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auras-moonstone · 8 months

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girl, i’m in dire need of some jack angst!! (i know, i’m crazy for wanting my heart to be ripped out by your beautiful writing in the saddest way possible😂)

maybe he and the reader have been dating for a few months and have their first big fight, maybe he’s been a little too close to a girl the reader has been having weird gut feelings about. they break up after some harsh words were said, and a few weeks later the reader sees that he’s dating the girl he told her not to worry about 👀

a few months pass, and jack and the girl break up bc he can’t get over the reader, and he tries to win her back, but soon realises he lost her for good when he sees her ar an event or something with someone else, and it’s clear that they’re more than friends.

(i kinda envision this as actress!reader x jack. and the event could be the oscars + the reader’s new bf could also be an A list celeb)

lyrics that could inspire you:

“'Cause there we are again when I loved you so, Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known” - All Too Well (Taylor’s Version)

“I'm sitting eyes wide open and I got one thing stuck in my mind, Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life” - I Don’t Wanna Live Forever

thank you so much and i’m sorry if this req is all over the place 😂😂❣️

hii! this might be one of the saddest things i’ve written yet. hope you like it<3

break me like a promise — jack champion

word count: 2,949

pairing: jack champion x actress!fem!reader, louis partridge x fem!reader (brief).

summary: jack breaks y/n’s heart, and after ten months he is determined to win her back, he sees her being happy with someone else.

author’s note: when i read “readers new bf could be a celeb” i knew i had to include the other love of my life aka louis partridge aka london boy.

Y/N AND JACK HAD MET THROUGH JENNA ORTEGA. The latter and Y/N both worked for Netflix, so they bumped into each other in lots of events and eventually became super close. And, knowing how big of a Scream fan Y/N was, Jenna invited her over to set and that’s where she met Jack.

No one could deny that sparks flew instantly between them, not even the two people involved. And that scared Y/N a bit, because her last relationship had left her with insecurities and trust issues, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to dive into another relationship.

Jack had been very understanding about it, and told her that they should start as friends. He assured her that he would wait as long as she needed to, that she was worth it. And after months and months of therapy, Y/N finally felt ready to try things with Jack.

They were in a lavender haze for months. Her relationship with Jack was unlike anything Y/N had experienced before. The love she felt for him was so strong that there was no way to put it into words. Jack was her best friend—he had held her hand as she healed, and drew stars around the scars that the previous relationship had left on her. And she never would have thought he was going to be the one who made the wounds bleed again.

Jealousy is often seen as a toxic feeling, and after talking with her shrink about it, Y/N came to a conclusion—the toxicity depends on the way you handle that feeling. So Y/N decided to put her fears on the table, instead of jumping into conclusions. That’s what she thought would be the most healthy thing to do. Jack would be honest with her, and the thoughts that had been eating her alive would disappear.

But as soon as she said the words and saw Jack’s expression of irritation, Y/N knew she should’ve kept her mouth shut.

“Seriously? I can’t have female friend now” Jack spat furiously.

“What?! Of course you can. That’s not what I’m saying” Y/N said calmly. “I just… she clearly has feelings for you. And I’m not saying you should stop hanging out with her, I just need to know if she’s just a friend to you… or if there is room for more.”

“I can’t fucking believe you’re telling me this.” he shook his head in disbelief.

“Jack, I’m not accusing you of cheating or anything, really. You’ve been spending so much time with her…” more than with me, she wanted to add. But that would make things worse. “and I just have this weird feeling. I need to know how you really feel, that’s it. If you tell me you don’t like her, I’ll believe you. But please be honest with me.”

“What I really feel is that you’re suffocating me with your shitty problems.” his demeanour was so calm, but his words were sharp as knives, and they cut right through her heart. She had trouble believing the words had actually left his mouth. “I’ve waited for you for months, I helped you through all of it. And now you’re making this shit up? Grow up.”

Y/N felt like throwing up. She felt like she was about to spit her heart. “You don’t mean that.” her voice broke. “In all of these months, when have I ever brought up one of your female friends? Not once. Because I know they are only friends. But with her, Jack, I just feel like there is something more. And yes, maybe I’m overthinking, but that’s why I’m asking. That’s it. I’m just asking, Jack.”

“Stop being so fucking paranoid. I get that your ex cheated on you, but stop seeing ghosts everywhere.”

“Why are you being so mean? Why are you avoiding the question? It’s simple, Jack. Do you have feelings for her?” Y/N asked, the knot in her throat grew in size when she noticed he couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Jack?”

“We’re just friends, jesus!” he said annoyed. Y/N wanted so bad to play dumb, to pretend she couldn’t see he was lying.

“You know I can read you like a book, right?” she asked softly, sad. “When you lie, you can’t look me in the eyes, you play with your hands and bite the inside of your cheeks.”

“Y/N… fucking drop it. I’m tired of this”

“We are over, Jack” she tried to walk towards the door, but he grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, trapping her in his arms.

He saw the tears steaming down her face and cursed himself. “Shit. No, please. Let’s talk. I’m sorry” he sound like he was about to cry, and Y/N knew she needed to leave. Because even though he had hurt her, the soft spot in her heart was still reserved for him.

“No, let’s just leave it like this because if you keep talking, I’m afraid I might end up resenting you, and I don’t want that.”

“I love you, Y/N” Jack hugged her tightly. “Please let’s fix this. I promise you nothing happened with her, and nothing will.”

“I love you too, but I don’t believe you. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore” and so she stepped away for the arms she loved the most in the world and left without glancing back. If she did, she knew she wouldn’t be able to leave.

EVER SINCE SHE WALKED OUT OF JACK’S HOUSE TWO WEEKS AGO, Y/N HAD BEEN OVERWORKING HERSELF TO AVOID HER THOUGHTS OF JACK CREEPING INTO HER MIND. She had stayed out of social media, and had deleted Jack’s number from her phone to avoid temptations. Her friends kept their eyes on her all the time, worried about the inevitable breakdown. You can only hold back for so long before it becomes too much.

Louis, her co-star, had been by her side as much as he could. And, like every morning, he was waiting for her on her trailer with a caramel macchiato and a shiny grin on his handsome face.

“And a chocolate chip muffin?” Y/N asked, seeing the mouth-watering treat next to her Starbucks drink. “What’s the special occasion?”

Louis stared at her, frowning. Not any indications of having had a break down, not even puffy eyes, which meant one thing—she hadn’t seen the pictures yet. “Nothing” he blurted, showing his charming smile. “Just saw it and had to buy it.”

“You really need to stop buying me these breakfasts, Lou. I’m going to get cavities” Y/N said taking a sip of her overly sweet drink.

“But look at how happy it makes you. Cavities will be worth it, don’t you think?”

“You may have a point. Scoot over” she told him, nudging his leg with her foot. Louis moved his body so that she could sit next to him on the small couch. It was not made for two people, so they were basically pressed against the other, yet they found it comfortable. Especially Louis, whose insides melted because of the closeness between them—his not so tiny crush on her was painfully obvious.

“What are you doing?” Louis asked, trying to keep his voice calm as she unlocked her phone.

“I forgot to check which surprise songs Taylor sang last night” she answered as she opened twitter. “Oh god”

“What?!” Louis squealed.

“She sang Cornelia Street and You’re on your own kid! And I wasn’t there, Lou!” she dramatically dropped her head on his chest. He couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “What is going on with you?” she laughed.

“Nothing. Why?” he laughed awkwardly.

“I don’t know, you’re extra jumpy and panicky today.”

“I’m always jumpy and panicky around you.” he said, trying to brush it off.

“No, you’re not” Y/N furrowed her eyes, locking her phone. Louis eyed the action and his chest relaxed. The girl noticed that, so she unlocked it again and started scrolling through Twitter. On her periphery, she saw the boy’s body tensing again. So it had to do with social media, she guessed. “Louis, I’m not dumb. Tell me what is going on.”

“Nothing” he repeated. “Let’s rehearse our lines.”

“Lou, I love you but you’re getting on my nerves right now. I hate being lied to, you know that.”

Y/N’s vulnerable eyes were his weakness, so he sighed and took her hand in his. “This weekend, some fans caught Jack walking around the city with a girl… and they… um, saw them kissing and holding hands.”

Y/N felt her heart drop, and her eyes started to sting. No. She wasn’t going to cry. She hadn’t let herself cry for two weeks and she was not going to start now. “Oh.”

“Give me your phone” Louis said softly. She was too lost in her own mind to question it, so she just obeyed. “I deleted Tik Tok and Instagram. And silenced any Jack related stuff on Twitter. You don’t need to see those pictures.”

“Louis… the girl… is it her?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice in control.

“Stop” his voice was firm.

“I want to move on, Lou. And for that, I need to know I was right first.” she pleaded. “Is it her?” her friend nodded slowly as he brought her to his chest. Y/N did a little nod too, and tried to stand up. “Let’s rehearse our lines.”

“Y/N…” he grabbed her elbow to push her back.

“Lou, please. I don’t want to cry, I don’t want to think about it.” he noticed she was two seconds away to burst into tears. And as much as he knew he would hate the sight of her weeping, it was necessary.

“I know you don’t, Y/N/N, but you have to if you want to move on. You’re never getting over this if you keep ignoring your need to cry.”

“I’m just afraid that if I do, I won’t be able to stop.” she confessed, tears starting to blur her vision.

“It feels like that now, but I promise you it’ll be good for you. You have been holding it back for weeks, and once you let it all out, you’ll start to heal” he said as he played with her hair.

“Two weeks… it took him two weeks to go off and date her. And it’s not only some girl… it’s her. He told me I was paranoid, and now he proved me right.”

Jack had promised nothing would happen between him and that girl, and now he broke his promise just like he had broken her heart two weeks ago.

After the realisation, it was like something snapped inside of Y/N, and one sob turned into desperate crying. Her fragile body shook under Louis’ arms, and he wished he could stop her pain. But he couldn’t, so he just stayed there with her holding her as she let it all out.

AS MUCH AS SHE HOPED THE CRYING WOULD EASE THE PAIN, IT DIDN’T. It had been months of being in a rollercoaster of feelings, sometimes she was okay, sometimes she was great and sometimes she was so low not even Louis’ hugs could lift her up.

The days where she didn’t have to shoot were the worst, because she spent hours in bed and her brain betrayed her by bringing the memories of Jack back. She missed him so much, it was completely agonizing. Why?, she asked herself when the room was dark and she couldn’t sleep. Why did he get to move on while she had to spend her days like that? She has been trying to pick up her heart while Jack was all lovey-dovey with the girl he swore was just his friend.

Jack continued her life without her, while Y/N woke up everyday with his memory over her. She longed for the picture of Jack’s dazzling smile to be gone from her mind. She prayed to forget the sound of his voice as he whispered the sweetest of things on her ear. She wished she could stop hearing his angelic laugh everywhere. She wanted to stop feeling the ghost of his touch against her skin. To forget that his lips were soft and that every time they were pressed against hers she could feel goosebumps all over her body. Y/N just wanted to stop being haunted by the memories of Jack.

Louis had slowly helped her through the process of moving on. He was there to offer his warmth when the wrenching thoughts triggered the waves of tears, and he was also there to make her break a smile once the sobbing stopped.

After eight months, the flood of her tears successfully carried away the thoughts of Jack, and Y/N knew she was finally clean. Not that she didn’t miss him, because Jack was her first love after all, and a small part of her would always love him.

It took her a few more months to be sure if she was ready to risk it again, but Louis’ sweet disposition, how he saw the best in her even in her worst times, showed her that he was worth it. And so she she watched it began again with him.

JACK AND THE GIRL LASTED FOR TWO MONTHS. He never intended to have something with her, but she was interested and he was lonely and sad, so he said yes. But reality crept in soon—he loved Y/N with all his heart and no matter who he was with, his thoughts would always go back to her.

He had been texting her for months, but she had blocked his number. He knew he could easily drive to her house, but he didn’t want to add salt to the multiple wounds he had inflicted on her, it would be selfish. So when Jack saw that Avatar 4 and Y/N’s drama film were both nominated for the Oscars, he knew it was his chance to make things right. To bring back the only real thing he had ever known.

But he didn’t plan on seeing her with someone else. And he knew they weren’t there together just as co-stars, they were each other’s date. The spark in Y/N’s eyes when she looked at Louis was familiar to Jack—it was the way they used to shine just for him. Jack had been the one to extinguish the spark on her eyes, and Louis had managed to light them up again.

And he wasn’t even mad or jealous. He actually felt happy and sad. Jack didn’t understand how it was possible for two opposite feelings to co-exist in his body at the same time. He realized it was a lost battle, yet he needed to do talk to her. For the sake of their once marvellous relationship.

Y/N got out of the bathroom and into the crowded room, but the thousands of people in it became blurry once she recognized the silhouette of a handsome tall boy leaning against the entrance. “Jack?” his name left her lips in a mix of anguish and surprise.

“Hey” he said softly. You look beautiful, he wanted to add, but restrained himself. “I wanted to talk to you.” Jack saw her grimace and continued before she could stop him. “I know. I know it’s the last thing you want, I just need to get this off my chest. You’re not paranoid or insecure. You never overwhelmed me with your problems. You were right, and I was a shitty boyfriend, friend and person, and you have been so amazing and patient… and I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never deserved your love.”

“You did… up until that night.” she said in all honesty. “I loved you so much, and then you said all of those things. I can’t forget about it, because I never expected those words to come out of your mouth.”

“I know, and I really don’t expect you to forgive me. It’s okay and understandable if you don’t, but I needed you to know that those things I said weren’t true at all.” Jack said, pressing his lips in a thin line. “To be honest, I came here with the mind set of trying to win you back” he confessed, and let out a little laugh, as if the idea was now ridiculous. “But I saw you with him and I know that I’ve lost you for good. Are you happy with him?”

Y/N saw his deep brown eyes starting to get glossy and her insides melted. She didn’t see him with romantic eyes anymore, but it didn’t mean the love was gone. She still cared for him with every bone in her body. “I am. He’s amazing.”

Jack smiled. Genuinely smiled, so widely that it made a few tears drop, and before she knew it, Y/N’s cheeks were wet too. “That’s great, Y/N/N. Really great. I’m happy for you.”

And that was the moment Y/N knew Jack honestly regretted the words he had said before their breakup. “I forgive you.”

The tall boy’s eyes widened “What?”

“I forgive you.” she repeated. “And you deserve to be happy too, okay?”

“Thank you” Jack said breathlessly, wiping away the tears.

“I need to go. But it was nice to see you, thank you for coming to talk to me. For real. I really needed that, I think we both needed that.”

And so they both smiled to each other one last time before parting ways. There was nothing left to say, staying friends had never been an option with them. They loved each other too much for that. When it came to Y/N and Jack, it was everything or nothing at all.

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rebouks · 2 months

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Previous // Next

Ivan: Well, how’d y’think it makes me feel when the only thing I can get outta you for months is that you’re bored. Is it not enough-.. am I not enough? [Bruno sighed heavily and shook his head with frustration; Ivan just wasn’t getting it] Bruno: Why do you always make everything about yourself? It’s not about how you feel. Ivan: I ain’t sayin’ it is! Bruno: You wanted to know what was wrong-.. but I knew you wouldn’t like the answer, so I kept it to myself. Bruno: I just feel empty and alone, no matter who I’m with or what I’m doing, it’s always the same. I’ve felt like that for as long as I can remember, even when I was a child. Like if I disappeared one day, no one would really care-.. you’d think so at first, but after a month or two it’d be as though I never existed. Ivan: That ain’t true at all… Bruno: Maybe, maybe not, but that’s how I feel regardless. Ivan: Maybe y’oughta get yourself on somethin’, like-… Bruno: Antidepressants don’t help, therapy doesn’t help-.. drugs, alcohol, none of it changes anything. I don’t think I know how to exist in this life; not happily, anyway. Ivan: Don’t say that! Y’just need a purpose or somethin’, I dunno… [Bruno shrugged dismissively; Ivan would never understand. How could Mr. Passionate ever make sense of the bleak void that enveloped his core, that inherently made him who he was?] Bruno: Probably. [Ugh, another deep and twisting adult conversation that made Robin’s head spin. He wondered if this was all grown-ups did; get too busy or stubborn to deal with each other and their bullshit until it all became too much, then take a vacation, relax and let it all out only to repeat the same ridiculous cycle as soon as they got home] Ivan: Y’know I love ya, right? We’ll figure somethin’ out. Bruno: I know, but I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to figure-… Ivan: What the fuck, B? I don’t exactly wanna give u-… [A twig snapped; just as Robin had decided to turn around too-.. bollocks] Ivan: Hey, bud. Bruno: What’re you doing here? [Robin knew that Bruno was feeling extra tense right now, but as nice as he could be, he still felt a little wary of him. He’d seen far too much of his checkered past, and Robin could tell he didn’t carry quite the same guilt as his father or Ivan did-.. nor was he as innocent as them. If you knew too much, which he most certainly did, Bruno was a scary man] Robin: I was just e-exploring. Bruno: It’s a bit late for that, you should be in bed. Ivan: Aye, go on.. we can explore in the mornin’. Ivan: Y’didn’t have t’scare the poor lad. Bruno: He shouldn’t be eavesdropping then. Ivan: Kids are just fuckin’ nosy, B.. simmer down.

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #ivan harper #bruno clarke #robin finch #ouuugh ur so right it hurts robin #fkjkj #and ik robin can't help but hear/see things he shouldn't but maaaan.. bruno would be so pissed if he knew just how much robin “heard”#eeesh #he barely opens up to ivan never mind anyone else #😬

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 9 months

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By: Buck Angel

Published: Jul 21, 2023

A guest post by Buck Angel, which really should be in The New York Times—maybe they’ll republish it?

Every day, I’m called a new name. Sometimes it’s something obviously insulting, like bigot or transphobe. Sometimes it’s something more subtly designed to twist my knickers, like female. My critics assume this will wound me, because for the last 30 years, I have lived as a man. I medically transitioned at age 30, after what felt like a lifetime of struggle, and after many years of therapy and evaluation.

Transition saved my life. But being called female doesn’t hurt me, because while I changed my body, I’m well aware that I can’t change my sex. And even though I’ve felt since I was a young child that I would have preferred to be—and should have been—born male, I don’t believe that children should medically transition. I’m one of the oldest and most visible female-to-male transsexuals in the country, but because of my views, today’s trans activists not only don’t speak for me, they try to cancel me.

Let’s rewind. I grew up in the 60s and 70s, a time of tomboys, when I was one of several typically masculine girls in short hair and sports shorts, running wild. There wasn’t much difference between me and those other tomboy girls back then; I beat up the boys and earned their respect. For the most part, my parents let me dress and live as a boy. The few times I had to wear a dress for church were torture, but other than that I had an excellent childhood.

My parents assumed my tomboyism was a phase I’d outgrow, but at puberty, I became deeply uncomfortable with my female body, a condition I had no name for back then. I lived for many years as a butch lesbian, and was an internationally successful androgynous model. Sometimes I wore suits, but when they stuffed me into a dress, I would spiral.

Eventually, the disconnect between my body and my sense of myself became too great. Sad and lonely, I turned to drugs, became homeless, engaged in prostitution, lost most of my friends and family, and hit bottom.

Once I got sober, and got therapy, I also got clarity. I told the therapist I felt that I should be—no, that I was—a man, and, unlike everyone else I’d ever said this to, she said, “I hear you. I believe you.” She gave me a diagnosis of what was then called gender identity disorder, which didn’t feel like a stigma. It felt like a lightbulb going off, which allowed me to understand and accept myself. I had a mental condition. That’s why I experienced anguish. Our next task was to figure out how to treat it.

Gender clinics were hardly in existence then. She couldn’t just affirm me and send me off for drugs and surgery with a letter. We spent over a year exploring the source of my distress and what it meant to be or live as a man or woman. She dug deep, she pushed back. And eventually, together, we decided that the potential benefits of transition were worth the risks. I had already passed the “real life” test. Now I went in search of medical treatments.

We filled out an inch-thick pile of paperwork for a program at Stanford, and never even received a reply. Eventually, we found an endocrinologist who explained to me that if I took testosterone, it would be experimental. But by that time, after 25 years of navigating the world as a differently-gendered person and more than a year of intensive psychological evaluation, I was ready.

I did something even more radical than transitioning once my body changed: I became an adult film star, a man without male parts, making space for nonconforming bodies, raising awareness and increasing body positivity for trans people. Some of my lesbian friends called me a traitor, and haters sometimes called me a tranny, but for the most part, I found acceptance and joy. Until about five years ago, I was happily living as a transsexual, or, as I call it, “a man with a female past.”

Then several things started to change. The word transsexual—a person of one sex who changes their body to appear more like the other—was eclipsed by the word “transgender,” an umbrella term that included everyone from tomboys gently rejecting stereotypes to trans women who’d had penectomies, plus myriad gender identities that seemed to have no locatable meaning. The idea that people could actually change sex, that sex was mutable or unreal, took hold in society, especially with young people.

Then, as some clinicians, including trans women, have admitted, a rash of teen girls started to declare themselves trans and transition; some said they’d had no mental health treatments before doing so. Then I started to hear about and from detransitioners, who’d taken cross-sex hormones or had breast or genital surgeries, not to cure some kind of organic dysphoria but because they’d been taught that if they felt uncomfortable with themselves or their bodies, maybe they needed to change them to match their brains. One study of detransitioners showed 55 percent felt they weren’t properly evaluated.

When it comes to gender dysphoria, talk therapy is more important than anything else. In fact, several European countries are now insisting that therapy is the primary treatment for it, with medical interventions under strict regulation. Physical transition is hard both on your body and mind; I should know. You have to make sure this is the right path for you by working with a therapist who will push back and question and explore the source of your desire to change. Dysphoria is in the brain. If you’re skipping over the brain and going straight to the body, you’re not helping trans people.

People accuse me of climbing the ladder and pulling it up behind me, transitioning and then trying to stop other people from doing so. That’s not my goal at all. I transitioned at age 30 and never looked back or felt I’d made a mistake, and I welcome adults who can adequately weigh the risks and benefits of transition to join me. But I never could have been sure without the struggle I navigated, without my brain growing mature enough to decide. Every choice I made was in adulthood.

One reason I’m so adamant about not medically transitioning children is that those tomboy girls I played with growing up, who were just like me back then, didn’t turn out like me. Some are gay women. Some are straight. Some feminized during or after puberty. Some stayed masculine. Childhood gender nonconformity or even gender dysphoria aren’t indications of any one adulthood. We can’t just slap the label trans on a kid who’s differently gendered and assume we know what path that kid should take for the rest of their life. In fact, several studies show that the vast majority of kids who are gender dysphoric in childhood resolve their distress by the end of puberty, and a majority of those grow up to be same-sex attracted.

Instead of focusing on identity, we should be focusing on the rigid gender stereotypes kids are absorbing every day. Give them the room I had to be masculine or feminine without presuming what it means about their futures. For suggesting these ideas, my own so-called LGBT+ “community” attacks me, tries to silence and intimidate me, accuses me of condemning children to a lifetime of suffering. But that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m saying it may be hard to live in their bodies, but it’s important that they try, because we don’t know how to forecast the future from their current struggle, but we know it’s important that they learn to navigate and overcome hardship.

Myself, I’m glad for my many years of struggling. Struggle made me strong. Now the struggle is so different. It’s a struggle to tell an inconvenient truth in a world that thinks truth is transphobic. It’s a struggle to keep my business going amid #cancelbuckangel hashtags. It’s a struggle to feel part of a community that would oust a pioneering elder for wrongthink.

I’ve already been through so much, and I can handle it. But I don’t think suppressing knowledge, dissent and discussion is going to create more space for kids struggling today. I think those kids are best served by having time and space to understand themselves, and not rush—or be rushed—to make decisions about who they are going to be.

#LGBT Courage #Buck Angel #Tranpa #transsexual #gender dysphoria #gender transition #stereotypes #gender stereotypes #gender ideology #queer theory #social contagion #gay conversion therapy #gay conversion #religion is a mental illness

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trials-of-apollo-my-beloved · 1 year

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Door Three-Thirty-Six

These are the first three chapters of my Apollo gets therapy fic

Apollo finds his way into a therapy session. And despite telling himself not to, keeps showing up.

Chapter 1

There hadn't been a specific moment that led me to seek out therapy. I hadn't had some revelation, I didn't realize my need for help in a moment of desperation. Honestly calling it a need is a bit of stretch. I knew plenty of people that needed therapy. Nico D'angelo for example, or really just about every demigod I’ve ever met.

Honestly , I tapped my foot at a nervous six eight tempo on the waiting room floor, I probably shouldn't have come at all. Healthcare professionals are already so bogged down with work nowadays. All I'm probably going to accomplish by doing this is take up the space of someone more deserving of the help. I narrowed my eyes at the door number. I swore the email had said I was supposed to go to room three-thirty-six by 9:30 AM! It was at least 9:45 now, shouldn't the door have opened at some point?

Maybe I had gotten mixed up and it was actually 9:30 PM instead. Maybe I should have chosen a therapist in Europe instead. Their measurements of time are so much more manageable. I speak enough European languages that I could have pulled that off.

A creak emitted from door three-thirty-six and for some unknown reason, my breath caught in my throat. Whoever was on the other side seemed to have stopped in their tracks right before they opened the door. I could see the bottoms of the shoes. They looked fancy, but worn. The owner was probably middle class if the generic store brand tag sticking up from the back of their shoes was anything to go by.

The door opened and I yelped. A middle aged woman looked at me questioningly. Mayhaps wondering what I was doing hovering outside her door. A sentiment that the longer I forced myself to see this through, the more I sympathized with.

"Uhm, hello!" I attempted a polite wave.

The woman blinked at me. "Hi there. Are you Apollo?" She had a wonderful voice, deep for a woman and undeniably pleasant. I could see how she had become a healthcare professional. A soothing voice has always helped me with bedside manner.

"Yes, that's me! Apollo..." I stuttered trying to remember the alias I had created for this. Yes, I had to create an alias entirely for going to therapy. Apparently mortals need to exist before they're allowed to sign up, and I couldn't just get this service on Olympus. The closest thing Olympus had to mental health services was some Dionysus enchanted ambrosia. Also called alcohol in some circles.

"Apollo John Smith." I don't know what you're talking about, I very much did not google the most common last name in *insert place here* to come up with my alias! That'd be stupid and incredibly transparent.

"Right, Apollo." The woman, who I assumed was Delilah Burch, my therapist to be, smiled inexplicably at me. She couldn't have possibly already realized I was lying about my name could she?

"Sorry for the wait. I had a client online that needed some extra time. Please come in." Burch's office wasn't decorated like most medical facilities I have been in. In fact, with the couch in the center of the room laden with handmade quilts, it reminded most of the infirmary at camp half blood. The room looked designed to have a homely feel. Even the dents in the wall next to the couch, told a story of perseverance. I don't know why, it was completely ridiculous, but I felt like the hole was taunting me.

Like it was saying, "I've withstood too much to be felled by you." Wow, I was in a weird mood today.

“May I?” I gestured to the couch. Delilah smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a way that reminded me fondly of my son Austin.

“Of course. Please.” I practically sunk into the couch. Even if I got nothing out of this visit, like I suspected would be the case, the journey would be worth it for this wonderful couch.

“What is this made of?”

Delilah chuckled, “I don’t know, but I’ve been told it’s something that starts with a p.”

“Well I’m going to have to look this couch up.” I didn’t say it outloud, but this couch had to be better than even Hephaestus’s laboratory couch. While my half brother was quite the inventor he was very facetious with comfort.

“If you find it, let me know. There’s quite a few people who have been asking me for it.” Delilah sat in a swivel chair across from, her long dark hair disappearing into black chair.

“Now,” she trailed a digit down her clipboard, “Since this is our first session, Apollo, it’s always good to start with an introduction.”

I nodded. Being a medical professional myself I was familiar with the more routine aspects of psychological treatment. Beyond the rubric though, I will admit I am rather clueless.

Delilah set the clipboard down on her lap, and I had to constrain myself from peering down at it. “I’ll go first. My name’s Delilah Burch, as you know. I am thirty-six years old. I have two siblings and I live with my dog bailey.” She pointed her pen at me, probably indicating it was my turn.

“Hello…” I trailed off, suddenly realizing I had no clue how to introduce myself. Usually I just say, “Hi I’m Apollo,” and people fill in the rest. I couldn’t do that now, obviously.

It wasn’t the best idea to start therapy based on a lie, but Olympus already had enough blackmail on me without finding my therapist.

I’ll just follow the template Delilah had laid out for me, “My name’s Apollo. I have…” My plan to follow her template fell apart as I realized I had no clue how many siblings I had.

“Well depending on how you define siblings I have a sister. I am…” Oh goodness. Another roadblock. How old was my identity again. I think I went with forty. Purely on the fact that I couldn’t gush about my teenage kids without getting weird questions.

I am not very familiar with the topics that come up in therapy, but if I had chosen my age simply off of how I appeared to mortals, I feel that being a teenage father would surely come up.

“Forty, I am forty-years-old. And I live alone. With my horses if we’re counting pets.” Delilah’s eyebrows lifted at my age, but hopefully that wasn’t because she had caught onto my lies. She was hopefully just contemplating how amazing I looked for my age. I get that a lot. Even in Olympus, which is always slightly less flattering because the people complimenting my looks there are mostly just trying to call me old without getting vaporized. (Ahem, Hermes and Dionysus.)

Delilah looked at me contemplatively. “If you don’t mind me asking, how do you define your siblings Apollo?”

Well that wasn’t what I was expecting. She had deviated from the first day rubric. I was lost. I opened my mouth, but I had no idea how to answer that question. I could go with full, biological siblings. That generally is the definition for siblings in my family, though even then that familial bond was sometimes ignored when my father, well…

My father’s… everything, probably wasn’t the topic to bring up on my first session with a new therapist. I didn’t know much about Delilah, but she didn’t seem like the type who was seeking a challenge. I guess I’d just stick with Artemis, even if I did consider a certain McCaffrey a little sister as well.

“I was counting full siblings. Of which I only have one.” Delilah leaned in like she was genuinely interested in what I had to say. I admired her for that. I for one was never able to pull off, “genuinely interested” when my patients told me about their personal lives. I’m sorry, but I do not care about your new shrine on Crete! I just don’t.

“That’s nice. Could you tell me her name?” She flashed her clipboard at me, “I like to make a diagram of relationships patients have so I have something to look at incase I forget.”

I blinked. A diagram. Well that was fancy. I knew that mental health practice had improved quite a bit over time, but a diagram was a stroke of ingenious. Back in medieval Europe Dionysus used to tell me stories about forgetting the names of people seeking his aid and how he would just cut a hole in their skull to get out of admitting he had forgotten. Which yes, was standard mental health treatment at the time.

“Well, that is handy.”

Delilah smirked, “Definitely. So what’s your sister’s name?”

“Oh, right.” I paled, realizing I hadn’t come up with aliases for any of my siblings. That was maybe something I should have considered before coming here.

“Artemis.”

“Oh I see.” Delilah scribbled on her diagram. “Apollo and Artemis, like the Greek gods! Are you two twins?”

I laughed nervously, “Very much like that. Yes we are twins. By the way, your last name, Burch. Are you perhaps related to Caroline Burch?” Confused Delilah looked at me. “The poet. And an excellent one at that.” I hinted at her, but Delilah’s face remained foggy.

“Well that’s disappointing.” I’d been a fan of Caroline Burch’s work for a long while and her stellar portfolio of poetry. Honestly her works deserved to be put in schools. I curse the person who somewhere along the line decided that Bill and Dante were the only poets doomed to be taught in American highschools.

“Sorry to disappoint. I’d say I’m about as related to her as you are to the real Apollo, but you know, you never know.” She said. I contained a laugh, you never did know.

“So do you have any other people in your life that I should know of? A parent? Friends? Kids?” Oh dear, I would have to come up with some aliases on the spot, wouldn’t I?

Start with the easy one, “I have a friend named Meg. She’s a little like my younger sister.” There, no harm in that. There’s plenty of Megs walking around. Her name wouldn’t incriminate me as one of the twelve olympians.

Now, onto my other relations. My mind raced through all my father’s titles. I would rather not discuss him ever, but considering this was therapy, and he was my abuser, if I did continue on with this charade he would no doubt come up.

“My father’s name is Bob and my mother’s name is Leto. I also have a lot of half siblings since my father’s a doner.” I winced as my poetic sense came up with a more truthful rhyme to that cover. Sometimes my talent is a curse.

Delilah’s smile had slipped at some point and she was writing so intently that I wondered how all those words could fit onto the diagram.

I felt awkward just sitting there and watching her so I continued. “I also do have other friends, but I don’t think you could fit them on your diagram.”

Delilah looked up at me, a challenge in her eyes, “Give me enough time, I could do it.”

“Okay. I also have four daughters, Kayla, Gracie, Emma, and Urania. Four sons, Austin, Will, Jerry, Raphael, and Yan who prefers no labels.” Delilah’s face remained mostly impartial, but her brow did furrow slightly.

“So your kids don’t live with you?”

“Eh heh, no, not typically. I mostly come to stay with them than the other way around.”

Delilah hummed, “Are they from one partner, no partner, multiple?” I leaned back in my chair. This was the trouble with choosing a mortal physiatrist. While the anonymity it allowed was convenient, it also had the downside of coming with mortal judgments on morality and this country's strangely christian prejudices. I hoped Delilah wasn’t the type to slut shame, but well, that’s never something you can tell from looking at a person.

For example; you would think Janus, the god of doorways would be totally down and cool with people having multiple partners over their lifetime, but no, he was a total stickler for ‘one true loves’.

“Multiple partners.” I meant to say it as a statement, but it came out more like a question.

“Alright.” She said, I let out a sigh of relief. This session had already been so awkward without the added tension of conflicting views on monogamy.

“Are you uncomfortable right now Apollo?” Delilah asked me. I froze up, which must’ve answered her question better than even I, with all my poetic wisdom could have done verbally.

“You really don’t have to be. I know all therapists say this, but trust me this is a safe space. Unless you are planning to harm yourself or others everything said in this room is entirely confidential. There is no judgment. Promise.” Her words were kind, and settled my nerves slightly. Though I knew she could not uphold that promise.

In my experience nothing I did was beyond scrutiny. Perhaps the only time in my life where my actions hadn’t been observable by Olympus was when I was hanging off the edge of chaos.

“No judgment? Well that does sound nice.” I smiled weakly. Delilah locked eyes with me, looking almost concerned for my well being. An idea that was completely absurd considering we’d only met around forty minutes ago.

“Yes. I find it quite nice. Once we look at things objectively it tends to shine a light on things we didn’t even try to look at before.” I nodded. Remembering when I sacrificed to my sister Diana at her temple at Camp Jupiter. Looking at mortals making sacrifices to me from above I had always thought they’d see it as an honor. Doing it myself had revealed the menial reality.

I was going to respond -with some mortal friendly revisions of course- my anecdote, but a piercing beeping erupted from Delilah’s pants.

She patted her lap like a dad recovering from a particularly funny joke. She pulled out her phone. “I’m sorry Apollo. It seems like our time together has come to an end.” She adjusted on her chair and pulled out her business card. “When would you be free for another session?”

I tapped my fingers considering. For all my worries today hadn’t been a total disaster. I looked at Delilah, she didn’t appear to be in a hurry to throw me out. Maybe the troubles of Noca county weren’t so terrible that I was taking up the spot of someone who needed more desperately than I?

“Any time is good for me. Most days after the sun sets I’m free.”

“So around eight?”

“Yeah, that, that works.” Delilah scribbled that down on her business card.

“Is next Thursday good for you?”

I mentally sorted through my to-do list for this month. It was depressingly short. One of the downsides of avoiding my godly family is the loss of, “Never a dull moment”.

“Yeah.” I stood up. Mourning the feel of comfortable couch on my tuchus.

Delilah held out her hand. “See you soon Apollo.” I took and we shook.

I found myself smiling, “You too.”

Well, I thought, that went surprisingly alright.

Chapter 2

I grabbed Dr. Burch’s knocker and swung it against her door. I winced. These doors were solid wood alright.

I looked around me subconsciously, hoping I hadn’t accidentally summoned Janus with my doorway abuse. In my defense, I would tell him, Dr. Burch is the one who hung the metal thing on the door in the first place! It’s basically asking me to hit the door!

I considered the simple wall hanging, the black seemed to clash with the yellow-esk wood, which shouldn’t have been possible because every fashion magazine I’ve read has told me that nothing clashes with black. I might have to go back and reconcile some of my style choices from the 1980’s…

The knocker was quite wide as well. Aren’t therapist’s offices not supposed to have things you could hang yourself from? Or are those psych wards? I realize I’m showing my ass on my knowledge of mental health treatment facilities.

I stepped back from my doorknob ogling when I heard voices on the other side of the door. I quickly retreated.

A teenager emerged from the room, looking like they were holding back tears. I tried to look away -I know teenagers can get touchy about getting stared at- but this particular teen reminded me eerily of my Lester Popadopalous form if he'd gotten, well, more sun.

Dr. Burch followed behind them, giving me a side eye that didn’t seem to fit well with her dogma of, “no judgment”. Maybe I shouldn’t have knocked, but then why have the knocker to begin with? Did it just come with the door?

Dr. Burch turned the teen towards them and patted their shoulder. “I can’t promise you everything will be alright Clifton, but remember that while you can’t change the situation you can change-”

“How I react to it? Yeah I heard you and mom the first ten-thousand times thanks.” Clifton shrugged Dr. Burch’s hand off, she dropped her hand and gave them a Chiron quality smile. The type of smile that seemed to be both comforting and condescending in equal measure.

“Have a nice day Clifton.” Clifton did a weak wave and walked off. Glaring at everything that came into their view, including me.

If the passive aggressiveness kept up I might decide that this therapy thing wasn’t worth risking my reputation.

Once Clifton was beyond the corridor Dr. Burch turned to me, suddenly all smiles. “Hello Apollo. It’s good to see you.”

I fought the urge to nervously twirl my hair, “Yes, good to see you too.”

“I must admit after our last meeting I was worried you wouldn’t be coming back.” I was suprised. I thought our last meeting had gone relatively well! At least amongst first impressions with mortals. Was it the last name Smith? I knew that was going to be a give away!

“Really,” I chuckled in a very, totally casual way, “What made you think that?”

Dr. Burch tilted her head, “You just had a very nervous energy. You seemed very uncomfortable here to me. I’m glad you came back.” She held open the door.

Curse this woman and her Sally Jackson perceptiveness! I was nervous. Gods, maybe I should just give up the charade and tell her I’m a god. I feel like that could help me avoid a lot of problems. But, I spotted a photo on the window sill of Delilah, another woman that looked like her, and a small child, it would likely cause more problems than it’d be worth.

I sat down on Delilah’s ungodly comfy couch (as a god I’m aloud to say that) and tried not to give it a Chrissy Amphlet feel up.

“You get the name?”

“What?” I looked up at Dr. Burch sitting across from me. “What name?”

She picked up her clipboard and clicked her pen, “The name of the couch. You said you would look it up?”

I didn’t remember that. Had I said that? To be frank I didn’t remember much of our last encounter. I hadn’t felt like I’d needed to, with how wonderfully mundane things had turned out.

“I’m sorry, I forgot.”

Delilah waved off my apology, “That’s fine. You didn’t have to.” She adjusted in her swivel chair and took a long sip of a large water bottle on her right. “So Apollo, now that it’s your second session I think we can get into the more fun part of this relationship hmm?”

I blinked, not knowing what, “the more fun part” meant in this context. In my experience the more fun part of relationships wasn’t exactly safe for work. I doubted Delilah, with her professional wardrobe and this being her work place meant that .

“What do you mean?”

She smiled warmly, perhaps sensing my discomfort again. “Could you tell me Apollo, why you decided to come here?”

I looked around her office and raised an eyebrow, “Well you let me in so…”

Dr. Burch chuckled like I’d made a particularly funny joke. “No, I meant why did you decide to seek help, Apollo?”

My cheeks went gold. (A wonderful side effect of having ichor instead of blood is that people can’t tell when you’re blushing.) I didn’t know what to say. As I told you at the beginning of this tale dear reader there was no specific reason I decided to seek help. Nope, no reason at all. In fact one could say I had the opposite of a reason, an anti-reason? Yeah, I like how that sounds. I could totally sell that to my buddies at Websters. Good word for poetry, anti-reason.

“Uhm, I guess I just felt like it.” I meant to say it like a statement, but the ‘uhm’ and the way my voice increased in pitch at the end of my sentence pretty thoroughly sabotaged the attempt.

Dr.Burch, bless her heart, -no not literally godly power, you’ve messed up blessings too much for me to use you right now- made no comment on my voice crack but to scribble on her notepad.

“Therapy is all about feelings, so, you’ve got the right idea there. Is there anything else? Anything you’d like to work on?”

I grimaced. There were many things I’d like to work on. My hair, my parenting skills, the sun chariot stereo, but the worry I had held signing up for therapy in the first place held me at bay from saying any of that.

“I… I think that everyone has things they can work on. Ways to be better.” I thought of Reyna’s words after our meeting with Harpocrates. To be a better person I had to change, to work on things and be better .

Delilah gave me an evaluating look and- wow, I was really uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than that time when I’d gone to that modern rap convention and over half the free styles had included the word, “bitch” five times plus. Some of the freestylers had even gone on to rhyme the word with itself. Which, as the expert on rhyming I was fairly certain didn’t count as actually rhyming. The rappers and their possies hadn’t too seemed inclined to take my advice though.

Honestly that’s my issue with modern rap, too many yes men. Sure it feels good to have people patting you on the back for everything you do, but it stifles creativity, and creativity is especially what modern MCs need- what was I talking about again?

“I think that’s a wonderful philosophy.” Dr. Burch cut into my musings, “And, I know I’m supposed to be impartial here, but one I quite agree with. I wish all my patients had that mindset going into therapy. It would be very beneficial for them and me.”

I nodded, the wisdom of Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano was something to behold. “The thing with therapy is that it’s a partnership. It doesn’t work unless both parties are cooperating and willing to work together.”

I nodded again, mentally sliding that information into my lexicon. I would have to speak with Dionysus about that particular piece of information because if he was helping Nico D’angelo with his mental health, and knowing my brother he would need a bit of push to really contribute to a partnership. Or anything really, with all he stalled doing anything you would think he was the god of dragging his heels not wine.

"So is there anything specific you would like to work on Apollo?” Oh goodness, we were back to this question. You know I've never related so much to Meg’s refusal to form coherent sentences before.

I gripped the couch cushion, trying my best to figure out how to proceed without giving the game away, so to speak. What part of my life could I talk about that wouldn’t get me immediately labeled an immortal being?

My kids? I suppose that could work. I did want to become a better person for them as well as myself, so it was even true! Though based on my appearance the fact that I have teenaged children might actually give me away. I suppose I’ll have to look into those ridiculous, mortal, “anti-aging creams” (which, as a doctor I must tell you mortals to stop buying. Truly most of them do more harm than good.) to use as an excuse in case someone Dr. Burch starts asking any questions.

“I would like to learn how to be a better father. I know that’s very broad but,” I trailed off, unsure what to say.

Dr. Burch nodded sympathetically, “It’s fine Apollo. That’s a wonderful goal to have and we have a lot of time to work on it. Though as you said that kind of goal can sound incredibly daunting, so how do you feel-” She clicked her pen and brandished it at me, “about breaking it down with me?”

How I feel, well in general slightly terrified that one of my siblings or shudder my father would burst through the window behind you and start streaming my embarrassment to all of Olympus. How I felt about breaking down a goal, “That sounds fine to me.”

I brought up how I felt that I didn’t spend enough time with my kids. (Leaping and bounding over the topic of the ancient laws) We then discussed my profession and creating slots of time for my kids and by the end of the session Delilah had me sending an email to camp half blood stating I’d be over to take cabin seven to the latest performance at the Sydney opera house.

By the end of the session I felt quite content. I’ve been told that therapy is supposed to make you uncomfortable, but I was starting to feel quite at home in Dr. Burch’s office. Returning to the Sun Palace I quite happily marked down our next meeting in my calendar.

I found I was actually looking forward to my next hour at door three-thirty-six.

Chapter 3

This might be strange to say, but I was having a magnificent day. I’d hung out with Meg at Aeithales and there wasn’t a single monster attack, I spent the previous night on a joyous outing with my kids, and I do believe I finally managed to shed that awkward, “you’re our dad, but we never used to see you so we’re always very mindful of how we act next to you” mindset from Kayla and Austin.

Not to mention the performance itself was outstanding. That drummer, why she was something else. Both in stamina and style. The two S’s of how to be a good performer, and the way she complimented the singer’s sporadic tempo, her technical chops were nothing to scoff at either. I digress, all I’m trying to say is I walked out of the concert with an amazing sense of fulfillment and an amazing musician's number in my back pocket.

And before you get all, “Oh Apollo, but wasn’t this trip about your kids? Why were you flirting?” First off, I can flirt and shower my kids with affection at the same time! That’s not weird! Also my plans with Anastasia aren’t going to be anything like a date. They are going to purely be two musicians with mutual admiration for each other having hour long rockin jam sessions. Nothing romantic about that.

Currently I was flying through the sky in the form of a peregrine falcon, the fastest bird in the world, wind rushing through my fathers, brushing against my skin, the world passing down in sweeping arcs and blurred river roads. No matter how many times I did this, flying free was alway exhilarating.

I regretted many things about accepting my godhood back from my father, regaining the ability to fly was never one of them.

I swung into a dive plunging down at the speed of one of my arrows. My wings were tucked close to my body and my feathers deflected dust particles like a windshield, air moving out of the way of my descent.

It was glorious. Approaching the ground I pushed out my wings and crashed into a wall of air like a spaceship hitting Earth’s atmosphere. Then I was soaring, flapping my wings to pull me above the ground so I could glide to a stop at my destination.

I drifted to a wire and landed, gently descending onto the ground. I started to waddle through the streets to an alley where I could transform into a more suitable form for counseling. If the residents of Saint Paul Minnesota were at all confused to see a peregrine falcon wadling through their streets like a lost pigeon, none of them took up their grievances with me.

Last second before exiting the alley way I realized that I forgot to put on clothes, and quickly equipped the first thing that came to mind. Which was a chiton, then to be replaced by my usual Lester Papadopoulous mom jeans and T-shirt for modesty reasons.

While my chiton was down right modest back in ancient times nowadays it would be quite a scandalous thing to show up to a mental health facility in. Or at least when you weren’t in LA. Depending on what part of that city you were in, my chiton could still, probably, be considered modest.

It occurred to me as I progressed through Dr. Burch’s building that I looked like father. Of course I always look like a dad in the fact that I am, by a broad definition of the word, a father. But with my worn and aged Lester jeans, the pockets sagging from use- and for some reason I couldn’t fathom my form appeared older than I usually went with- I truly did look like someone’s pops.

I had faint smile lines around my eyes, my posture was laid back, and casual. I looked like a man who was just a day away from going out with his teenage kids to a concert. I felt a weird kind of content, like I had everything in the world right in front of me but was in no hurry to do anything with it.

It was a feeling that was almost entirely foreign. Though I suppose there was no mystery in what spurred on the mood. I’d simply had a good week. Hmm, another foreign thing.

I melted out of my reverie when I met Dr. Burch’s door. Closed again. I suppose I should have expected that. Us physicians were never quite punctual either.

Huh, maybe that’s why there are chairs in this hallway?

I took a seat when I didn’t hear the conversation going on in room three thirty six winding down. I was mentally playing my favorite songs off of Madonna's album, Madonna when I heard a thump.

I looked around me and saw something had fallen out of my pocket. There was a makeshift doll lying on the floor, its head twisted at an odd angle and droplets of red coating it. That was- that was the doll my maybe-daughter Georgina had made for me. I was sure I lost that ages ago, yet it had just fallen out of my jeans pocket.

My jeans pocket that wasn’t even on the trousers I was really wearing when I first got it. While these jeans appeared like the variety of ones I wore on my trials they were simply a replica. I never would have been able to fit in Lesters' actual trousers. At least not remotely comfortably for me or anyone in my line of sight.

I picked the broken thing up from the synthetic wood floors and turned it in my hand. Now how did you get here my friend? I felt bad for the little doll. I’d completely forgotten about it and now it was all covered in Lester fluids.

A fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy- mostly for my own sake.

I looked at the clock, it was getting pretty late. I wondered if I would get punched if I tried knocking again… Whether by Janus or Dr. Bruch I did not know.

As if hearing my slander, the door next to me slammed open, I jumped in my seat, the chair scraping a piercing note into the synthetic wood. Another teenager stormed out of it, not even giving me a second glance.

I smoothed out my t-shirt trying to reassemble my composure. There sure were a lot of angry teenagers here. This is the second one in a row. The youth of today seems to be struggling quite a bit. I should probably do something about that, being the god of youth and all, but I didn’t suppose tracking down teens already getting help and asking what’s wrong would help much.

“Hi Apollo!” Delilah Burch’s lovely contralto met my ears and I looked up to see her smiling broadly at me.

“Oh hello there! Good morning!”

“Yes, it is. Nice and cool. Much better than the summer heat if you ask me.” Dr. Burch chuckled lightly and held open her door for me. I would have disagreed with her and perhaps offered to message her my forty slides long powerpoint on why, actually, summer was the season superior to all others, but I was in such a good mood I didn’t bother. We entered and took our seats.

I cracked a joke about the quality of the couch again, Delilah laughed and then something in the atmosphere shifted. I’m not sure how I could tell something was coming, perhaps it was simple intuition, perhaps it was my on and off buddy Delphi warning me to get out now, while I still could.

The feeling was strange, but I didn’t heed it. I was an Olympian god and Dr. Burch was about as mortal as one could be. Even if a monster were to suddenly burst through a window and destroy the whole building I had full faith in my ability to neutralize it and protect Delilah Burch along with everyone else.

I suppose that was a bit of hubris on my part. Figures what occurred next I must have committed some sort of sin against the fates just wonderful sensibilities.

“You know Apollo, we've had fun our last few meetings.” I narrowed my eyes. If that wasn’t ominous I wasn’t the god of music.

“Yes?”

“And while that’s all well and good, speaking with you has been a delight, I think we’ve come to a point in our relationship where we can start to get into more personal topics. Perhaps dig further into certain issues you think might require immediate attention?”

I blinked, immediate attention wasn’t really how I would describe any of my issues. I was an immortal, when it came to self progression “immediate” was something entirely up to me to decide. Or at least that’s how I used to think. That mentality has acquired some qualifiers recently. For example if one of my friends were in danger, or gods forbid I was the one endangering them, that would require immediate attention.

To my knowledge I wasn’t endangering anyone right now, but… In the past I certainly had. So the first place to start would be there? But how would I discuss that with a mortal? How would I admit to any of my previous behaviors without collapsing in a ball of guilt and having Delilah running out of the room and trying to break her strange knocker off her door and use it to lock me in?

Would all that be worth the chance to be better? Better than I already am trying to be, good enough to deserve those that I wished to protect? I stared at Delilah then turned to look closer at the photo of her sister and that young child on the window cill.

While I wanted desperately to expedite my process towards being a better person, it wasn’t worth the risk. Revealing my status as a god, or even dropping subtle hints in my story could lead to Delilah discovering the truth of the immortal world, which could risk destroying her mind. I couldn’t do that to her. That would make me as bad as I was before. Tossing mortal lives out like candy wrappers.

So where to start, was the question? What about me personally did I not like? Thinking about it, I leaned back on the couch and Dr. Burch graced me with a patient smile.

There was quite a lot about me that I wished I could fix. I wanted to be better in more ways than one, I wanted to be moral yes, I wanted to be strong and resilient, I wanted be clever like Athena so I could wriggle my way out of trouble, I wanted to be free like my sister, I wanted to be brave enough to do more than sit in the golden cage that was Olympus and break out and create change like Meg.

I wasn’t any of those things, especially not brave, but I didn’t know how to ask. Bravery had always been something I envied; seeing it all my life. In Meg, my sister, Don the faun, I watched them stand strong with intention while I fumbled through my decisions like a one hit wonder trying to recreate the success of their first hit.

I looked at Dr. Burch, really looked at her. I tried to see not just her physically but the room she inhabited, the job she took, and the questions she asked.

Despite her middling age she had the enthusiasm of a young child running into every situation expecting the best. She dealt with children everyday like the young Clifton. Children marching through their existence on this rock in space unsure of how they got here, or how they remain, and she tried to help them make sense of it all.

I only knew Dr. Burch for not even a full four hours, but I could already tell she had faced more trials and come out on top than I ever have.

How to sit in front such a person and ask, answer, with my own flaws pleading for their guidance?

What would they think of me? And would it hurt more if they dismissed me, or if they held a hand?

I found myself staring at the hole in the wall I noticed on my first visit here. There was already spackle filling the cracks surrounding the fist shaped hole.

“I want to be better than who I was, and I want the courage to push through to that.”

Delilah simply marked something down on her clipboard. She looked to me, her eyes were polite, but I felt a pressure to speak nonetheless.

“I want to be brave enough to stay away from my father,” like Meg and my sister Artemis, “I want the courage to look those I have wronged in the eye and promise them that they will be the last to experience the pain I caused them. I want a way to look at my children without all their kindness being unbalanced. I want-” I trailed off.

I broke eye contact with the hole in the wall and hung my head. I didn’t continue. There wasn’t enough time to go on and spill the whole truth of my pitiful existence.

Wow, I’m starting to sound like an edgy teen. It seemed running into that teen earlier was some sort of foreshadowing.

I remained still in the couch seat, frozen, waiting for Dr. Burch to make the first move. The anticipation of seeing her reaction to my confession was killing me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up and confirm my worst fears.

The silence hung in the air like rain clouds. Condensing dark in the sky, lightning sparking through them and my muscles instinctively tensing.

“Are you feeling good Apollo?” Dr. Burch spoke and I raised my head, her eyes crinkled at the corners with concern, and her lovely mahogany eyes were bearing into me.

I was taken aback. She didn’t hate me! Though I suspected that was probably because I spared her all the gory details of my moral failings.

Also, of course I felt good? I was the god of youth and healing, I was likely the healthiest person on the planet! I quickly checked my form for any blemishes, briefly fearing that my acne had returned; that somehow my emotional vulnerability had registered as wrong to my godly body and it decided to course correct by slowly transforming into Lester Papadopoulos.

To my luck that didn’t seem to be the case.

“I didn’t mean physically.” Dr. Burch interjected. I quickly stopped my personal pat down and did my best not to look embarrassed. Curse me and my presumptuousness. I really need to work on my self esteem, this imposter syndrome is starting to leak into my good looks. If my brain kept this up I might accidentally manifest flab onto my perfect form in my sleep.

I don’t hate Lester’s form anymore, but being shoved into it without my waking consent was not an experience I wished to repeat.

“I mean emotionally Apollo. It is truly wonderful that you’re opening up. Truly, but you don’t have to force yourself. We can take things one at a time. I wrote down what you said. Which do you want to talk about?”

She flipped over her clipboard. I rubbed my eyes and squinted to read the sheet. When had it gotten so dark? In an instant the room lightened and illuminated the list.

The words fell from my lips as I read them, “My father…” I stopped. I had mentioned my father? That seemed like an oversight. I had already resolved to keep my godly side as far away from Dr. Burch as I could, discussing my father wouldn’t bring anything but destruction. I would have to-

“So you want to talk about your father?”

My panic must have been visible. Dr. Burch pursed her lips.

“Is everything alright at home Apollo?” She asked.

I didn’t have an answer.

Chapters will be updated individually from now on. This was just to get the back log of the fic on tumblr!

#Trials of apollo #Trials of Apollo fanfiction #mine #Door three-thirty-six #therapy fic #pjo Apollo #lester papadopoulos #my fanfic

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jadeleechsupportgroup · 7 months

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Desert Rain

post-overblot not-therapy-session with jamil and azul. cw: none besides jamil's sailor mouth also on ao3 gift for @basuralindo 🐙🐍

Kalim and his fucking parties.

Jamil had a half a mind to let Kalim get poisoned if it meant he’d never have another extravagant event dumped in his lap. Maybe he could fake his own death while was at it. Should it wait until after he finished college, or would it matter? Maybe he could enroll at another school under an assumed name.

Couldn’t be that hard. He’d been invisible his whole fucking life, after all.

“Still sulking?”

Jamil scowled, though only the shifting, moonlit sands could see it. “Leave me alone.”

Words had never stopped the approach of Insufferable Azul™️ before, and they didn’t stop him now. His cane pinged on the tile in time with the snap of his expensive shoes. Jamil wondered how bad it would be if he pitched forward from his perch on the window ledge just to escape this conversation. He could catch himself with wind magic. Probably.

He cringed at his own suggestion. He could still taste the bitter ink in his mouth. Forget magic. He should drop out, disappear, and take up underwater basket-weaving.

Azul had the sense to maintain a safe-ish distance and looked out at the desert below. “I was going to let you know there is plenty of food, but I suppose you would know, since you made most of it.”

Any other time, Jamil might have been able to mask his emotions. Instead, he snapped like the snake that carried his family name. “How about leave me the fuck alone, then? Need me to translate it into Fish while I’m at it?”

Azul gave a light, insufferable chuckle and rested his elbows on the ledge. “At least you are expressing yourself this time.”

Jamil gave a low growl, but he didn’t feel like engaging with this bastard, now or ever. Looking at landscapes was supposed to calm a person down, but all he could see was how the moon’s glow reflected on the pools and puddles glinting in the valleys of the dunes. Even now, he couldn’t escape Kalim.

He hated himself for being this dramatic about it.

“I wouldn’t expect a rich bitch like you to understand,” he said flatly.

Azul snickered. “Clever. I admire that.”

“Could you just go away?” Jamil’s anger was now fizzling into defeated exhaustion. He needed a vacation at any time, but now, more than ever, the fatigue was settling into his bones. It felt like someone had yanked away the stick propping him up and was now beating him with it. “I don’t have the energy for this.” Wow, another honest statement. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d tasted lies for so long that the truth had become a foreign language.

“I do not completely understand,” Azul said. “You are correct about that.” He shrugged. “But I have gathered enough information to support a hypothesis, if you’ll allow me.”

Back to being annoyed. “It’s a free country,” Jamil grumbled.

Azul turned around and leaned back against the wall so he could look sideways at Jamil, who was suddenly fascinated with the stitching on the inside of his hoodie and furiously avoiding eye contact. “You feel that Kalim has been holding you back,” he began. “With his status and incompetence, certainly - but even if he were capable of independence, you would be in the same situation, yes?”

Jamil didn’t answer that.

“Personally, I’ve found it a more constructive use of my time and energy to…make use of such people, if you will.”

“Good for you. I have not enjoyed this lesson on Bullshit 101. One star.”

Azul outright laughed. “See? It feels better to be yourself, doesn’t it?”

Jamil sighed. “What do you want, Azul?”

Azul tilted his head and flicked his gaze to the ceiling as if itemizing the answers. “Mmm, well, if we’re being specific-”

“From me.”

Azul’s eyes rolled over to look at him. “Would you believe I wanted to make sure you were alright?”

Jamil turned sideways on the white stone so he could lean back against the window frame and pull his knees to his chest. “I would believe you wanted to make sure there was something left to wring out of me.”

“Ehh, why bother?” Azul said dismissively. “You already know my weaknesses, and now I know yours. We’re even.” He shrugged again. “I also know what you’re capable of.”

Jamil gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, see? I was right. Pay up.”

Azul took to examining the brilliant diamond in the head of his cane. All too recently, it had been the same burnt, oil-slick black as Jamil’s own magestone, but looking at it now revealed no trace of that. “We have a fair bit in common, like it or not. Feeling isolated, desperate…betrayed…” He sighed deeply. “The worst combination that can be imagined, in my opinion.”

There was little point in arguing.

“I am not going to offer you any hollow sentiments, Jamil. I merely wanted to ensure you were alright.”

“Yeah. You said.”

It got quiet. Jamil looked out at the desert again and saw less moonlight than before. Clouds were gathering and growing thick. No thunder, but he smelled the oncoming rain. Real weather, or real enough in their little dimension. Not the water Kalim managed to conjure up.

“What was it like?”

This time it was Azul to glance curiously at a question. Jamil looked contemplative. “What was what like?”

“Swimming through the desert.”

Certainly not the question Azul expected. “Unusual. Something I never would have thought possible. And something I will likely never experience again.”

“Mm.”

Jamil felt weird. Not really tongue-tied. More like all the knots had come untied and he didn’t know how to talk anymore. “Are there any stuffed dates left?” he asked awkwardly.

Azul squinted in the direction of the banquet tables. “No, it looks like Kalim ate them all. Why, did you want one?”

“No, I hate looking at them.”

Azul was surprised when Jamil laughed with him.

“What’s so funny?” Jamil asked through a smile he was trying desperately to conceal.

“I hate them, too.”

“Ha, I didn’t think you’d ever eaten anything but sushi and vegetables.”

Azul smiled slyly. “Perhaps I have the upper hand for the moment, then, if I know more about you than you about me.”

“Yeah, well, I know what foods those weirdos that follow you around happen to like, too.”

Azul was no longer smiling. “Really,” he said.

Jamil shrugged and looked out at the sprinkle of rain. It was making the low-lying pools glitter in what moonlight filtered down through the clouds. “Sure. The other day, Jade asked me if I had a recipe for octopus curry.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #can be friendship or shipship #twst fic

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straightuppotato-art · 1 year

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Rambling, unorganized thoughts about Book 3 (lots of spoilers for all routes)

The A route romance scenes were delightful and I’ve never felt so insane over a fictional character :))) The car date was adorable, the pre-mission begging made me SICK, AND THE “YOU ARE STRONG” SCENE!!!! I AM ON THE FLOOR!!!!! I do think the ending should have been pushed to the next book, though, it did feel fast. Let me build more of a connection before messing up the relationship! But overall? THE ROUTE DID MAKE ME SOSOSOSO NOT NORMAL OMFGGGGGG!!

The M brainrot is STRONG!!!!! There’s so many little bits and pieces that I just think about and giggle. BUT THE SHOWER SCENE. I AM NEVER RECOVERING. Also “Just fucking make sure you come back” hehehe 💕💕 I dooooo wish the bakery came back up, maybe? Idk though. Also the Tina dinner was simultaneously hilarious and embarrassing. Also also the antique shop <33 Lovely route, I can’t wait for M to figure out their feelings <33

F ROUTE COMES IN CLUTCH AS THE SWEETEST AND EASIEST ROMANCE <3 I was sickeningly in love the entire time <333 “I’ve never been so happy to be so tired” made me put my phone down and just. Happy idk how to describe it lmao. Also I thought F discussing their past was the most natural of the bunch, so props for that!! I also was surprised by the intimate scenes 👀 Also that they haven’t confessed to being in love with you! (Unless they did and I can’t remember)

N route was fun if a little… shallow? Idk, I just don’t feel like it was as emotional or organic as the other routes? It was very sweet, but idk. Something felt off. The Verda dinner date was very cute though and I did LOVE the bath scene <33333 Also N connecting their phone to the Bluetooth was very funny!!

The Love Triangle…… I forgot that the poly au only exists in my head. I thought it was good, though I did end leaning towards A throughout because of N’s aforementioned ehness. The fight at the end was kinda hot ngl lmaooo. I very much want and Do Not want to see this all blow up <333

The plot comes second to the romance, I’m aware. I just wish that it was handled with the seriousness it deserves. I genuinely forgot that we were dealing with kidnappings because I got caught up in the cute routes. So yeah. I would’ve preferred a tone adjustment. I thought it was fine overall, but the blood drive was :/ Not utilized well.

The reveal that Douglas was turned into a supernatural was so off??? Like, obviously, I thought that’s what it would be, but the Detective is never surprised?? I thought this was very weird + I was bothered that the Detective doesn’t seem to feel guilty? Like you have the option of feeling guilty for like literally everyone else BUT Dougie?? That’s my son, ofc I feel bad!! Let me feel guilty and bad!!! <- Okay, for the guilt part of that, that might be a code error? Idk did anyone get the options to blame yourself for what happens to Doug? Please let me know!!

Also I don’t understand the new stats for the combat and research options at all??????

Also I thought some things were painfully obvious and were not revealed quick enough/the detective was too shocked by them. Primarily, Rebecca’s connection to the chamber + Elidor being kidnapped (though I believe it’s only on his route where it is infuriatingly obvious that he’s kidnapped, and not even because we get Sin’s POV)

Also the constant “we’ll drain your blood and sell it!!” was annoying because it’s so illogical lmao. Kids, if you ever need someone’s blood supply, keep them alive so that they make more 👍

I AM PRAYING THAT THE DETECTIVE GETS THERAPY IN BOOK 4 OMFG. LIKE IM NOT KIDDING I WILL BE SO UPSET IF THEY DONT. Even just an offhanded “yeah, I talk to someone” idfc. I felt so horribly bad for the detective all throughout and I need the crap they go through to be acknowledged by the narrative in a way other than “oh, do you want your RO to comfort you?” YEAH but also professional help!!!!

Overall, it was a fun and entertaining read, the brainrot is strong, and yeah!!!!!!!

#Twc spoilers #twc book 3 spoilers #book 3 spoilers #this took so long because I had to play every route 🤪#the wayhaven chronicles #Twc

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foxcort · 3 months

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2023 AO3 Year-End Fic Review

thank you for tagging me @praetorqueenreyna 💚🤗

What is your AO3 account?

foxcort @ ao3, but im also gonna link my account on squideworld (which has nothing rn but im going to start posting there instead and its got about the same vibe as ao3)

2. How many words did you write total in 2023?

i wrote 10773 words and it was all for acotar!

3. How many fics did you publish in 2023? How many multichapters vs oneshots?

i wrote 6 fics for the entire year (which is surprisingly more than i originally thought!), 5 of which were oneshots and 1 of which was a collection of drabbles. im hoping to start writing at least 1 multichapter in 2024

4. What was your longest fic? Your shortest fic?

my longest was a heart of scales and storms at 2785 words, which was a feylin mermay oneshot and my shortest was spring memories at 714 words, which was the first fic i contributed to this fandom (and one that has a very special place in my heart)

5. What was your most popular fic? Your least popular fic?

comforter was my most popular fic at 447 hits and my least popular was a court of ice and fire at 43 hits, which is completely understandable considering its an oddly specific au and the only chapter i have posted is tamlin-centric, but i still love the idea and hope my muse can come around to contributing more to it this year!

6. What fic didn't perform as well as you thought it would?

hmm maybe a heart of scales and storms? the statistics show that it only got 53 hits, but i still remember the comments i got for that fic and @haniaaaaaaaaaaa drew ✨this✨ beautiful art piece inspired by it! so from the reception the fic garnered it feels like it should have more than 53 hits but honestly i had so much fun writing it and i remember smiling so wide my face hurt for days after bc of the comments/artwork that it didn’t feel like it didn’t perform well (as far as hits go)!

7. What fic performed way better than you thought it would?

oh wildfire at 192 hits (this is a lot for me lol), which was an erisweek entry and the first time i ever attempted writing from his pov. honestly i don’t expect any of my character-centric stuff to take off, so i was pleasantly surprised at how it performed!

8. What was your favorite fic you wrote in 2023?

most probably comforter, more specifically the neslin chapter. i’ve had this super angsty, acosf divergence multichaptered neslin idea in my head for a while now, but i suck at long term fic planning and like most people i want to jump right into writing the interesting parts of it, so the neslin chapter was a scene from that idea and i felt so happy writing it and getting into the mindsets of nesta and tamlin in that au.

9. What was your favorite fic that somebody else wrote in 2023?

definitely rosemary by @bittermuire (thank god for this survey because in my effort to link the fic i realized ITS BEEN UPDATED!!! and as i read through it, i became even more convinced this was 100% my most favorite fic of 2023 💚) honestly, anything muire writes has me immediately hooked, but its the characterizations of the archeron sisters in particular that are so special to me. especially in rosemary. it also happens to be an october/fall fic, which are bonuses and pluses as far as im concerned. if you love the archeron sisters, give rosemary a read. if you need more convincing, allow me to provide one of my favorite quotes from the fic—

Lucien Vanserra watched her leave, his heart threatening to give out, and cursed himself a thousand times. Then another thousand times. Then, drowning in table salt, dreaming of her hair, thinking of getting himself a few sessions of therapy, he decided he would not, could not possibly, let her go. / rosemary (ch.1) by iriy @ ao3

honorable mention to plus 4 by firenaition @ ao3, because this is a fic i read at least once every month, a fic that i've shown and begged my rl siblings to read and quite possibly my favorite azulaang/atla fic of all time

10. Tag your friends to have them do this year-end fic review as well!!

if you haven’t done it already and you want to, do it! and tag me too, i love reading these!

#dash games

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nhasablogg · 2 years

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A Needed Thing

Fandom: Star Trek

Characters: Bones, Jim

Summary: Bones proposes that Jim should do weekly tickle therapy sessions to help with his mood and Jim is finally forced to talk about it.

A/N: Shy blushy Jim! That is all.

Words: 950

It wasn’t as if Bones hadn’t known about it, but it was one thing being gently (and desperately) coaxed into it and to watch it happen before him without his involvement. He wasn’t really jealous, but the sound caught his attention mostly because he rarely heard it from afar and he found his gaze lingering. He wasn’t sure of what his expression was when Jim caught his eye, but the way timidness washed over him made Bones wonder if he’d been smiling, just a little.

Jim hadn’t been avoiding him per se, but it was exceptionally difficult to get him alone the following days, as if Bones would corner him and force him confess to it all, when simply all Bones wanted was to make a proposition.

“A proposition?” Jim asked, having finally entered his quarters without excuses. He crossed his arms where he was sitting across from Bones, sinking into the couch ever so slightly.

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice- relax, I won’t tease you, I’m simply making an observation, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, I know you like being tickled-”

“Lord,” Jim said, standing, but Bones grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down. “You said you weren’t going to tease.”

“If that was teasing to you I know you wouldn’t survive the real deal. Let me talk, okay?”

Jim crossed his arms again. “Okay.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Right. Well, I know you like it because I’ve had to endure years of you begging for it- ap! Don’t protest.” Jim closed his mouth again with a huff. “And seeing the way you let Uhura tickle you and did very little to get away made it all the more obvious. It was adorable, might I add.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jim said, pinkening. “I was humoring her.”

“Of course you were. But anyway, to my point.”

“Oh, you have one, have you?”

“Shut up. It didn’t escape my notice that you’re always in a better mood when tickled-”

“I will leave this conversation, Bones.”

“-and I propose you might have to make it a weekly thing. Tickle therapy, if you may. I know how difficult this past year’s been and I think it would do you good.”

Jim didn’t reply now even though Bones had fallen silent, but simply rubbed at his neck, a nervous habit he’d not been able to shake even as he’d become captain. He was bright red, and Bones allowed him to feel his embarrassment rather than try to soothe him. It would only make it worse, but Jim had gotten better at handling this emotion, or at the very least to hide it behind a facade of confidence. It was different with just Bones, though. He’d seen this boy blush his head off more times than he could count and had enjoyed it for most of them.

He felt sorry for him now, wondering if he should’ve just kept the idea to himself and tickled him weekly without mentioning the reasons; that it made him happy and relaxed and that he probably needed it more than ever now. But one part of him was desperate for Jim to finally talk about this with him. He’d never really done it before.

“Jim?” he said tentatively when Jim still didn’t talk and Jim met his gaze only because he knew there would be no judgment there. “What do you think?”

Jim hummed, his blush spreading down over his neck. “I, uh, can see why you thought of it. I know you know things I’ve not told you about.” He trailed off, looking down at his lap. “I’m not sure why I get like this about it.”

“Shy?”

“I guess,” he said with a shrug.

“It’s okay,” Bones said. “Both to feel shy and to let yourself be vulnerable.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Bones grinned ever so slightly and Jim let out a laugh.

“Okay, maybe I’m not acting as if I do, but I promise I do. As for your idea- well, it’s not a bad idea, but-”

“But?”

“I don’t know if I want to turn it into therapy? Like, I feel like it would turn it into a chore of some kind and not something I get when I want it.”

Bones deflated. “That makes sense.”

“But,” Jim added quietly. “I, uh, can come to you when I need it. If that’s okay? So instead of a weekly thing it will just be a, uh, needed thing.”

“That sounds good actually. Well, it won’t be very different from what you’ve been doing anyway,” he said with a smirk and Jim flushed again. “But this time around I can stop pretending not to know what you want.”

“I knew you were playing dumb.”

“Well, if you wanna be vague you’ll have to deal with the consequences. So what should our code be? I assume you’re not gonna just ask for it.”

“Oh, uh.” Jim rubbed at his neck. “Maybe I can just say that I need it?”

“That works.”

“Bones.”

“Mm?”

“I need it.”

Bones was more than willing to comply, scooting closer immediately and going for his knees, squeezing just above the kneecaps and making Jim curl up with a surprised laugh. Nothing unusual. They’d done this so many times Bones could almost predict all of Jim’s reactions to this one sided tickle fight entirely correctly. It was familiar. It was safe.

Jim laughed and Bones tickled, one hand still on his knee while the other poked at his ribs, and Jim would eventually grab his wrists and hold onto them as Bones kept tickling, until it became too much and he would beg and fall to the floor, or something like that.

They’d done this before and would do it again.

#tickling #ticklish!jim #ticklish!kirk #mckirk #mckirk fic #n writes #a needed thing #star trek

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restforthe-burdenedsoul · 2 months

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Just here to process per usual. I have my therapy intake on Thursday which will be helpful. There’s probably no order to any of this chaos. Highlighting the basics if anyone wants to read.

We found an apartment with no wait list. They can hold it until March 3rd. I start work March 3rd and M’s jobs opening got pushed back so he won’t be full time until the second week of March. We can’t afford to move in March 3. They need full month rent/admin fees/amenity fee. I think we could come up with the security deposit.

My dad offered to pay it if we pay it back. I should have said no. We have talked about it, M and I. Asking our parents for help. His mom said no. My dad would, but my mom had a complete freak out over it to the point that I wish I had just stopped the conversation. It lifted the rug for all the things we’ve swept away.

Allowing myself to break down a bit right now because I’ve been bottling so much of this. My dad said “you know I completely blame M for this” and a bunch of other comments about M and my ex husband. They hate him so much because he’s trans. And I overheard them talking in the other room “you know by helping her were helping him” and it fucking tears me apart to hear that shit. The very same parents who raised me to love EVERYONE, to not judge anyone, who essentially sculpted me into this compassionate and empathetic person are the same people who have so much hate and judgement in their hearts. They raised me with all these great Christian values but clearly weren’t listening to what they preached. They hate my husband because he’s trans, they hate him because my ex husband was an asshole. My dad said M promised him we’d never be in a situation like this, he’d never ask for money from them. I didn’t know M was a prophet and could tell what was in our future.

It was my idea to ask if we could move in with friends. My idea to apply to a job 2 hours away. My idea to break down the small stability we had. But it felt like we didn’t have a choice. We didn’t know M was gonna get fired. We didn’t know we weren’t gonna find jobs there. We didn’t know he was gonna get faked out by a job. We didn’t know things were gonna be worse.

We tried to talk to his mom about things. That it’s this apartment with no waitlist that needs all the money by March 3 or the other apartments with 3 month long waitlists. We HAVE to be out march 1 for his grandmother. And to stay would be convincing not only his mom, but his aunt who has his grandmother the other half of the week. She already has her own son and two daughter to deal with on top of the grandmother, so I don’t see that happening. I don’t know if theylll reconsider if they’re faced with the hard reality that we will 100% be living out of our car until at least June. Staying at my parents is a no go. All my dad has to say is that this is M’s fault.

We have no where to go. Maybe a shelter. Giving up our dog because of a three month wait list. Which makes me cry all over again. I’ve never bonded so much with a dog before. We lost her once and spent four days on the side of a highway searching for her. To just lose her now? Have her be put down because she’s so scared of people? She’s the most loving and gentle dog I’ve ever had. They’ll euthanize her. We have fucking jobs, we just don’t have anywhere to live.

There’s no more friends to ask either. The relationship with the friend we moved in with blew up. When we moved out, she officially separated from her wife and moved out. We offered to help her move, be a space to vent and process, be an escape from reality. She withdrew from everyone while we still lived there. She had met someone and it was 100% about them. We moved out and kept asking how she was with no answer. Learned from snap chat she had moved out, the new partner helped I guess because all the pics had their dog in it. M finally asked why she wasn’t responding anymkre and she said she was “doing her” and “didn’t have the space” to talk to anyone. And I respect that to an extent. You don’t just drop off the face of the earth when your friends are trying to help support you. She got pissed off and said how she wasn’t putting her emotional stuff on us when we were going through our things. She said she has bigger problems than us and “what issues do you even fuckig have? Not having a job?” So fuck her too. I’m glad my friends are emotionally supportive even when things aren’t good for them.

When I got divorced I left EVERYTHING behind. My life, my job, my friends, my bird. Yes I moved in with my parents and I appreciated their support, but we have a very strained relationship when it all boils down. I was STILL there for my friends and their problems even if they felt smaller than mine.

We left to get out of their way. She said “things happened faster than I wanted to once you left.” First off, they should have had the emotional awareness to tell us they were not stable enough to house us for that period of time. Maybe we shouldn’t have asked at all. I wish we hadn’t. We were both there through their explosive fights. Gave her space to breakdown so she wasn’t alone even though we were also triggered in other ways. We tried everything we could to move out asap after we learned how their relationship really was and we couldn’t get back up on our feet. Now we’re facing legitimate homelessness.

Yes, she lost her toxic wife and any change is stress. But she has a roof over her head, she has all her pets with her, she has a new partner, she still has her job. We. Had. Nothing. Just ourselves and melody and a temporary housing situation with his mother. And now we may be homeless despite having jobs because of stupid waiting lists.

I’m calling the church tmrw to see if they can help at all and around to social services I guess? But like, we have jobs and those jobs are gonna afford us a really nice apartment by mid March so I don’t even know if we’ll qualify for assistance or if that assistance will come fast enough for us to not be on a waitlist somewhere.

I don’t know. My mom doesn’t want to help us financially. His mom doesn’t/can’t help us physically or financially.

I just don’t know where to turn. And Uber is just barely paying our bills. Still haven’t missed one. But there’s no extra 2-3k laying around for us to get this apartment.

So. That’s what’s going on with me right now. Thanks for reading if you do.

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law-iess · 2 years

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❝ dear felix, ❞

pairing: hyunjin x felix genre: slice of life, angst, slight romance, hyunlix-centric, eventual idol au synopsis: he was the sunshine in a very dark place— hyunjin's pre-debut letter to felix, his sunshine and ever sky. tw/cw: major character death, hospital, terminal illness, heavy (?) angst word count: 2.01k

author's note/s: wrote this initially for a collab event last 2020, and was my first time writing a ship for a fic. let me know if i missed anything!

Dear Felix,

The hospital walls have always looked so dull. To say that I hated them was an understatement. Especially when the sickly, puke green walls of my room seem to loom over me each night that it suffocates every fiber of my being. There isn’t anything to see here, just white men in suits and lab gowns, nurses and their clipboards, and dying people.

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

And neither should you.

“There’s a newbie,” Han had said once weeks ago over the breakfast table we had chosen to share since the first week we came in. I pick at my food, uninterested.

“You’re awfully excited,” Seungmin comments.

“You’re awfully boring,” Han snaps back. “It’ll be a nice change, to get see a new face. I’m sick and tired of my doctors going in and out of my room. And another FortNight player doesn’t sound so bad, yeah?”

It didn’t.

You moved in at the hall across from mine. The architecture of the building shaped it into a long H, and my room was directly across yours. I saw you come in that day, watched you through the glass of my windows while still in therapy. You had some lights strung up on the windows, blinking warm little spots that looked like stars and fireflies from the distance. I thought it was silly to decorate since being here meant you were probably on death row too. Your parents, though dejected to leave you there, eyed you with a great amount of passion. I was jealous for a second. My parents rarely visited. You looked happy—too happy— to be there, like an emanating ball of sunshine that just didn’t quite fit in.

I almost scoffed. This place isn’t one for sunshines. This place is a dark, cold, black hole. No light survives.

Except, maybe, you.

“Hi,” you greeted us. Your accent was thick, foreign. “I’m Felix.”

“Hyunjin,” I said, extending a hand to shake. We do. Your touch was warm, soft. It had been a while since I’ve felt something other than the needles and cold plastic pill bottles. It felt nice.

You sat with us at breakfast. You sat with us at lunch. You sat with us at dinner. It was awfully convenient to have Seungmin’s room so close to yours that we could freely move about the halls just to hang out. Of course, there wasn’t much to see but puke green walls and white suited men and nurses and dying people but we stuck together like glue and you blended in seamlessly with us; like it was meant to be.

I wanted you there. But not in just the way the others did. I never really was sure if you noticed the fleeting glances or the subtle nudges that I would throw your way. It never really came up in conversation nor did we try to push it any further. But your presence was addicting. The warmth was addicting. And it has been a while since I’ve felt like that. It felt nice.

The more you stuck around, the more radiant you became. And the more I looked at you, the more I felt that warm, sweater-fuzzy feeling in my chest that I am so, so addicted to.

But it seems the most radiant people also have the darkest shadows.

“What are you in for?” I asked you that night. We dared to venture to the rooftop when Han and Seungmin had decided to grab a few snacks from the kitchen downstairs. We wanted to prank them into a fright, but decided the air upstairs would be nicer and the view would look much better than shocked faces.

“Same as you,” you replied. You had trained your gaze upwards to the stairs, shutting one eye as you traced the belt of Orion with an index finger. “Stage four. The doctors don’t tell me but I know it’s only going to go down from here. I’m just sitting here, waiting.”

“I-I didn’t know,” I stammered. You didn’t seem weak. You had always looked so fun, so alive, so warm.

“It’s okay, mate,” you said, slinging an arm over my shoulder. I leaned into your touch, nestling my head on the crook of your neck into a half hug. This was normal here. Just two dying people comforting each other while waiting for the inevitable end.

“I reckon I’d still go earlier than you,” I half-joked. One could never truly tell, could they?

“Are you ready to?”

I tilted my head up to meet your eyes. Shrug.

“I was,” I confessed. “I mean, we’re like sitting ducks. We literally don’t know when it’s gonna hit, or how painful it’s gonna be. I think I’ve thought about it so much for so many nights that I’ve just gotten tired of wondering and just accepting the fact that I’m gonna go. But now…” I hesitate. My lip curls into the inside of my mouth.

“But now?” you prodded. Were you really going to make me say it?

“Well, now I’m not sure I want to. Not yet.”

I held your gaze. It opened up the weight of vulnerability for me but I didn’t really mind. It was a new kind of weakness. It was the kind of weakness that I wanted there. It was the kind that couldn’t be cured by chemo, or by drugs, or any kind of surgery. It was the kind of weakness that I brought upon myself and the kind that I allowed myself to fester and grow until it became more powerful than the cancer; even more powerful than myself.

“Tell me something,” you suddenly said. It was so out of nowhere that it took me a few seconds to digest. “Come on. Tell me something about you. Something you’ve never told anyone.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s the point? I’m already an open book.”

“I don’t care,” you said. “Tell me something. Anything. Like introduce yourself again. Your name, age, what you like to do, stuff like that. But also make it into the things you want to do if you weren’t locked up in here.” When I looked at you with that face you make when you can’t believe what the other person is saying, you only made those puppy dog eyes of yours and whined a long “please.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wishing stars,” you said. “The universe might hear and give us a shot.”

“Fine,” I conceded, clearing my throat. “Hi,” I began. “I’m Hwang Hyunjin. I’m twenty-one. I like to dance. I’d like to graduate. I’d probably go to a performing school and study music. Or I’d be an interior decorator because why not?” You laughed at that. “And I’d also like a dog. I’d probably name it Kkami.”

“Why Kkami?” you asked. I swatted you away.

“Just because I can.” I nod towards you. “Your turn.”

“Okay.” You rubbed your tiny hands together like you were so nervous and I laughed. Our breathes formed nice little clouds in the air. I shrugged my coat and hung it over the both of us. You grinned your thanks.

“Hello. I’m Felix. I’m twenty-one, surprise surprise. I like to dance and play games. I like dogs too, but my parents probably won’t let me have one until I move out of their place. I want to keep dancing too, and like, touch people with my dance. I might want to be a professional gamer or like an artist.” You paused. Moved your head to look at me.

“I’d be taking you out, and we’d find the perfect Kkami, and eat a lot. I actually know a really great pork belly place just around the corner of this hospital and we could take Han and Seungmin. Or it could also be just the two of us.” Your eyes had trained upward, towards the stars again. I couldn’t speak, nor move. I could only watch you. Listen to you. And to my heart that was beating so hard against my chest.

“I’d love to watch the stars with you, and curl up with you like this on the cold nights. I’d probably get you Americano in the morning because you wake up way later than me. And I would have wanted to fall asleep to you playing with my hair because it feels so calming. I’d probably spend the rest of my life loving you.”

“Felix—” My throat is dry when I find my voice.

“I don’t know when,” you told me. “I don’t know how, but somewhere, between the little memories over the very little time, I think this is the most I’ve felt human. And as cheesy as it could sound, I’ve only ever felt like that around you.”

“Felix—”

“Let’s make a swear then,” you kept cutting me off. You held out a pinky. “Let’s promise each other to ride out our dreams. To the best we can. No matter what. For ourselves and for each other.” My eyes glued to your little finger. I found myself wrapping mine around it. The smile on your face was brilliant—it was blinding—but even if I were to go blind staring at it, I would still do.

You were quick. You had pulled me closer, resting your forehead on mine. I could feel your breath against my face, could hear the pounding of your heart in sync with mine. The reality of the world collapsed over us like a tidal wave. There was a clock in the back of my mind and no matter what I did, it would not stop ticking down.

“Always find me,” you whispered. I felt your lips against the top of my head. So soft, so featherlight. The side of your finger comes up to my chin. You push my head—my eyes up at the twinkling little lights in the distance. “No matter where we are, or what we might be doing, don’t forget we’ll always be under the same sky.”

—

They cleared out your room two days later.

I can still feel the ache in my chest, even now when so many years have passed. The first few weeks felt like absolute hell. It all passed as a blur, Seungmin said I was inconsolable. There are days that I still feel like that, probably because I know that you’re a part of myself that I’m not going to let go. The pain is here, but so is the warmth, and so is the love that is so much stronger than the pain.

I’m about to go up now.

The crowd is crazy tonight. But I’m here, finally, Felix. I’m writing this letter to get all of this off my chest because tonight marks my debut. Somewhere in the crowd will be my folks and our little Kkami. I’ve yet to register her with a collar. I’ve been too busy with practices. I can’t wait to see the proud looks on our parents' faces. I’ll be looking for them.

My diploma also came in today. There’s a little celebration. I thought I’d bring Han and Seung too, at that pork belly place you said you liked. Han is flourishing as a rapper now and Seung is about to make the biggest break as the group’s main vocal. They’re both so talented, you should see them eating up the stage even on practices. You’d be so proud of them too.

I’ll also be looking for you. In those lights and the sea of people, in the wave of lights that look so much like the ones you used to hang outside your window, I’ll be looking for you. And up in the heavens and in the universe, I’ll look at you, still tracing Orion with your finger with the biggest, stupidest, sunshine smile on your face.

And I’ll tell you. Because I know, somehow, you’d still hear me and that the universe wouldn’t be so unfair as to not let me say this.

I’ll tell you, Felix.

I have kept my promise.

We made it.

I love you forever, Hyunjin

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