#it's worse because I've just been in one of those periods lately

[warmpants]

Properly learning my lesson that eating breakfast is the most important thing you can do because I didn't have any yesterday and then I received terrible news and felt like shit physically all day and it's kind of hard to eat now

[arolesbianism]

Some Brute doodles plus a bonus Button

[would-you-punt-them]

Imagine watching a show with probably the most surface level potrayal of the message of "rich people suck and will use poor people for money" only to be like "hm. as the total anthesis of this message i should totally recreate this"

It's made even worse when you consider the fact that this isn't the first "IRL Squid Game" ever attempted, Netflix UK did one that was specifically based on the actual show in January 2023 called "Squid Game: The Challenge".

(I've seen people in the tags get these two shows confused, they are different - Beast Games is on Amazon, not Netflix, was filmed at the end of July this year, and hasn't come out yet).

But Netflix UK have their own scandal to answer for.

That original British Squid Game was also a disaster. "Beast Games" was filmed in the middle of one of Nevada's hottest Julys on record, hence why so many contestants suffered from extreme dehydration due to the lack of water. On the other hand, "Squid Game: The Challenge" was filmed during an unusually cold British January.

The players had been given coats, leg warmers, space heaters, and so on during the lead up to the game, only to have those warm clothes taken away before the first challenge began, because they needed to wear those paper thin canon-accurate Squid Game tracksuits. They weren't even allowed to zip them up, because the cameras needed to see the numbers on their shirts, and the fake blood spurting out when they were eliminated.

They then had to play Redlight-Greenlight in the blistering cold, holding poses, completely still, for increasing lengths of time (2 minutes at the start of the game, 30 in the late stages). Players starting collapsing from the cold, and had to be rescued by medics.

The game started with 456 competitors on Day 1, and ended up with 228 by Day 2.

Here's the Variety article: Inside Netflix’s ‘Squid Game’ Reality Show Disaster: ‘The Conditions Were Absolutely Inhumane’

TL;DR - Here are some choice quotes in case you want to read them:

“The second time the song played, I saw in my left peripheral vision that this girl was swaying. Then she just buckled, and you could hear her head actually hit the ground,” says Marlene. “But then someone came on the [microphone] and said to hold our positions because the game is not paused. After that, people were dropping like flies.”

Jenny, a player from outside the U.K. who had been flown in for the game, tells Variety: “I’m infuriated by the narrative that Netflix is putting out there, that only [a few] people were injured…we were all injured just by going through that experience.

“I’ve never been that cold for that long a period in my life. We couldn’t feel our feet or our toes. It was ridiculous,” she says. Jenny also claims that while the game was in production, restroom or water breaks weren’t allowed.

“Take some responsibility for the fact that you were ill-prepared for this kind of thing, with this number of people,” continues Jenny, between tears. “There were some things I guess [producers] didn’t think about, but when they saw the weather was going to be that way, they should have made adjustments.”

All three players [John, Marlene and Jenny] say they returned to the hotel between 7 p.m. and midnight without having dinner. Dinner orders had been taken at lunch, but because the game had run longer than expected, contestants were transported back to their central London hotel without having eaten. Production had ordered pizzas for those arriving, but there wasn’t enough food to go around, and some people went to bed hungry.

“In the morning, I woke up and there was a cold hamburger from McDonald’s and a side salad in front of my door that had been there for God knows how long,” says Marlene.

(Variety, Feb 3, 2023)

(Also, "Marlene and Jenny" are pseudonyms, because like Beast Game they signed NDAs.)

There are some other similarities with Beast Games - denial of bathroom breaks, lack of food, lack of water, inadequate medical care, and so on.

Netflix is denying these claims, or at least denying that they are as bad as contestants are suggesting, and said that while it was undeniably cold on set, "participants were prepared for that". Participants have claimed that they were, in fact, in no way prepared for that.

We know MrBeast has probably seen "Squid Game: The Challenge", because they've tried to one-up it. The British show originally had "the biggest cash-prize ever offered in reality TV" ($4.5 million), until Beast Games showed up with an ever bigger prize of $5 million.

So, it's not just "Jimmy recreating the Torment Nexus after watching the show "Don't recreate the Torment Nexus".

It's closer to "Jimmy recreating the Torment Nexus from the show "Don't create the Torment Nexus", after watching the show "This is what happens when you create the Torment Nexus".

[thebibliosphere]

Hey! I know that this isn't something you struggle with but since a lot of your other followers are disabled as well, it would mean a lot to me if you could publish this ask since I'd like to see if anyone else experiences anything similar to what I'm going through. I'm not asking for anyone to armchair diagnose me, I'd just appreciate not feeling so alone and scared and confused. My general physician is claiming that my anxiety is causing the issues I'll describe but I call bullshit on that:

About two years ago, cca 4 months after my top surgery, my body stopped being able to process oil. Whenever I'd eat anything that was made with oil of any kind, I'd get cramps in the abdomen after a while and I'd get diarrhea. Caffeine started to do this also but in a smaller intensity. I had a hysterectomy a bit after that and they checked my kidneys and liver so I know that those are both ok and not the cause. I also got checked for Celiac since it runs in the family. Because the issue wasn't getting worse and my then general physician was always dismissive, I let it be. When I wasn't having diarrhea, I was constipated, though I did have a bowel movement like once or twice a week. Fast forward to now. In August, it suddenly got a lot worse. At first, even a single drop of oil would make me feel ill. Then, the time period got longer - currently the cramps and the pain last for 48 hours afterwards. I also became unable to digest animal fats, the only meat I can eat is lean chicken and fish. Afterwards, gluten became an issue (Celiac is still negative), and then nuts as well.

My new GP, even though she believes it to be anxiety, gave me Itopride, and it worked for about 3 weeks - I had no cramps, pain, exhaustion, gas or bloating after eating, and I had a bowel movement once a day. But it stopped working two days ago, again without a reason, and the effects started being less effective about a week ago. Even when taking the meds, I have a movement only once in about 8 days, and laxatives make me gassy but nothing happens. I'm also not sure about this, but it seems that chicken is no longer safe either.

I think it's important that if I don't take Itopride, I never even feel the urge to go, so when I say that I've always been constipated, I mean that I don't even feel the need to have a movement. Lately, when I take Itopride, I do get the urge that I do always get when taking it, but it's like I can't go, so I always feel full.

I just feel super scared and I have no idea what's going on. I admit that I have a history of eating disorders (in recovery since May) and I did abuse laxatives about a year ago, but I don't think it was enough to cause such serious issues? I used to take them like once a week and for about 3-4 months.

I'd really appreciate knowing if anyone has ever experienced anything similar or knows about anything like this because I feel like my life is in shambles - can't go outside for long because I might need the toilet suddenly, or I'm in too much pain to walk, I'm afraid to eat, I often feel repulsive, I don't know what might happen in a month, I am becoming incapable of taking care of myself and my flat because I'm just so goddamn tired.

Ooft, I’m sorry. It sounds like you’ll need a colonoscopy to figure this one out, so if you haven’t had one yet, really push for a referral.

Fwiw, I do experience something like this, but it’s from mast cell inflammation in my GI tract. The doc prescribed me bentyl for when things flare up but I’m also on a fiber supplement (citrucel. It’s a lot gentler than other types) to try and keep that from happening. Also if you’re low on b vitamins, your stomach sometimes stops digesting food, so maybe also ask about getting your levels checked. Taking an additional b2 supplement means I can process fats and oils again which I couldn’t before.

I’m not saying this to be like “this is what you have” just throwing them out there as suggestions that might help you piece together what might be wrong.

I hope you get more helpful comments in the notes 💖

[kingdomoftyto]

I'm crying laughing, the DVDs are even worse than I remember... Season 1's menus are silent with a single static jpg of the same key character art they use for everything else, and the episodes on the Season 2 discs don't even match what's listed on the box! Absolutely stunning lack of shits given. Truly unparalleled. But I really shouldn't be surprised given... well... everything about how this series has been treated since the very beginning.

Time for a quick ~✨PHANDOM HISTORY LESSON✨~ to give newer/less hyperfixated folks more context for why the graphic novel being as great as it is is such a HUGE deal:

Danny Phantom was one of Nickelodeon's MAIN cartoons, in its time. It was a central pillar. One of the top three or four of their lineup, which is saying something when the competition includes the cultural juggernaut that is Spongebob.

Despite this, and despite its superhero theming making it perfectly marketable, it got basically ZERO official merch.

What little we did get was often ugly and very, very cheap. The dedication at the start of the graphic novel that jokes about collecting the Burger King toys? That's because it was some of the most notable merch the franchise EVER had. (I sadly do not have any of it. There was no BK in my hometown. Here's a pic from the internet, though, to give you an idea.)

If you think I'm exaggerating about that being the most significant physical merch to come out of the series, consider that the first video game had an entire menu option specifically for the Burger King promotional tie-in:

That video game, by the way, was one of only two ever based on the show. The first was an adaptation of "The Ultimate Enemy" in the style of a short sidescrolling beat-em-up, and the second was themed around "Urban Jungle" and (as far as I can tell--I've only played the first couple levels) was an arcade-style scrolling shooter. Both were for the Gameboy Advance, and both are...... fine, as far as cash-grabby video game tie-ins to kids' shows go. This was pretty normal for the time, so I suppose we did okay in that department, actually. They're not GOOD, but they're playable and have at least a bit of effort put into them.

But besides those two video games (plus a handful of simple, long-defunct Flash games on nick.com)? In the decade and a half since the show ended?

Nothing.

No books, no games, no comics, no web shorts--unless you count mega-crossovers with every other Nicktoon (a la Nicktoons Unite), or soulless promotional material like "Fairly Odd Phantom" (which, trust me, despite being the first new DP animation in over 10 years was not even worth the effort of watching).

...I think there was a limited edition FunkoPop once?

So yeah.

A Glitch in Time is not just the first cool, well-made thing we've seen from the franchise in a while. It's the first THING we've seen since the show. PERIOD. And arguably the first worthwhile supplementary material to EVER come out of the show, depending on how you feel about those GBA games and the Nicktoons crossovers.

This franchise is widely beloved even now, almost 20 years after it first aired, and it feels like that fact is now, finally, FINALLY getting some official recognition.

PLEASE read A Glitch in Time. Tell other people about it. The series--no, the fans--deserve this (and more of this, if the folks in charge see enough of a response and decide to grace us with any followup). It's LONG overdue, but better late than never.

[petitteperle]

My Hc Wife!Mizu

(Modern!Au just to yes)

Hey guys!! So, recently I've been really enjoying making Mizu headcanons, and I think you guys enjoy reading them too, considering that these pots of mine get quite a few likes... so I made another one!

warnings: sfw content, fluffly headcanons, mizu×reader,fem!reader

Mizu usually wakes up earlier, she gets up between 5 am to train, and you stay asleep.

Before leaving, she gives you a kiss on the forehead.

But sometimes (especially when she's on her period) Mizu stays with you late. She hides her face in the crook of your neck and hugs your waist. This requires a lot of movement from both of you, so you kind of wake up in this quick period of time and run your fingers over her scalp in a massage.

In the morning, if she woke up earlier than you to go train, she won't be back until 8:00 am.

Since she doesn't know how to cook well, you make the meals.

Usually you and her have breakfast watching TV.

Mizu is the type of person who will never tell you if something is bothering her, she will just sulk and wait for you to find it out.

As I said before, cooking is not one of her skills, but she tries to help you make meals by cutting some necessary food or stirring the food on the stove for you while you go to the bathroom, or checking if the cake is ready in the oven.

When something breaks she will try to fix it (sometimes it works, and sometimes she makes the situation worse)

She takes VERY cold showers, so most of the time when it's late at night and she comes out of the bathroom with her hair dripping, you insist she wear socks

Speaking of cold showers, she has very cold hands, and it just gets worse in winter. She has this annoying habit of putting her hands under your shirt and squeezing your warm stomach/breasts in surprise, just for the cold of her body to rub off on you and you to jump in fright. She thinks it's very funny.

Sometimes you put makeup on her or do her hair, she doesn't like it very much, she says she feels like a doll.

She walks a lot, when she walks around she sees a lot of flowers, she almost always picks one or two and takes them to you, the bad thing is that most of the time the flowers get crushed because she puts them in her pocket or in a bag. But you always thank her and say they're beautiful.

You and Mizu have a habit of trying out those funny Instagram filters that make your face look wrinkled. These are really fun moments.

I hope you enjoyed!!

[celaenaeiln]

Based on the posts I've been reading, the Titans rlly dislike Bruce xD

Do you have a list of stuff of the Titans clowning/making fun/hating Bruce? 👀

If there's too many (omg is it??), maybe just your faves or those that rlly impacted you

They do!!

I had the post mostly done in my drafts when I saw your ask and decided this was the perfect opportunity to finish it!

BUT I DEFINITELY HAVE MORE!

The tug-of-war between the two groups comes from the fact that Bruce canonically has codependency issues with Dick. He honestly needs his son at all times for everything.

The source of Bruce and Dick's relationship problems all sum up to this:

Nightwing (2016) Issue #7

"I wanted to give him the freedom to make his own choices. To do things his way, even if that meant making mistakes. And then...well, then I blamed him for how difficult it was for me to let him go."

He's so, so proud of Dick but he refuses to release him to be free. When Dick manages to get away Bruce hisses and shrieks in rage and fury and hurt that Dick left. Even those long stints where Dick was ignoring Bruce after being fired or after Jason's death, Bruce never ignored Dick. Sometimes going as far as stalking him like at the circus.

This one is post-Jason, pre-Tim era.

The New Titans (1988) Issue #61

Ignoring the self-realization backtrack, it's applaudable that Bruce was even able to get those words out at all. Usually it's just heavily implied.

So the reason why Bruce hates the Titans so much is because they're his biggest threat. They have the possibility of taking Dick away from him forever and he's terrified of such a future.

It wasn't originally like this though. In the beginning when Dick said, I'm gonna hang out with the Titans, Bruce'd be like "Sure, Chum, have fun!"

Teen Titans: The Silver Age Issue #1

But as Dick grew older, there was increasing animosity between the Titans and Bruce. It got so bad that Bruce gave Dick an ultimatum: Me or the Titans. Choose.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #101

"I know, I know...I'm late. Titans Business. We just shut down Brother Blood for...good.."

"Save it."

"Look, I don't know how many hundreds of people we rescued from Blood's cult, but it was a pretty important mission."

"I said save it."

Nightwing (1996) Issue #101

But here's where it gets worse. Bruce and Dick are too busy fighting that they both missed Clayface recovering, obviously in the end they defeat him but neither of them are happy for the oversight which leads to the final scene.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #101

Bruce literally fired Dick because he couldn't stand him staying with the Titans.

"Robin is my second...my lieutenant. Anything less that total devotion to this cause is simply wasting my time."

Devotion to the cause or to you, Bruce? He's freaking Batman. He's done solo runs and Dicks done solo runs as Robin just fine but for some reason whenever the Titans are involved, he loses his goddamn mind.

But hey. Bruce isn't the only one who gives Dick an ultimatum.

Titans (1999) Issue #15

Damn, Roy.

He came out swinging with a chainsaw.

Both sides want Dick for themselves. About 80% of the Titans problems with Dick lie in the fact that they want him to have nothing to do with Bruce.

Batman (2016) Issue #19

Titans (1999) Issue #15

They just want Dick's priority and loyalty to be to them, undivided. Unfortunately, Bruce expects the very same-only it's for himself.

The Titans get so angry at Dick for going back to Bruce and Bruce gets so mad at Dick for favoring the Titans. But Dick loves both of them so there's literally no winning for him. The successful periods for Dick are when both sides comprise for him.

They're willing to work together to protect him though.

Titans (2008) Issue #1

Outsiders (2003) Issue #50

The instant de-escalation at protecting the reputation of Nightwing and her girlfriend. Not to mention how it was Batman who wanted to keep the dirt off Dick.

But the issue is, like Victor said,

Titans East Special

Titans are family.

But Bruce can't bear for Dick to have a family of his own that's not him.

[xxsycamore]

𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙨 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙣 (ARTHUR X READER)

↬ 🩸 ❝ Now, now…❞ Arthur unfolds yet another towel, laying it on the bed. ❝ You've surely heard that this is one way to treat period cramps.❞ ❝ What is?❞ ❝ Orgasms.❞

Arthur Conan Doyle x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Menstruation; Menstrual Sex; Period Cramps; Embarrassment; Kink Negotiation; Vanilla; Arthur is gentle; Pet Names; Gentle Sex; that gets a little not so gentle; Vaginal Fingering; Vaginal Sex; Kissing; Lots of it; mentions of blood drinking; Creampie; Aftercare; Post-Coital Cuddling; Crying; Dacryphilia • wordcount:  3,177 • masterlist

a/n: I've been trying to finish this fic for months 😭 My first period sex fic! Hope you enjoy!! If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, may I also offer: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart, Theo, Leonardo, Sebastian 💕(All fics in this series share the same opening scene!)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than half-way done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appearing as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

“Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

Trying to escape from the pain in the realm of your imagination, you fantasize about nicer things���and that means fantasizing about your boyfriend, Arthur. If only he was here right now, you're sure the pain would be way more bearable. Maybe he would sit in the armchair next to you and take out the small journal he keeps on his person to work on his current draft. You love relaxing in the ambient sound of his pen scribbling across the paper, it has helped you fall asleep many nights. On those, he'd normally write on his desk, but seeing you snuggled onto yourself alone on the bed never sits right with him. It typically doesn't take him too long to come join you under the warmed-up covers. You think about how he props the book against his knee, how he plays with the ends of your hair spilled across the pillow when he gets deep in thought…

You also think about how on some nights, you just can't sleep, and he just can't write - when those innocent idle caresses start growing into more, and your gazes meet for a second too long. Arthur would slowly remove his glasses and turn off the night lamp; then in a flash, his lips are attacking your neck with passionate kisses before your eyes can get used to the darkness.

How did your mind trail off to this, again?

"Arthuuuurr…" You groan as the loneliness begins growing stronger with your daydreams, and the cramps chime in as well.

You hear the floorboards creak outside the door and you raise yourself to a sitting position, calling an abrupt end to your short break. Maybe you'll go take some medicine, after all…

"Calling for me, luv?"

You stand awkwardly in front of the couch for a second, staring at Arthur as if he is a fraction of your imagination still. He's not, and if it wasn't for the godawful cramps you'd be throwing yourself on his neck right this instant.

"D-Did you really hear me? It can't be possible!"

Thankfully, he's the one shortening the distance so you don't have to, planting a greeting kiss on your cheek.

"Oh? So you did call my name?" A wide grin occupies his lips now, satisfied with himself and his little accidental guess that wins him the sight of your blushing face.

Realizing his bluff, you purse your lips, removing yourself from his smooching range.

One look at you and Arthur is nodding as if all the checkboxes in his head are now marked. However, he's not celebrating the brilliancy of his deductive mind with a smirk this time; he looks remarkably concerned.

"You were lying down just now, luv, didn't you? Are you in pain? Your period came?"

Despite the best efforts of this persisting pain, expressions other than a bitter frown are still able to play on your features, and you're honestly impressed. "Yes, yes, and yes, but…how did you know?"

Arthur steals himself another kiss, on the corner of your lip this time. "How did I know? Is it so strange for me to know my lover inside out?"

Whispering his reply is all a part of the flirty little trick to win you over, and you wish he didn't - because it works a little too well with the whirlwind of emotions and hormones inside you. You shiver whole, barely able to spare a thought or two about the actual reason. Didn't you catch him taking a bath today? Did he take a peek in your underwear drawer, armed with the knowledge about which panties are the "period panties" (which surprisingly IS a thing even with the circumstances of this time and age!), and notice their absence? Some pervert he is. It wouldn't even be his first time doing this, but still, you're not mad. Not when he's palming and caressing your shoulders while sneaking in another kiss on your pouting lips. You love his attention, especially now that you missed it so much.

"Now luv, what are we going to do with you, hmm?"

You shiver as his hands wander all the way down to your hips and linger there.

"Should we get you something warm to press to your belly? Or maybe take you on a light walk once you're done resting? One word and I'll do everything for you, my dear."

"Arthur, you're spoiling me…"

"Think about it, I'll wait."

Oh, thinking is not good. Not when he's so close with little to no room left to be closer than that, save for the one thing you absolutely cannot ask of him. Your thoughts start getting shameless; cursed be the conditions that are not letting you pounce on him. Even if you're never going to live down the shame of it, you wish you could just hump his leg to a sweet, sweet release and be over with it. It would end quickly and without mess.

Arthur looks at you differently now, and you can feel his gaze examining you. You try to control your breathing which might have quickened in the last couple of seconds. But he's too good at this.

"Something the matter, luv? You seem hot."

His cool hand on your cheek feels too good, as if asking you to nuzzle into it, slip the thumb in your mouth and suck. You summon some much-needed self-control at the price of a sharp breath that puts the attempts at steady breathing to waste. You decide to spill the beans, groaning as another cramp creeps its way onto your nerves, both metaphorically and literally.

"I'm horny."

You expect pity at most. This sort of blurted-out-of-nowhere confession is more typical of the man in front of you, so even with this, you're not doomed to become the bigger pervert between the two of you; it's relieving somehow. You hope that Arthur understands.

"Ah."

It's a small exclamation, and it could mean many things coming from his mouth of all people. While leaving yourself wholly in his hands and their gentle messaging motions, you should've considered that he is ready to sweep you off your feet any second. Like he does right now.

The sudden loss of balance surprises you, and you find yourself carried bridal style. Arthur turns with you in the direction of the door, but before taking a single step, he leans in to whisper to you. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you have no chances of escape as his warm breath hits your lips.

"I think I just thought of a way to relieve you from your pains, darling."

***

To your surprise, you're dropped off at the chaise longue once in your shared bedroom. You watch in near horror as Arthur brings out towels and lays them on the bed. It's not long before you connect two and two, and you have to protest.

"Arthur, you're surely not thinking about-"

"Now, now…" Arthur unfolds yet another towel, giving it a small shake. "You've surely heard that this is one way to treat period cramps."

"What is?"

"Orgasms." Arthur catches your gaze, having finished preparing the bed. You watch him approach and you change the position of your legs on the chaise longue, pressing your thighs together.

Sometimes you hate how awfully familiar Arthur is with the human body given the fact that he used to be a doctor - a field doctor, but a doctor nonetheless - everything from your anatomy to your bodily reactions being a mere tool in his hands to love you and to take care of you, should the need arise. You should be glad to have such a knowledgeable boyfriend by your side, even if it embarrasses you to no end when he puts his skills into action.

"But, it's gross!" You insist in a near-shout, realizing that he's now close enough to hear you even in a meek whisper. "Just think of all the mess… I don't want you to be grossed out with me."

"My dove."

Arthur caresses your neck, pressing his thumb into the underside of the top button of your shirt and easily undoing it, then moving to the next. He pretends he doesn't possess the skill of getting it all done with in seconds, and you're not a fan, even if it gives you time to arrange your thoughts. He wets his lips and continues.

"Nothing about you could ever gross me out. I think this exercise would help me prove that to you, even… and maybe by the end of it, you'll truly believe me."

Soon there are no more buttons left for him to undo.

"I happen to know how to wash blood from bedsheets."

Shivers go straight to your nethers, images of sleepless nights flash in your mind with the reminder of the sharp tips of his fangs perforating the skin of your neck.

"I'm a blood-drinking bastard, remember?…" He latches his mouth into your neck, but keeps his fangs to himself. Despite doing nothing to stop him, you know that losing more blood is not the wisest thing to do right now, and you're already sure Arthur keeps that in mind. You still enjoy his teeth on you, even the ones that don’t aim to break the skin. Before he can suck long enough to leave a mark, he breaks the contact, needing you to be good and listen for a little longer.

"Some blood cannot get in my way of giving you pleasure. Quite the contrary."

You whine at his comment alone, as embarrassing as it is, and you realize that you've been rubbing your thighs together a little too hard. It doesn't go unnoticed by your boyfriend, as he places his warm hand on your knee, smirking at the way you shiver and release the tense muscles of your thighs. He pats you in encouragement. "Will you stand up for me, my princess?"

Complying quietly, you stand up on shaky legs. Arthur hugs you from behind, distracting you with kisses as he untucks your open shirt from your skirt, moving to his next target. Soon the two pieces of clothing pool at your feet, leaving you only in your underwear. His hand is gentle as it guides you to bed like many times before.

You lie down with the soft towels underneath caressing your lower body, and it's not as awkward as you thought it would be. Arthur doesn't give you much time to dwell on it as he climbs ontop of you, claiming your mouth in a passionate kiss.

Burning hot need pools in your belly, a tang of pain mixing with it, and you realize you've almost all forgotten about your cramps. Instead of being wary of upcoming sensations flaring them up, you feel like chasing the prevailing lust that now resides in your loins. Arthur's got you. You want to experience this together with him.

Eager to show him your progress, you guide his right hand between your open legs. To your surprise, he lets out a groan, breaking the kiss to look down and rub the place at the apex of your thighs.

You didn't expect to feel him through the obstacles in the way, and your own sensitivity catches you unprepared. The noise you make is familiar to Arthur, it's hardly the first time he's got you helpless and dying for him to touch you like that. Though it usually takes a bit more toying with you. He keeps rubbing down on it until your body is certain this is nowhere near enough for what it needs.

"Arthurrr… Please…"

"Begging already? My, aren't you cute?"

You pout at his teasing, taking matters into your own hands as you try to shimmy out of your panties. He's there to help, hands meeting yours as he pulls them down and out of the way.

You shut your legs together out of embracement, and Arthur is prepared for this reaction as he quietly tuts you, resuming his ambush on your lips, and you give into his ways of convincing you.

Feeling the tips of his fingers on your clit, electricity runs through you and you thrust your pelvis up involuntarily. Arthur remains collected as his fingers dance around your bundle of nerves, but no matter how gentle he is, his touch feels too good for some reason. You can feel how slippery it is, but the feeling is not too alien to you, and that's a relief. While drowning in the sweetness of Arthur's kisses, it all feels like a regular night with him, you're just extra wet and sensitive.

"Arthur- Are you gonna…" You don't finish, instead running your hand down his toned body and to the front of his pants.

He chuckles. "Only if you can handle it, luv. Say the word and I'll give you what you need. But if you think that would be too much, I can make you cum on my hand now and here."

It all sounds lovely to you, but the hormones playing with your head are demanding all you can take and more. You want to explore this sensation all the way, despite the tad of embarrassment still threateningly lingering in the back of your head.

"I want you inside…" You blurt out, raising your legs in an attempt to make Arthur hurry up and slip inside you already. You obviously don't need more preparation, as you're sure it's not only the blood lubricating your hole anymore.

The shadow of lust darkening Arthur's blue eyes is alone at fault for your walls clamping down around nothing. The rustling of a belt coming undone is music to your ears as you count the seconds before Arthur claims the place between your legs once again.

Same as when you felt his fingers, the tip of his very hard cock makes you jump, but now Arthur chooses to simply observe from above as you forms writhe. You feel him coating himself in your juices and the filthiness of the act makes you moan on the spot. The repeating tease of him threatening to breach your entrance only to withdraw is making you crawl out of your skin.

"Are those tears in your eyes, Luv? Oh, you poor thing, we teased you too much now…"

You're shocked to discover that your vision is indeed blurry. Hormones at fault, you mutter a sound of surprise that turns into a moan as Arthur finally enters you.

"Oh— My god, so— big-"

Arthur groans like you rarely hear him do. He must have felt that too. You're really tight around him.

It's good he slips his tongue between your lips again because the smallest thrust would make you explode. You're getting drunk on this sensation, feeling him so intensely. Just as you begin to relax, he starts grinding inside you.

"Ahhhh- More, more!"

Eager to give you all you want, Arthur complies until you start hearing the wet noises of him thrusting inside you. It's making your face red, but you can't help moaning at every thrust, adding to the sultry sounds.

Arthur is as lost in it as you are, and your heart sings at being the source of his maddening need. Hearing his low noises of pleasure drives you closer and closer to the edge, as all you can think about is cumming together with him.

Locking your legs around his torso, you egg him on to tip over the edge now and here. The unmistakable noise of him cursing under his breath floods you with desire just as you thought you couldn't feel needier, but then something happens that catches you off guard. Arthur moves his head away from where it was nestled against your neck and at first, you aren't sure about the reason before you hear his muffled groans. He fills you with his hot cum just a second after.

You realize that just now, he was biting the pillow. The bloodthirst must have gotten to his head, and he… did everything in his power not to drain you of more blood.

Seeing him so out of control makes you scream as a violent, powerful orgasm is ripped out of you, your body seemingly having a mind of its own as it humps against Arthur through it, and he holds you down by the folds of your knees to ride the pleasure off for you. It's one of the best orgasms you've ever had.

Hormones shifting once again in the chemistry of your brain, you glow with the aftermath of pleasure running through your body, head to toe, and suddenly the need to hold Arthur close grows tenfold. His hands move to cushion the back of your neck as he kisses you softly, spent and content as you are, chuckling against your lips.

"Aren't you going to ask why we haven't done this sooner?"

Still catching your breath, you want to groan at how quickly he regained his cockiness, being a textbook gentleman just a second ago. Though, you can totally see his point now.

"I just��really don't want to look down right now."

"You don't have to. Leave the cleanup to me. I'll take good care of you."

The whispered promise is already lulling you into a deeper relaxation, as you rest your limbs with no intention to get up anytime soon. Arthur is… absolutely, shamelessly spoiling you rotten. Both with his gentle care and with his ways of casually giving you one of the best orgasms of your life, making you discover a new kink.

Oh, and your pain is completely gone, by the way.

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[sirenjose]

So I've been really into your analysis lately and I'm a huge fan now, wanted to ask some questions, feel free to not answer any

1- what was your favourite idv story/event to analyze?

2- your least fav of the latter?

3- are you into anything else besides idv?

4-how do you find the motivation to analyze stuff? I've tried before and it was very draining :')

Thanks for your time, hope you have a lovely day

I'm very happy to hear you're enjoying yourself despite my own low opinion about much of what I put out. I'll do my best to answer!

Hmm I always dislike picking favorites because I'm bad at picking eheh... But the ones I liked most... I honestly enjoy T&I and COA (1-5) even more than the main story. So I think I might pick... Atropos' Ropes for T&I and for COA, thats harder... 3-5 are my faves but I might pick 4 just because of how it felt it had the most story/details given than all the rest. Even the *SONG* had story. I loved it.

Least fave, eh... Orfeo and Zinaida immediately come to mind, though Orfeo I'd say was worse... COA 1 is another primarily because of how DIFFICULT it was for me to figure it out enough to put together an analysis. And I had to rewrite that thing at LEAST 3 times to the point I'm just hoping it's good enough and leaving it alone. Time of Reunion I think is another that comes to mind, mainly because I didn't appreciate how they treated Norton in there, especially in the videos (but at least those aren't canon like the in-game event was). So based on all that, I might say Orfeo if I really had to pick 1. Then rank ToR 2nd and Zinaida/COA1 3rd.

FF14 and Honkai Star Rail especially I'm playing actively these days, but I honestly like a lot of stuff. Like Persona (espeially 4), 999 aka Zero Escape, and Star Ocean Til the End of Time. Least in terms of games.

Hmm... Maybe because the 1st reason I play a game is because of the story, and gameplay is always 2nd to me. If the story and characters are good, that gets me interested. Issue with IDV is we only get bits and pieces. Really need to look deeper to really understand some of the characters. I actually only started analyzing because I challenged myself (partially out of curiosity for the answer) to see if I could prove if Norton wasn't as evil as people thought (based on all the comments I saw when I 1st joined the fandom a long while ago). From there, there was Jose who I wanted to analyze because he honestly had so many plot holes I couldn't (and still can't completely) solve. So I get the most enjoyment analyzing something that doesn't have a clear answer. Which is why I don't always post for every letter. A big part of it is I enjoy history and culture and such, so it's fun for me to learn about different foods, or time periods, or how bad the environment was for miners or sailors back in the day, etc... I dont think I have an easy answer (I can see I'm rambling). Norton I actually only began to like because I was spending so long working on my 1st analysis for him (and my perfectionism made me analyze all of Norton's essences before i could call it finished). Jose was because I love Captain Hook, and then after because of the plot holes that bothered me. Then for others, I think I enjoy making analyses to... try to sometimes change people's opinoions/beliefs. Like with Margaretha or Vera. With Edgar was because I was more interested in his story and him as a character only once I put together all his lore. Sort of goes on from there. I could ramble on but I'm going to get even more guilty. I hope this helps somewhat, but let me know if it doesn't and I'll keep going. Maybe the simple is A) I like history/culture/research, B) I like to convince people that certain characters arent as evil as they think or change beliefs I think aren't quite accurate, C) I like solving puzzles and I love story, D) I already think too hard about literally everything, and combined with my perfectionism, we get analysis

[detroit-grand-prix]

make you better - susie wolff x personal assistant!reader

Summary: There's nothing worse than getting sick when you live alone, far away from family. But someone unexpected steps in to take care of you.

Tags/warnings: Reader/ Y/N perspective, contains descriptions of an (unspecified) illness and references to a gun violence incident, not romantic/ship content.

Author’s note: I wrote this a while ago, right after I had COVID in early February. It was the first time I'd had a symptomatic case of it. I don't get ill often, and I am not exaggerating when I say that I had never felt more ill in my life. I was also living alone at the time, which made the entire experience especially terrifying. After that, I decided to find a roommate.

I wrote this as a way to cope with the whole thing because it was strangely more traumatic than I expected. I've shared it with a few close friends and wanted to keep it mostly to myself, but with all of the requests I've been getting for more Susie-centric fic, it felt like the right time to share it. The illness isn't explicitly named so as to not place it in a specific period of time. The sex/gender of the reader isn't specified, and it is also not romantic or shippy, and that was intentional.

Writing this brought me a lot of comfort when I needed it, so I hope you find it comforting, too.

“Okay, here you go. I have to leave,” a man says, as you swing your leg over the jump seat and slide off of the motorcycle he was giving you a ride on. 

“Be good,” he says, as you take one last look at him. He reminds you of your grandfather, for some reason. Your grandfather died years ago.

As you turn around and listen to the roar of the four-stroke engine take off, you look around at the street you are standing in the middle of. It was dark outside, like it was the middle of the night. The only lights are coming from nearby houses, and the sickly orange cast of sodium-vapor street lamps. There was something familiar about where you were standing, like you’d been there before, but it had been a while.

You turn around and notice a large building that looks eerily similar to your primary school. Without thinking, you walk up to the entrance and sit on one of the concrete benches outside the front door, and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for, but you have the distinct, creeping feeling that you are either way too late, or way too early to something.

You hear the sound of a church bell, but it’s oddly distorted and distant, even though it is likely coming from the Catholic church that should only be a block away. It rings four times. That can’t be right. It can’t be that early in the day, and you think you remember those bells being a lot louder, once. 

You get up from the bench and walk to the front door, giving a cursory tug at the old brass-toned handle. The door is locked. 

“Why am I here?” you think. “What am I waiting for?” 

These questions loop over and over in your mind, causing eventual panic to build in your chest. You’re not sure why someone - your grandfather, you suppose - would have just left you here. You think about walking back home, you’re fairly certain you know the way, maybe, but there’s just fog in the distance in every direction that makes you unsure of where you really are.

Not knowing what else to do, you lay down on the concrete bench and rest your head against the red brick wall of the building. Someone should come by eventually and tell you what to do, right?

As more time passes, you don’t see another soul. You just hear the distant, occasional peal of the church bells that sound increasingly distant. You’re still not sure what to do, so you do the one thing you know that you can do, even if it won’t help. 

You bring your knees to your chest and start to cry.

But then, the scenery around you shifts. You feel someone shaking your shoulder. Their touch is gentle as it coaxes you into the elsewhere. You open your eyes to see a dimly-lit room. It looks like a bedroom, but it’s not your bedroom.

There’s a petite woman with a light blonde bob haircut standing over you. She has a concerned look in her eyes, and her voice is so soft and quiet that it takes a moment to understand what she’s saying to you through the stubborn fog of heat, sweat, and pain that are gripping your senses.

“There we are,” she says, looking relieved once you manage to narrow your focus to her face. “I brought you some water and some more medicine. I know it might hurt to swallow, but do your best.” 

She holds out a glass of water for you as she waits for you to sit up, only handing it over once she’s confident your coordination has returned enough for you to not pour it all over your lap.

“Now, hold out your hand”. 

You obey, happy to have some instruction as she deposits two red-and-white capsules onto your palm. 

You pop the pills in your mouth and go to take a drink from the glass she’s handed you, remembering why she said something about it hurting to swallow. The water hitting the back of your throat feels like a hot knife, and swallowing requires conscious action. It’s difficult. You can only manage to drink just enough to get the pills down before you can't take anymore and start to cough.

“I know,” the woman says, her voice soft and sympathetic. You continue to cough, trying in vain to make it stop. “But we have to get that fever down.”

The coughing finally ceases and you settle back on the pillows you were laying on, and things start to become clear again, even though it feels like your mind is working on a delay.

The woman standing over you is named Susie, and the bedroom you are in is a guest bedroom in her condo.

Susie is your boss. A friend too, but your boss, first and foremost. You’re ill, and she’s taking care of you.

You came to meet Susie when you got a job working for a racing team in a division called Formula E. The team was called Venturi Racing and was based in Monaco. You moved to Nice, France to commute to work. It was a long way from home - a lengthy flight’s worth of a long way from home, but it was the kind of job you’d dreamed of having someday, so you jumped at the chance, packing all of your possessions and moving halfway across the world.

Monaco seemed like an alien world at first, but you settled into your new routine and your job quickly. The team principal, your boss, a formidable, confident woman named Susie Wolff, was the one that wanted to hire you, and you quickly hit it off, developing a sort of mutual trust that you’d never had with one of your bosses before. Before long, she invited you over to her condo for dinner once in a while. You met her husband and her son. Her husband was also team principal for a racing team, albeit one in Formula 1. He was in charge of Mercedes, and they made the chassis and power unit that Venturi used in their race cars.

You worked for Venturi for two years before getting a devastating announcement at a morning meeting in the early spring. The race team was being sold to Maserati, the Italian car manufacturer. They would take over the manufacture of the car itself and the power unit - the engine - severing the team’s tie with Mercedes.

Because of Susie’s own association with Mercedes, it meant that her time as CEO (which she had been promoted to from Team Principal) of the team would be coming to an end. She was an investor in the team as well, and would be selling her stake in the team to Maserati.

You were dumbstruck. New ownership meant a lot of changes would be made. You couldn’t imagine working for another racing team, or if you would even keep your job. Rumors of redundancies and the potential for reorganizing the entire structure of the team were abound, but you carried on with your job, going to London and Seoul for the last two race weekends, trying to act as if everything was normal. 

Susie announced her departure to the public during the weekend of the London EPrix.

The team finished the season narrowly as vice-champions, with Edo, one of the team’s drivers, finishing third in the driver’s championship. It was a season worth celebrating, but it was bittersweet, because it would be the last one as Venturi.

But one day, shortly after getting back from the Seoul E-Prix, Susie called you into her office. It was filled with boxes, as she was packing up. She only had a few days left with the company.

“I have a proposal for you. It’s going to sound unusual, but I’d like you to come work for me, just for a while. I will need an assistant to help me coordinate things, since I won’t have one here any longer.” 

She had an executive assistant at Venturi that organized much of her day-to-day work with the company. It made sense that she would want the continuity of that aspect of her life, and her current assistant was already slated to stay on with Maserati. 

But, your job wasn’t even remotely related to that kind of role. As you opened your mouth to protest, she cut you off.

“I know it’s not the kind of work you do here, and I know it’s not what you moved halfway around the world to do, but it will just be for a while, maybe a few months. I have some… other activities in the pipeline, but things aren’t settled yet. I will pay you what you make here, and then some. I will take care of transferring your visa sponsorship, and take care of the rent on your flat. If you want, after your non-compete clause in your contract ends in a few months, we can see about getting you a role similar to the one you have now in Brackley, should you so desire.”

Brackley, the town in the United Kingdom where the Mercedes F1 team was based - naturally, Susie would have more than a little sway in getting you a job with the F1 team, if you wanted it. Some might see it as some sort of nepotism, given that her husband was CEO and part-owner of the team, but that was the reality of the world of Motorsport. It was all about who you knew, and Susie was a very good person to know. 

You didn’t relish the idea of living in the UK after spending two years in the practically perfect climes of the French Riviera, but… 

“I’d prefer someone I can trust, and I trust you. I know you’re organized. You do great work around here. My son likes you, and if I can save myself the process of interviewing and hiring someone brand-new, I’d like to. At least give it some consideration, won’t you?”

She gave you the kind, warm smile she always gave you, and you asked for a few days to consider it, which she agreed to. 

In the meantime, your department met with the higher-ups at Maserati, asking them questions about their vision for the direction for the team. They assured you that they wanted to change as little as possible, not wanting to deviate from the patterns that made Venturi successful, but something about them rubbed you the wrong way, and you realized that you didn’t want to stay past the transition period.

You sent Susie a message to tell her that you accepted her offer. You left Venturi right after the changeover, telling your colleagues that you were going to take a bit of a break for a while. 

Being a personal assistant wasn’t the kind of work you necessarily enjoyed, but your job with the race team made you very good with the kind of attention to detail that being Susie's assistant required. You coordinated her travel schedules and all of the associated arrangements (hotels, cars, meals, special requests), sometimes having to work with her husband Toto’s assistant on the logistics. You responded to requests for interviews and scheduled those, handled all of the other inquiries she received (of which there were a lot) and even helped make arrangements for two keynote speeches she gave at various conferences. 

You also handled the smaller, daily minutiae - various errands, making appointments, doing the shopping for the household. You traveled with her sometimes as well when she was giving speeches at conferences or going to events. In just a few months, you went on trips to Ireland, Portugal, and even the United States.

For a woman that didn’t technically have a regular job after leaving Venturi, Susie was shockingly busy. 

“You’re a lifesaver”, she told you, more than once. “I know you don’t want to do this forever, but I don’t know how I got on without you.”

Hearing things like that, in addition to the more-than-generous wage Susie paid, made the work bearable, even enjoyable at times. Plus, she was generous and kind in a way that made you feel like you were her friend and trusted confidant, and not just her employee.

By the time the new year had come and gone, you’d fallen into a comfortable routine, until you woke up one Sunday morning in January, feeling a bit odd.

It felt like the early stages of a head cold. It was minor, an occasional sniffle and watery sneeze. You convinced yourself that it wasn’t worth worrying about. The heat in your flat was running at full-tilt, after all. Maybe you needed to tell your landlord that it was time to change the dust filter. 

You rarely got sick, and it was bearable when you did, so you didn’t give much thought to it. It was your day off, so you took some over-the-counter cold medicine and went about your usual Sunday. You went to the supermarket to do your own shopping, spoke to your mother on the phone (which was sometimes challenging, just because of time zone differences), tidied up your flat, watched something on Netflix, and caught up on some reading before going to bed early. 

It was going to be another busy Monday morning. Susie was due to give a keynote speech over Zoom for some conference, and things had to be prepared for her to travel to London for some meetings for the next week, so things had to be arranged for that. You fell asleep that Sunday trying to make mental lists of all of the things that needed to be done over the next few days.

You woke up with your alarm, and immediately knew that this was more than a simple head cold. Your nose didn’t feel stuffy any more, but your throat felt like it was on fire. You had woken up in a puddle of your own sweat, and your mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls. Your arms and legs ached like you’d gone to the gym, which you hadn’t in… a while.

The thought of calling in sick crossed your mind, but remembering how much work you had to do that day dissuaded you. 

Plus, you felt better after a hot shower and chewing on some cough drops while you were on the train to Monte Carlo from your flat in Nice. The brisk walk in the fresh air between the Monte Carlo train station and Susie’s condo on the eastern end of the principality helped, too. 

You could have driven your own car in less time, but you preferred to take the train and walk most days. The weather was almost always pleasant, even in the winter months, and the scenery never got old. (Plus, the tiny, narrow streets in the principality were an annoyance to drive around, and finding parking in your own neighborhood in the early evening was often a nightmare. It was easier to just take the train).

By the time you got to Susie’s building, though, you started to feel bad again. You felt strangely winded, and your limbs felt heavy and achy again. You had gotten plenty of sleep the night before, so you weren’t sure why you were so exhausted. A seasonal cold or allergies had never made you feel this way before.

The building’s concierge greeted you on your way across the lobby, and asked you if you were okay. You waved him off, insisting that your windedness was just from the cold breeze. You stood by the elevator for a moment to catch your breath before getting on and pressing the number for the Wolff’s floor, concerned by how hot and sweaty you felt, especially given that it was chilly outside that morning. 

You fumbled with the key to their front door for a moment. The door wasn’t unlocking, and you started to panic, knowing that neither Toto or Susie would be in at the moment. Toto would have left for his work week in Brackley last night, and Susie would be out, dropping her son, Jack, off at school. After a moment of struggling with the lock, you realized that you were trying to use the wrong key.

Feeling momentarily sheepish and glad nobody was around to witness your blunder, you unlocked the door, hanging your coat, scarf, and bag on the coat rack in the entryway. You toed off your shoes and left them by the door, before heading to Susie’s home office and starting your usual Monday morning tasks. She had set up a desk for you as well. It was small, but neatly arranged with your laptop, a whiteboard, and baskets for incoming and outgoing correspondences that the housekeeper would leave when she collected the mail. Most mornings, Susie would leave you a still-warm breakfast pastry or the coffee she knew you liked, depending on how cooperative Jack was with getting out the door for school in the morning, and you almost always arrived when Susie was taking him to school. There was nothing waiting for you on your desk this morning, not even a cup of coffee. It was fine - you had no appetite anyway. 

You were in the process of cross-checking Susie’s calendar for the day with inquiries in her email when you were seized with a painful coughing fit, wondering how the air in the condo was so dry when it was located so close to the edge of the Mediterranean. That had to be it, right? Or maybe there was just a tickle in your throat. There was no way you were actually getting sick. You got up to get yourself a glass of water and stood in the kitchen, waiting for the coughing fit to subside when you heard the condo’s door close.

“Good morning!” Susie called out from the entryway. She sounded cheerful as she talked, rounding the corner from the entrance to the kitchen. “My goodness,” she said, seeing you trying to contain your coughing . “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said between coughs, trying to get a sip of water down. “Just a tickle in my throat, I think.”

Susie looked at you skeptically. “I don’t know… you don’t look so good. You’re flushed, and you look awfully pale,” she said as she stepped closer to you. You could feel her eyes on you. When the coughing subsided, she surprised you by reaching out to put the back of her hand against your cheek, then your forehead. You knew it was cold out, but her hand felt like ice against your skin. It startled you for a second, but felt kind of good. You were starting to feel a little warm. “And you are definitely running a fever, my goodness. Are you ill?”

“No,” you said. “I mean, not really. It’s just a cold, I think.”

Judging by the expression on her face, she definitely did not believe you. You weren’t sure you believed yourself, anymore. You hadn’t wanted to admit it, but what you had was definitely not a seasonal cold.

“Well, I’m going to take you back to your flat. You need to get some rest. And I won’t hear any arguments,” she said, knowing you were about to argue. “I will be fine for the day, and I won’t have you working while you’re sick.”

You gathered your things, and Susie gave you a ride back to your flat in Nice. It wasn’t a long drive - a half an hour at most, but you still felt bad that Susie was not only taking an hour of her day to bring you straight back home, but also that you wouldn’t be able to do your job today. You had always been a bit of a workaholic, it couldn’t be helped.

As she dropped you off at your building, she implored you not to feel bad, assuring you that she would be fine.

“If you need anything, and I mean this - please, please call me, or send me a message. I’ll come right away.”

You promised her that you would let her know if anything changed, despite not planning on bothering your boss with such things,  and trudged up the stairs to your flat. You changed out of your clothes, put on pajamas, and took some more medicine before crawling into bed and falling asleep almost immediately.

You slept peacefully for a few hours, but then, vivid nightmares started coalescing. In one instance, you dreamed of your mother dying. It seemed so real - she was hanging on to the edge of a bridge you recognized from your hometown, and you couldn’t summon the strength to lift her up by her outstretched hand. You watched as she fell into the canal below and was swept away by the current.

The dream was so vivid that you nearly started crying when you woke up. 

It was dark outside. You scrambled for your phone to check the time, confirming that you’d slept until just past midnight, somehow. 

Other sensations became obvious as you came out of sleep - the fact that you were burning hot and drenched in sweat. On the bright side, the sinus congestion had cleared up, but as a trade-off, your throat felt like it was an open wound, or like you’d swallowed a bucket of rusted thumbtacks. Your head was pounding. You couldn’t ever remember a time when you felt this ill.

You sat awake for a few hours, trying in vain to soothe your tortured throat and quell the vicious coughing and rasping. You tried gargling warm salt water, which helped temporarily. You ate some ice pops that you’d found in the back of your freezer, left there from an awful heat wave over the summer. You took some cough syrup, wincing as it burned like cheap alcohol as it went down. It just caused more coughing, making your whole body feel weak. You couldn’t do anything else other than sitting on the closed lid of your toilet with your head in your hands until it stopped.

After that episode, you ran a hot shower to try to get the steam to clear the congestion in your chest, and rinse off the sweat that was now drying grossly on your skin. It helped enough that you were able to go back to sleep for a few hours.

You woke up when you normally would have been getting up for work, but immediately knew you would not be going in today. The guilt was momentary, but you felt even worse than the night before, barely wanting to move. Just as you were about to message Susie to let her know you’d be out again, she called you, taking you a bit by surprise.

“I just called to see how you were feeling,” she said.

“Not good,” you responded, surprised at how hoarse and thin your voice was. You hadn’t talked since she dropped you off at home the day before.

“Oh, you sound awful. Well, I -” she paused for a moment. “I’ll be there in an hour. Pack whatever you need for a day or two, comfortable clothes and that.” 

She said it without preamble or explanation. “What?” you asked. “Why?”

Surely she wasn’t expecting you to work… maybe she was going to bring you to the hospital? It wasn’t that bad, was it?

“I’d like you to stay with me until you feel better. You sound absolutely wretched. I was worried about you all afternoon, being all alone when you’re ill. I know you don’t have any family in the area, and I’d hate for you to need help and not have anyone nearby to ask. I can’t make you come stay with me, of course, but I would feel a lot better if I could keep an eye on you. Please.”

It was a tempting offer, and your flat seemed a lot scarier last night when you woke up from the nightmares without having anyone else around. On the other hand, Susie was your boss, and as an adult, you weren’t her responsibility.

“I… don’t want to impose, or to get you or Jack sick,” you said, hoping that would be a reasonable enough excuse. You would find a way to manage by yourself. “Plus, you have that Zoom keynote this week and London next week-“

“Nonsense,” she said. “We have two guest bedrooms. You wouldn’t be imposing at all, and I’m doing the conference presentation from my office, anyway. And you were ahead of the curve on the prep for London, so I’m not worried. Really. Please, let me pick you up.”

She knocked down your objections one by one, and not even two hours later, you were settled into bed in one of the guest rooms of the Wolff’s condo. Susie had supplied you with some cold water and hot tea, and set up a small humidifier on the nightstand. It was shaped like an owl, so you assumed that it had come from Jack’s room. You heard a soft knock on the door and looked up to see Susie coming in. She had a tray in her hands with a steaming bowl, and something else that you couldn’t make out the shape of.

“I made you some soup,” Susie said as she set the tray down on the nightstand. “Well, I heated up a tin of it, really, but I thought you could use something to eat. And, I brought a thermometer,” she said, holding up the device. “I’m sure you still have a fever.”

She turned the thermometer on, and after it beeps a few times, holds it to your forehead. The device beeped urgently, and Susie frowned at the display.

“39.5,” she muttered. “I’ll be right back.”

It was high, higher than you were expecting. No wonder you felt so awful.

She left the guest room and returned shortly after, with a medication bottle and what looked like an ice pack, wrapped in a small tea towel.

“Here,” she said, handing you two small capsules from the bottle. “It’s paracetamol, for the fever.” 

She handed you the glass of water she’d given you earlier, and you took the pills with tentative sips. It didn’t make it hurt any less, and you groaned and winced. It was just water, but it still didn’t go down easily.

“Sorry, it hurts,” you whined, your voice barely there at that point. You settled yourself back down onto your pillow.

“It’s okay,” Susie said, quietly. She took the glass of water out of your hands and set it on the nightstand. “I know it hurts, but getting some rest will help.”

She placed the ice pack on your forehead, careful to keep it wrapped neatly in the towel, and it felt amazing on your overheated skin. 

“Getting that fever down will, too.”

Susie took your hand and gently squeezed it before she turned around to leave. “I’ll come back in and check on you in a bit. Try and get some sleep. And don’t try to yell across the house if you need something, you can send me a message, okay?”

“Okay,” you said. Or tried to. Your voice was only vestigial at that point. “Thank you, Susie.” 

“It’s my pleasure, darling. Feel better.” She patted the top of your hand as she stood up to leave. As soon as she closed and latched the bedroom door behind her, you closed your eyes and fell asleep almost immediately. 

That is how it went for two days. You lost most of your time to sleeping. You had more fever-fuelled nightmares. Susie roused you every few hours to take your temperature, to give you medication, to try to get you to drink some water or eat some soup or some ice pops. She said she was worried about you getting dehydrated, and it didn’t help that you could still hardly stand to swallow anything.

She continued to bring you ice packs for your forehead to help with your fever, extra blankets when chills wracked your body, tea with honey, and cough drops that didn’t seem to do much. She brought you clear broth that you tried to drink but the salt stung your throat too much for you to manage getting much of it down.

For the rare moments you were awake during the day while Jack was at school, she sat in a chair next to your bed and talked to you. The conversation was mostly one-sided as you still couldn’t talk much, but she was very good company, and it made you feel better that she didn’t seem to mind spending time with you, even if you were too exhausted and raspy to be a decent conversation partner. 

At one point, she brought you a plush toy that looked like some sort of alien cat with tiny wings instead of arms. 

“Jack wanted me to give this to you to keep you company.” she said. It’s the first thing that made you smile in days.

On the third day, you had an especially realistic, especially frightening nightmare. It must have been inspired by the news you’d read from the United States about a shooting at a university campus, because you dreamed about the university you used to work for before moving to France. You watched in terror as one of your old coworkers was taken down in front of you. You get shot trying to run away, and the wound you sustain to your hip burned. You swore you could feel the blood running down your leg. It all felt so real.

You bolted upright from sleep for the second time that week, opening your eyes to the darkness of the bedroom, but that time, you can’t help but cry.

Your sobbing didn’t make much noise as you still didn’t have much of a voice, but it was enough to prompt Susie to come and check on you.

You were a little embarrassed as she sat  on the edge of your mattress and gathered you into a hug, but the embarrassment was momentary. You let yourself be held as you cry into her shoulder. She rubbed your back with one hand, cradling the back of your head with the other, and told you that everything would be okay, and that you’ll be feeling better soon. She didn’t make you explain, she didn’t ask questions, she just let you lean into her and cry.

There was something in you that broke when you realized how badly you missed receiving this kind of maternal - or really, any, affection. You couldn’t really even remember the last time you’d hugged anyone. You moved halfway across the world, and while you don’t regret it, it feels awfully lonely at times. You don’t get home to see your family much, and your mother certainly couldn’t drop everything to fly halfway across the world to come and take care of you. 

It meant a lot that Susie is there for you, even though she didn’t have to be. She’s your boss, but she cares enough for you to look after you when you need it. The realization made you cry even harder.

You’re so thankful she insisted on you staying with her, because you’re weren’t sure how you would have managed to weather your illness, whatever it was, by yourself.

She calmed you down enough for you to go back to sleep, and, by some miracle, your fever broke by the next morning.

Within a day, your throat started to hurt less. Your voice came back, though it was thin and airy. Your appetite came back, and you started feeling human again. 

Satisfied with the progress of your convalescence, Susie brought you back to your flat after four days in her guest bedroom.

“Don’t even think about coming back to work until next week,” she said, as she parked her car in front of your flat. "I want you to be at one-hundred percent. We've got a lot of work to do, but I'll be fine until you're better."

You smiled, and thanked her for her kindness before you watched her pull her car away, keeping your eyes on it until it disappeared around a corner. Just telling her thank you didn’t feel like enough, but you’re not sure there is a way to thank her that would have felt like enough. 

[preservationofnormalcy]

Oh Stars this'll be a long one, but I just don't know who to contact other than the Office about this. I saw an ad for y'all's business and even though I was raised by ex-Circle members, I've never actually been involved in the paranormal or whatever the acceptable term is these days.

So to start, I live in Seattle but was born off-grid in a time fold. Not a big deal, just not many visitors. Functioned like normal and we could leave whenever. Just couldn't let anyone in if iykwm.

Because I left for good, therefore severing my connection, I'm mostly unable to return. Again, no big deal, but it is a little strange to not be able to see Sir and Ma'am anymore. But a month ago I started getting heat flashes and coughing up blood. I'm an extremely healthy 26 year old, I don't think I've ever even had a cold. But then it got worse, and every time I coughed up that blood, I'd cough up letters. They said shit like 'return to the fold' or 'time is worked into your blood, do not let it spill.'

I've been unable to sleep or eat and I have started puking up boxes that I refuse to open. I'm so close to breaking down. I have no clue what to do and I live alone. Please help me Norm. I'll tell you anything you want about the fold. I'll be loyal to the Office forever, I'll even give you info about the Circle my parents spilled when they were drunk. I'll do anything, I just don't want to die, or become some eldritch horror. I haven't even finished nursing school. Please.

Hey hey hey, woah now. Let's not get carried away. You don't need to swear loyalty to anyone. And frankly I know about as much about the Circle as I care to know. Anything else and I'll start seeing the interdimensional eels. We probably have the fold on file, but we also have to balance people's privacy with their ability to commit temporal crimes.

This does sound serious, though. What I'm going to suggest is an observation period in one of our physical locations. If you're comfortable with it, we can get some Yellow Circle folks to monitor your condition.

I have a hunch that this may be a little....empty nest syndrome. Empty hatchery? Hm.

If your parents are the type to want you back in the fold, so to speak, they may be trying to communicate that to you, or effectively blackmail you back into it. We can try and get you on a Refusal of the Call list, but it may be too late for that if you're already having physical manifestations of the Call.

As for those boxes, please bring them when you come in. We have some Circle folks in the mailroom we can get to open them.

Hm. Your parents...last name starts with N? Something's coming to mind.

This one, uh....file it under P, puking up letters.

Don't look at me like that, Cold.

[thedawningofthehour]

Honestly, with that last bit of the latest chapter, I kept thinking about that time Galois was talking to one of the turtles (I’m not sure who anymore) about how corporal punishment was bad for child development, hence why his father Draxum didn‘t discipline him that way and how interesting it was that Splinter did smack them once in a while. It really paints Splinter as the worse parent between the two…until you remember how ‚Galois‘ came to be

I've mentioned this before, but this is really where both their backgrounds and knowledge come to a head. Draxum is Norse, born after the Viking Age-but as we've seen, the Yokai are typically slow to change with the times-and I picture his childhood and culture to be pretty similar to that of Viking-era Scandinavia. And Viking children were actually very gently-raised, despite the reputation of Viking warriors. (I realize that Vikings refer specifically to the warriors and everyone else would be Viking-era Scandinavians, but considering the Faroes aren't technically Scandinavia I'm just using it as a catch-all term) They were mostly raised by their mothers, and while they worked like any other non-aristocrat child would in that age they understood the importance of play and allowing kids freedom to grow and discover themselves, and corporal punishment was not common. They were usually quite close with their parents as well, despite their fathers being away from home so often-Viking warriors would wear necklaces made of their children's shed baby teeth for luck in battle.

Add to that, Draxum is highly educated and child development is one of his areas of study-not what he specialized in, but it was relevant to his work in public health-and the Yokai were more advanced that humans in many subjects for most of history, so the lack of benefits of corporal punishment has been known the the Yokai for a while. (the Yokai also didn't really have Dark Ages or periods of religious fanaticism that choked progress-they had some, but they weren't as widespread and their ability to remain connected through magic negated a lot of the repercussions and allowed the rest of society to keep progressing while they got that out of their system) And, to be completely fair here, Draxum has one kid. That he kidnapped as a teenager, already fairly self-sufficient and didn't need to be taught how to take care of himself. He was able to give Bella and Pax back to their parents for the hard stuff, and by the time they came to live with him full-time Bella was seventeen and Pax just kind of did his own thing, they were both very independent kids who didn't require a lot of hands-on parenting. So he was extremely well-prepared for this fatherhood thing, and got to skip the really tough stuff to boot.

Splinter, meanwhile. Hamato Yoshi was raised with the belief that the world would literally end if he didn't dedicate his life to fighting, if he wasn't willing to die and sacrifice those he loved for the cause. And he was primarily raised by his grandfather, so assuming Yoshi was born somewhere around 1960-65 (which would make him early forties in 2005 when the turtles were 'born' and he was mutated, fitting in with his decade in the Battle Nexus and his acting career spanning from his late teens to early thirties) it's likely that Grandpa Sho was born 1900-1920. So...pre-WWII Japanese guy, in a rural area. Obsessed with tradition and willing to sacrifice his own daughter for the clan. I think it's a pretty safe bet to say he was a proponent of physical discipline, and Yoshi was raised pretty harshly.

He's uneducated, having dropped out of high school to move to the US and pursue his acting career, and never expected to have kids. He wanted his line to end with him, I even mentioned that he got a vasectomy when he was with Big Mama because he didn't want any surprises. He did tons of drugs, lived a violent life even before being forced to fight in death matches, and never once gave a thought to how he'd parent. Until he suddenly became a single father of four.

And he did it with zero help. He didn't have the knowledge Draxum had, no social services that would give him free diapers and no babysitters to let him catch some sleep. He didn't even have a home at first, he had to search for a place to keep them safe and hidden and scavenge for food and toys, all while juggling four kids. His kids were super-soldiers, designed to hurt people-and when they got old enough to rough-house, it became very clear that they could hurt each other. And Splinter had to stop Raph from putting his brothers through the drywall because god knows he can't take them to a hospital, and a quick slap hurts less than if Raph had to live with accidentally maiming or killing one of his brothers.

So to me, it was less of a choice and more that corporal punishment was the only way Splinter really knew how to parent. He was exhausted and didn't know how to talk to kids and if he didn't get his point across it could have disastrous consequences for them. So he raised them much in the way his grandfather raised him. It keeps them alive, and Splinter doesn't really have the luxury of prioritizing anything else. After a while he becomes numb to it. So the O'Neils criticizing his use of corporal punishment makes him mad, because it's real easy for them to say that when they hadn't gone through what he had. He did the best he could. How dare they say it wasn't good enough.

[violet-jessop]

i had my first therapy session today.

90 minutes with a psychologist who i'm booked to see once a week for the next 5 weeks.

a friend asked me if i was nervous last night when i told her, and i had to think on it. i found i wasn't. it was strange because logically i think i should have been, but i couldn't muster any real feelings about it. i felt indifferent. resigned.

i know that's probably not what she wanted to hear, but i think lying in this instance would have just given her false hope.

to get to this point has been such a shit show.

self harming since a decade ago this year, suicidal on and off for at least for the last eight. tried to seek help in 2019 only to get put on 10 times the starting dose of some random antidepressant and told to fuck off with no follow up and automatically renewing prescriptions. stopped taking those after a year or so with no real improvement. things have just steadily declined.

last year was okay, probably the most okay i've felt for an extended period since 2014. but now it's almost worse because i saw it could be okay, and now it's not again.

finding a psych that met my needs was near on impossible. my only two criteria were trans (or just a queer person who i could feel like less of a freak with) and able to deal with SI - and that left me with one option via telehealth. booked in to do a 15 minute consultation with her she was 30 minutes late to the session, so i assumed i'd been forgotten. then when she eventually called she didn't even acknowledge it.

getting the mental health care plan from my GP was so degrading. i went to a different doc because i didn't trust the last guy who is just so happy to write prescriptions. but the new guy was no better. clearly thought i didn't need any of this, wrote maybe 2 lines on the mhcp documents, left most of it blank, didn't even bother to sign it. said he performed the k10 which he didn't. straight up wrote that i seemed fine based on "good eye contact and engages well". and he never even sent it to the identity clinic, i had to chase him to obtain a copy so i could send it off myself.

and today rolls around. we have our session. what was supposed to cost me 134 out of pocket cost me 250 unexpectedly, so after the appointment they had to call me several times because my account had insufficient funds because i only had enough for what they'd told me it would cost.

in the session she misgendered me. she said "as a woman with autism. oh, i assume you're she/her right?". which was wild as a psych who works for the "identity clinic" - where i had to fill in a million forms that included my pronouns in multiple places. where i had sent an inquiry to find out if they had anyone on staff who would suit a non-binary person with SI. and then the SI, where i mentioned it as something i'd like to work through, and she pretty much told me if i talk about that sort of stuff in a non-joking way she'll have to make sure i'm institutionalised. so i had to play it off as a joke. as hyperbole. the two things, such basic things i thought. so what am i here for again? is what's wrong with me so taboo i can't even pay a medical professional $250 to let me speak about it? is my soul so putrid? if anyone ever tries to force me into inpatient i'll put on a pine overcoat as soon as possible, that's not up for debate.

so we talked about other things, and i cried in front of another person for the first time in ages and it wasn't even cathartic it was just for the shame of admitting my failings out loud. and she told me maybe my anxiety is just autistic meltdown which i know isn't right, i know the difference. she walked me through diaphragmatic breathing like i was 5. she recommended i buy airpods and try burlesque. it reminded me of Jo telling me i should try drumming circles around the time of my first attempt.

so i suppose i was right in feeling indifferent. i had enough hope left to try, but not enough to be hopeful. i really don't have the energy to go through this all again. time is ticking down, 128 weeks at best. i suppose i'll give her another two sessions and see. but if she doesn't work out i think that's me done. how many times am i expected to try? it was already mortifying enough. i know Tal will be angry, but i just don't have it in me to keep doing this over and over. every failed attempt at getting better just adds more weight, reaffirms what i already suspected.

and the statistics of it. either i've encountered consistently bad medical practitioners OR the problem lies with me. at this point statistically it has to be me, there's just been too many failings. especially when i see so many friends drive the same road without issue. yet i keep hitting roadblock after roadblock. at what point do i just acknowledge that i'm a bad driver? maybe it's been roadblock after roadblock because there's nothing else, there is no good ending. i shouldn't be on the road to begin with.

[brokenlez]

Oh boy, so I should probably post here. Here's how my year has been.

So back in late February, my ex girlfriend started getting suspicious about my tumblr activities. She used to follow my main blog and she started noticing discrepancies. One time I accidentally posted an OP post to my main and had to delete it, but she ended up seeing it and I had to play it off. Stuff started building up and in late early March she confronted me about everything. She sat me down and told me I needed to tell her the truth or we were done.

So I did. I came clean about everything. I told her about the tumblr and the pictures and everything. I even told her about the guy I was texting. For those of you who wanted me to get my comeuppance, I did. She barely said anything to me. She just packed her things and left. We haven't spoken since aside from a few texts to come get stuff she left here.

So that was March. What have I been doing since? Well, to be honest, not much. I've been in somewhat of a depressive hole. I planned on marrying her one day. We had plans and we talked about our dream house and stuff. I fucked all of that up. My chronic pain also got a lot worse, so my pain level when things were bad has become my new normal and when things are bad now, they're worse. I'm looking into surgical solutions now, but I'm not hopeful. The past year has been really fucking rough. I don't want to get too graphic on a hot sexy kink blog but I got VERY low. Thankfully, I made it out of that. I'm trying to do better and pull myself together. My wakeup call was spending Christmas alone and realizing the day after I hadn't eaten in three days.

So what now:

Okay so I'm not actually entirely sure what I'm gonna do yet. I want to bring this blog back and talk to you guys because weirdly enough, this blog made me really happy! The problem is that it also fills me with this pit of dread, like "this is the thing that ruined your life". So I'm not really sure where to go with that. I'm writing this at 5am when I couldn't sleep, so take that how you will. Honestly, I think I want to try this again. This blog brought me so much joy (and a LOT of orgasms) and the feeling when I actually thought I was going to meet one of you drove me fucking crazy. I was cumming like 2-3 times a day because it fucked with my head so bad. I want that again! I loved it!

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm putting myself on a trial period. If things go well and my mental health doesn't tank again, we'll see about staying and maybe trying to reach out to one of you again, but until then, we're gonna take it slow. Feel free to send me messages and pictures and stuff! Sorry for the hiatus!

[nydescynt]

There is no Emergency Room for Teeth

(At least in the US - if another country does have a 24/7 Dental ER let me know so I can begin the immigration process to a clearly-superior healthcare system.)

We've all seen the reminders to brush your teeth on here, and wondered 'Okay but what's the worst case scenario here? I hate tooth cleanings and fillings, and I've been fine so far, even if that one tooth does seem to be a little off'.

Admittedly, it's easy to think avoidance is a winning strategy because in almost all other areas of health, if shit REALLY hits the fan at any hour of the day, you can go to the ER. They'll at least be able to get you some painkillers (if it hurts) & start trying to figure out what's wrong. It sucks if that happens at 3 AM, and you might wait while they help other worse-off people, and it can be expensive and stressful, but it's still possible to get some help eventually.

THAT IS NOT THE CASE FOR TEETH. Emergency rooms don't deal in teeth; the best they can do is pull the damaged tooth. (Replacing a single completely missing tooth later would cost about $3-4k, fyi.)

So if, let's say, your tooth randomly starts radiating excruciating pain at 10 PM on a Thursday - there is nothing anyone can do.*

The best case scenario at this point is to have an existing relationship with a local dentist. They should be able to get you in for an emergency visit the following day to determine what's wrong, prescribe you antibiotics/pain meds, and otherwise make the waiting period until you can get fixed up as comfortable as possible.

This is why it's crucial to have a dentist you go to for cleanings - both to avoid emergencies, and because in an emergency most walk-in dental clinics WILL NOT give you pain meds.

No, those 'emergency dentists' you may have seen and vaguely mentally equated to ERs aren't actually open 24/7**; and even when they are open, their primary role is to refer you somewhere else. I was referred on a Friday and just got my procedure done this Wednesday.

All healthcare is important, but I really cannot overstate that even if you rely on mostly "ignore it until something goes wrong", get regular dental care. And if anyone else has a bad tooth/teeth and is thinking "well, that's great but I'm already screwed" - it is never too late!! Every stage before this point, if I had gotten treatment, would've been cheaper & less painful. I missed 4 days of work - scheduling the root canal before I was in pain would've taken 1 day & avoided a week of hell. Getting a filling before it got too bad would've taken 2 hours and saved hundreds of dollars.

There are also payment plans, and most dentists/endodontists are VERY up front about expense because they know how hit-or-miss dental insurance can be. Several dentists I looked at had special pseudo-insurance policies that covered 2 cleanings & an emergency visit for like, $50 yearly. If you need help finding care, DM and I am happy to research, because I'd love to help even one person avoid the week I just had!

*If this unfortunately happens to you, ask your doc or research how to SAFELY layer ibuprofen and acetaminophen together. DO NOT drink alcohol when doing this you WILL fuck your liver.

**I assume some very large cities such as NY or LA may actually have 24/7 dentistry available, but this happened to me in the 14th largest city in the US so like. You're probably fucked.

[damagedintellect]

Craig Tucker x Fem!reader

💌 Craig Tucker is a mother fucker: Chapter 10  💌  

Summary:  You want to say that it wasn't your fault buuuuuut it kinda was. You didn't think much of it as you casted your joke vote for the "Hottest guy in school" and in hindsight you should never listen to Clyde but it was pretty funny at the time. Craig just wanted a peaceful junior year and you can't blame him for that however waking up the morning after a party, in his bed, being told that you two were dating wasn't exactly your definition of peaceful either.

Notes:  I was always too scared of the fandom to post it back in the day but I wrote this before Creek was made canon so let's just say Craig is bi for my sake because I've had a huge crush on him since forever. My S/O pointed out that Craig is just Trafalgar Law but with a guinea pig instead of a polar bear and I haven't been the same since I have a type and it's them.

💌 Word count: 3,538 💌  <= Previous | Chapter 11 =>

"I-I think Craig just dumped me."

The tears started to form in your eyes as Clyde ran after him leaving you alone. You're not even quite sure if the water works were to sell the act that you've kept up or if it was because you were so taken aback by this whole endeavor but you'd like to think it was the former rather than the later, period the end, or at least that was what you were going to keep telling yourself. This was supposed to be a harmless dare just some stupid bet so how in the hell did it end up like this. You aimlessly paced back into class pretty much running on auto pilot.

Everyone got quiet for a moment but then returned back to their conversations only glancing at you occasionally. Stan looked at you from across the room rubbing the back of his neck probably debating if he should say something about earlier. You didn't know how to answer Stan's question and you definitely did not want to answer him with all eyes on you. If Stan had asked you a few months ago maybe you would have answered differently but you didn't say anything. Which probably made Stan feel worse but you were also feeling numb. You're not sure if it was because they heard what happened or if the look on your face was enough to assume what did between you and Craig but no one seemed to pry. In a way you were glad no one tried talking to you after that but at the same time maybe being left alone with your thoughts was not a great idea.

It was weird, a few months ago all you wanted was nothing more than a chance to get closer to Stan. You just wanted to be more than a passing face in the halls, to get to know him better and be his friend and the opportunity handed itself to you on a silver platter and you didn't want it anymore. Strange how it seems to always work out like that. On the other hand back then you didn't want anything to do with Craig Tucker and well it seemed like the world had other plans for you both. You thought about this during your next few classes. You never realized just how much the little things he did meant so much to you. Those sarcastic narcissistic smirks that used to pissed you off so much turned into soft grins almost like he was trying not to smile because he didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction. The way he never asked to hold your hand he would just do it and it just felt right. Not to mention you both could sit in comfortable silence with each other. So much has happened over these past few months. With the final ring of the bell you came to terms with the fact that you didn't want things to "go back to normal" normal didn't sit well with you. You enjoyed his company damn it and you weren't going to take no for an answer. You knew what you had to do

You had to find Craig.

You had to at least try to sort this out before it was too late. You scurried around campus looking for him and when you saw him at the end of the hallway Bebe stood right in front of your vision. You tried to look past her making sure to keep an eye on Craig. "(Y/n)! Thank god I found you. We need you to sub in." You were craning your neck to look around her, it was hard with the crowd of students shuffling in and out of the halls "Bebe can this wait, I need to talk to Craig he-" you turned back to see him with Jenny. They were laughing about something and he was smiling. A smile you don't remember him ever making for you. You grit your teeth feeling deflated at the sight of them. At the thought that genuinely everything betweenyou was a lie.

"You know what? Fuck Craig! What does the squad need?" You cursed yourself for being too much of a coward to confront him. You had such a short window of time as it was and now you didn't care. It really did sound like the squad needed your help plus you needed a break. A break from all the lies and pretending. You were able to live without Tucker before and you're stubborn enough to bet that you could live without him now.

Bebe blinked for a second studying your face "What happened with Craig? Wait, have you been crying!" She reached up to grab you cheek and you lightly pushed her hand away.

"Yeah, Craig broke up with me during theatre but that's not important right now. What does the squad need?"

"Oh my god! What an asshole! Where is he I'll-"

You groaned holding her back as the was rolling up her sleeves looking like she was ready to attack someone "Bebe no, the last thing I need you guys to do is get involved. Again." You looked back at where Craig used to be then back to Bebe, he was already gone "What was it about subbing in?" she gave you an apologetic look but continued "Heidi twisted her ankle and we have a game next week. We need you to fill in for her." You sighed yeah this might as well happen but wait, "Isn't it Halloween next week?" You pulled out your phone to confirm this theory as you and Bebe made you way to the gym for practice. "Exactly! That's why Token is throwing a Halloween party after the game. Were you not paying attention during lunch?" Bebe looked back at you but then remembered "Oh that's right never mind."

At least this would help you get a certain someone out of your head.

Spoiler alert! It didn't.

The next day the school caught wind of your break up and everyone was back on their bullshit making up rumors about what they thought drove the nail in the coffin. In a way it made you feel a little bit better knowing that if you guys did break up right after all the rumors subsided it would have been just as annoying as before. At least you had a few month of quiet in between, you know in hindsight. After that it seemed like Craig disappeared or at you thought until someone pushed past you with enough force to make you stumble forward. He didn't even look back to you until you called him out.

"Hey watch where you're going Tucker." He glared at you for a moment spitting "You're in the way (L/n)" under his breath but you still caught it.

After that you didn't see him in your classes mostly because you were finally paying attention to the lessons. You didn't notice him a side from theatre but Cartman's play kept you guys from interacting much and when you did the biting comments were in character and part of the script. Everything went back to normal like he said it would. He didn't show up to the table during lunch if you were there but you also only showed up half the time. The other half was spent giving Egbert off to Stan despite how awkward it was since you never did answer him. You're sure the question wasn't as serious as you were making it out to be but it was still weird how he worded it. Stan seemed to be getting better the more you came around but he was probably doing the same thing you were, using him to fill the void of human interaction that you both once had. You should really ask Wendy what happened but she seemed fine so you left her alone for the most part.

You ended up acting like a new person to some degree focusing on anything you could to take your mind off of the past few months. Anything to get yourself to forget the person you became so fond of. Most of your time and energy went into helping the squad. Everyday after school you had practice to keep you up to speed with how things work. It was odd because you would have never pegged yourself as a cheerleader type but you had to admit being apart of it was kind of fun. It was nice to be a part of something that made you feel appreciated.

Between the stupid egg thing, Cartman's abomination of a play and the squads practices Halloween came faster than expected. You performed well enough to pass as a real cheerleader and it felt exciting. It was enough to get you out of that slump you were in earlier. You weren't really one for sports but you found yourself having a good time especially when you guys won the game. It made you feel like you guys earned the party.

It wasn't until after everyone regrouped outside that your mood dipped again.

"Oh," Craig scoffed "She's here."

He rolled his eyes as you walked out with the rest of the squad. "Seriously dude?" Clyde said lightly nudging him in the shoulder as you all made your way to the parking lot. You mimicked his distaste "Fuck off Tucker you knew I was a cheerleader." He frowned crossing his arms grumbling to himself "Last I checked you were just a sub."

"Yeah? Well last I checked you don't even like football so why'd you come, huh?" you walked passed him trying to keep up with the rest of the group "Clyde always makes me come to their first game." He shrugged pushing past you again gesturing at Clyde "Told me if I came out tonight I wouldn't have to be the designated driver for once." You smirked back at him as you arrived at Clyde's truck "Oh so the great Craig Tucker does drink."

"After talking with you I need a drink."

The squad split up between Clyde and Token but there wasn't enough room for everyone "Bebe and the girls wanna ride in front so both of you have to ride in back."

"I'd rather walk." You spat in Craig's direction "Maybe I could still catch Stan or Kenny." he didn't say anything just flipped you the bird as he climbed over the side of the truck. "(Y/n) just get in the truck." Clyde pleaded as he got in the front.

You sighed but begrudgingly got in the back. The entire ride over you both were quiet staring at each other from across the bed of the truck. The wind was making your hair fly all over the place making you laugh a little when you saw a strand of Craig's hair attack his eye.

Serves him right.

You had never seen Token's place before but you heard his family was loaded but that was an understatement. The house was massive and on top of a hill. The inside was even more impressive. Apparently Tweek and Jimmy left the game early to help set up before the rest of you got there. Everything was decked out with orange and black streamers with cobwebs hanging down the corners of the room.

Honestly it looks like it took forever to set up. There was a huge entertainment center in the middle of the room with MarioKart already loaded up. Off to the sides there was an air hokey table, a billiards table, a karaoke machine and multiple arcade game cabinets. Not to mention a fully stocked kitchen with every alcohol under the sun and Halloween themed snack foods. Oh yeah now this was a party. You were in awe standing in the middle of the doorway.

"Token always throws a big party on the day of the first game but every once in a while it falls on Halloween so he goes all out." Wendy said as she and Bebe finally caught up to you. "No kidding. This is kickass!"

"So did you bring a costume?" Bebe asks you as you walk with them to the bathroom. "uhhhhhhhh" you had completely forgotten about that part, you just wanted to survive the week, you never really gave it much thought. "Why am I not surprised." Bebe sighed but handed you a bag. "Your lucky I couldn't decide what I wanted to be. Take this." you all went into the bathroom to get changed. Of course Bebe and Wendy helped with your make up again. You looked at yourself in the mirror "Just what am I again Bebe?"

"Your a sexy mouse! Like from mean girls the musical. I was going to sing "Sexy" for karaoke but now you get to do it!" you looked at her dumbfounded. "Greaaaaaat" you guys left the bathroom and headed to the kitchen for some drinks but nothing was really jumping out at you. In fact you kind of didn't want to drink tonight, it's probably for the best. "Okay here's the deal I'll sing Sexy but you guys have to dance with me"

"Sure!"

"Of course!"

"Cool now let's get this party started!"

You all sat around chatting with a few people until another group went up to start the Karaoke machine since you didn't want to be the first one to sing. It didn't take too long for someone too start it up, drinking and Karaoke go hand in hand. You kept getting this nagging feeling in the back of your mind like someone's watching you. Not that it was anything new, on top of which being a "sexy mouse" wasn't going to help your case but you couldn't tell if you were just being paranoid or if someone was trying to get your attention. Bebe polished off another drink and threw an arm around both you and Wendy.

"Laddies I think it's time!"

Wendy giggled at Bebe as you were ushered over to the karaoke machine and the music started.

---

Craig slammed another drink down on the table as Clyde gave him a look of concern "Don't you think you should slow down." Craig ignores him continuing the race. He wasn't doing so well "What designated driver who?" Clyde squints at him but sighs "Look I know you've been depressed for like the past week but might I remind you that, YOU broke up with her. Why don't you just go and talk to (Y/n)?"

"No."

"No? What do you mean no? Don't make you drag your ass over there." Clyde gestures vaguely in your direction as he sees you, Bebe and Wendy take the floor of the karaoke machine. "Oh fuck yeah they're gonna do sexy!" Clyde beams looking his girlfriend up an down. The music starts and Craig pops another bottle trying not to watch but ending up watching the whole time forgetting about the race.

---

"I'm a sexy mouse" you say the final line twirling your hair with you fingers striking a final pose laughing to yourself just how stupid and fun this was. Looking to Bebe and Wendy you all laugh yourselves off stage "Wooooo! God (Y/n) I might just fall for you with how sexy you are."

"Pfffft" you exhale as Bebe swoons into your arms caressing your face "Shhhh we don't have to tell Clyde this romance could be our little secret." She was a little tipsy, the perfect amount of tipsy. "What next air hockey or pool" Wendy suggest turning back to you guys flustered. You could see Stan looking in your direction from the pool table. In the end you guys decide Bebe is too tipsy to be trusted with a pointy object so you guys play air hockey instead.

It was funny to see Bebe panic over trying to hit the puck. You stopped trying to win ages ago opting to hit it as slow as possible to see Bebe frantically try to hit it back even if the puck was going into her own goal by accident. You traded off with Wendy grabbing another round of drinks as requested by the laddies. When you came back you noticed Kenny and Stan were playing against Wendy and Bebe. You were all chatting about and having a good time when you heard Clyde faintly call your name.

"Hey (Y/nick name), can you come here for a minute? No dude you're doing this now. I don't care if your drunk you need this. Only one of you needs to be sober to fix this."

Everything past your name was muddled by the music around you but as you walked closer you could hear Clyde shout "(Y/nnnnnnnn), (Y/nnnnnnnnnnnnnn) come get your manssss!" followed by Craig choking out "No, I don wanner to see me. She likes Staaaaaan, nauht meeeee." he was slurring his words but it sounded like he was crying. It was really a sight to behold as you approached from the back of the couch.

Craig was curled up into Clyde's side not seeing you standing above the pair. You've never seen him like this before it was, weird. Over the week you were trying to figure out what exactly you could even say to him. On the other hand seeing him have genuine emotions for once made you think back to everything he's said to you.

* I thought I told you to pay attention!

(Y/n), did you give Clyde your vote or did you vote for me yourself.

You're coming with me. Get on. I don't trust you to walk on your own just shut up and enjoy the ride before I change my mind.

It was Marsh, wasn't it? The one you had a crush on.

But do you want me to, do you want me to take your virginity?

Clearly it didn't mean anything to you anyways.

I don't want her to see me. She likes Staaaaaan, not meeeee. *

It finally clicked. He's always liked you. That night you thought you were imagining Craig professing his love for you. He actually said that, it wasn't just some figment of your imagination. You feel so dumb right now. He must have thought you still liked Stan and- Oh shit. This is all your fault, you are your own worse enemy. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. This was not how you wanted to say those words to him. You still didn't even know what to say. Craig was still muttering to Clyde that you liked Stan not realizing that you were there.

"Yeah, you're right. I do like Stan."

You say flatly. Clyde froze at your choice of words swallowing hard as you tried prying Craig away from him. This only caused him to tighten his grip on Clyde's jacket. Instead you knelt down in front of him resting your elbows on his knees propping your head up on your hands. "But I don't love Stan." he started to loosen his grip a little to look at you through his bangs "We're friends and all sure but that doesn't mean I love him."

He let go of Clyde and sat up staring down at you. He was a mess his hat was sliding off, his hair clumped in weird ways partially wet from either tears, sweat or beer and his eyes were all red and puffy. "No for some reason I'm in love with some dumbass who" you paused smiling to yourself over the irony "Probably won't even remember this ever happened, but I don't care I'll say it as many times as I have to for you to believe me," you took a breath looking him in the eyes

"Craig, I love you."

He took a moment to just stare at you with his hands moving gently to cup your face. You saw him start leaning in and your eyes slowly closed. The next thing you knew you felt his entire body weight on you as he leaned too far forward toppling you both to the floor. Clyde was laughing his ass off, it was such a dramatic confession followed by Craig's dumb drunken ass going in for a hug. Maybe it was you who misread the vibe you thought he was going in for a kiss regardless you were both on the floor. Craig nuzzled into your neck for security muttering something incoherent but probably along the lines of "I didn't want you to hate me again" or something like that you couldn't tell. In any case Craig was being a child as you tried get up from the floor. He refused to let you out of his embrace which was cute and endearing for the first few minutes but people were starting to stare and you weren't used to him doing this especially when he was using your shoulders to dry his tears.

"Okay I think you need to go home." You both slowly got up from off the ground. He was still putting his full body weight on you and you fell against the couch almost on top of Clyde.

"Yeah I think he needs to go home."