#also this is a reminder to myself in case i ever get stupid about a man again

[august--and-everything-after]

The cool thing about being single as long as I have (plus my general personality) is that I've learned that almost anything a man could offer me, I can do for myself just as well if not better.

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field IX

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

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a/n: here we are!! 'season' two!! thanks so much for reading it and I'm SO so glad lots of people seem to love it :) if you do, please reblog it or leave your thoughts in the replies or in my inbox! i love hearing from you and talking about it so don't be a stranger !

without further adieu,, enter buzzcut coryo <3

next part

Coriolanus's stomach twisted as he could hear your screams from the hall, even though by then he was all the way on the other side of the school. He thought that was unsettling, only for them to abruptly stop just before he left. The silence that followed was so much worse. He didn't get any sleep, sitting on the roof in Grandma'ams rose garden with Tigris all night, wondering if you were dead.

He was just sick about it, even as he left the following morning, so early that the sun was yet to rise. It was a long, painful ride, and he spent the entire thing certain that you were dead. It was his fault, he had only wanted you to come with him, so he wouldn't be alone, but now he truly is alone and he won't even have you to write to back home. Regardless, he would try.

Rather than sit with the idea that it might even be pointless for him to live another day, especially with this unflattering haircut and a uniform that challenged the discomfort of the academy one, he decided to write to you on a paper he had found bunched between the train seats to ease his mind.

Y/N/N,

I hope you're reading this. I hope this gets back to you at home and finds you safe and sound, and you're sitting over your desk with a textbook open getting ready for university in the fall. That's not what's happening though, is it? You're probably dead. I probably killed you. If you are reading this in your room, or your library, or over my shoulder as I write this because you are only alive in what's left of your spirit, I hope you know that I am sorry. I did it because I wanted you with me, because in the moment I was so sure you'd be better off with me in the districts than you would be at home with your father. I think I was wrong. But I still miss you. You meant more to me than I ever told you. I guess, more than I ever told myself either until these last few weeks.

I think I heard them kill you after I left you with the Dean. If they did, boy, did you go out fighting. I always knew you would. I can't stop writing in case I never get to speak to you again. But again, maybe you're not dead, right?

Please tell me you're not dead.

Yours,

Always yours, your Coryo

He smoothes out the wrinkled sheet as he writes, hand shaking through most of it. He doesn't know if he should even bother sending it, or if he should just fold it up and throw it out the window in hopes that the message will find its way to your ghost. No, he has to send it. Otherwise he'll definitely never know, at least not for twenty years, and he couldn't bear that.

The wind hits the trees into the windows of the train as it rolls along the tracks, demanding that the branches be heard against the glass. It reminds him of you. Then again, what doesn't these days? Maybe it was just you letting him know you had read his letter, and that you forgive him. That would give him a semblance of peace for the rest of the ride.

When you woke up, it was impossible to tell what time it was. You only knew that it was dark, and your bedroom door was locked from the outside when you got up and carefully tried to open it only to be blocked by the mechanism.

"I have half the mind to agree with you on the Avox thing." You hear your dad sigh, his voice echoing from his study just down the hall. Your eyes widen and you try the knob again. Yep, still locked. "But we could always send her to Nine or Ten as a nurse. She's not staying here, that's certain."

"I don't want to push your decision, here, but she was saying she would tell everyone. She knows more than we thought, more details." Highbottom was here too, great.

"No, that's impossible. What did she say?"

"She knows we're selling, likely that you're storing it all here somewhere, and she knows it's enough to be treason. I don't know what else she knows, but it's risky business ever letting her out of that room again. The procedure might be our best option, here." You've heard enough, quickly making for your window instead. It's locked as well, but draping your old uniform over the lever gives you enough freedom to crush it with a particularly heavy, hardcover textbook without making much noise.

You change quickly, grabbing a few essentials that you could fit into your book bag, then climb out the window and slide down the back porch column before making as quiet of an escape as possible. Adrenaline carried you a few blocks away, but now, you were unsure what to do. You couldn't return, and you couldn't be seen, and you had a tragic shortage of friends at the moment. You find your feet carrying you toward the building you know Coriolanus lives in.

You're not particularly excited to see him, but with no other options, you're sure you can find it in yourself to be forgiving just this once. You could go to Sejanus's family home, but it's not far enough away, and you're not sure what his father would say. He'd probably call your dad in a second and it would all be for naught- you couldn't risk it. So, Coryo's it was.

You enter the building, walking straight for the elevator. He was in the penthouse, so you just have to hit the very top button and figure it out from there. You've never been to his home before, but he's talked about it plenty. Enough that you could find your way there, at least.

You groan when you quickly realize the elevator doesn't work, looking over at the stairs. It's a tall building, so you've got a long way to go. You wonder how he does this every day as you climb up set after set of stairs, taking note of how the walls are basically crumbling around you.

You knew he didn't have money, that he couldn't eat, but you didn't think he lived like this. No wonder he was so thin, and no wonder he still had any muscle left on his body. It was these damn stairs. That couldn't be it though, that wouldn't explain how his shoulders just seemed to go on for miles- maybe he had some kind of workout routine you never knew about.

You're drawn from your thoughts when you reach the top of the last staircase, hesitating to open the industrial looking door in front of you. Just beyond that was the front door to the Snow penthouse, and now that you're here, you're not sure what to do. Do you knock? You don't even know what time it is.

You sit by the door, deciding to think it over for a bit. It doesn't take you long to fall asleep leaning up against the wall where it meets the dusty floor.

Waking up, you're met with a gasp. "Y/N?" You blink open your eyes, seeing Tigris crouched in front of you, forehead creased with worry. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?"

"Tigris, hello." You mumble, gathering yourself to stand up as she helps you. "I, uh, I didn't know where to go, so..."

"Okay, okay. Come in for a second." She nods, holding your shoulder as she guides you back into the apartment. You squint at the sunrise through the large bay windows, she must have been on her way to work. "Can I get you anything? Some tea? You must be freezing..." She says, immediately shuffling into the kitchen.

"No, no. It's fine. Thank you, though." You insist, trying not to stare at the state the apartment has fallen into.

"Okay, well, please, take a seat. Tell me what's going on."

You nod slightly and move to sit down at their dining table where she joins you, reaching out for your hand which you gratefully take. "Did Coriolanus leave already?" You ask and she nods, giving you a sad smile.

"I must admit, I'm relieved to see you." She says, taking you by surprise. "Coryo thought you were dead. He was just so torn up about it, he said it was his fault but he wouldn't tell me why. I was expecting to see your passing in the papers this morning."

"Well, my days are numbered." You sigh, looking out the window again. The view was stunning. Maybe you would prefer a penthouse to your own large, empty feeling home. "My father and Dean Highbottom were discussing turning me into an Avox as a pity punishment, and I don't doubt that my father would rather bury me than have that on his name. I didn't stick around to hear their decision."

Tigris listens intently, squeezing your cold hands between her own. "And now, I don't know what to do. I had nowhere to go, I'm so sorry to intrude-"

"No, my goodness, please. You are always welcome here." She assured you. "But... what will you do?"

"I have to leave." You nod to yourself. "I have to leave and I can't come back, can I?"

"One day I'm sure it will be safe for you to return." She says, notably trying to put a positive spin on it. "I'll tell you what-" She stands quickly, going over to a hall closet and pulling out a large fur coat. "Take this, it can hide you and keep you warm. Take the next train to Twelve, that's where Coryo went." She places the coat in your lap. "He'll be ecstatic to have you and see that you're well."

You nod, standing up and pulling it on in a hurry. It was a beautiful coat, you could tell it was real fur. This must have belonged to one of their mothers. "Thank you, Tigris."

"There's another train headed there in about twenty minutes, if you rush you can make it. I had to check the schedule last night for him. Don't buy a ticket, just climb in a transport car from the opposite side, not the platform." She instructs you hurriedly,

You dig in your bag as you both head for the door, pulling out a handful of money and rifling through it to give some to her. You'll need some, but she will too.

"Here, Tigris. Take this." You say as she holds the door for you, and she instantly is shaking her head.

"No, no. I couldn't." She smiles awkwardly, waving a hand at you. "You'll need it more than I do, Coryo will be sending us cheques."

You smile at her understandingly, holding it out to her again. "If not for your help, then for this lovely jacket. Please take it. I insist."

Tigris sighs, taking it from your hand before pulling you into a hug which you gladly return. "Tell him we love him, okay?"

"He knows," You say, chin resting on her shoulder. "But I will."

It was dark again when your train reached its final stop, and you were curled up under the coat trying to sleep. You scramble to get up, having to bolt from the train before anyone came to unload the car.

Unfortunately, you didn't get the privilege of having a place to stay when you arrived, so once you're out of sight of the train, the best you can do is wander.

You don't have to wander long before you hear music. You didn't realize people were happy here, so the sounds of laughter and shouting and dancing coming from inside what looked to be an abandoned building made you tilt your head at the idea. Maybe you would just sit outside, around the side of the building where you won't be seen and you can listen.

You don't even get the chance to sit before you hear the singing start. It's Lucy Gray. You mentally scold yourself for not thinking of her sooner as you stand again quickly, finding yourself quite lightheaded. You must be hungry. Maybe there will be some food inside, or maybe you can find talk to Lucy Gray and maybe she'll let you stay with her. Just until you get yourself situated here.

Clutching your new coat tightly around yourself you walk in after attempting to dust off and salvage your clothes. Your favourite skirt and shoes took quite a beating throughout the day, and you're disappointed, to say the least. Hopefully Lucy Gray has a washing machine, but you doubt it. Did these people even know what a washing machine is? By the look of everyone in the room, the answer was a definite no.

Sure enough, Lucy Gray was on stage, singing her heart out. You had never seen her smile so wide, of course, and the kids surrounding her onstage were just as talented as she was at all their instruments. You've never seen live music like this before, only classical or opera where everyone sat quietly and listened until the end. This environment was entirely new to you.

Not wanting to interrupt, you wait until Lucy Gray steps offstage and her spot is replaced with a little blonde girl who couldn't have been older than ten.

"Give it up for the amazing Lucy Gray Baird!" The girl shouts into the mic, gesturing to your friend before more music started to play. "She'll be back, she's just taking a little break, but until then, you lot are stuck listenin' to me."

This is your chance. You push through the crowd and step into the hall you saw Lucy Gray go down. "Lucy Gray?" You call out hopefully, watching your step as to not roll a heel. In hindsight, these shoes were not ideal for the journey you took, but your options were limited by a time crunch.

"Lucy Gray?" You ask again, turning a corner and peeling into a large open room. It's a few moments before your eyes land on her, and she turns to face you having heard you walk in.

"Oh my days, I thought I recognized that voice!" She smiles, opening her arms and running up to you. "Y/N, my word, what are you doin' here?" Her excitement fades quickly into concern as she drops her arms from around you.

"Long story..." You chuckle nervously, pulling at your coat again as she nods for you to continue. "We got caught, for the compact. And the snakes, somehow. Coriolanus put our handkerchiefs that you used in the tank so they wouldn't attack you, I guess. I didn't know. Then they pulled us out of class the next day, he told them it was me, so then I put up a fight and they sedated me. When I woke up I was at home and they were talking about having my tongue cut out and turning me into one of those servants but I'm sure my dad would rather have me dead. So," You sigh, trying to summarize it as quickly as possible. "I ran."

Lucy Gray shook her head, mouth agape in shock at all the information she just took in. "Okay, wait... So they were going to kill you?"

You nod.

"But that teacher of yours seemed so nice."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, he gave me some money and escorted me into the train himself."

You scoff, shaking your head. "He's never liked either of us, but that's only because I have dirt on him. I don't know what Coryo did."

"Well," Lucy Gray sighs, rubbing your shoulders gently. "I'm glad you're here. That you're safe."

"You too." You smile. "Can I just say, too, we were so proud of you. We were so lucky to be your mentors."

"I count myself the lucky one." She grins. "Let's move on, shall we? On the up and up."

"Yes, sounds lovely." You grin at her.

"Can I get you some water? Liquor? What do you need?" She asks, turning at that and going over to a bench in the middle that had a few water bottles.

"I would love some water." You breathe out, joining her and sitting down as she hands one to you.

"Lucy Gray, could I ask you for a really big favour?" You say after taking your first sip.

"Please." She nods.

"Can I stay with you?"

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[boldlygoingtohell]

In a weird way, as a Jew, I can kinda take Normal Antisemitism™️.

I mean, I understand where right-wing racists are coming from when it comes to their antisemitism. At the end of the day, theirs just comes from fear, replacement theory, etc… It’s easily identifiable. 2+2=4. Yea its shitty, but I see how they got from A to B and it’s a straight line.

But left-wing antisemitism?? Like, how does that happen? I thought the left was about supporting minority groups, encouraging them to speak and be heard. But all I’m seeing from leftists these days (I myself being super fucking liberal, left, etc…) is just waves and waves of antisemitism. And yes it has to do with Israel, but these people are incapable of criticizing the Israeli government without going “all Jews are responsible!” in the process. It's infuriating.

Are all the the world’s Jews, millions of which live OUTSIDE of Israel, now responsible for Israel’s actions? I'M a stupid American! I’ve never even BEEN to Israel, much less know the intricate details of a geo-political conflict whose complexities go willfully unlearned by armchair activists in favor of yelling in all caps for 140 characters.

But what really gets me, and I mean REALLY get me about the whole situation, is the hypocrisy.

Remember how awful it was when we saw waves of Islamophobic hate crimes after 9/11, American Muslims with no ties to al-Qaeda being targeted for the faith those terrorists claimed to represent?

Or do you remember standing against the wave of anti-Asian hate crimes that was spurned on by COVID falsehoods? The “China virus” as Trump so eloquently put it? You remember being pissed about that, not blaming Asian Americans but standing with them against hate?

And hell, I’ve heard there has been a rash of Islamophobic attacks again because of the Israeli-Gaza conflict. That’s fucking awful, and I will stand against that bull shit because it does not belong here, end of story.

But now there are also antisemitic attacks, hate crimes, being perpetrated around the world. And who are the perpetrators now? The left that stood against everything else. There's no widespread ally-ship for Jews like me. There's no sweeping social media campaign, no catchy hashtag, no ice bucket challenge.

Why am I allowed to be condemned for what a country on the other side of the world is doing, when I have nothing to do with it? Why can I have the finger pointed at me when I don’t want the fighting in the first place? Why must Jews be allowed to be the target of this ire when it's already been decided that other ethnicities/religions don't deserve it either?

Now, I am PROUD to be Jewish; it is my culture, in my heritage, in my literal blood. It is in my genetics, my bones, my spoken language, it is in the holidays I celebrate, the philosophies I live by.

But it is also in the generational trauma of my mother insisting I have a passport as a young child, not because we were traveling, but in case we had to flee. It is in her inherent distrust of the government; a card-carrying Democrat all her life, she would always remind me, "if you don't think the government can't turn on you, you're kidding yourself." It is her constant reminders that as a Jew, our assimilation is conditional, our acceptance is political. I felt these, but never as strongly as she did. Not until now.

I am third generation American, and yet I feel like an outsider in the only country I have ever known. People who I thought understood, who were my friends, who marched with me against the injustices of the world, are now calling after Jews to answer for Israel's actions.

I say I don't want the violence to persist and I'm told that I'm, "one of the good ones". I'm told hurt Israelis don't deserve sympathy because, "all Jews are rich anyway, right? Who cares." I tell them my fears about the rising antisemitism and wearing my star of david necklace out. I'm told, "it doesn't matter, you're white anyway."

For the first time in my life, the racists aren't just some crazy KKK members. They're not just Nazis marching around with beer bellies and ill fitting helmets. It's not just some screeching street preacher who claims I'm going to hell after he caught the glint off my star of david necklace. If needs be, I can kick and punch my way out of those. They're just idiots. Isolated, concentrated incidents. It'd be a good story to tell at a bar the next day though a gap-toothed smile and a sling on my shoulder.

But now, both sides are coming after me and my people. Now, it's not just idiots who have all of their views backwards; it's people I thought I could trust to have my back, to go down swinging with me against those Nazis. Right. Left. It's everywhere. There's no escape.

It's coming from all sides. It's coming from social media platforms, from dinners with friends, from posters on street lamps.

I live in one of the safest, most Jewish neighborhoods in America, and for the first time in my life I am truly scared.

[pinkgy]

okay, ignore the previous ask, i can't be more blind and stupid (💀).

so, if it isn't a bother, may you write some headcanons about the kings (satan, mammon, beelzebub and leviathan) with a reader who's slightly chubby and dislikes their (reader's) body.

thanks in advance, dear.

–☕ (wishing to end myself after this one.)

Hi ! Thank you so much for your request and congratulations for being the first request that is not about sex lol I needed a break.

Here it is! I loved writing this request and I hope you like it ♡

It's a bit OOC in some parts (Leviathan), but in my defense, it's not easy to write fluff about them.

Also, I'm sorry if I didn't focus much on the body type part, I'm not a great fan of specifying the reader's body type, race, and sometimes even height, but it's okay! I tried my best.

Also, this is my contribution to the soft and sweet Mammon HC.

𝗪𝗛𝗕

𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦

"𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗙 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨"

♡

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗡

✮ He’s in denial, Satan has you on a pedestal and he genuinely cannot believe that you think this way about yourself, simply because it’s a completely different opinion than the one he has of you.

✮ If you dare to mention any discomfort with your appearance in front of him, he will laugh in your face telling you to stop joking about such things, and when you look at him completely serious he might realize that he was wrong.

✮ Satan genuinely doesn't have any specific body preference, in his eyes you’re perfect, all he cares about is that you’re healthy both physically and mentally. 

✮ Once he fully realizes, you won't EVER hear him joking about it, and if someone else dared to they’re dead within seconds. The same goes for you "jokingly" mistreating yourself, that's the biggest offense for him and the lecture your life awaits you.

✮ This situation would become a priority for satan, he's capable of leaving aside all his work just to do the impossible to make you feel better about yourself. 

✮ He gets very frustrated every time you talk negatively about yourself, and he feels sad every time he notices that you feel insecure about your body, Satan somehow puts himself in your shoes, and that makes him take everything too seriously.

“Stop looking at yourself like that, I know what you're thinking and I don't like it” He hugs you from behind "Let's talk, you're too pretty to be thinking those things"

𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗟𝗭𝗘𝗕𝗨𝗕

✮ He might believe that you’re joking if you tell him, and he also might jokingly tell you something like “Yeah, I don’t like your body either” Clearly no offense intended, he would genuinely think that you’re not being serious.

✮ Beelzebub won’t realize that his “Harmless comment” made you feel bad unless someone else tells him that he screwed up, probably many days later he will approach you and actually apologize.

✮ Don’t expect any elaborate apologies from him, he will tell you what is necessary. But after he has taken a long time trying to remember everything you said to him that day, he will subtly start looking for ways to make you feel better about yourself. 

✮ Believe me, Beelzebub is going to make sure you hear every chance he gets about how perfect you are, and in case he forgets to tell you, Bael is under strict orders to remind him. 

✮ He’s really supportive but he sucks at showing it, his main goal is to distract you from your insecurity by at the same time trying to not distract himself, and somehow, it works.

"And who said that being yourself is not okay? As long as that beautiful body of yours is well-fed and healthy, you are the hottest person out there"

𝗠𝗔𝗠𝗠𝗢𝗡

✮ He would get offended, but like, really offended, the moment he notices or when you tell him about it he acts like those Latina grandmas when their grandchild tells them they're gay,

literally him.

✮ He's never seen anyone more ethereal than you, how do you even dare to dislike yourself?

✮ He genuinely doesn’t care about your body type, your weight, etc, as long as you’re healthy he’s going to love every part of you.

✮ He’s an amazing listener, Mammon will encourage you to vent to him while he slowly caresses your hair, and every time you say something he’s not okay with, he kisses your forehead.

✮ He wouldn't think you're joking, the opposite, Mammon would take this really seriously, but like, too seriously, to the point where you’re not getting out of Tartaros without loving your body as much as he loves it, and believe me, that’s a lot. 

“How can you hate such a beautiful body like yours? Every inch of you is perfect and just looking at you feels like a privilege, so don't overthink too much please”

𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡

✮ Leviathan will genuinely get mad at you, if he finds out, he will ignore you, and if you tell him, he will leave and ignore you too, but it’s temporary, he will get over it in a few days. 

✮ He kind of sucks at comforting people, but he can and will try his best with you, just don’t expect much from him, and know that he’s genuine about it.

✮ He will make an annoyed face every time you comment something negative about yourself, and trust me, you will notice.

✮ Leviathan has a very good memory, and he’ll make a mental note of every part of your body that you mention that you don’t like, and every chance he gets he will make sure to kiss or caress that part. He won’t be very obvious, but somehow, he will find a way to discreetly improve your opinion of yourself.

✮ He would hang anyone who dared to make jokes about your body, and would also hang anyone who complimented you, only he has the right to do that.

✮ And on those days when you feel particularly bad about your body, Leviathan will be sure to find a way to distract you with something else, he’s very observant so he wouldn’t need to listen to you to know how you feel, he’ll just suddenly leave his work for a few hours and take you to one of your favorite places, even if he hates the place, he hates more that you have a bad opinion of yourself.

“Get those thoughts out of your head, people should be jealous of how you look, okay? Don't be ridiculous”

[moljh]

Unwanted Reunion

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You convince your husband Eddie to attend his 10 year high school reunion and as expected it doesn’t go well.

General fluff, mentions of sex, minor violence

Unedited 

This was your first time in Hawkins, despite your efforts to persuade your husband to bring you back to his hometown, he had always had a strong stance against it. But when the letter arrived in your mailbox notifying you of a 10 year reunion, you had badgered him until he finally agreed.

You had been with Eddie Munson since college. You'd met in a class that he later dropped out of, but continued seeing each other after that. After Eddie dropped out he opened his own mechanic shop, which gradually grew to multiple stores which were all incredibly successful.

Eddie always made little side comments about getting married but he didn't build up to ask you until the day of your graduation. Your family and friends had been there and whilst you were too busy trying to watch where your cap had been thrown to, Eddie had gotten down on one knee.

You'd been married for 5 years now and you loved Eddie more that you could've ever imagined.

The drive to Hawkins was easy, most of the roads were pretty flat in this area, according to Eddie's constant facts. Despite his continued trivial knowledge, you knew something wasn't quite right as he only rambled like this when he was nervous or trying to get something from you.

"What's wrong?" you bluntly questioned him

He kept his eyes on the road and replied dimly "Nothing’s wrong"

"Eddie" you said in your warning tone, causing his eyes to flick over to you "what's the matter? You've been acting strange ever since we left home?"

"It doesn't matter" he assured you "it's stupid"

Despite his clear desire to drop the conversation, you knew he wanted to talk. He wasn't as hard to read as he'd like to think and you especially could read him like an open book.

You softened your gaze and softly said "It's not stupid, c'mon, what's wrong?"

He let out a small sigh "You know how I always say you never would've dated me in high school?"

"Yeah..." you replied, unsure how this related

"Well there's a lot more reasons behind that then you think. I wasn't exactly liked back then"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I went to school in a small town in the 80's, people didn't exactly like different and I was pretty different"

Eddie continued to tell you more about himself, most of which you knew and some you hadn't expected.

"You've seen the pictures, I had tattoos, I listened to metal and played D&D. People thought I worshipped Satan and was evil, I wasn't really liked or even wanted around, they were probably all glad when I left"

"I'm sorry Eddie" you said placing your hand on his knee "If you don't want to go to this thing we don't have to, we can just go and visit Wayne and then drive home tomorrow"

"No," he said "I want to you, I want to go in there and show them all that I didn't end up in jail like my shit dad and I made something of myself"

You squeezed his leg and coughed a little reminding him of you presence.

"And I landed myself a fucking hot ass wife!" he shouted

You laughed at his choice of words.

"Ok, I'm glad" you reassured him

"Yeah, me too" he said

"I'm also glad I brought two different outfit options just in case"

Eddie looked at you sideways, raising a brow "what kind of outfit are we talking about here?"

"Remember your birthday?" you smirked

You could see the wheels turning in his head as he thought back to then "I think you might be arrested if you go naked"

You smacked his leg in response "No you idiot! What I was wearing before that!"

"Ooooh..." he said in realisation "Oh yeah, that'll do it"

It seemed to amaze you that despite distance and state lines, somehow the interior of a public high school always looked the same. The same linoleum flooring and white walls with some sort of colour attempted to be painted onto them.

As you walked inside, you could feel Eddie's grip tighten around your arm. Making your way down the hall, Eddie glanced around at the lockers and pictures along the corridor.

"See that locker?" Eddie whispered to you, pointing out at one

You looked in the direction and assumed it must've been his "That's where I made a pass at Mindy Cornwell and then her boyfriend punched me"

"Eddie!" you looked at him horrified "why would you tell me that?"

“Hey, you're the one that wanted to know my high school experience..." he defended "not my fault it was shit" he muttered

Coming to the end of the hall, you walked up to the table that was set up at the entrance of the sports hall. From where you were you could already see the obscene amount of decorations and lights beyond the doorway.

"Name?" the blonde lady in front of your asked, giving you a smile and looking down at her list

"Edward and Y/n Munson" you said

The expression of shock was evident on her face, she didn't do anything to bother to conceal her expression and even felt so bold to do a double take.

"Is there a problem?" you insisted, feeling rather observed

"No, sorry" she spluttered, searching the table for the name stickers

Picking them up, she handed them over to the two of you and you headed on in.

"Hey relax" you whispered to Eddie, gently giving his forearm a squeeze "we're in, one part down"

"Thank you," he said, pressing a soft kiss to your head "you know your amazing right?"

"Only cause you like to remind me" you laughed "c'mon, let's see if we can find Robin, she told me she was coming tonight"

Making your way around the room, you noted the large 'Class of '86' banner along the wall. You were surprised at how many people were already here, though based on what Eddie had told you, it seemed like most of them hadn't moved away.

Just as you were about to finish your lap of the room, you spotted the person you were looking for.

"Robin!" you exclaimed, pulling away from Eddie and dashing over to your friend.

"Y/n!" she shouted back bringing you into an embrace "how are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?" you asked, then noticed her lack of companion "Where's Sarah?"

"I'm not too bad, unfortunately she got called back into the hospital last minute"

"That's a shame, I was looking forward to seeing her again"

Over the years you had met a few of Eddie's friends at random times, but when they had all come to the wedding you got to see the true chaos of them together. Since then, they had all come and visited you occasionally, and you had visited them as well. So you'd gotten to know them all and become pretty close with Robin.

"Hey Rob" Eddie cut in, re-joining your side "guessing y/n's already beaten me to the small talk and niceties?"

"I'm afraid so Eds" Robin sarcastically remarked, shaking her head slightly "unfortunately once again your gorgeous wife had proven she's far too good for you"

The three of you continued to chat and catch up as the evening progressed. You could tell Eddie was doing his best to avoid heading back into the larger group, but you didn't mind, you were here for him, not for yourself.

"Hey," you interjected "I'm just going to go grab a drink"

"Did you want me to get it?" Eddie offered

"No, that's ok"

"Ok, well can you get me one as well?"

"Sure"

Weaving your way through the crowd made you way over to the table covered in food and drink. As you were getting yourself a wine and Eddie a beer, you overheard something that caught your attention.

"Oh my god did you hear the freak is here tonight?" one voice said

"I can't believe he isn't in jail or dead" another spoke

"I heard he's going bald and is broke and he's back in town to move in with his uncle"

"No, no, apparently he's here with a woman, Michelle said he brought his wife!"

"You're kidding!"

"No way! She must be blind or stupid if she married Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson"

You stood there stunned for a moment as the realisation that these grown women were gossiping about you and Eddie hit. You weren't sure what to do for a second, as you registered their mean words and childish behaviour.

"Sorry can I just get past you?" a voice pulled you away, glancing up you grabbed your drinks as a blonde haired man stepped beside you

"I'm sorry, just lost in thought" you politely smiled

"Don't worry, just getting a top up" he laughed, gesturing to the empty beer bottle in his hand "I don't seem to recognise you, did you go here?"

"No, no" you replied "I went to school in North Carolina, I'm here with my husband, he's the one that went here"

"Oh really, what's his name, I might've known him?" he asked "I'm Jason by the way"

"It's nice to meet you Jason," you replied "his name is Eddie, Eddie Munson..."

Once again that evening, a shocked look fell over another persons face. This man who you'd known for all of five seconds gave you the biggest look of bewilderment and confusion.

"Eddie Munson?" he finally said, questioning you as if you'd said the wrong name "Eddie Munson is your husband?"

"Um yes..." you replied, unsure why he was so confused by your words

"How the hell did he get someone like you?!"

You weren't sure how to answer that, so you just tried to defuse the situation by laughing, though it sounded more nervous that you would've liked.

"Well it was nice meeting you Jason, I better get back" you said, trying to rush away, suddenly very uncomfortable by the change in conversation

You quickly walked back over to where Robin and Eddie were still standing and you quickly rushed to Eddie's side.

"I'm so sorry" you told him, cringing at what had happened

“Why are you sorry?" Eddie questioned, raising a brow

"I may have accidentally just spoken to your least favourite person here..."

"Mrs O'Donnell's still alive?" he said in shock

"No you idiot" you shot back "Jason Carver"

"Oh, that makes much more sense" he paused for a second and then huffed out "why?"

"I didn't mean to, he just started talking to me and by the time I worked out who he was it was too late to just run away"

You couldn't hide away for much longer, as you spotted out of the corner of your eye, a few people looking your way. Gradually as you heard Jason's words get louder, presumably with the help of some more alcohol, more people began to notice you. Usually you wouldn't care about people looking but it was clearly making Eddie uneasy.

Before you knew it, Jason and a few others that looked just like him, appeared before you.

"Jason" Eddie said flatly, trying to not acknowledge him

"How did you do it Munson, actually what did you do?" Jason laughed not wasting any time and clearly a few drinks in "You knock her up and force her to marry you or are you just paying some random hooker by the hour?"

"Fuck you Carver" Eddie replied, clearly angered by his words

"Oh the freaks got a backbone now does he?" Jason said, moving closer towards Eddie "cause last time I remember the only thing you were good at was running" he spat

Eddie didn't give Jason time to react, let alone retaliate. In one strong hit, Eddie swung and Jason was on the floor. Everyone gasped at the sight and you heard Robin shout some sort of profanity.

Your eyes widened at your husbands sudden act of violence but you didn't feel sorry for the excuse of a man on the floor. Somehow amongst all the shit talking, it clearly hadn't been mentioned that Eddie did hard physical labour all day and wasn't just playing board games anymore (though you did still have the box in a cupboard at the house).

"Don't speak like that to my wife again you asshole" Eddie said, grabbing a hold of your arm and marching you out of the gymnasium

He didn't say anything as you two rushed out into the night and towards your car. You still were sure exactly what was happening, it all played out so quickly, you hadn't had time to process.

"Eddie, woah, woah, just stop for a second" you begged

"I'm so sorry y/n" he said, looking back at you with hurt eyes "I never should've come tonight, I knew that it wouldn't have gone well"

"Hey, stop... This isn't your fault" you said, bringing your hands up and gently holding the sides of his face "I'm sorry I forced you to come"

"This isn't your fault either" Eddie was quick to reply, "let's say it was no one's fault and move on?"

"Sounds good to me" you smiled "though I do have to say it was pretty hot you knocking that jackass to the ground"

"Well I'm glad it looked good cause it fucking hurt my hand" Eddie muttered clutching his right hand "but I wanted to seem cool"

You couldn't help but laugh at your hopeless husband. Even in the shittiest situations he managed to be ok and make something funny, which is something you loved about him.

"I am sorry about what he said about you," Eddie said in a more sincere tone "no matter how much they hate me, that was just wrong to say all those awful lies"

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you breathed in his cologne that had been the same since you met.

"How about we go?" you suggested and the two of you got into the car

As you were driving along, the headlights guiding your way on the dark road, a realisation popped into your head.

"You know..." you said, pausing for a moment, trying to think over your words "It wasn't all lies"

"What?" Eddie replied clearly confused "Um... Unless you've changed jobs, last time I checked you weren't a cheap hooker

"No, that's not it" you said

Eddie clearly wasn't listening to you, lost in his own train of thought "I'd hope you'd at least be a high class one, for politicians and stuff, you know, important people" he went on

"Well I'm glad you think I'd made a good hooker" you chuckled

"Only the best for my girl" he smirked at you

Rolling your eyes, you looked down at your feet for a second.

"No Eddie," you softly said "I mean... technically you did knock me up"

Your words just about made him crash the car.

In a flash Eddie had pulled over on the side of the road and flung around to face you in the passenger seat.

"What?" he stared at you blankly "are you serious?"

"Yeah" you smiled nervously

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit" he excitedly shouted

He froze for a second and suddenly looked back at you again.

"How long have you know? How far along are you?" he rambled

"I've known for about two weeks now, and the doctor says I'm only a month along"

Once again Eddie froze and he didn't utter a word for at least a few minutes, which had to be some sort of personal record.

"That fucking dress!" he exclaimed "God it really was a good birthday!"

You couldn't help but burst out into laughter as Eddie put the pieces together. Hopelessly smiling at your husband, he pulled you towards him and held you tightly as the excitement of what was to come became reality.

[facewithoutheart]

Thanks for the tags @shrekgogurt, @blackberrysummerblog, & @ic3-que3n ❤️❤️

Today in updates no one asked for, I’ve been picking at two long projects and start/stopping so many others… writing hasn’t been a huge priority for me right now and I haven’t been pushing myself to share but it makes me so happy to see y’all out here creating & thriving, even when I’m silent.

Long project #1 is my Drag Queen Baz fic, All I Ever Wanted was the World, which lives rent-free in my head. At any given point in a day, I’m thinking about this fic. I’m so so so close to the good part but for some reason I’m dragging my feet on the way there. Longfics are such a labor of love and I’m really enjoying the process.

Here’s a well-timed bit:

Niamh gives me an approving nod when she sees I’ve prepared fish tacos. “Nice timing,” she says, grabbing a plate.

It takes me a second to realise she’s referencing the Wanker’s daily theme and not the fact I’ve brought food on one of the days she works a double. I show her my nails, painted in varying shades of oranges, pinks, and red. “Not a coincidence.”

(Like I’d forget it’s Women Loving Wednesdays.)

Happy Women Loving Wednesdays! I spent a lot of time plotting out the Wanker’s daily specials when I was blocked on writing the fic, and it’s paid off.

Long project #2 is a ZimBits they-didn’t-kiss-at-graduation AU, which is one of my fav tropes, and it’s Christmas-themed so it’s helping me get in the spirit. I also wanted to get back in the flow of writing third person in case I ever try original writing again.

Here, have one of my favorite stupid puns:

Bitty was certain Jack would slip under the pressure of NHL life with an ever increasing delay in replies to Bitty’s phone calls and texts.

But if anything they’re closer for the distance. Jack’s the only one of Bitty’s friends who’ve made the trek down to Madison twice: first, that summer after graduation.

“I feared if I didn’t come in person, you wouldn’t stop sending apolo-pies for missing my graduation.”

“They’re a-pie-logies,” Bitty sniffed into Jack’s shoulder, wrapped in a tight hug neither of them seemed likely to break anytime soon, despite the July heat.

“Whatever you say, Bits.”

Side note: I’m seeking a beta if you read ZimBits/Check Please because this fic is kicking my ass.

Tags to @artsyunderstudy @cutestkilla @martsonmars @bookish-bogwitch @raenestee @thewholelemon @moodandmist @aristocratic-otter @theearlgreymage @best--dress @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @fatalfangirl @whatevertheweather @nightimedreamersworld @stitchyqueer @onepintobean @confused-bi-queer @forabeatofadrum @whogaveyoupermission @gekkoinapeartree @stardustasincocaine @hushed-chorus @orange-peony @palimpsessed @larkral @messofthejess @dragoneggos @ileadacharmedlife && of course anyone else who wants to share!

[circular-bircular]

I wanted to bring up how difficult the whole pro/anti endo situation has been since finding the did/system community even as a traumagenic system…I feel it’s done so much more harm than it seems good in the months I’ve been in the space…I came in knowing a bit about it and knew it was going to be there but it’s disheartening that even just looking for help/advice/answers for symptoms or experiences can bring such a negative and limiting view with it I guess I was also shocked at such a strict belief/sides when our system doesn’t even fully agree on how we feel about it and it’s just sad cause I feel like it’s limiting everyone on finding what’s needed for them

I understand why origin topics come up and that a traumagenic system is going to need some different types of help/info compared to endos but I do believe that as far as helping or just supporting eachother as systems/plurals is possible…of course bad actors will always be in the mix but I just hope that somehow it’ll be easier to find help/advice/answers on symptoms and experiences without being thrown into the endo vs traumagenic thing

Sorry this is kind of not explained as well as I’d like but it’s just been on my mind

Fully agreed. These spaces have been hellish for all types of systems, and I am so, so sorry that I participated in them for so long. Mostly for myself -- I deserved better than this shit.

I think everyone really needs to work on their kindness. Everyone needs to work on being nicer to everyone else, and actually providing the insight people are looking for. But... we're a bunch of traumatized people together in one space, making stupid choices together.

I guess what I"m saying is, have grace with each other. Have some compassion. Which is funny, because both of those concepts are trauma concepts for me. I wonder how related they are?

In any case -- I'm hoping my new blog will be a bit better for that sort of thing. I want to share my experiences so others can see them. That's all I ever wanted to do, and now, I might just get the chance to do it. <3 Let that be a reminder to everyone that they can get out of this hell anytime. Just... do it. Do it scared, let it go, it doesn't have to be cold turkey, but just move on.

[nereidprinc3ss]

ok so is it weird that my stupid attachment to mgg and a definite case of limerence is slowly now fading after the rumours of him having a gf have been doing rounds?? idk I feel liberated

this happened to me with pedro pascal after he posted a pride flag i was like oh i don’t think he’s batting for my team LFMAOOSOSOW

and also i don’t think that’s weird i think it’s good not to have unhealthy attachments to celebrities! personally my appreciation for him is not fading but i think that’s because for me it’s always been more about spencer reid and it’s just an added bonus that mgg is a silly likable guy. do i want him yes absolutely but i also was never under any illusions that he was gonna come to my city and fall in love with me like our lives exist in completely different spheres that will never ever touch….. so why would i get upset that he has a gf yk like he’s had them before he’s not saving himself for me! as it stands i feel there is no reason to get upset because i literally do not know him! also i remind myself that i don’t think i would ACTUALLY want to date him for a lot of reasons which makes me feel better whenever i start losing touch with reality😁

but anyway i hope u don’t lose love for spencer reid i would hate to see u go 💔

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Can I request Xavier taking care of sick fem reader please

Here you go anon. I hope you enjoy <3

You look like someone ran you over

pairing: Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader

synopsis: You come down with a cold, so Xavier takes care of you.

warnings: none, literally just fluff

word count: 0.7k

You had felt it coming for days. Creeping up on you until had you in its clutch. The revenge for underestimating what a sick roommate could do to you and yet you couldn´t so anything to fight it off. Not all the tea and sleep in the world could have possibly helped to prevent the runny yet at the same time stuffy nose, the coughing and the resulting sore throat, it did nothing against the ache that spread throughout your whole body. What was worst of all though was the general feeling of sensitivity, physically and mentally. It was just the worst. You had made it your mission to get better over the weekend, but all the effort was to no avail. Come Monday morning you were feeling worse than ever. As a consequence of all the suffering you also didn´t answer your phone to any incoming texts or calls. Your friends knew you were sick anyway so who could possibly want anything from you.

Well despite all your friends knowing about the state your health was in at the moment, one person didn´t know and you neither showing up to the lessons you shared on Monday nor answering any of his messages worried him out of his mind to say the least. So in the afternoon Xavier made his way over to Ophelia hall to see if you were still alive. Knocking on the wooden door he heard shuffling and your weak voice cursing under your breath before you greeted him.

“What happened to you? You look like someone ran you over.”, he ignores your warning to better stay away from you right now and steps in the room.

“Thank you… Truly. Remind me to never take care of anyone sick ever again if I ever have that idea like ever.”, you pulled the blanket around your shoulders and over your head tighter when a shiver runs through your body.

“Will do. Now come on, you need to lay down again.”

“I´m sorry I didn´t answer my phone. I just couldn´t bring myself to.”

“No need to apologize. I no you are alright now. Well relatively.”, that stupid half smile on his lips makes a small smile spread on your face too. “Now you´ll stay here and don´t move. I´ll be back soon.”

Xavier pulled another blanket over your shivering figure, before he stands  up to leave. What was his plan now?

As it turned out you wouldn´t need to ask yourself that for long. In record time he made his way to wherever he was going and back to you. This time it was your roomie who opened the door to him as he made his way over to put all the stuff he brought on the little bedside table, almost knocking the cup of tea over with the plastic bag.

“What is all that?”

“First of all tea with honey.”, he hands you the warm cup. “And then about all the pain killers I could find.”

You take all the pills he gives you and set the now almost empty cup aside. He even stays with you until you fall asleep from the medicine working, overhearing the weak protest as he gets into bed with you skillfully.

That´s all you do in the following week. Drink tea, sleep and occasionally protest your loving boyfriend spending too much time around you. You were convinced he was gonna get infected next, but whatever you said fell on deaf ears.

Secretly you were a little glad about it. Cuddling Xavier always helped you feel better. There was just something about being spooned by him, his arms wrapped so tightly around you… All of it had you back on your legs by the end of the week.

Your nurse however couldn´t say as much. Just like you had predicted Xavier now was the one coming down with the worst case of a cold you had seen him suffer from ever since you gotten to know him. Of course you nursed him back to health like he had done with you, but not without giving him a little shit, because “I told you so, Xavi. Now drink your tea and stop whining.”

[eddiegettingshot]

this might sound deeply weird but i feel like buck is a bpd coded character?? i say this as someone with bpd. fear of abandonment, unstable relationships, reckless behavior (this can also include risky hookups, the stuff buck does on calls, etc), mood swings, even a bit of a temper. suicidal ideations and self harm are also pretty common. tw for self harm but i used to actually do that for my mom’s attention in high school. buck begins in some ways felt like looking in a mirror.

now bpd is actually much more of a spectrum than people realize (my case is pretty mild and im in recovery personally) and i see a lot of myself in buck, especially with how he tends to fuck up and then overcorrect and how he behaves in ways that are meant to make people stay but actually end up causing them to leave

theres a lot of misconceptions about bpd though, especially being that we are always abusive people who cant have stable relationships. those cases are definitely out there but many do still lead pretty normal lives once they get help!! i have many stable friendships (even funnily enough my best friend of 7 years like buck) but avoid dating because its a trigger for me. 704 DID very much remind me of some of my more erratic behavior before i was diagnosed and medicated — doing stupid shit for someone’s attention because even though i do understand people can have other friends, im convinced they’ll leave me anyway.

i really doubt theyd ever address it this way because bpd can be an INCREDIBLY taboo thing to talk about for a lot of people (ive lost friends for just mentioning the diagnosis) but i find it so weird to see how people kind of ignore buck’s behavior. i love him and i love that he has flaws and how i identify with him, but as a person with this mental illness i still WANT people to call me out on my mistakes and allow me to learn and grow from them. that’s why ive kept my friendships, especially with my best friend, and thats why i like buddie so much. eddie doesn’t just tell him what to do but calls him out on things and allows him to correct himself. that’s what i think is healthy

idk if this is a strange take or not but as a person with bpd i really identify with him 🤷‍♀️ and as someone with bpd i think the tommy stuff is still him continuing the pattern. i hope buddie does happen, though. itd be really nice to see someone identify with end up in a healthy relationship (also eddie is my favorite character and i want that for him too because he deserves it. especially with the trauma he’s been through) i think its nice to see characters that are so deeply fucked up in so many ways just be there for each other. not try to fix each other, but to sit there with them in their mess. to break down the door and sit with them while they cry and then help them patch up the holes later

anyway sorry for the novel lol i hope you have a good day hima and enjoy the episode tonight!!

i agree that it would be surprising for them to actually diagnose him like this on the show but i certainly think it’s fair to approach his character with this lens especially if you see so much of yourself in him. i don’t think this is strange AT ALL and i totally see what you’re saying!

and you’re so right. my favorite part of buddie is that they’re both fucked up and love each other for it. thanks for taking the time to share this with me 🤍🤍🤍

[vashtijoy]

Akechi's mementos quest is too good for cut content. He cares enough to go out of his way and teach a much needed life lesson to the thieves before he presumably dies. It's a mix of his own pride and self hate that leads to that decision, as with nearly all he does, but he still cares at the end of the day.

It's an absolutely beautiful subplot, and the likelihood is that it was only cut because it didn't make sense in Maruki's reality—and perhaps because it tells us too much about Akechi. Which sends me, anon, I'm not going to lie. 😂

That whole part about how nobody is a blameless victim and not everyone can be the hero of their own story—Akechi gets into this because the guy reminds him not only of Ren, but of himself, and then finds the parallels are more striking than he ever bargained for. And then he talks the PTs through their naivete and tells them, essentially, how stupid they were to give him a chance, to trust him.

He's also so openly and unashamedly manipulative in this. And the PTs are just like, yeah, Akechi is fucking us about but let's look into it anyway—right to his face, hahahaha.

There's just so much in here. The way he never questions that the kid should be punished. That people take advantage of others every day, just like he's both perpetrated and suffered. That others shouldn't be trusted, just like him. "Nothing good can come of keeping faith with people who haven't earned it."

Akechi gets into the case because he identifies with Karataki. But he still identifies with him at the end—he's projecting onto him. "I should be punished for what I did. I shouldn't be trusted. I'm not a victim, and I don't see myself as a hero."

And, of course, like you say, that little life lesson is something he can do, in the few weeks he has. Saying "sorry" doesn't butter any parsnips.

[missgrimes]

001 - fuck montrose

Soho — 03:45 A.M ( Catherine Steel )

The devil isn't always a little red man with horns, a long pointed tail, sometimes he can be handsome. And Rhys Montrose was the most beautiful demon Catherine had ever seen.

Blue-eyed, stocky, almost territorial in posture, and showered with all the English class, Montrose wore his elegance in a different way than London's rich men, who paraded around covered in gold and diamonds, showing off their fat wallets at Soho parties. . He had a fat wallet, but he didn't show it off. Rhys carried his bullion in an old, battered bag.

"My God, it's Montrose!" - Jess said giving me an elbow, which made me drop my drink.

“What the fuck. Why did it?"

"You did not see? Rhys is right there"

Jess's eyes almost popped out of their sockets they were so wide. She gave him that psychopath smile, teeth clenched, and waved at him. That Rhys Montrose grinned and waved back briefly as he walked down the club stairs. Down the stairs, on the last step, a small group of people gathered and pulled out their cell phones, pointing at Rhys, who just gave them a restrained smile, no teeth showing.

I didn't live in a cave, it was obvious I already knew who Rhys Montrose was. He became one of hundreds of celebrities with a bad history behind stardom who were "unassumingly" paraphrased in a few paragraphs in a booklet with an iconic cover that happened to be at the top of the Times for enough weeks to be placed on one of those lists. "Books You Must Read Before You Die" on the Internet. Yeah, I knew him, as did everyone else in that club.

“He's literally the hottest man I've ever seen in my life."

"Close your mouth before drool falls into your drink."

I laughed and Jess elbowed me again.

"He is...

" Incredible? Wonderful? Intelligent..."

"Married. I interrupted."

"In divorce proceedings, according to the Daily Mail.'

I rolled my eyes. Jesse really had a thing for married men.

She went on and on about how hot Rhys was but I was too tired to listen so I left her with a group of girls who were also talking about Rhys and walked off with my drink in the opposite direction of the fuss and whispers.

Leaving the Montrose fan club behind, I started looking at how the rich worked, and boy was it bizarre. The world of high society was more complex than I imagined. Moving between the millionaire groups I heard conversations about bitcoins, shares in the stock exchange, I took a few more steps and soon I heard about a sexual abuse case that was covered up by a supreme court judge last week, more steps forward and I heard about how the Europe was stupid to free the slaves and behead their Kings, after all, in the world there are only two types of people:

The hunt.

And the hunter.

My drunken walk took me to a secluded spot in the club. A place where loud music was nothing more than an annoying noise muffled by the walls. A kind of room, which I didn't hesitate to enter, with a spacious bed that I also didn't hesitate to throw myself on. The sensation of zigzagging between the limit of sobriety and the unconscious attracted me in a unique way, I liked the feeling of walking on a rope, where one wrong step could be fatal.

Even drunk I was acutely aware that I shouldn't be there, and the fact that I was taking off my dress and heels and rolling around in an overly comfortable bed was going to get me into trouble soon, but I just didn't care. I took a step in the opposite direction of sobriety that night.

Damn it. It was the first thing I thought of when I opened my eyes.

I got up from the bed more slowly than I would have liked, the icy wind coming from the balcony reminded me that I was still wearing my bra and panties, I snorted loudly when I touched the plush carpet in the room, I took a deep breath before I got up to get up , but my stay on two legs was brief, as I landed in a sitting position. in bed again. It was obvious that my stupid brain was still too drunk to do the simple task of keeping me on my feet. I huffed again and after the third try I just gave in to gravity and slammed my bare back into the mattress.

“You made the list of things not to do when you're drunk. Congratulations. "

I looked in the direction of the voice and there it was; Rhys Montrose, sitting in the armchair in the darkest corner of the room. Legs crossed as he slowly swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“You found my secret hiding place." He smiled.

“What are you doing here?”

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

I swallowed hard. Sober or not, I was going to get out of there as soon as possible. I gathered all my strength and got to my feet. I gripped the headboard as hard as I could and grabbed my dress off the floor and put it on, grabbed the silver heels and staggered to the door. But it was clear that my knees were still sleeping and forgetting to support me.

Rhys chuckled as he landed on the floor, not caring if I was listening or not.

" What's the fun"

"Other than your dress being backwards and you being so drunk you couldn't stand up?"

“Fuck off. I don't know what you think is going to happen here, but you're wrong."

"Do you know what's going to happen here?" He set his glass on the side table and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. The thick gold ring that rested on her thumb gleamed in the moonlight. “You'll try to get up, take half a step, and fall again. Get hurt and somehow it will end up on the front page of the Daily Mail tomorrow, with my name next to the word attacked.

" What do you want?"

"To help you"

“I don't need your help. And once again, nothing will happen here-"

“If I wanted to do something to you, young lady, I would have done it in the last three hours you've spent passed out and drooling on my bed."

“Fuck you, Montrose."

I leaned against one of the bookshelves and managed to get up.

Panting and unnecessarily sweaty, but on her feet.

I sucked in as much air as my lungs could hold and took the first step, onto my back, looking directly at Rhys. With one step after another I approached the door. I leaned on the handle when I thought I was going to fall, but on impact it broke, but somehow I caught on to the coat rack and I didn't actually fall before Rhys, who jumped up from his chair, came closer. .

With some difficulty I managed to get the door open and glanced at Montrose's stout figure before walking away.

(( summary here ₊˚✧ˎ

[useless19]

I was kinda hoping for a junior birthday edition of days, i loved junior in this series? I thought you were hinting twards it to. Did you have ideas or was it just a way to reasure bowser that luigi would be back?

So was I! I made a space for it in my drafts doc and everything, but I couldn't figure out enough of a plot to hang it together. It might've been because by that point I was starting to wind down my writing in Days with an aim to finish the series off, or it could have been because it would've required a fairly heavy narrative switch and I was already struggling with Bowser's pov for Day 16.

Or it could've been that I didn't want to have to figure out what a spoilt 8-year-old Koopa prince's birthday presents were going to be!

It's Junior's birthday, so it's going to be the most coolest awesomest day of the entire year! -the planned summary

Like King Boo, I left myself the option of writing Junior's birthday just in case. I've honestly found this to be pretty useful for constructing the series as a whole. Things happen that the narrative doesn't show (Luigi thinks about taking Junior Lava Bubble fishing one time, but we never see that), and allowing myself the freedom of not having to write it meant that I managed to finish more other parts than I ever thought I would when starting.

Still, I know roughly where the characters are at on Day 51 (aka Junior's birthday), so let's have a look at them, shall we?

Luigi extends his visit so he leaves the day after Junior's birthday. It's much easier for him to agree to stay longer than it is for him to commit to a longer stay before he arrives. He gets comfortable where he is. He spent the previous day making sure Junior knew he was going to leave after his birthday so that he wouldn't have to keep reminding Junior on his birthday and bring the mood down. Luigi likes a good party and he doesn't have to be the centre of attention, so he has a great time.

Bowser likes a party even more than Luigi and his son is growing up so well. He's way more tolerant of destructive antics than most parents too (he's got minions to deal with mess and rebuilding). He also starts to realise some of Luigi's problems when it comes to visiting; ie that he's very suggestible. It's not an entirely conscious observation, but he's less worried when Luigi leaves and spends more than a week away, despite saying that he was only going for a week. There's always going to be some lag. Email updates help (even if the first one is from a long-suffering Mario).

(If anyone other than me did the maths and figured out that Luigi wouldn't actually be at Bowser's castle for Day 69, assuming a consistent week-in-the-Mushroom-Kingdom/week-in-Bowser's-castle, this is why. It's always a bit more than a week-long visit).

And, of course, Junior. He's more resilient than Bowser in the being abandoned department, though he's still a bratty kid who's used to having his own way. He's very determined to show Luigi every single last one of his presents so Luigi will know what he's missing out on if he goes ahead with his stupid leaving plan. Similarly, the Koopalings also get the full range, but they have to leave in dribs and drabs over the next week too.

I guess part of why I couldn't figure out a plot was because Junior is going to be getting more and more intense and overexcited as his birthday party goes on and that would narrow the focus too much to be interesting.

(Maybe the lesson here is that putting it in Junior's pov was a bad call and I should've been trying to see Luigi's thoughts on the whole thing).

I don't know what Luigi would get Junior. He'd probably play it safe and do some art supplies (which are fine, but nothing super exciting and he gets a bit miffed when Junior moves on fairly quickly). He also delivers a letter from Peach (which Junior initially dismisses as boring), with an invitation to a brand new tournament she's organising (I'd have just picked a random sport that's not a main Mario tie-in game, or maybe one of the less represented sports like one of the Olympic ones). Luigi can't remember speaking with her about that, but he must've said enough for her to do this. Junior's quite excited over this - it's his own invitation, not just his dad's!

I also imagine that Mario sends something, maybe food? Possibly a bunch of hot sauce bottles from the various places he's helped out (they won't stop sending them and, while he likes spicy food, he can't eat this much!)? He puts the same amount of effort into it as he would a nephew. Luigi's also surprised at this and has to deal with the (actually super obvious in hindsight) realisation that he's sort of on his way to becoming Junior's step-dad, not just a regular old babysitter.

(Yeah, this would've been a challenge to properly depict in Junior's pov. Possibly an interesting one though.)

It was definitely set up more as potential day for writing, but it was useful to help reassure Bowser once I'd added it.

[raziraphale]

I've learned not to trust my memory, so I wanted to make a note for myself of some things I enjoyed from the Neptune production of RAGAD before it all leaks out my ears. It's mostly for me but thought I'd post it here in case it's interesting to anyone else.

Note for people that aren't me: this is the only production of RAGAD I've seen live. I've seen the movie and the 2017 NTL recording as of writing this, for reference. So, forgive me if I gush about elements/choices that are common to RAGAD productions and not unique to this one lol. Also I was an English major but not a theatre guy outside some Shakespeare, so also bear with me if I'm lacking some specific terms.

Performances:

I feel like this almost goes without saying but Boyd and Monaghan are excellent as Guildenstern and Rosencrantz. Their chemistry is great. There was an excellent rhythm to their dialogue together that was really fast-paced without feeling artificial (imo there is a certain point where performers talk so fast it can only feel fake. They were all believable enthusiam).

I particularly liked Monaghan's Rosencrantz! like there was just something so earnest about him. He had this character tic of chewing on his finger most of the time out of anxiety or inattention and that stuck out for me for some reason. It was endearing. Also the line "I wanted to make you happy" made the whole theatre let out a wounded animal noise.

Also Boyd's Guildenstern really did a good job of projecting an aura of "person trying really hard to appear in control but may also snap any moment". Control freak recognizing control freak o7

The Player (Michael Blake) was amazing. He had such huge stage presence that you really believed the character was a seasoned performer. I fully believe this man could successfully sell me snake oil with the power of his presence alone.

Personal note but I was jazzed to see Drew Douris-O'Hara as Alfred. I'm not a regular Neptune patron so I don't know how often he appears in their productions, but I have seen many a Shakespeare By The Sea show in my time so he's a very familiar face. Always a really fun presence.

I also feel like I have to mention Ophelia (Helen Belay) even though she obviously doesn't get much to do here. The actress really sold every small appearance though like my heart broke a little every time I saw her in anticipation for her off-stage fate. Less important but have you ever seen a woman so beautiful you started crying?

Costumes:

I really liked Ros and Guil's tattered suits. They looked like they were dragged behind a horse. These are the clothes of two guys that have been trapped in a play for like 50 years, truly.

They also had an inverted colour scheme (Ros had a blue suit with a green waistcoat, Guil had a green suit with blue waistcoat) that really emphasized the two-sides-of-the-same-coin/ yin & yang vibe. Also the colours weren't really shared by the rest of the cast much (they tended to be a bit more muted) so it made them stand out as separate from the rest of what was happening.

Also personal note but I was enchanted by Monaghan's slightly stupid-looking grown-out fauxhawk. He basically had a lesbian mullet haircut. That combined with his single dangly earring was a Look.

The Player's coat was gorgeous. It felt grand but also appropriately dated/worn. It wasn't fully a feather jacket, but it had a smattering of large feathers that got more dense as it went down. It kind of reminded me of a vulture, honestly, which I think is fitting, with him being an opportunist that loves some corpses.

Script:

Misc. Stage Stuff:

Unless I'm really mistaken, I think they cut/modified the few lines with some outdated racial terms (I have two specifically in mind, referring to Chinese and Inuit people). So unless I just somehow missed hearing those, that's nice.

Just a note to say that the line about who the English King is will depend on when they get to England got a huge laugh. Thank you to King Charles' cancer for making everything funnier

The lighting !!! It really did a lot to separate the scenes from Hamlet from the rest of it. The stage was dark for most of it, with cool lighting (like a blue darkness). For the Hamlet portions, though, the lights were suddenly bright and warm yellow. That combined with the differences in the performances gave a strong impression that the curtain had just suddenly risen on a more traditional production of Hamlet right in the middle of Ros and Guil just doing whatever.

I really liked how they used the two risers on wheels they had (not sure if that's the right word -- they were those three-tiered platforms I remember from doing choir in school. Kind of like bleachers). They looked like they belonged on an empty stage and also gave the actors something interesting to climb on. They were able to reposition them pretty easily with the wheels, which really worked for the portions on the boat tbh. They just pushed them together so that the lower tiers touched to create a half-pipe-shaped skeletal "boat". They could climb "above deck", or even go below while still being fully visible from whatever angle. The whole thing was spun around a lot during the pirate attack, which was fun.

The risers also separated the stage really well in the first two acts. For most of it, there was one on the left side facing the audience, for characters to sit on, and one on the right facing backwards and partially obscured by the curtain they had covering that side of the stage. The curtain was backlit, so you could see the silhouettes of anything behind it. At some points, you could actually see shadows of events in Hamlet happening in the background while Ros and Guil were doing their thing in the foreground. Unfortunately I didn't get the best look at them, bc I was sitting at far right of my row, so the far right of the stage was partially out of my sight line. Still a really cool effect!

They did turn the risers fully around to face the back during the players' performance of The Murder of Gonzago, with the curtain pulled across. You saw the shadow of the king standing up and storming out.

For the final scene, they did the expected thing, where Ros and Guil are alone in the dark, illuminated by a single narrow spotlight each. The spotlight goes out when each of them die and they disappear from view. The detail that made me insane though is that each time a spotlight went out, they played the sound of a flipped coin hitting the stage and the audience was so quiet it felt like a gunshot both times.

After all the deaths they had Rosencrantz and Guildenstern start from the opening scene again tossing coins for a bit before the final curtain. They did not escape the narrative 😔

Will add more if anything else comes to mind?

[readingloveswounds]

Do you ever write a conference abstract, and you feel very confident about your argument, and then once you start writing the paper you start feeling not so confident about the argument? Because that is happening to me right now and I'm freaking out.

Oh, absolutely. 100%. I am 2/2 for on this. I think (at least in my case) it's a part of the spectre of imposter syndrome that haunts my every move. It's also the fear of being Seen by strangers who you really want to respect you - you put in a lot of work and what if they think you're not smart (etc).

Some things that help me with this are:

attending other talks (conference or individual invited speakers). This reminds me of reality - that conference papers and talks are sometimes people just playing around with an idea and it doesn't have to be perfect and fully thought-through. I know that I will hold myself to a stupid level of perfectionism ('their paper can be imperfect/early stages but mine can't be' type shit), but it is VERY much okay to not be perfect, to say 'here's an idea i have, if you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them'.

Let it suck. This is the 'just write it' advice. I am going to put SOMETHING in this word doc if it kills me and then I'll figure it out.

Saying 'okay, I think it sucks, but what am I going to do about that? Where can I improve?' Whether or not fears of the paper being terrible are founded, this helps me get out of the spiral and actually do something. Do I need to read through it again? Do I need to go back to my sources? Do I need to make a list? If you still think it's weak, it is (probably, it may depend on where you're giving the paper) possible to take the argument in a slightly different direction than your abstract - you can acknowledge the change if you like.

Do I need to go do something else? Sometimes I'm way too deep in things to see clearly. Whether this is working on something else, going on a walk, talking to people, a break can help.

Preparing as much as possible - I can't anticipate every question, but I have and will bring extra material (either in my head or in a small set of notes at the end of the paper) in case I want to have some solid extra ground to start with. If you're worried that your argument isn't great, here's some material to say 'hey i've done some work and even if my ideas aren't as developed as i'd like, here's some other information'

Remind yourself that you only have a short amount of minutes to speak! You can't fit a whole dissertation in that amount of time! You can't get deep into every single detail that you might want to! (This is something that I've been fighting with recently).

Conferences are for exchanging ideas. Plenty of people are assholes, but in theory, we go to conferences to talk to people, get outside perspectives on ideas, to collaborate. There will always be assholes, but there will also be people who will want to talk more about your paper and maybe guide you in directions for improvement that you didn't see at first.

As my parents told me about journal rejections, try not to take feedback too personally - it's not a judgement about you as a person. You are not your work.

Relatedly, unless you're presenting falsified data or massively plagiarising or something really serious like that, a not-so-great paper at a conference will not follow you forever (and if people are shitty about it, that's on them). There will always be next time. You can always mention later that you were a little silly in your past research! We are always growing and improving. This may not help in the moment, but it can help to put it a little more into perspective.

Essentially, yes, I do have this come up a lot. I have two conference papers coming up that I have to adapt and give in my second language. I feel like I'm going to disappoint both of the scholars who have invited me to give those. The thing is, I'm still going to write the papers because what would be even more disappointing is not giving them at all because I'm scared (and I am very scared). If I have something written, that's something I can improve as much as I can. Better to try and fail than not try at all, something like that.

I think confidence will come more with time (or so I hope), and if it doesn't, I at least now know a little how to handle this uncertainty with more confidence. I think it's fairly normal to have some doubts, but you can't let them get the best of you.

As they say so often on tumblr: do it scared, do it stupid, but however you do it, just do it.

[trials-of-apollo-my-beloved]

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!