in the mirror beside Ohio. Smoothing down his unkempt mess of waves and curls nonchalantly, the territory resumed his sulking, "Don't you realize what this means for me?"

"You need to hire a new barber?"

"YoU nEeD tO hIrE a NeW bArbEr?" Michigan mocked, scrunching his nose, "Shove over a couple of steps, I need to fling myself dramatically onto my bed again."

Ohio obliged, letting Michigan partake in his moment. A mere handful of seconds passed before Michigan scrambled off of the bed in a hasty movement.

"I didn't like that one," The younger one said quite decidedly, storming past Ohio, "Let me try that again!"

Ohio shrugged, remaining in his spot as Michigan backed up to the door of his room to get a running start this time. Bolting with the grace and agility of a diseased yet well-meaning gazelle, Michigan flopped back onto his bed. Ohio made a mental note to ask where his father got the set of furniture for this room over dinner. Obviously, it was high-quality and sturdy if it survived the little Mitten this long.

Michigan, after surveying how many pillows the force of his landing knocked off, deemed the fall acceptable. He knew his theatrics well, given his familial connections. I cannot conjure up a single name in this family who isn't some variation of a theatric mess. That could be the curse of personifications. Or humans. Or any of the subjects of my writing, for that matter.

Oh no.

I may be the problem.

"O.H.," The child continued, ignoring whichever sister echoed 'I.O.' in the hallway as she passed, "You don't seem a quarter as invested in this as I imagined you'd be."

Ohio shrugged, "You seem far more invested than I imagined you'd be. Weren't you in the room when everyone was talking about this?"

"So we are in another war?"

The state stared at the wide-eyed, disheveled territory. He'll take that as a 'no.' To the misfortune of Michigan's vocal cords, Ohio wasn't able to correct him before the kid screamed into his mattress with the force of a thousand dying seals.

"I knew it!" Michigan groaned, "Oh, Canada! It hasn't even been two years since the last one!"

"That's not—"

"Pack your bags, we're going north," The child grumbled, trudging over to his wardrobe and throwing it open with gusto. He took random articles of clothing, piling them up on the floor, "We're going to kidnap him this time. Perhaps our hands will slip and he'll lose an arm. Maybe both. A leg, perchance. Who knows? I'm can be clumsy—"

Choosing to ignore how concerning that thinly veiled threat was, Ohio grabbed the bunched up mess of clothes from Michigan's hands before he can put them in his growing pile, "We're not at war, Mitten."

"Don't call me that, it's undignified."

"Apologies, Mr. Mitten."

"Thank you. However, it's Mr. Dr. Rev. Mitten to you."

"Right, Mr. Dr. Rev.— Since when were you ordained?"

Michigan stared at him blankly.

"...No matter," Ohio decided to pick and choose his battles today, "As you know, Indiana became a state rather recently."

"Rather off topic, but good for her. I'm very proud," Michigan feigned a sniffle, "They grow up so fast... I hope she remembers to write me every couple of month..."

"...She was given a smidge of your land on her way out—"

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

"I imagined I was getting KIDNAPPED!" Michigan screeched, slamming his hands on the table, "Again!"

Massachusetts patted the kid, who couldn't quite pinpoint if he was shaking from relief or the fear he finally processed from this morning, on the back. He had no idea what was going on, but, to put it bluntly; the small homeboy looked traumatized.

With a slight hint of sympathy, Indiana apologetically patted the territory on the head, "My sincerest apologies, Mr. Dr. Rev. Mitten."

Michigan shot a deadpan stare at Ohio for half a second. Ohio pretended to not notice it, staring off into the existential void. AKA the window that overlooked the backyard. AKA the joys of the great outdoors. AKA Florida— who was the only adult among the outside crowd and shouldn't technically be condoning that kind of behavior— dangling from a tree while 15-year-old Louisiana was preparing the hit him with a sizable branch as 7-year-old Illinois held 4-year-old Missouri's hand and watched. AKA another unavoidable doctor's bill to America, from his feral offspring, with love. Love, and a little spite. Deserved or undeserved, who knows?

"Ten miles isn't quite much," Indiana continued, ignoring the very loud *THWACK* followed by a Floridian with way too much confidence in the resilience of the human body insisting 'AGAIN!' from outside, "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to reclaim—"

"The land? The land...?" The territory scoffed, "Are you kidding me? I'm happy it turned out to be you. Keep it. I don't care, I haven't the slightest need for it. Happy statehood. But Indie, I had so many revenge plans! Tomfooleries! Shenanigans! Now I can't execute them against the British! My justification is out to sea...!"

Michigan buried his face in his hands, entirely devastated. It was a bit of a shoddy excuse— he will most definitely try to carry out his schemes anyway—, yet he refused to be thought of as a coward. Especially in front of the older siblings. Ew. Yuck. Disgusting. Blegh.

Cowardliness is reserved for the weak. The weak, and when his father gets home from work. In which Michigan will be clinging to him like a stubborn koala and claiming he had something in his eyes. America wouldn't believe him, primarily after getting the day's synopsis from Ohio, but he would make a comment about allergy season and pretend he did nonetheless.

"Michigan," Massachusetts gently reassured, "Connecticut still exists. You still have people to torment. And for good cause."

Michigan sniffled, "...What cause?"

"He exists," The eldest brother tilted his head, "And that's very, very sad."

Michigan slowly took his face from his hands, meeting Massachusetts's genuine, earnest expression.

"...Very well," The territory sighed heavily, shoving his chair back, "I'm going to go bury his shoes in the snow out back. If I'm not back by sunset, assume I moved a single garden pebble and New Jersey is preserving my remains to fertilize the plants come spring."

Indiana's eyebrows climbed up, "Just like that?"

"Consider the matter forgiven," Michigan shrugged as he stood, doing his best to sound like an adult. A Virginia impression, to be exact. It was thoroughly believed among her younger siblings— for better or worse— that she feared nothing on this piddly mortal plane of existence.

As if he were going off to work a regular nine to five, the child sauntered to the doorway of the almost vacant dining room. Looking back at the small assembly, his facade wavered as he pouted— Er. Made an expression that conveyed a serious complaint. "Not forgotten, though. Next person to move my borders without telling me is experiencing bodily harm."

Amused, Ohio watched as his little buddy went off to cause havoc and turmoil.

The issue of Michigan's land was solved, and will never come up again.

...

Yep. No reason to continue following this novel. I told you it was short. That's it. Nothing else happens. 

...

Click off of this story. Go read some of NewLostIslands's instead. Shoo, now, shoo.

...

You can go. The show's over. Thank you for your time and— Why is this chapter titled 'Prologue'?

...

Oh, Heckerberry Finn. I have to commit now, don't I?

[tamiyagantetsusai]

Me, standing in the mirror at 3 am, drunk out of my mind, re-enacting my pre-CV submission era debut at a bookstore: So, I've realised the girlies here don't really conform to the Booktok, and the boys are looking for Kafka. Did you know I can tell where we can get a book from just from looking at its ISBN? Yeah, 9781474, that's Jonathan Ball. Is it a manga? Yeah, it'll take a minimum four weeks, but due to our country being low on the list of priorities, it might take 8 to 16 weeks, no inbetween. You want me to contact you via Discord? Sure thing dude. Oh, Sarah J Maas is amazing, I met a girl in 2017 who has been 5+ years deep in her hyperfixation on the Throne of Glass series. I read the first 3 chapters and it was intriguing but I have 1000 books on my TBR list so it's not often that I can actually finish a book, but I swear you'll enjoy it. If not you can come back and throw the book at my head. Oh, you're looking for Riaan Mansers' adult books? I'll contact my coworkers who got me fired for a supposed case of sugar theft. I met him on several occasions and I'm sure I can convince him to send us a copy for you despite the limited (on-demand) print since none of the distributors have realised that they should have kept his books on the list for ordering. Oh, my sweet colleague from a different branch inquiring about a book from a local publisher you can't trace despite it being a google away? Sure, here, you can order Karavan Press titles from Protea. Protea Boekhuis or Protea Books? It's Protea Boekhuis, of course. "Hey, is this YA book any good?" "Yes, my little brother (re: coworker everybody assumed was my lil bro) has been obsessed with this authors books since he got to the level where he could comprehend them." Oh, you're tired of the fact that Wilbur Smith is dead and other people are continuing his books? Here's Tony Park. He's on par with old school Wilbur Smith, if not better. Can I tell you about how he traumatised me into memorising the faces of every local author, or how he holds fund raisers for the local wildlife, or how wonderful I think he is soley for the fact that he made my first (abusive) manager uncomfortable whenever we held book launches for him? Would you like to hear my opinion on where is the best place to order books that will actually interest you since the majority of book chains seem to have their own idea of what a bookstore is supposed to stock? Or would you like me to explain how the pricing margins work and why we have the best prices? Oh, why does x bookstore have this American book but we don't? Why is this book so pricey? Why do you not stock Bungou Stray Dogs? Why do you want me to explain to you, a German expat, why I don't believe Berserk is a suitable read for your 11 year old son, or why your 13 year old daughter should not read Colleen Hoover? Can I convince you to please support the local library? Please don't treat me like an information desk or map. Please allow me to recommend an author to your daughter that is not Enid Blyton. Please let your daughter read Amelia Fang. Do not underestimate your child when it comes to reading capability. Please let them read something where it has words that will challenge their vocabulary. Please, adults and older teens, read shitty books. Not every read needs to be perfect or life-changing. Learn to appreciate. Gift books aren't a thing anymore, I am sad that you cannot give your friend a book with humorous quotes or funny pictures, too. I want to have Chicken Soup for the Soul on my shelves just as much as you. Also, I am autistic. Yeah, I am AFAB and I don't look like your autistic son/daughter/cousin, but I understand and want to help the best I can.

[thetreeturnedoff]

i cry every time i'm on my period and i have to shower with the lights off so i don't see my body and i'm terrified of eating anything cause i don't want my chest to get any bigger and i've contemplated suicide before because of my dysphoria and yet somehow my parents think it might be better for me to not let me transition

like, they think me starting on testosterone could give me cancer, as if i'm the first person to ever transition. and they said they'd talk to a doctor to find out if it's safe, but when i asked if they'd made the appointment they laughed and said they wanted to talk to a counselor?? for some reason??? before deciding if it'd even be worth it to go find info about all this but i don't think they've even looked at counselors yet despite it being a few weeks and i just. and they refuse to use my name and get pissy when they're corrected for using the wrong pronouns but somehow they still think they have the right to say they support me and "love their trans child"

[yostresswritinggirl]

Abandoned By The Altar

Part 2; When you grow older.

Vibe Here

A timeline oriented story focused on your once perfect childhood relationship as Diluc’s bride to be, soon becoming estranged after the death of his father and his neglect. You only wish now that he looks at you the same way he did when you heard you were supposed to be together forever when you were young.

Pairings -> Diluc x Reader, Kaeya x Reader if you squint (All young at the first parts)

Word Count -> 8170

Themes -> Initial Fluff, Angst, Fluff again

Series -> #Bonafide Specials (100 followers event) Part 1 Part 3

Warnings -> Character Death, Slightly suggestive themes

Diluc's heart almost leaped to his throat when he had finally seen you, found you, now conversing with the new member of the family his father had adopted just yesterday. Kaeya, was his name. He looked peculiar, and older than him too.

Despite your spritely aura, he noticed his now brother still wary and even tensed at your presence, so the younger boy finally made his way over. The training sword bouncing against his hip with every step, he made his way next to you, offering a smile as he gestured to the blunette. "I see you've met Kaeya, he's my new brother, he entered the house yesterday."

Your lively eyes that was wide with happiness from finally seeing Diluc now held a hint of wonder as it landed on Kaeya, a toothy grin presenting itself on your face. The blunette can't help but blink, "Hello there, big bro Kaeya! I'm (Y/N), my mother and father are good friends with Master Crepus!"

You offered a handshake and he took it only a second late, handshake light yet tight. "Oh! I'm also Diluc's financee." Fiancée, Diluc corrected again as your hands part from each other. "Yeah, that."

Kaeya's only visible eye suddenly flew wide open as he chokes on air. Did he hear that right? These two children in front of him, years younger than him, already fated to marry in the future. What kind of customs does Mondstadt had, he warily thought in the back of his mind as he watches you two interact.

What a sad life it must be to be forced to something like that so early, he thought to himself before he saw you reach out to Diluc's hand. And the redhead, upon noticing this started to remove his used and dirtied glove, before catching your outstretched hand easily.

Kaeya only watched with an uneasy smile. He supposed this is something he needs to get used to if he wants to stay.

And oh boy, it's not something he's gonna get used to easily, the skeptic boy thought as he found himself getting dragged around by the Winery by you. You were touring him around and inside to places he had yet to see, entering rooms that normal people probably had no access to. You knew the Winery as if you had a map on you, and he supposed he expected this much if you were that close to his... brother.

"Were you," the innocence of your eyes as you whipped your head up to look at him hurt his heart over how in contrast it was with his, "forced to be together with Diluc?"

You let out a scandalous gasp on which Kaeya had to stop himself from snorting. "Why, no! I'm the one who even asked him about it," his snort turned into that weird sound again. "He's my bestest friend and I want nothing more than to be by his side always!"

F-Friend? God, Kaeya's head had been experiencing a numbing headache lately.

With his desire to be part of the Knights of Favonius, Diluc had more often than not, neglected giving you attention so often that it was a stark contrast to the closeness you two had before. And on days where he held his training sword, he'd realize just how he missed you and your imposing hugs.

But he wanted- no- needed to get stronger. He was blessed by the Gods with a Vision, and the weak are meant to be protected, and he can't let himself be the useless person he had been the day you were on the brink of death. Even if you hid it perfectly well and brushed aside the incident when you came to, he noticed how the veins in your hand were a more prominent shade of blue now.

How your fingertips get easily cold and how you always clung to the warmth his hand gives off as a result of his Vision.

When Kaeya asked about you, about his Vision, about his ambitions— he complied almost instantly, like a valve opened fully, all the answers Kaeya was seeking flowed out seamlessly like running water.

As the oldest out of you three, despite the fact that you'd all only knew each other for three days, Kaeya had already felt the urge to protect and be there whenever Diluc had busied himself with his justified training. He'd watch your lips turn into a pout as your redhead drag himself back outside with his sword and Kaeya would then distract you from your disappointment.

Crepus had been witness to this grand scheme for a while now, relieved that his new son had at least started coping with the new environment and interactions. But your presence had always astounded the people around you, and comforted those the same age as you. Despite being on the road and barely making lasting friendships, it was a mystery how you managed to entrance people like that.

"Diluc is just pursuing his dreams," the redhead, your uncle, started as he sat next to you by the benches. Boar Princess, he noted as you closed the book you were reading, opting to look up at him with those doe eyes again. "I know you must feel lonely, having to wait for him and everything. But he's doing it for you too, to protect you."

Your eyelids drooped in the implications and your lips pursed into a pout as you turned back to watch Diluc spar with his instructor. You sighed again before whispering under your breath, "But aren't we supposed to be together forever..."

You felt a big hand ruffle your hair, making you whine on how messy it was now. How old were you again? 11 years? Eh, should be enough. "Sweet (Y/N), being Diluc's fiancée doesn't mean you need to be around him everytime," he started talking about your promise and that had finally drawn your full attention. "You have your own life, Diluc has his path to be a knight. Sometimes what you want doesn't go the same was as he wants, and the same goes for him to you. But in the end you still are together, and still treasure each other."

The thought of having a daughter never really passed the man's mind in his whole life, he mused as he watched your beaded eyes fleet back to Diluc, before once again finding itself to Crepus with a firmer resolve. You wanted to learn more and it's time you finally understand the gravity of your promise.

Crepus placed down his cup of grape juice and turned to you on the bench. "You know your mother and father and how they're together, right?" A soft nod. "You two will be just like that, in the future together. Not always together but always end up coming back to each other, because your parents love each other always. Do you want to be with Diluc that way? Do you love and support him like that?"

Your button nose cutely scrunched up in contemplation and shortly gave him a vigorous nod with a wide grin. He grins back. "Good, thank you, I'm sure that Diluc too would support you in your dreams."

As if he had a sixth sense, the young master Diluc felt as if his name was being mentioned in important business as his eyes passes over the bench where you two reside. Sensing the distraction, his instructor finally allowed him a break, and the first thing he did was jog over to the two of you, "Father, (Y/N)." He watched you as you scrambled to climb down the bench, hurriedly taking off his dirtied glove to assist you down.

Crepus once again hid his smile behind his drink as he watched you bound over to him, the same fire in your eyes as you placed your hands on the child's shoulderd firmly. "Diluc, I love you!" You loudly declared before smashing your lips to his— Crepus spits his grape juice. "I'll support your dreams to the end-! Ahhhh, Diluc fainted! Uncle, HELP!"

The young master woke up a few hours later to you crying over and over, saying sorry for 'breaking him again.' Crepus and your parents were by the side, your mother's horrified face concealed by her hand after hearing what you've done.

Oh dear, the Ragnvindr thought to himself, my son is a sub.

Ever since that day, the people around you have started preparing you for your future of refinement and adulthood. You were no Vision-wielder unlike Diluc, and your handling swords were nothing to boast about. Your parents are businessmen and as their only child it would be you that will be inheriting and operating the work that they had built up, and so naturally that was the route you had to pick.

Your tutoring and Diluc's continuous training to get into Ordo Favonius made it hard for you both to spend more time with each other. Toys were replaced by books and swords, garden of Cecilias changed to libraries and training dummies.

Crepus, as a father and an uncle, alternates his time between you two. At times he'd be the one sparring with his child and grating the principles of knighthood to him, and on rare occasions that you were there, he walks you around as he talks about the wine industry and the operations of his business. Both of you started growing, separately, but there was a similar flame representing your spirit within both of your eyes.

Diluc entered the ranks of the Knights when he was 14, and Crepus was overwhelmed by the achievement his son finally reached, of the dream he once had when he was a child. In that same age range, you've also ended up making a name for yourself as the youngest business entrepreneur and economic scholar, your name and prodigy reached past Liyue...

And in your hands lay a perfectly white envelope enclosed with the insignia of Sumeru. The Academia invites you into a scholarship program once you turned 18.

Your whole family rejoiced at the recognition and the opportunity and you wept in tears of happiness. Finally, your young mind cried, you were finally something worthy to be next to Diluc instead of a normal person that can't be blessed by the Gods.

A party had been in order for both milestones, and more prestigious individuals from all over Teyvat were present. Something came up before the party that forced you to be late once again, and Diluc realized just how long you hadn't seen each other, more so spent time with each other. Kaeya stood next to him before nudging him with an elbow slightly, "What's got you so worried, brother? You shouldn't frown on your own party."

At the remark, Diluc stood straighter and fixed his frown. Why is it now that he was reminded of your promises and dwindled time? In the back of his mind, he realized just how much at fault he was for being neglectful. The spark you two had felt estranged and distant, feeling as tho things won't come back to the way they were.

The Court Marshal's booming voice suddenly announced your family name and the hall turned silent as everyone lifted their gaze to the grand entrance. Your bedazzled self stood there in your ombre dress, short sleeve matched with elbow gloves, and a resin Cecilia hairpiece holds itself on the crown of your head.

Diluc and Kaeya, and several other boys in the crowd gasped at your regal aura. Was this really YOU? The same girl that spit a grape on his hand/complimented a stranger's eyepatch? You stood with the poise of a refined woman and your face enlightened with a subtle artificial blush. Gone was your toothy grin and replaced with respectful smile as you made your way through the crowd.

Suddenly the nervousness came crashing back to the knight and he scrambled to pick himself up as the distance between you two shortened.

"Master Diluc," you curtsied and he inwardly doubled over at the formality, finding it almost detesting. "I'm glad to meet you again."

"(Y/N)," he bowed with a hand on his chest. "You don't need to be so formal."

The respectful smile on your face turned into a full-blown grin, the one he was used to, as you barreled towards him for a hug. Purely due to instincts and conditioning, Diluc was quick to catch you into his arms to reciprocate the hug. Disappointed gasps and whines echoed through the hall at the display, but they stood there in awe as they watched, for the rare sight of the young master's genuine smile was there for all to see.

As you two first danced the night away, it was finally brought onto everyone the fact that young master Diluc and young mistress (Y/N) were already fated together.

The ballroom parted to give way to you two as you chatted the missed times together, falling easily into steps while updating each other of the things you had done. It's true, you two may had gone your separate ways and lost time but in the end, you'll find yourself in each other's embrace.

The darkness of the knight embraces the winery as crystalflies dance by the vines and the surrounding grassland. The freshly signed contract made its way in between the pages of the personal journal before it was pushed into the luggage together with the packed clothes.

There was a thick silence in the room as Diluc continued watching with his lips tight, leaning against the doorframe. A tension was obvious, but it wasn't between you two, but it was also against you two.

Tomorrow at high noon marks your official departure to Sumeru now that you had finished your secondary education, at the prime age of 18. All things necessary had been prepared, a convoy of knights to guide you until you reach past the border of the continent, and in that security is Kaeya. Cavalry Captain Diluc had matters to work on in the capital, it was not his official job to officiate your leave. Even if he wanted to.

It was one of the instances, of the many, that being a knight had pulled him away from you.

"Something's on your mind, I can feel it," Diluc snapped out of his thoughts when he felt the ghost of your fingertips brush away the hair framing his face, cupping both of his cheeks like you've always done. He takes one into his hand, squeezing it lightly as he offers a small smile.

"So are you, your hands are trembling," and indeed they were. You huffed at being caught but recovered, pulling him into your room and on to your bed. There were numerous times when you'd sleep together on the same bed when you missed each other; you were both 8 that time, now you laid there as 18 years olds. The implications had him gulp while you seemed unbothered.

"Four years," you recounted as you flopped back on your mattress, the room you took for yourself in the winery ever since you arrived 10 years ago. "Maybe lesser, depending on how well I do."

"You'll do good," he assured as he kicked off his boots and climbed next to you, now laying on his side to face you. Your eyes fluttered shut with a sigh and he couldn't hell but blush at the way your eyebrows scrunched together with your pursed lips, "I believe in you."

"It's the longest we'll be separated, you can easily find another girl that would bother you enough to get you to marry her." You both snorted at the idea, before laughing in harmony at the joke.

"Mmm, I should be saying that to you. Scholars and prestigious men attend the Academia, they can easily sweep you away with their wits," he bit back and you laughed at the idea. How funny the predicament is, joking about getting stolen the same day you finally signed your arranged marriage contract.

Talks about anything and everything blew the night away easily. Diluc can see in your eyes that the nerves within you wouldn't let you sleep, and keeping him locked in constant conversation would prevent him from leaving. He entertained you this much, uncharacteristically chatty, as if repaying the four years that will go by without each other. And at the back of Diluc's mind, his worry of losing you in those four years started to manifest and cloud his thoughts into a fairly sensible doubt.

"Lulu!" He yelped as he felt a sudden bite on his cheek, reflexively pushing you down by the shoulders under him to suppress the assault. He was strong, you'd forgotten this new fact. As you laid sprawled under him as heavy breathing mixed in between.

You gripped the wrists of his hands that now stands next to your head to keep him there. His eyes were wide yet bashful. You called out to him again and it was almost a whine, asking him to tell you what's in his mind, what's worrying him and distracting him like this.

And he spilled all his insecurities, for every word that slipped past his lips, his heart relaxes while his eyes clenches. Somewhere in the middle of his rant, you had his cheeks captured in your palms again, to swipe at the tears that passes by. He worked his ass off to become a knight so he can protect you but you will be too far for his claymore to reach you, he wouldn't be there to hold your hand so you don't go off on your own and wonder to somewhere dangerous. And he wouldn't be there to bring you into his arms to remind that he exists, the one and only person meant to be for you.

Diluc doesn't know when he started falling in love, he doesn't know when he started wanting your company as a lover. But he knows there would be men that would look at you the way he does, easily captivated by your aura and your beauty. And if they were to take your hand, he wouldn't know. He wouldn't know when he had lost you, if he had lost you already.

Diluc was an honest man to you, and he was honest when he said he was scared to lose you.

"I belong to you," you started as your fingers softly pats his cute reddened cheeks. "And only you. I'll get a ring and don it on my hand to let the world know, I'll write letters to you as many times as I can so you'll know I'm still alive and yours." You pulled him closer, foreheads touching each other, as you stared at the red windows to his soul. He nods in agreement, slightly assured.

"I want to stay here tonight," somehow you urged the words out of him so easily everytime. The introverted boy you once knew stood on his own feet now, proudly, "Just so I don't forget you easily."

"I won't let you forget me at all," Diluc froze from taking off his vest when he saw you with a mischievous glint in your eyes, "Not after tonight." Oh boy.

It was the devil's hour when you twirled a strand of his untied hair, wild and curly, around your finger. Luscious and thick, silky yet unkempt. "Don't cut your hair," you mumbled as you leaned against his bare chest, sending a smile as you tilt your head up to see him chuckle, "It looks better long, I want it extra long when I come back!" He mumbles his agreement against the crown of your head.

When the sun rose high in the sky and the caravan was set to go, many of the servants of the Winery had expressed their congratulations and their good lucks to your new milestone. Your parents were more worried than not knowing their only child, nomad at heart, shall venture the world alone for four years away from them. You were crying angrily at how they made it so sentimental, forcing the waterworks out of you.

Crepus had already given his goodbyes and stood to the side with Diluc before the clock struck exactly 4 PM. The man's vigilant eyes however did not miss the fact that you and Diluc seem to lack the necessary sleep to power through the day, even tho half of it is already gone. How they grow up so fast.

When you found yourself bounding over to Diluc one last time, he took your hand ever so gently, still coming into terms of your departure. You only hum idly as he stares at your bare hands, before suddenly he presented two silver rings of infinity. You had to stop yourself from gasping aloud, "A promise ring, so that everyone in Sumeru knows there's someone waiting for you back home already." His red gaze averted to the side in fluster, gingerly sliding the band to your ring finger as he did the other to his own.

Home. Yes, Mond is now your home, and specifically next to him is where you belong. You shared your last kiss before Kaeya had finally called for the carriage to start ascending, on the dot. You peeked out of the carriage one last time as you waved your goodbyes to everyone, the silver band catching the light of the sun as it shines with promise.

Diluc wished goodbyes to you that day. And as he turns to his father to board their own horseback and carriage, he ends up losing two people on the same day.

Dearest Diluc,

I hope this letter finds you well. The Academia had been very accommodating ever since I arrived, there are a lot of people here from all over Teyvat, just like you had thought! I felt quite lonely and inferior when I entered but I've gained nice companions along the way and things became easy. With my exposure to our families' businesses, studies were actually easier than I expected them to be. There's been talks with the professors of me being accelerated half a year with my progress, it seems four years may not be accurate.

I've also gained myself a senior, a really kind and intelligent upperclassmen. His name is Cyno, a nice gentleman. He's been teaching me on weapon mastery since he's really good with a polearm. You use a Claymore, right? If I come back wielding a polearm, I want to spar! But don't worry about him, he knows of our betrothal and his boundaries.

How's being the captain there? I hope Uncle Crepus and Kaeya are doing well with you mostly in Mond's city now. It seems the Academia doesn't really receive letters for 'security reasons' hence why I haven't received any of your letters. But no matter, I'm sure you're doing far better than I am, you're much stronger and capable now afterall! Make sure to take care of yourself always, get some breaks and eat your meals! I don't want to see you so skinny and weak when I get back!

Forever Yours,

(Y/N)

There is bliss in ignorance. As you fold up the letter into the envelope, the door to your room echoes a knock before it softly opens to reveal your upperclassman. His gaze falls on the envelope on your hand in silent question to which you return with a smile and a nod, standing up from your study table as you followed Cyno out of the dormitories to the Academia's post office.

It had been a year since you left Mondstadt, a year since you've last seen Diluc, and a year since Crepus had died. Your parents, not wanting you to be distracted by the loss and dent your studies over such matters, opted to refrain from informing you of the grave news. It has also been a year since you started writing letters to Diluc and never received a reply.

"Time will go by quickly, and you'll be back before you know it," the Sumeru denizen beside you reassured you of your lack of correspondence and you offered a smile at his niceties. It doesn't worry you that Diluc wasn't able to contact you like so, you only wish that he was able to receive your little notes so he's reminded to take care of himself.

Yet as you pass the envelope to the postman, there was still an uneasy feeling on the back of your mind. You turn around with a curious hum, calmly and slowly scanning the grounds of the Academia before walking once again to catch up with your senior, clutching the silver ring close to your chest as you fell back into idle chatter.

Once you've disappeared behind the doors of your next class, a lone man stands straight on one of the tower's roof. The warm wind of Sumeru washes by him in a force enough to whisk away his hood, but he did not care. He did not care over the way his red hair spills all over his shoulders as it danced with the wind.

Diluc only heaved a sigh before leaping back into the shadows on his last day in the desert nation, finding no proper clue and heading to the next nation over. But not before stealing a freshly folded letter from the shelf of a certain post office.

Two years. Two years. Sumeru Academia sent you off on graduation with both striking awe and somber disappointment. After losing the prodigy Lisa, they were now losing you, the now renowned master practitioner of economics. You did so well, SO WELL in fact, that your four years stay ended in just two because of your numerous acceleration as a year in you're already conversing with the modern founders of the practice.

They wanted you to stay longer but you've had your fair share of knowledge and waiting. Everyone knew of your relationship predicament, understanding where you're coming from, yet to leave another prodigy to Mondstadt. It was unnerving for them, but your smile had been nothing but reassuring. You comforted those with the promise of correspondence and accommodation, if they so wish to find time and pass by Mondstadt in the future.

And hence you find yourself in Dawn Winery, your luggage and naginata as your only companion. You barged in like nobody's business and started looking around for anyone- Kaeya, Uncle Crepus, Diluc- yet no one showed up. Servants are scarce and almost non-existent, you were confused beyond comprehension.

A set of footsteps echoed behind you and you twisted around in excitement, only to see one of the higher attendants you still remember, Elzer. "M-Mistress (Y/N)! Y-You're ali- you're here!" You cocked your head to the side, unsure of how to take his slip up.

Ah, right, priorities. "Have you seen where anyone is? Kaeya, Master Crepus, Diluc? I passed by here first since it's on the way but I can't find anyone!" The gravity of the change gnawed at you from the pit of your stomach, and you nibbled at your bottom lip at the flash of emotions that passed his face.

"We're unsure where Master Diluc is currently, but Master Kaeya is in Mondstadt-" A lead! Diluc must be patrolling somewhere in the city anyways so you bolted out of the mansion, thanking the man before he can finish answering all your questions. As you left so loudly, in your wake the other servants were now aware of your presence, and the feeling of dread revives in the Winery.

Two years must have gone by longer than you expected it to be, this thought passed you as you went through the main gates of the City of Freedom. The knights that were usually on guard are those you've never seen before, and the people around you barely spared you a glance with no recognition. Even the ones stationed at the entrance of the Ordo Favonius HQ were completely new when you went over to ask.

"Have you seen- do you know where the uhm," you paused in remembrance, "The Cavalry Captain. Do you know where he is?" With how new they were, you figured Diluc would be known by his title instead.

One of them nods and pointed at the Cathedral, "Yes, Ma'am. He's just finished an expedition and are conversing with the healers in the church." Finally, an exact location! You thanked them and flew off once again.

And so you found yourself in front of the altar of the anemo archon, alone in the completely silent establishment. There were no whispers to guide you or people to tell you where he is, it was too quiet, and you were turning helpless. Offering your bow to the statue you turned to walk back down the aisle, only to see a familar figure staring at you as if you were a ghost haunting-

"(Y/N)?" You gasped and ran towards him.

"Kaeya! You're here!" You embraced him softly, careful of the confusing clothing and the hanging polearm on your back. He embraced you just the same, a hearty laugh masking the nervousness on the back of his throat.

"Aren't you supposed to come home two years later?" Kaeya inquired as he stepped back from the hug, suddenly smirking, "Or are you telling me you ran away from school?"

You smacked his arm with a whine at such a preposterous accusation, harder than you'd intended as you heard him wince. Oh goodness, your training with Cyno really made you strong. "Ahhh, no, no! I finished early because I was too good ahah, who would've thought!" The blunette let out a rare snort on that of which only spurred on your laughter.

The familiarity of another had eased the tension on your shoulders as you conversed freely about everything that had transpired for you, how things had been and- you've realized now just how tired you were from the long travel you'd gone through even tho you were used to such lifestyle when you were young.

After things had died down, you finally asked, "Where's Diluc?" And the twinkle of lax delight hardened at the question. He took a few seconds to start as his eye shifted left and right, and your knees were shaking from the implications-

And then he finally told you everything. The death of Crepus. Diluc giving up his Vision. Him disappearing for two year, without return. All the disaster that had happened the moment you left.

Your legs gave out as your knees hit the floor painfully, it will probably bruise later but you couldn't get yourself to care. If you hadn't left that day, would it have gone differently? Would you be able to make him stay? You should have been there to comfort him, to be by his side and yet-

Please tell me you're joking, you cried out so desperately to Kaeya who dropped down to gather you into his arms. But you knew better than that, he knew you knew better than that, so he didn't answer. And the altar behind you listened to the echoed screams and cries of a maiden abandoned by grief and love.

And Kaeya stayed for as long as you needed him to be. And in the back of his mind, a bitterness bit—

That should have been Diluc, holding you and comforting you.

That should be him, showing you where Crepus Ragnvindr's gravestone lies to pay your respects.

That should have been him who stayed.

It had been almost two years now since you've gone back to Mondstadt, almost four years since Diluc disappeared, together with him he took away your hopes and promises. The talk about your arranged marriage had become taboo to the people who still knows, but they don't comment on the ring that still lingered around your finger.

Besides finally taking over the business in Mondstadt (your parents had established one in Fontaine while you were away) and being pursued by scholars all over the world, you've been dealing with the pain silently and alone. Numbing soon. Every passing day with no news of him claws at the idea of him being alive even, and the thought sickens you to death.

It was one of those nights when you couldn't sleep and had decided to stroll around the city during the dead of the night to clear your head. Your parents had sent you a letter of recall to Fontaine, asking you to leave the business to the managers. They didn't exactly put it into words, but you knew your parents better than anyone: you should stop hoping he'd return, was what they wanted to say.

You rubbed your forearm as you continued your walk. It must have been your time with Sumeru that made you so vulnerable to the cold now, was your thought process as another chilly wind passed by you. And then you heard it—

An echoed cackle and a crackle of icicles.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood straight as you stumbled to the side, narrowly missing a flying icicle. Thank goodness Sumeru Academia required combats class, you thought as you darted straight through the alleys, the Abyss Mage hot on pursuit. This was the worst time to leave your freaking polearm at your house, you screamed at yourself as you vaulted over empty crates before coming out of another street.

“Look out!” A gruff voice shouted as a sudden wall of black? fire manifested behind you. You heard the icicle melting as it touched the wall and dissipated with it, revealing a figure cloaked in pure black. Back turned to you, the Abyss Mage continued its assault which was now focused on the intruder. And their clash started just like that.

You hopped back when another barrage of icicle rain was summoned. This guy had a Vision(?) but it was something you’ve never seen before, nor had encountered in your classes about the elements. You can’t leave him now, not like this, and so you picked up a slab of wood from a broken crate. Abyss mages have shields yes, you need to break that.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you leaped over the ledge that’s in level with the floating enemy (again, thanks for the acrobatic lessons) and brought down the hard wood over the mage’s head. It produced a sickening crunch as the shield broke under pressure as well as fall through and hit it square in the head! It dropped back to the floor momentarily, and it made you aware that you two were plummeting to the ground.

You pulled your limbs close and braced for impact- “Shit, I got you.” You felt something cold and thin wrap around your body before it guided you to the cloaked person’s awaiting arms, stumbling a bit at the weight. You grunted at the inertia before you met eyes with orbs of red within a shadow, it looked at you widely behind an owl mask(?) and you looked back with a squint. Who?

Your little moment was interrupted when the Abyss Mage started rising from the ground again, slightly swaying from the blow you hit it with earlier. In alarm, you quickly placed your feet down to stand, the chains around you easily slinking away back to the person’s cloak. The man then stands in front of you protectively, cursing under his breath, “You need to leave, it’s too dangerous.” There was a weird strain in his voice now.

This made you scoff, so loud and offended, that you felt the man be taken aback by your response. “You can’t even disable the shield in time,” you ignored the way he seemingly cringed back to this cloak as you stood next to him, slab of wood at the ready, “Don’t worry about me, I had lessons.” Now it was his turn to scoff but relented anyways, as if he knew well enough that you’re not falling back easily.

Batarangs flew from his cloak as it hit the Abyss on the arms and chest, screeching in pain at the unexpected attack. You rushed over and clubbed his hand that held the staff, kicking it far away when it was dropped. A chain then latches around its waist as it was pulled to the cloaked man, who delivered a quick kick to its stomach when it neared, sending it crashing to the wall.

That was so... exciting! You gasped at the thrill of the fight, slightly hopping and clapping at yourself as you smiled at the stranger with the widest grin you had mustered ever since you came back. His gait was tense when walked up to you, past you, in front of you as he looked around for any onlookers or dwellers of the night that had witnessed the commotion. “That was really cool, what kind of power was that? You look like you’ve done this multiple times before.”

You heard the most subtlest sigh when you were sure you whisked away his attention, slowly he turns to his side but not sparing you a direct view. From what you can tell, he wore a LOT of black under that black cloak. “You shouldn’t have stayed,” he started with a sigh as he finally turned to you fully, “Who knows what could have happened-”

“WATCH OUT!” You shoved him by the shoulder as you threw your slab with a force so mighty it broke the face of the mage, immediately disintegrating into ashes and dissipating with the wind. Under you your companion grunted from the pain of being thrown to the floor, and when he looked up, he was scrambling to catch you again.

The icicle impaled through your thigh coaxed out and coated with blood as dark spots danced on your vision from the pain and blood loss. The man pulled you up against his chest, hushed whispers of panic begging you to stay awake as he was wary of the shrapnel still in you.

But you were stubborn. And so you fainted.

The next day when you awoken in your bed, the night before would have easily been passed off as a fever dream if not for the bandaged injury on your leg that had you immobilized for days. When the citizens of Mond finally got a hold of you and asked about the incident, you gave them as much information as you could about your hero,

“He was an unknown hero that appeared at the dark of the night.”

Days passed by and you heard rumors in passing of the one named Darknight Hero. The name made you facepalm.

The faithful day happened three weeks after the encounter with the "Darknight Hero" when you finally recovered from your injury, able to walk around and do your daily rounds of work and deliver the paperwork of the margins of the sales and cost-effectiveness of your family's business in connection to Angel's Share. You had prepared so many documents all hailing from your numerous studies in the Academia, graphs and studies of the data Elzer had expertly combined for you lay in your arms in a bundle of folders.

The tower had to be carried by two hands, and you grunted as you bumped your bottom against the thick door of the tavern, using your hip to swing it open with mighty force. "Ugh, Charles, here's all the economic reports I finally finished after three week-" if not for the man himself, the floor of the tavern would have turned into a sea of papers as your fingers trembled and slackened at the sight.

His towering build, the thick main of red hair, it's all him. The moment the weight from your arms departed, you immediately stumbled over to him, eyes wide and mouth open to call out to him, "Diluc-!" But he flinched away from you instead of meeting you halfway through. And that slight movement halted you in your tracks, eyes wide with horror and pain from the rejection.

Diluc's eyes widened at the change, his gaze passing at Charles before back at you, reluctantly gesturing at your bandaged thigh he spoke, "You should be careful with that injury, don't want it to open up." His voice had a rough edge to it now, deeper yet still veiled with velvety smoothness.

"You're here," your disappointment from earlier was changed from the enlightenment of the situation. His jaw tightened at the sight of the tears that started falling from your eyes, "You're alive!"

Forced away by Charles with the promise of taking over the tavern for the day, you and Diluc took a stroll around the city. Enthusiastic of catching up, you talked endlessly about your years in the Academia and the last two years that you had stayed in Mondstadt before his arrival. Yet opposite of your upbeat chatter, Diluc stayed silent and forward-looking, offering only nods and grunts in between your pauses that asks him if he was still listening. Everytime your hand brushed his when you walked too close, he'd immediately pull his hand back and step away from your personal space.

It was a one-sided conversation. And it ended quickly as it had started.

You stood now at the stairs of the cathedral, overlooking the imposing statue of the Anemo archon. Your location made you remember something, and you opened up another topic, "Your brother, Kaeya told me about what happened four years ago." His apathetic gaze suddenly turned cold as his shoulders tensed. "Diluc, I'm sorry for what happened and-"

"He's not my brother, (Y/N)," you've never thought there would come a day when you'd hear such venom come from his sweet lips. Nor the cold glare that was now in full view, directed at you, "And you shouldn't go around trusting that guy, he's nothing but trouble."

The lump now stuck in your throat prevented you from responding, but you figured you didn't have the chance to do so anyways. As Diluc had ended his warning, he turned away and started walking back to the direction of the tavern, muttering something about work needed to be done.

You tried to reach for his hand before he could have gone too far, but you froze a few seconds away- and then he was gone, out of your grasp, leaving you alone at the steps of the cathedral without a look to spare.

Your cradled your hand to your chest as you felt your eyes water again, the overwhelming distance now opening the truth in your gaping heart as you wept in silence: The promise ring was missing from his hand.

Days had gone by after that where you sat in the background in idle wait, observing as subtle as you can be, hovering around him. The Diluc that you once knew was different from the Diluc who disappeared for four years, and the differences screamed at your face at every one you picked up:

His soft gaze now seems hardened and hooded, as cold as the cryo slimes and as deep as the ocean floor. Whenever you look at them, you always feel as tho he was years away, in a place unreachable. Even when they fall on you, there's a hidden emotion behind them, but they never once softened at the sight of you.

Around his hands were thick gloves of either pure red or another black-red variant. They were rough and never off, hot and grazed with years of use. It was different, so different from the white ones you had gifted him on his birthday. You placed a grape on his palm once and giggled at the memory, expecting him to look at you with recollection, but he only stared at the grape before shaking his head. And he turns away from you to get back at his work.

Diluc's hair was longer than you've ever seen before. It reached past the middle of his back when it had only grew by the shoulder when you've last seen it. It was fluffier and wilder, held up by a ponytail that you can't even see past the thickness. You loved running your hand through it before and Diluc had always felt at ease when you do that; you reached your hand out to touch the ends of his long hair, but he immediately turned to you before you could even feel it on the edge of your fingertips, caught by the cold squint of his eyes. No matter how many attempts, he always managed to stop you.

Another thing that had changed was his wardrobe. There were barely traces of the white knight aesthetic he had when you were still young, no, now he felt shrouded in the darkness of the knight. Made to blend with the shadows, he dons all black besides his undershirt. He resembles no trace of the knight he once was when you look at him.

The last detail you hated the most was the way he had been... secretive to you, and anyone in general. For this reason alone, you barely visited the Winery now, only coming there for business purposes or to converse with the servants that still remembered you. Whenever other matters were to be discussed, you're almost immediately ushered out by one of his men, no questions asked. This had became so commonplace that you started seeing yourself out the moment the air felt unwelcoming.

The more you notice, the more you felt farther away from the Diluc you knew. But this was the same man you loved, and still love. The grief had changed him, the disappearance had changed him, but nothing can change the fact that he was the same person that held your hand when it felt cold.

Speaking of, you clutched the hand you spoke of as you felt the breeze pass by you. The sea of Cecilias danced with an orchestrated flutter, as if singing to you in music of their petals grazing one another. Ah, you realized, this was the same exact place you first met Diluc.

"Is your hand cold again?" He spoke from the table under the gazebo where you delivered the perfectly arranged document. This time you dealt with the matter of tax revenue and compiled the business proposals of those that had attended the party he hosted with the seneschal.

You simply nodded and he sighed. The disappointment breaking your heart into a million pieces, "You should know by now to wear gloves or long sleeves whenever you're out. You must have gotten lackluster due to the climate of Sumeru, you should fix that."

You felt the tears bite at your eyes painfully again. As of recently, you've been crying a lot more than you had ever been in your life. And yet these ones flowed with ease, without a hiccup or a sob, almost liberating. "I'll be leaving for Fontaine tomorrow," the shuffling of the papers stopped behind you, "Flint will be handling the management of the franchise here, I've taught him the necessary computations so you can trust the reports he'll give to the Winery. Mother and father wants me to focus on the expansion of the business, after all."

There was a moment of silence before the shuffling began again and with that pushed the final sword into your heart. You bowed your head, smiling to the Cecilias that caught your tears in their petals, "Thank you for everything, make sure you take good care of yourself, okay?" You didn't know if you were talking to the Cecilias or Diluc.

But you felt lighter than ever, as if the last chain that pulled you down were finally broken.

And you took a small step, and then another, bigger one this time. For the first time since you're back to the city, you finally breathed in relief and without restraints.

Soon you were making distance and you were finally ready to go,

until a gloved hand pulled you back. Your gasp caught into your throat as your head whipped to stare at him, his eyes just as wide as yours. "What," he breathed out helplessly and you've noticed how short his breathing was, did he chase you? "What do you mean? You're not leaving forever, right?"

Forever. You felt the warmth of the gloved ones in your hand squeeze as you saw a faint light return in the depths of his glossy eyes, and you felt it—

The reassurance of your promise, as you squeezed back—

Underneath his thick gloves, red and black, you've finally noticed—

If he hadn't finally let his hand find yours, you wouldn't have felt the ring hidden underneath the cloth.

You beamed at him with eyes full of adoration and pure hope, of a grin pearly white that it almost shone as it caught the sun, he felt burned by it— but before he could escape, he was tackled to the ground with loud laughter.

@boxofteenageideas @creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

[abbatoirablaze]

Teller Morrow Tragedy, The Prequel, Chapter 20

Word Count:  2.8k           

Warnings: underage smoking, mentions of underage drinking

Mandy’s POV

I'm sorry my parents pawned me and Mikey off on you for today," I said, trying to start conversation. Juice sat facing away from me at his desk, messing with some pieces of wire, “you know it’s almost like babysitting her…”

"It's fine," he said, absentmindedly, "I'm used to babysitting for Alicia. One more kid doesn't matter all that much."

I felt my jaw drop. Sure, I was 11, but I wasn't just a kid. I didn't want Juice to see me as a kid.

I must not have said anything for a little longer than his liking, because he stopped messing with the wiring, and turned to face me, "did you need something, Mandy?"

I shook my head, "I was just trying to make conversation...get to know you. I mean, you've been staying with my sister for a few years now, and I hardly know you."

He gave me a shrug and turned back around, "never put much effort in because you were younger and always toddling off after your brother or Tig."

"Toddling," I said, trying to laugh it off, "you make it sound like I'm a little kid."

"You're 11," he laughed, "you're not exactly an adult."

"No," I said defensively. I walked over to the desk, "but I'm not a little kid. I hardly doubt my brother and Tig would put up with me if I were a little kid."

"Maybe they didn't want to hurt your feelings," he said with a shrug, "You are Clay's daughter after all."

"I am a Morrow," I agreed, "but no one here spares my feelings...a few days ago, when they went to pick you guys up...that wasn't the first time they forgot my birthday. Hell, that wasn't even the first time they forgot about me. I may not be an adult, but no one here treats me like a kid. They let me drink. I do what I want. I mean, you're not even really babysitting me."

He stopped what he was doing and gave me a sympathetic smile before going back to his jammer, "I'm sorry. But you are wrong on one thing."

"And what's that?"

"Just because they don't treat you like a kid, doesn't mean you aren't one," he laughed.  I pouted and he smiled, "that's something your sister taught me. Granted I've only lived with her and Mikey a few years, but they've shown me what a normal family life can be like, when you are allowed to be a kid."

"Well, I'm glad they don't treat me like a kid," I said, defiantly, “because I’m not one.”

"No, you aren't." I looked down at the seated 17-year-old. He looked away from his jammer and up at me. He put it down and stood. When he stood, he was a good seven inches taller than me, "what are you trying to prove Amanda? That you're smart? Or bold? Are you trying to get me to see you as a woman instead of a little girl?"

I felt my breath catch in my throat. I didn't know what to say to him. I wanted him to see me as all of those things, but in this moment, I only felt like the latter. He got a cocky grin on his face before taking a step away from me and going back to his bag to grab some more wires and a book. I continued to stare at the space he'd previously occupied, looking down at the jammer. I picked it up in my hands.

"Good luck," he laughed, "I think the Walkman may have been broken when I bought it. It won't work."

I sat down and grabbed a pair of pliers, tearing at two of the wires he'd just put in, "I think I kn-"

"What are you doing?"

He was back at the desk, his hand over top of mine. I froze.

"Mandy?"

"I can fix it."

He laughed, "no you can't. If I can't make it work th-"

"I can fix it," I repeated, “let me try, Juice.”

He chuckled and took a step back, "listen Mandy, I don't th-"

"These two wires are connecting to the record button, which is broken. If you replace the metal joint that is rusted out, and then re-attach the wires it should work. Do you have a metal joint and a soldering iron?"

He shook his head.

I smiled and grabbed the pliers before taking his hand and leading him through the club house. I ran into the garage to see my older brother working his shift, "Jax where is the soldering iron?"

"No more goofy science projects. Clay nearly skinned me alive after you didn't give it back last time," he said half-heartedly. He pulled away from the car he was at and grabbed a rag, wiping off his hands, "what you doin'?"

I let go of Juices' hand and held out the jammer to him, "I need to borrow it to fix this jammer for dad."

"You put her up to this?" he asked, looking at Juice, "she ain't doing nothing for the club. Clay don't want her or any of the other girls involved in our shit!"

"Jax," I said, stepping in front of him, "I saw the error. Juice didn't put me up to anything. I just wanted to fix it."

Jax backed off and went to the red rolling toolbox, before coming back with the soldering iron and handing it to Juice, "she doesn't do anything involving the club, got it? Clay's orders.  And mine."

Juice looked at me and nodded before taking the soldering iron and heading back to his room. I looked at Jax, "why would you do that?"

"You know Clay doesn't want you getting involved...with anything."

"What are you getting at Jax?"

"Just don't help too much," he said, going back to the car he was working on, "I don't want to be the one explaining to Alicia that Clay killed Juice because baby Mandy had a crush on him."

"Why do you have to be such an asshole?"

"I'm just looking out for my family," he said spitefully, "you need to think some more before you try and act."

"Watch out for your family? What family Jax? You never talk to me or Missy. I'm pretty sure the last time your own daughter spoke to you was the day that she left those voicemails...you don't have a family Jax because you're always pushing us away."

"You should worry about yourself, not me, Amanda. Always walking around here, you and Missy looking like little crow eaters. You're a kid for fucks sake."

"I already have a dad," I growled out, ignoring the fact that he'd just called me a slut, "but if you want to play daddy to someone your daughter is just inside. Try doing that first."

He didn't answer, and I made my way out of the garage and back to the dorms. I was fuming. Jax had been extremely rude ever since he and Wendy got together. Distancing himself from me and Missy. Hell, he hardly even talked to mom anymore. I tried to shrug it off as I made my way back to Juice's door.

"I'm sorry about him," I said from the door, “he’s kind of an ass.”

"It's fine," he said absentmindedly. He was already replacing the parts on the Walkman so it would be a functioning jammer, "I know Jax can be a little rough around the edges."

"That's one way to put it," I laughed, sitting on his bed, “but I still prefer to say that he’s an ass…because he is.”

"Listen," Juice said, turning around, "I appreciate you helping me with this...but maybe you shouldn't help me with this kind of stuff."

"Well, I want to get to know you," I said hopefully, "and you're into tech..."

"Mandy," he laughed, "we can still be friends and hang out...and talk about stuff. We don't have to do tech stuff."

Alicia's pOV

"Mom, why won't you let Chibs help us?" Mikey asked as I pushed her dresser into place.

"He's helping," I said wiping the sweat from my brow, "he's outside."

"Mommy," she said sweetly, "you leave the room anytime he comes in, and you make up some lie."

"Who said I'm lying?"

"Aunt Mandy."

"Well, where is Aunt Mandy?"

Mikey got a smile on her face, "she's helping JC."

"Oh, is she now?"

She smiled and nodded, "yup."

"Do you think maybe she told you that, so that she would get to spend some alone time with Juan Carlos?" I asked.

She shrugged, "I don't know."

"Come on pipsqueak."

I took my daughter's hand and made my way down the hall to where Juan Carlos' room was. The door was closed, and I could hear Mandy and JC laughing from the other side.

"Sounds like they are having fun," Mikey said raising her brow at me, "can we go in?"

I opened the door, and the two of them didn't seem to notice me and Mikey. JC was laying on the bed that Mandy was trying to make for him. She kept trying to get him to move, but he wouldn't so she'd started to make the bed over top of him.

"I'm still under here," JC laughed, “you’re burying me alive under sheets and blankets.  Just so you’re aware!”

"Well then you're stuck there forever," Mandy replied, quite giggly. I could see JC's outline shrug as he continued to lay on the bed. Mandy stopped laughing when she turned and saw us, a pillow in her hand, "Oh.  Hey Alicia."

"You two are having fun," I said, rather amused. I saw Juan Carlos sneaking out from under the blankets, “we just came in to see how the two of you were getting along.”

"Just making my bed."

"I see that."

"Ey, what's all the noise about?" Chibs asked from the end of the hallway, "we avin a party?"

I felt my cheeks heat up, and my attention turned from Mandy and Juan Carlos. Mikey tugged on my shirt, "can't run now mommy."

"Just laughing at the kids," I said, trying to think of an exit, “Mandy and JC are getting along well.”

"They're acting crazy," Mikey said joining in, “Mandy started making the bed on top of JC.”

"Oh yeah?" Chibs asked.

"Where's Tig?"

"Outside playing with Tink, I think," Chibs said, looking back down the stairs, “I could-“

"I should check on him," I said, making my way past him as I cut him off. He took my hand as I passed, stopping me in my tracks, “did you need something Chibs?”

"Ey lass," he said softly, "can we chat for a bit?"

"Maybe later," I said, taking my hand from his. I made my way down the stairs and into the living room before his rough hands took my arm again. I turned around, "yes Chibs?"

"I think we should talk," he said softly. It felt like he'd been walking on eggshells when he said those words. I sighed and looked towards the door, "yeh can run away from me if yeh want, but Alli...we're gun be seein' a lot of one another."

"I know," I admitted, "I just...I'm..."

"Afraid?"

I nodded, "Yeah."

"Me too. Trust me, I am."

"Filip," I whispered, "I can't handle this all. Not right now. I'm dealing with two kids...my workload is killing me. And I'm trying to help out at the garage too because of Luann going back to porn...I can't start anything Filip. It wouldn't be fair to either one of us."

He dropped my arm, "I can understand that. I just..."

"You don't have to say it," I said, taking his hand this time, "that night it meant a lot to me...opened up a new door that I'd thought about a lot...I won't like about that. You made me feel things that I hadn't ever felt. But I can't do that right now."

He nodded, and I felt like a horrible person for saying it. I leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. Every part of me wanted to kiss him, but I knew that would just make things worse. He held me tight in his arms, and I felt a singular tear roll down my cheek.

This is for the both of us Filip.

We can't be together. 

XXXXX----Missy's POV------XXXX

"So come on, tell us about him," Diana said, "last time we saw him, he was really cute."

"Guys that's my sister's adopted kid. That's like...my nephew."

"Well, she didn't really adopt him," Tessa said, taking a drag off her cigarette as we rounded the corner to their block, “and he’s not really your nephew.  Plus, he’s older than us.”

"Yeah, but still. It's weird."

"What's weird is that your little sister always tries to hang around him."

"He's friends with Mandy," I said with a shrug, "I'm not gonna tell him who to hang out with."

"But an 11-year-old? Isn't he seventeen?" Diana asked.

I nodded, taking a drag off my own cigarette, "they're both really big nerds though. They're always messing with wires and science shit."

"Weird." Tessa agreed.

"But hey," Diana interjected, "he's still hot. So, what if he is a nerd?  That could be kind of sexy, I guess."

"He looks like he can really give it to a girl," Tessa laughed, "and those tats he got...makes him look really tough."

We all shared a laugh and put our cigarettes out a few houses away from Alicia's, "did you guys want to come in, or were you gonna go party with the niners?"

"We can come hang out for a minute. But Tre said that he's got some stuff at his place for us tonight. You in?"

I smiled, "obviously."

We made our way to Alicia's house and saw Tig out in the yard with their dog, Tinkerbell. She ran right up to me and began to lick my hand. Tig looked over at us, "hey girls. You here to help set up the house?"

"No," I said simply, "mom asked me to walk down here to come get Mandy. Said she needs help at the garage."

"Why didn't you help?"

"Because I helped yesterday. It's Mandy's turn. Plus, we're going to the mall. But I told mom I'd walk down here because it's only a few minutes away, and Mandy isn't answering her cell phone."

Tig shrugged it off and continued to play with Tink. We walked through the open door, and Alicia was hugging Chibs.

"Hey sis," I said. She backed away from Chibs and wiped her face, "Mandy here?"

"Yeah. Upstairs with Mikey and JC," she replied. She looked over to the kitchen, "I'm going to call for a pizza. You guys going to be here for a bit?"

"No thanks Miss Morrow," Diana said, putting on her best 'I'm a nice girl voice,' "we just told Gemma we'd come get Mandy to help out at the garage."

"Oh," she said, "okay. Well, she's up in Juan Carlos' room."

"Thanks," I smiled. We went upstairs and went to the end of the hall where Mandy was trying to flirt with Juice, “Hey guys!”

Diana and Tessa looked at one another and smiled.

"Hey Mandy, mom needs you at the garage," I said, interrupting her and Juice's conversation about how to modify the walkmans he made for the club, “she wants you back at TM.”

Mandy turned to look at me, not at all happy, "she didn't text me."

"She tried calling you," I said in a bored tone, "you didn't answer."

As she went over to her phone Diana and Tessa introduced themselves to Juice.

"you're like really muscular," Tessa smiled, "do you work out?"

Juice smiled, absorbing the compliments, and I could see Mandy in the corner looking both angry and dejected. I walked over to her, "don't worry about them."

"What are you talking about?"

"Juice."

"What about him?"

I looked back over to Tessa and Diana who were now flirting with him, and it looked like he was flirting back, "well you like him, right?"

"No," she lied through gritted teeth. I rolled my eyes, and she shoved the phone in her pocket, "it's not my business what he does or doesn't do. He's not my boyfriend."

"Not with that attitude," I said, following her down the hall. I could hear Tessa and Diana following me, "come on Mandy, don't be mad."

"He really is cute," Tessa smiled, “how is he single?”

"He gave me his number," Diana laughed. I looked at my little sister who was upping her pace so that she would lose us. I felt bad that they had flirted with him, but it's not like she can do anything. She's just a kid, “think I should hit him up?”

Chapter 21

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @evyiione

[winterscaptain]

tali i have kind of a weird question? growing up my family never watched a lot of classic/common movies (we were FIRMLY a veggie tales house) so I have No Clue what like half of the movies you mention are? like I've never seen footloose or what a wonderful life or die hard? or practically... anything you've ever talked about :(

(also ive never seen mean girls but thats a oersonal failure cas I just. forget to watch it?)

do you have a fav/good movie i should start with cause I feel like I'm missing out on so much :(

hi honey!! you’re so valid, and i had LOTS of veggie tales experience growing up. i know you asked for one, but i went a lil ham on this list because you’ve unknowingly touched on one of my favorite hobbies

okay so i have a big list for you, but it’s in really manageable chunks!! i went to theatre school at the school that houses the Best Cinema School in the World (fight on, usc) and i have Opinions™!! 

if anyone has any other recs not on this list, drop em in the replies!!

i’ll put these in order of my preference/pop culture relevance, so it’s all subjective and idk what your taste is like, but if you have any questions im always here for you!! i’ve added a few notes and disclaimers along the way

this is a really good list to go off of, in general! 

okay so here are my top seven films that i never get tired of watching, in order.

skyfall

that thing you do

captain america: the first avenger/captain america: winter soldier

inglorious basterds*

the sound of music 

knives out

blazing saddles**

* inglorious basterds is a quentin tarantino movie, and tarantino isn’t for everyone. his films are always really bloody, intense, and rife with bad language. i don’t like him personally, but i love his work. this is, in my opinion, his best and funniest work

** blazing saddles is a mel brooks movie, and he’s REALLY offensive and inappropriate in his satire. it’s definitely an iconic comedy, but not to everyone’s taste. it’s one of those movies where you’re actually allowed to laugh at the really horrible jokes because it’s an equal-opportunity offense-fest lmao 

so here are some other genres and films that are a good foundation!

IN GENERAL!! i don’t like remakes. if there’s an older version of the movie, watch that one. trust me. 

i’ve also bolded a couple of key favorites on this list

romantic comedies

my best friend’s wedding

the ugly truth & 27 dresses (katherine hiegl movies ROCK)

sleepless in seattle & you’ve got mail (meg ryan and tom hanks own my ass)

when harry met sally

movies based on books/short stories

to kill a mockingbird

the book thief

the hunger games trilogy

divergent

chronicles of narnia

pride and prejudice (2005 or the bbc miniseries)

3:10 to yuma

based on a true story

ford v. ferrarri

three billboards outside of ebbing, missouri

moneyball

zero dark thirty

the king’s speech

black mass

apollo 11

documentaries*

ken burns’ civil war

ken burns’ baseball

paris is burning

blackfish

free solo

the hunting ground 

* please be advised, some of these documentaries cover some disturbing and distressing subjects. please engage responsibly!

superhero movies

iron man

the dark knight*

wonder woman

scott pilgrim vs the world (okay give me this one)

spider man 1, the amazing spider man, and spiderman: homecoming (all different spidermans, all great movies!

deadpool**

* tdk is really really dark, but the performances are immaculate.  ** deadpool is wildly inappropriate, so don’t take the R-rating lightly! it’s so funny though. so so fucking funny. 

teen favorites

10 things i hate about you

mean girls

she’s the man

easy a

heathers

70′s icons

jaws

monty python and the holy grail

butch cassidy and the sundance kid

star wars trilogy 

dirty harry

80′s classics

alien (technically in ‘79 but feels like an 80′s movie)

dirty dancing

john hughes movies!! the breakfast club, st. elmo’s fire, pretty in pink, sixteen candles, some kind of wonderful

back to the future

footloose

princess bride

90′s flicks

the matrix

three men and a baby

thelma and louise

pretty woman

notting hill

a league of their own

lgbt +

our own private idaho

brokeback mountain

moonlight

philadelphia

call me by your name

love, simon

some of these movies don’t get everything right. if you do choose to engage, engage critically and let the art make you feel something. 

tom hanks movies

yes he gets his own category

joe v the volcano 

castaway

big

saving mr banks

movies where the government saves matt damon

the martian 

saving private ryan

interstellar

jason bourne (technically he saves himself, but he’s still funded by the government)

war movies

fury

band of brothers

full metal jacket

the last full measure

war horse 

1917 

hacksaw ridge

westerns

django unchained

the magnificent seven

true grit

the good the bad and the ugly

a fistful of dollars

old hollywood

an affair to remember

breakfast at tiffany’s, roman holiday (audrey hepburn is an icon of the era)

any alfred hitchcock movie, but psycho and rear window are my faves

these movies don’t get everything right. they are a product of their time and often come with insensitive and unironically offensive cultural baggage. if you so choose, engage critically. you’re still allowed to enjoy the movies, just understand what’s not acceptable! 

christmas movies

it’s a wonderful life

white christmas

a christmas story

the holiday

die hard (some people don’t think this is a christmas movie. i disagree.)

the family stone

a year without a santa clause

halloween movies

hocus pocus

beetlejuice

anything by tim burton - the nightmare before christmas, the corpse bride

the shining

the blair witch project

get out

cult classics

the rocky horror picture show

the room

reservoir dogs

jennifer’s body 

point break

these are WAY more fun with friends - please quarantine responsibly, but it's so worth the wait to watch this with a big group of people.

[cometsweepandleonidsfly]

Editor's note: Megan Rapinoe gave her brother, Brian, a birthday shout-out on national TV after winning the 2019 Women's World Cup, the Golden Boot as the tournament's top scorer and the Golden Ball as its top player. Here is the story behind their complicated relationship.

DAYS BEFORE THE first game of the 2019 Women's World Cup, Brian Rapinoe jokingly texted his sister, Megan Rapinoe -- co-captain and star midfielder for the U.S. women's national team: "Megs, breaks my heart that you couldn't fly me out for an all-expenses-paid trip to France." She shot back: "Oh yeah, so sad I couldn't pamper you for a month in France."

An hour before kickoff against Thailand on June 11, the rest of the Rapinoe family found their seats in the Stade Auguste-Delaune in Reims; Brian charged his ankle monitor and rounded up the other guys in the dormitory at San Diego's Male Community Reentry Program, a rehabilitative program that allows an inmate to finish the final 12 months of his sentence taking classes or working jobs outside of prison.

The MCRP common room might not be France, but it's a vast improvement over solitary confinement, where Brian has watched Megan play in the previous two World Cups. He sat on a couch in his red USA jersey, watching on a 60-inch flat-screen, and felt "f---ing great." He had accomplished a major goal for himself: to get out of prison in time to watch his kid sister play in her third World Cup.

Every time the U.S. scored, the room full of men cheered loudly. Nobody there thought the U.S.'s 13 goals against Thailand and exuberant celebrations after each were done in poor taste. "This is what soccer should always be like," one man said.

"It's the World Cup: There's no f---ing holding back," 38-year-old Brian says. "This is every four years."

And his sister didn't hold back. When Megan scored goal No. 9 for the U.S., she sprinted to the sideline, spun around twice and then slid to the ground for a foot-kicking celebration. As the camera zoomed in on her, one of the guys yelled, "Holy s---, it's Brian!"

He has the same face as his sister.

The face, the charisma, the wit, the tendency to burst into song: In so many ways, Brian and Megan are alike. But they are also a study in contrasts: At 15 years old, Brian brought meth to school and has been in and out of incarceration ever since. At 15, Megan played with her first youth U.S. national team and started traveling the world. As a young inmate and gang member, Brian was inked with swastika tattoos -- an allegiance to white supremacy that he now disavows; as a professional soccer player, Megan was the first prominent white athlete to kneel to protest racial inequality.

Despite their different paths, the brother and sister have stayed close through letters, phone calls and texts. "I have so much respect for her. And not just because she's the s--- at soccer. It's her utter conviction in the things that she believes in and the stances she takes against injustices in the world," he says.

"I was her hero, but now -- there's no question -- she is mine."

Megan, right, "worshipped" Brian when they were children. Brian, who is five years older, introduced her to soccer early on.

GROWING UP, MEGAN and her twin sister, Rachael, adored Brian. He was their hero, the charismatic jokester who did Jim Carrey and Steve Urkel impressions and danced ridiculous dances. The girls had three other siblings, but he could make them laugh harder than anyone else could. He taught them how to catch crawfish in the creek, walked them to the patch of field across from the church and taught them soccer until his mother called them in with a two-finger whistle. In the side yard, he set up cones and showed his 4-year-old sisters how to dribble the ball -- with the inside of the foot only, with the outside of the foot only, left and then right. "And it wasn't like he drilled them. He let them do it their own way," says his mother, Denise Rapinoe, her voice cracking. "It was just the cutest thing, and we remember it so clearly."

In elementary school, like her brother, Megan was rough and tumble, and spoke her mind. Her second-grade teacher's aide pulled Denise aside to relay the following scene: Megan came in from the playground, walked into the classroom, stood with her arms on her hips and announced, "Brian Rapinoe is my brother, and I am just like him!"

"I worshipped him," Megan says. "He played left wing, so I played left wing. He wore No. 7; I wore No. 7. He got a bowl cut, so I did too."

So when Brian first started smoking marijuana as a 12-year-old, a 7-year-old Megan was confounded. Why was he doing that? Brian still doesn't know for sure. "Right from the start, I was hooked," he says. "One drug always led to the next." He was also attracted to the "fast life," he says, to getting high, to driving nice cars and to the "hype around this lifestyle." She wanted him to stop, and she was still young enough to think there was something she could do. Three years later, when her parents sat her and Rachael down and told them the police had arrested Brian for bringing meth to school, she cried. He was going to juvenile detention. She did not understand: What had happened to her big brother?

"For many years, Megan and Rachael were pissed as hell," Brian says. "They still loved me, they still let me know they were there for me, but they were like, 'What the f--- are you doing?'"

"My mother is the queen of the family," Brian, left, says of Denise Rapinoe, right. "I just love her so much. I'm such a baby when it comes to her."

BY 18 YEARS OLD, Brian had moved on to harder drugs -- heroin, specifically -- and he became more reckless. He was charged with car theft, evading arrest and a hit-and-run while driving under the influence of drugs -- and now, as an adult, his juvenile detention days were over. He was sent to prison. Within months, he aligned himself with the white prison gang and was inked with Nazi tattoos. A swastika on his palm; lightning bolts on his fingers, sides and calves

These tattoos devastated his family. "The prejudice, the racism -- it was so against the way he'd been raised," Denise says. "He wasn't that kind of kid. He was kind, his nature was so loving."

To Brian, the swastikas weren't about prejudice and racism at that point -- they were about heroin and survival. To support his addiction, he needed to be, in his words, "an active participant in prison culture." The California prison system was segregated. That meant Brian lived strictly among the white population. "You come in as a kid, and there are these older dudes you think you respect, spouting ideas, and you kind of listen," Brian says. "I developed a protect-your-own mentality."

He tried to explain that to his mother. The gang was a family, he said; it was a place to belong. "I told him, 'This is not who we are,'" Denise says. "'This is not who you are.'"

Megan was as heartbroken as her mother. "I thought [the tattoos] were horrible," she says. "I still think they're horrible. I could rationalize them: I understood that when he first got in there, he was searching for identity, trying to survive."

But the big brother she had worshipped? It felt like she had lost him.

As a young player on the U19 U.S. women's national team, Megan wore the No. 7 jersey. It was the number Brian wore when he played soccer.

BRIAN BECAME HEAVILY involved in gang life and racked up charges while doing time: possession of drugs, possession of a deadly weapon, three assaults on other white inmates. He spent eight of his 16 years in prison in solitary confinement for this behavior. By 2007 -- as he was turning 27 years old -- he was transferred to Pelican Bay State Prison in Northern California, the state's only super-max-security prison.

While general population is segregated, solitary confinement is not, and every inmate gets one hour out of his cell to walk the pod. Here, the protect-your-own thinking began to fall away for Brian. "You start relating to people beyond your hood, your area, your color," he says. "It doesn't take long before you start talking with each other, seeing how much you have in common. Back there, it's just you in the cell, and the man next to you is just a man himself."

There's no radio, no television in the individual cells in the hole. Sitting in a cement box, counting the number of holes in the perforated door is "hard; it's definitely hard," he says. "But you find a way to escape. You've got books, you've got writing, some guys draw. And you develop these relations with other people, these connections."

Three times a week, inmates also get three hours outside, albeit in his own cage. "In the yard, you start talking [to other guys] -- sports, music, my sister is always a big ice-breaking conversation. You say [to them], 'When we go back in from yard, you can look at my pictures,' or you say, 'Here's something I wrote.' Maybe you become good friends -- like me and Monster did."

Monster, also known as Sanyika Shakur, is a black nationalist and the author of the bestseller, Monster: Autobiography of an LA Gang Member. He and Brian were on the same pod for two years. Using a line and a weight, they'd send each other long letters from cell to cell, fishing for them beneath the doors. Brian shared the song lyrics he wrote; Monster let him read drafts of his articles and essays. For years, Brian had been a serious reader, consuming everything from the classics, to books about social issues. He'd read The New Jim Crow and learned about how police disproportionately search black men and arrest them for nonviolent drug offenses, and how the War on Drugs decimated communities of color.

"He taught me what it means to be racist," Brian says, "and he taught me what it means not to be racist."

By 2010, the now 30-year-old had a new understanding of what the white supremacist insignias represented. He had his face tattoos lasered off. The swastika on his palm became a spider web; the Nazi lightning bolts became skulls. He did not want any racial insignias on his skin. They did not reflect who he was. But he was still using heroin -- and the next year, he was arrested for selling it.

Brian was behind bars once again -- this time at Donovan State Prison in San Diego.

When Megan scored in the 2011 Women's World Cup against Colombia, she seized the moment and sang Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA" -- something, people say, Brian would do.

IN JUNE 2011, Brian had something new to talk about during his hour walking the pod: His little sister was playing in her first World Cup -- and he was going to get everybody to watch.

The 15-inch television was at the other end of the hallway, some 50 yards away. He built a tower out of 60 books and tied them together with torn sheets. Sitting on top of it, he could just see the TV through the window in the door. In an early game against Colombia, Megan roped in a goal, then immediately sprinted to the corner flag, grabbed a cameraman's mic and sang Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA." The guys got a kick out of this because Brian was the singer on the pod, and this flamboyant corner-flag serenade was so like him.

Days later, ahead of the quarterfinals against Brazil, all 30 cells on top and all 30 cells on bottom were watching, everybody perched at their doors. Megan -- young and audacious with her signature short blonde hair -- subbed in at the end of the game, and in extra time, sure enough -- boom! -- she sent a 50-yard cross-field ball to U.S. forward Abby Wambach, who headed it home to tie the game. "We were going wild," Brian says. "We were yelling and pounding on the doors."

Later that night, on the prison pay phone, Brian talked with his mom. She described the end of the game, how Megan, having just experienced the craziest, most awesome moment of her life, walked to the stands and stood there, searching through the some 20,000 faces for her mom's. Denise put her two index fingers in her mouth and let out her trademark whistle -- the same whistle she had used when they were kids. She had to do it a second and then a third time before Megan could hear her. Megan tapped her ear. "She was letting me know she heard me," Denise told Brian at the time, choking up -- which made Brian choke up a little, too. He could imagine it.

"Not being there -- it hurt," Brian says.

Another four years passed. This time he was in solitary confinement because of his violent record at the Vista Detention Facility, a lower-security prison, in San Diego County -- and Megan was headed to Canada for her second World Cup. The women would end up winning it all, the first time the team had done so since 1999.

"That was the hardest," Brian says. "I was super happy for Megs and super sad for myself. I fricking love my family so much. They were all there. It was like, f---, man, I'm like not really even a part of this. Yeah, I got a lot of support for her in prison, but when the game is over and the ruckus has died down, I'm sitting in my cell. I'm not there to give her a hug, I'm not there to witness it, I'm not there to be a part of it. It's just another thing in their lives that I'm missing out on. What the f--- am I doing with my life?"

Brian was almost 35 years old. He had spent more than half of his adult life incarcerated.

After Megan kneeled during the anthem in 2016, a former prisonmate called Brian to commend her actions. "What your sister is doing -- it means so much," said Sanyika Shakur, a black nationalist. "She is standing up for people who don't have a voice."

ON SEPT. 1, 2016, when San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick kneeled during the national anthem to protest police brutality and racial profiling, Brian was briefly out of prison -- although he was still using heroin. Three days later, Megan kneeled in support while playing for her club team, the Seattle Reign. Then, while playing for the U.S., she did it again.

Brian saved the newspaper article with the picture of her solemn, angled-down face. He watched the YouTube videos of the coverage. He thought, Hell yeah. He also read the comments: "If she was on my team, I'd knock this idiot out. She should be banned from the national squad for life. Such disrespect." He understood that she would anger people, understood the impending fallout. He knew that enrollment in her summer camps and sales of her clothing brand, Be Your Best You, would go down. He thought, My sister is brave; my sister is bad ass.

Like every time before, Brian's freedom proved to be short-lived. By July 2017, he was back up north in Pelican Bay. Back to the regimented, day-to-day prison routine. Where tomorrow is the same as today. His whole life had been a habitual rut; Megan's anthem protest felt like the opposite of that. Her stance showed him there is a way to put a foot down on something in life, in spite of the fallout that will come.

Not long after, he had a breakthrough. His cellmate was helping him inject heroin into the back of his neck when the needle broke. "I freaked out on him, really lost it," Brian says. "And he said to me, 'Look at how you are acting right now.'" And for whatever reason, those words torpedoed into Brian and transformed into personal questions he asked himself. Your whole happiness and peace of mind is focused on this dirty-ass hypodermic needle: Is this what you want? Do you want this cell and this bulls--- powerful persona to be all you are?

He thought about the seven murders he'd witnessed out on the yard. He thought about his own knife fights -- about everything he'd done and been a part of -- just so he could continue to do heroin. He thought about Megan. Look at all she's done with her life -- look at what you've done with yours.

That's when he finally decided he was ready for change. He enrolled in the new self-improvement and rehabilitation classes the California prison system had begun to offer. Each completed class reduced time from his sentence.

Most importantly, after using and selling drugs for 24 years, Brian quit -- and he's been clean for 18 months.

"If I do drugs," he says, "I will go back to prison. I didn't believe that for a long time. Now, I believe that -- I don't ever want to go back."

Shortly before his first day of school at San Diego Community College, Brian met up with a friend from Pelican Bay, Cesar, who is also taking classes. "From the Bay to the books," Brian says. "I am so stoked to begin."

TODAY IS BRIAN'S first day at San Diego City College. As part of the Male Community Reentry Program, he's taking classes to finish up the final year of his sentence, and he has some butterflies. "It's been a long time since I've gone to school -- even when I was in school, it was juvenile hall -- I've never taken anything except regular math. I've never even taken algebra.

Plus, he says, it's a little unnerving to sit in a classroom with 18-year-olds whose experiences have been drastically different from his own. He's self-conscious about his tattoos -- particularly his neck tattoo, SHASTA, inscribed in large gothic letters, the name of the county in which he grew up. "These tattoos, I freaking hate them," Brian says.

But he also knows those tattoos could matter again in the future. He wants to get involved in the juvenile delinquency program, wants to talk to anybody who might be about to jump off the same ledge he did. "These tattoos, it's gonna get their attention," he says. "It's like, dude, you don't think I know what I'm talking about?

"I want to make a difference," he says. "I want to be like Megan."

He had "a really fricking deep conversation" with her about two months ago. They talked about racial profiling; they talked about police brutality; they talked about what Megan's kneeling meant to both of them. Megan saw that in spite of their very different paths, they'd arrived at similar conclusions.

"My brother is special," Megan says. "He has so much to offer. It would be such a shame if he left this world with nothing but prison sentences behind him. To be able to have him out, and to play for him, and to have him healthy, with this different perspective that he has now: This is like the best thing ever."

While Megan is in France, she and Brian text daily -- with game thoughts, encouragement and shared excitement.

"This is one of the most exciting things I can even remember ... just everything really, you, the school, the program," Brian texts.

She replies: "People always ask me what got me into soccer ... your wild ass of course."

"Luckily I played a cool sport. What if I'd been into arm-wrestling or something."

"Oh lawd, yea you really set me up."

"Get some sleep -- love you."

"Lovee you Bri! Let's f---ing go!"

-- Freelance writer Gwendolyn Oxenham is the author of Under the Lights and in the Dark: Untold Stories of Women's Soccer.

[duckettfamilyblog-blog]

Daily routine with 2+ children:

Most days, I only have my two biological children, the younger kids in our lot, and my bonus kids are with their biological mother.

Her routine and my own differ very greatly, so I have a little static during the weeks that we have all of the kids together.

But I've found over my 4 years as a mother, that, while I am not the best person at creating and maintaining routines, they have a substantial impact on my family's functionality and behavior, so here is my routine for the kids, on any given day.

Morning:

We usually wake up anywhere between 7:30 & 9 am, not usually aided by an alarm. A lot of mornings, my 4 year old wakes me up coming through to use the restroom, and that's how we begin the day, diaper changes and potty time.

After that, breakfast is made, and served for the little ones, and on weekends, I tend to do the whole "country breakfast" thing for the whole family, but on weekdays, I usually skip the meal myself, opting for coffee instead.

If breakfast was messy, bath time follows shortly after, along with getting dressed and brushing teeth.

If the living room is a disaster zone, which is often the case with all 3 little ones running around, I set the kids down to watch educational TV, shows like Dora, Between the Lions, whatever they're asking for that has a lesson behind the program, while I pick up toys, vacuum, and clear any bits of trash out of the play area.

Since it's summer, we're not structuring lessons, and the next block of time can be filled with whatever suits our fancy for the day, a movie, some time in the garden, coloring, building with blocks, or even dancing to my 80's Jamz playlist from YouTube.

Around 11:30, I make lunch for the little ones, after that, it's another go at the potty time thing (they're free to go whenever, but there are a few times a day where I require them to use the potty at a set time, upon waking, and before naps and bedtime).

Nap time should start anywhere between 12 & 1 pm, based on when the kids woke up that morning.

When the kids get up from naps, I give drinks and snacks, and let them watch an older cartoon, lately they've really liked Scooby Doo. I structure screen time, no vegging out, but I don't ban TV. Moderation, moderation, moderation.

If it's not too hot, the afternoons can be spent playing with dirt in the garden, or if it is too hot, they can be spent coloring, listening to Bible stories, or even running like Sonic the hedgehog around the living room.

This week, we've got something planned for every evening, Vacation Bible School. So naps are non-negotiable, they must happen for the kids to behave properly at VBS and for them to have the energy to enjoy all of the activities planned for them.

I try to stick to this same basic schedule for the kids every day, even when the day is more interesting than just hanging around at home. My son knows the schedule and tells me when it's time for him to potty and nap, and he can pretty much stick to it, and on days we go off book, I can really tell the difference in his attitude and behavior. Kids need structure, especially in their younger years, to help them begin to understand the passage of time. If you wake up, nap, and go to bed at roughly the same time every day, you're not going to refuse to nap or get up, or go to bed as much, because it is an expected part of your day.

My struggle now, is with helping my +daughter understand that we have this routine for them for their benefit, and not to be meanies. She's very used to waking up when she wants, napping when she wants, eating when she wants, and sleeping when she wants, and it makes me feel like we're a bit of a drag to her when she comes over and has to be part of the routine. But I'm constantly reminded that kids expect what they are regularly given, and it must throw her off to be scheduled, just as much as it throws her sister and +brother off when we take their routine off track.

So we have a little looser of a routine, following the same paths as usual, but with more wiggle room for all when we have all of the little ones, and it still works. I'm just insistent on routines, because I know they work in my home, and they make my job as Mama a lot less stressful. But no matter what, find a routine that works for your family, set it in place, and allow for wiggle room as needed but still remain in control of the tiny human army you're training. ;)

[kittyxlover]

I'd like the internet to know about Smokey the cat.

Today I'm sharing some of her story with the world. Though we've long since lost old photos I'll make due with the ones I have. I may add more later on since there's a limit to how many pictures you can add at one time.

This was Smokey. My beautiful fluffy grey and white tuxedo baby. Today, March 14th 2019 would have been her 24th birthday, and mark 20 years with my family.

Sadly she had to be put to sleep on February 12th 2019. She had been sick off and on for months and suddenly just stopped eating. Nothing we tried worked so after 2 days I called it. Clearly she was telling me it was her time. I didn't want her to suffer because I wanted to spend more time with her.

She came to us as a feral cat. Adopted from a local shelter to help us with a mouse problem we had. And because I kept pestering my mom about wanting a cat. I live up to my username. Kitty lover since day 1.

So it was very fitting that she was only a few months younger than me (I'm born in November). We were always together. She was my partner in crime to help me even the odds against my 3 older brothers.

Whenever they were mean to me growing up she'd help me get even. Claws hurt a lot more than anything I could do. One time she even went as far as coming up to my 1 brother and showing him her latest catch. And oh boy let me tell you. You have not lived until you witnessed a boy scream bloody murder while trying to do a Spider-Man impression up a wall to get away from a cat with a mouse in her mouth. She was happy as could be as she trotted off with her latest catch.

When she was young she was basically the Kool-Aid Man. You shake a bag of Temptations and she'd come running, bursting into the room at mach speed like "I heard the treats! GIVE!" You cold hear every thump and bang as she made her way towards you too. Was the best way to find her sometimes.

Growing up we lost her in the house quite a lot. As you can imagine it's not hard to lose a mostly grey cat in the dark. Now imagine having to go down a flight of stairs and not know if she was sprawled out on one keeping a watch of the house. It was like the worse game of Hide and Seek ever. Because when you find her you got claws and little cat teeth in your feet.

She was a very loving and sassy cat until her final days when she went down hill. Always wanted to be with people, didn't matter what you were doing she'd be right there curled up with you so she could get attention or just enjoy some cuddle time.

She loved blankets. Loved being curled up under them with people. Or just by herself. They were her safety spot. When she was under a blanket she was happy and content. Some she would claim for herself. We weren't allowed to use them. They were hers and she made it well known that they were hers. It's incredibly weird being allowed to use a blanket again when for the last 11 years I'd get attacked if I tried to move or wash it.

Despite her grumpy face she loved cuddles. Every chance she could find she'd be in someone's lap or curled up with me like this. Purring away. She was a complete sweetheart who just wanted all the love and attention she could get.

But wasn't afraid to show you who was boss if she got a bit over stimulated or annoyed.

I have an auto immune disorder, so I can get sick very easily and tend to have a lot of days where I feel too crappy to get out of bed or go very far. So Smokey took it upon herself to try and be my personal nurse. She was always by my side, trying to purr me better. Or just telling me "hey, I'm here. It's ok Hooman."

Despite her age she was still very feisty up until her final days. She never got along with other cats, and barely tollerarted some dogs. She wasn't afraid to throw paws and show them who's really in charge... sometimes even through glass doors.

But she also had a playful side. Her favourite toys being shoelaces, bell balls, and any kind of writing tool. She'd go nuts for any of them in the right mood.

She was a master expressions and sassiness. Always put me in a better mood when I'd look over and she was practically judging me for just about anything.

She managed to survive my brothers growing up, 3 moves in city and 1 across country. Out lived 1 hamster (no she didn't eat it), 3 dogs, and 3 cats we tried to have along with her (didn't last long. She practically tried to murder a kitten so they were given to better homes.)

She lived out her final years in the beautiful mountain province of British Columbia, Canada. Enjoying the scenery and window sunbeams whenever possible.

It's incredibly lonely without her. We keep thinking we hear her collar, or her attacking something in the hallway. I keep rolling over expecting to see her curled up on her heat pad happy as can be. But when I do it's just an empty space where there should be a cat.

To many she was just a cat.

But to me she was my whole world.

[zebra-warrior]

Five things I'm greatful for and then some.

1. My parents. I honestly couldn't ask for a better set of parents than I have. As a kid we didn't have much money. My parents wanted to purchase a nice house to raise me in so I had the best environment to grow up in possible but in choosing the home they did everyting else was very tight but they never made it feel that way. Back in the day when crafting and building things were less expensive than buying them (boy have things changed with crafting) if we didn't have someting they would make it. I remember a lot of my friends would have birthday parties at places like Chuck E. Cheese, Magic Mountain, the Zoo or a skating rink. My parants didn't really have the money to do that and what they had they would have rather spent on a nice present for me so my mom would decorate the house and my dad would go out and mow the grass really short. They would dig holes in the ground and put PVC pipe in the holes that my dad would get at work from the dumpster and turn our back yard into a put put course. They would put up a vollyball net and crochet set and we would use big workshop vice grip clamps and turn them upside down as putters. The house they bought already had a swing set and swimming pool so I would have pool parties and with magic mountain in my own back yard. It was a lot of work but not a lot of money even though to me it felt like they spent a fortune. Everyone always looked forward to my birthday parties as a kid. They were always a bit hit. Not to mentuon sidewalk chalk was someting they also would splurge on so setting up the driveway with lots of fun stuff was something my dad liked to do. He used to like drawing with chalk as much as I did. As I got older they always made things work. When I began getting bullied at school I was switched to a private home school coop. Which my great grandma who was also the best grandma ever paid for knowing my parents couldn't and she couldn't stand seeing me hurt the way I was but my mom would drive me 35 minutes to school, drive almost an hour to work then after work wound drive almost an hour to pick me up and then 35 minutes back home every day for 3 years until I got my driver's license. She was so excited for me to get my license she took me a month early for my T

temps. I told her it was too early and she said it wasn't and whan I got there they said come back next month lol. I never wanted to drive. I was always afraid but she couldn't get me to the BMV fast enough lol. My parents also taught me a lot about the value of money and work ethic and now say they taught me too well because I'm known to shop for several months for something more costly that I need like contact lenses in order to find the best price, all coupons and all rebates and sales available. I got my first job at age 11 and was able to buy my first car myself, pay for college myself without taking out one loan and buy my first home outright and as a foreclosure to remodel and fix up how I wanted it to look. My second car was the only thing I've ever taken out a loan on. When I got sick and OSU tried to put me in a nursing facility my parents offered to help me sell my house and take me back in with open arms so I could be cared for in their home instead of a long term care facility. They still help me to this day cooking for me, driving me to appointments when I can't use transportation services, cleaning and helping me bathe myself. I now pay them rent and utilities as well as half of groceries and personal needs of my dog and myself not because I think for a second they would dump me into a long term care faculty if I didnvt but because it's the right thing to do. This ties in with family but I'm so very greatful and thankful to still have my mom. She was on life support after having her liver cut into during a botched surgery which resulted in a full blown liver rupture. It was the hands down the scariest moment of my life. We weren't sure she would make it and her doctors couldnt even give us that reassurance but she did everyting ahead of schedule and all I had to hold on to was her promise that she wasn't going anywhere. She kept that promises and on the day she was released the nurse that called when she began crashing came into the room shocked she was alive and admitted that she was sure my mom wasn't going to make it and that was the end for her. She was completely amazed my mom was still here. My mom was caught in the battle of her life, a battle she should have never had to fight and now has PTSD because of the experience but she's alive. My mom is here. I know a lot of adults have already lost a parent and I can't imagine the pain. Having my parants bring really the only family members I have a close relationship with and being my caregivers, I don't know what I wouls do without them. I would probably be in some nursing home somewhere without them. With my dad has Autism, though he was able to work, my mom paid bills, did most of the shopping as my dad can't use a debit card. But my mom does most of the money, paperwork and phone call related stuff for him so I can't imagine how life would even be able to continue without her. Or my dad. They both have two totally different rolls and being disabled I need them more than ever so I couldn't be happier this is in the past but couldn't be more upset or had to happen to begin with. In Ohio doctors are protected against medical malpractice and though she almost lost her life and will have life long physical complications and likely somewhat shorter of a life due to these complications she will never get the revenge she deserves and the doctor didn't even get a slap on the hand for what he did to her body and with now having PTSD, her mind.

2. Maggie: This dog has rolled with the punches and adapted flawlessly. She's my best friend and fur daughter. She picked up cardiac alert from my last baby Sandy and took to training to be able to use that ability as a career line a champ. I have seen her blossom from the puppy from heck. (no offend Ma-mag) but she would literally rip wallpaper off the wall with her teeth, it took 8 months to housebreak her and there was no such thing as no in her dictionary. She got into everything but I've since learned that was only because she was so intelligent and always curious because once she began training she excelled and grew into the most trusting and obedient dog I've ever had. Not only that but she thrived on structure. When working she walks on the leash beside me just fine but when I put her on my lap at that point nothing can stop her. She sits up all straight, sticks her chest out and thinks her poop doesn't smell. My lap is her thrown. I don't mind because she can alert just as well up there as she can waking, if not better because she doesnt have to try as hard to get my attention in loud and busy places. Not only is she obedient but when she's not formally working, even at 8 years old she's still very playfil and silly, always doing things to make me laugh or my heart melt. She's a velcro dog so I've always got a snuggle buddy and someone to keep me warm and my face coated in a layer if dog spit lol. I got her the day before I got my first pacemaker and she was the first one to sit at my bedside when I came out if surgery for my second one. As I went from a much closer to healthy individual who would take her on long walks and when stuck in a terrible relationship I would walk she and Sandy some days for several hours a day, sitting around the pond eating snacks, going into every store in walking distance that allowed pets and exploring the neighborhood to much sicker, in a chair with her only real walks occurring when she worked outside the home and a much more stagnant lifestyle Maggie never loved me any less, if anyting she loved me more because to my surprise she fell in love with my wheelchair and head over hills for my powerchair. When I turn my power chair on it makes a chiming sound and whan she hears that sound she makes a mad dash for the room I'm in begging for a ride. In her mind these changes in my life had made me no less the mommy to her as I was before. She is one person (yes I will call her a person) who I can count on to always love me no matter what. If it wasn't for her, I don't think I woukd he here. This conditon has made me want to go to bed and not wake up more than once and she's saved me every time and I can't thank her enough for being such a good girl.

3. My neighbor Pam has been my neighbor since I was 5 years old so she's been in my life most of my life and much more than any family member outside my household has ever been. She's basically my aunt or a second mom to me. As a kid she helped in reaching me the value of money and hard work my giving me my first two jobs at age 11. She has me clean her primates cages and prepare food for them not only teaching me the values of good, hard work but further fostering my love for animals. She's always had the primates as well as dogs and cats I would take care of when she was out of town. I was the first kid I knew to have a real job even if it was part time. It wasn't much later that I began babysitting her grandson who even now that he's grown and I no longer talk to him, I think if him as a little brother to me. He was the most well behaved kid I ever babysat and boy was it an eye opener when I started babysitting a lot of other kids in the neighborhood and saw how some kids can really act lol. Pam has always been there for me and my family. She would take me on summer trips sometimes like I remeber a trip to Wyndot Lake that really was a blast and she has always treated me like family. We have a key to her house and she has one to ours. When I got to the age I could stay home alone I never woried too much about if I couldnt find my key or the screen door was locked because I always knew she was just a short walk away if I needed help. She watchs our houses and we watch hers contacting each other if we see anyone or anyting unusual. She comes over each year for Christmas dinner and will occasionally surprise my parents by bringing over a soup she made or some cookies she baked and last summer sent a Chimney Sweep to our house because she knew my mom needed a break and we like to have fires in the winter but haven't had our Chimney cleaned in a while. For my 16th birthday she took my awe dry car to her business at the airport to clear coat it with the same material used to clear coat jets and whan I got sick I didn't have to worry because she is always nearby. Before I got transportation services she was always willing to drive me to my medical appointments and with Corona, she helped with shopping. Over the summer we could pick anyone in our family to go on a trip to the zoo with us my dad's last year of work and we chose my neighbors and had a great time. We may not be family by blood but my neighbor is my family. Not many people are lucky enough to have a neighbor they get along with or even care for yet ours is closer than extended family and for that I'm thankful.

4. My home. I couldn't be more lucky when my parents bought this house. It's almost as if they knew that when I grew up I would be in a chair. We live in a one story floor plan with a kitchen. That has an island in the middle so if I have someting I hand its still easy to just grab the counter and zip around in a circle to any part of the kitchen I need to get to. Before the passing of my grandma, she used a walker and wheelchair so my dad had already installed a ramp in our garage so I went into this journey with access to my home. My home is also set up so my dad found easily set up a ramp onto the back porch. I have always had a large bedroom, bigger than most people I know. It's similar in size to a master bedroom and being in a chair, thats very much a necessity now. In a chair you need a lot more room to navigate an area efficiently. Of course my home is far from perfect. The bathrooms are much too small to be truly accessable so I have to make due with what I have and my bathroom. Needs despiratly to be remodeled. Unfortunatly the bath tub that was put into my bathroom could quite possibly be the most unexcwssable bathtub for someone in a wheelchair in existence. I don't have a pull down closet nor do I have pull down cabinets in the kitchen or appliances I can easily use. I don't have a stove that rises and lowers or countertops that are at my height it an elevating powerchair to be able to reach those areas. Even the microwave is a Hazzard but as far as manuverability we have that. I can access every too. In our home except our basement and one part of a bathroom we have. It would be easier to menuvour here if my parants didn't have so mucb stuff and such big bulky furniture it I think that's also part of living with my parents. They have more life experience and more stuff but it's doable. Not everyone is lucky enough. After becoming disabled to have a home that's usable or has porential. Many were forced to move after getting sick or disabled. I was forced to move out of my home but my parents home is usable and I can't be more happy for this home.

5. Doctor Joseph and his staff. I went 30 years of my life unable to get help for this condition slowely robbing more and more from my body. When I came across Dr Joseph they were something I had never seen in the medical community. This was all new to me. I entered into a facility of four of the most caring and compassionate individuals I've ever encountered. I finally found a doctor who specializes in my conditon and he was just over a half hour away. But only was he familliar with the disease but also the comorbidities, Misconceptions, PTSD we have all faced from others who hold some form of medical degree and how we likely have no one to advocate for us and we have been on our own literally fighting through the pain and suffering. For appropriate medical treatment to only be dealt more pain and suffering. When he took me on I was the sickest I've ever been in my life and I so much pain I frankly can't believe I hadn't taken my life much before even hearing about him not only did he take me on as a patient knowing how big of a project I would be after over 200 doctors in the past saw me and just pushed me off but he never gave up, hasn't given up and I don't see him giving up on me in the future. His staff has fought tooth and nail with insurance companies on my behalf, files formal complaints about hospital care for me, brought me in on days they were fully booked to try to help me and spent weekends and holidays on the phone with my mom and the hospital angerly fighting with them to do the right thing and provide appropriate care. They may have not listened to him, learned to hate him and failed me terribly but at least I can't say my doctor and his staff didn't try. His wife came in on her day off to fight with my insurance company and they have helped me find the right goverment officials to contact with problems. The goverment officials may not have done anything but again, at least I can say they tried and that says a lot about a doctor. I. Not on the best treatment and the battle still continues to get me into a surgeon, gst testing completed and fight for more than the fifth or sixth best medication. They treat me no different than they would treat their own family members and that is something I've never seen in a doctor. I have seen improvement. It may not be as much as they would like but every bit of improovment is because the continue to fight to me, continue to teach me to advocate for myself and refuse to give up on me just because I'm a complicated case. I couldn't thank his office more for what they have done and continue to do each day.

I know that's five but just to list a few, I'm thankful for my late dog Sandy, my late Great Grandma, nature and other non harmful animals that cross my path, my local church, my online friends and the availability of support groups, the internet, with the virus I'm thankful for the new door that has opened for those of us who are homebound with all of these vertual tours and other New online resources that open the world up to us from our beds and couches, that I still have my mind, my manual and powerchair as I would have no way to access anyting, including my own house without them, the nice days after the ground has dried up and I'm able to roll around my yard and around the garden. To re-establish a love for crafting. My cricut and sewing machine and mich more. So just because there are things I'm very upset with in this world doesn't mean there aren't things I'm thankful for.

#myEDSchallenge #myHSDchallenge