#i am having fun playing with the statistics and shit though

[frnkiebby]

Jfc you guys.

How are we already close to the blogs next milestone. You guys are fucking awesome and i love you all but now i need to actually stop procrastinating and come up with another milestone idea/theme.

Have some fave frimages in return for being my favorite FellowWhores~🎃

(ps. lmk if this shit is annoying to you. i just like to talk and like i said, you’re never getting rid of me now, so buckle up fuckers and let’s get wrecked.)

[taurasiscntybun]

Breaking in the rookie pt 2

- 18 plus minors DNI

- DT x fem reader (no y/n)

- warnings: Adult language, graphic descriptions of sex, Dom/sub, age gap, degradation/praise, mommy kink, spit, light impact play, oral (giving)

-3,300 words

-Thanks to my editor and fellow h*rny sister @taurasicomplex

The drive to your team apartment was full of nervous energy, her black suv following your own car closely as if she didn’t know how to get there, a lie of course, she was well aware of how to get to the team housing but it seemed like some sort of intimidation tactic.

“Fuck, what the fuck was I thinking, Jesus my house isn’t even clean.” You say to yourself as you pull up to the apartments. The reality of her being in your home hitting you.

Diana follows you into the breezeway and up the stairs, her tall frame a looming presence at your back; it was both nerve wracking and intoxicating. You open the door to your one room apartment and usher her inside, glancing around at the unpacked boxes you flush a little in embarrassment.

“I, uh, haven’t finished unpacking.”

“Yeah I can see that, it looks like a fucking tornado in here.” She glances around the living room then back to you.

“Well I wasn’t expecting company.”

”You invited me?”

“That was an accident”

”You accidentally invited me to your house?”

”It was an impulsive invite, don't judge my house and take your shoes off please” You shut the doors behind you and kick off your shoes, leaving you in your mismatched colorful socks. She follows your lead and pulls off her sneakers, her socks a nice matching black. You motion for her to sit on the couch, quickly tossing the nest of blankets and fluffy pillows to the end. She watches you closely as you walk to the kitchen, her eyes tracking you like a predator watching their prey. You open the fridge and pull out the cheap bottle of peach fizzy wine and grab two mugs from the cabinet.

“You don't even have wine glasses? Shit it really was an accident inviting me over.” She watches you walk back into the living room and you can see she’s already made herself at home; reclined on your couch with her legs spread in front of her, she’s so easily taken over your space, her presence making the room feel smaller than it is.

“Uh I usually just drink everything out of mugs to be honest, I like the handles.” You pass her a mushroom shaped mug which she takes although she looks dubious.

“You can’t even have normal mugs? What are you five? Why the fuck is everything covered in flowers and shit.”

“It’s a mushroom not a flower, flora and fungi are two separate things.”

“You know they call me a fun-guy”

“That wasn’t even a good joke Dee.”

“They can’t all be winners, though statistically I am. Sit down and open the wine, you're acting like a skittish little animal, I don't bite unless you want me too.”

“I- Jesus, Dee you just say anything dont you.” You sit down on the opposite side of the couch, next to your comforting wad of pillows and blankets, all of them a different pattern making the pile a chaotic mess of color.

”I mean most of it, just kinda comes out, its always what I’m thinking.” She shrugs and reclines more, resting one of her hands behind her head, the other holding the mug out to you for her drink. The mushroom mug looks tiny and out of place in her obscenely large hand. You try not to think too hard about the implication she might be thinking about biting you and instead focus myself on unscrewing the cap.

”I know the wines gonna be shit if it's a screw top, that shits peach does that even count? Gonna taste like Im drinking fucking juice.” She complains as you fill her mug with the light pink wine, it fizzes a little threatening to spill and she quickly slurps some of it. You stare half dazed at the way her lips wrap around the rim, her tongue licking up the slight spill down the side.

“You ok there rook?” She flits her eyes up at you, the warm brown pools of dark honey searching your face.

”Yeah sorry, just embarrassed at my shit pour.”

“God this shit tastes like a bad hangover, at least we have afternoon practice tomorrow.” She complains but takes another sip. You fill up your own mug and suddenly half the bottle is gone.

“Drink some water, you'll survive.” You settle a little more in your seat, tucking your feet under you and reaching for the remote. Your two positions so different, her open and almost demanding space and you tucked up in the corner of the couch. You open your WNBA app and click to the game from tonight. You immediately mute the audio, not wanting to hear the announcers constantly gassing up Diana and probably criticizing you. Cindy and Anne were kind and a lot more forgiving to you as announcers but still you knew they’d have shit to say about your tech and you didn’t need it.

Halfway through the game and the whole way through the bottle of wine you pause it.

”Why are you being so nice? You haven’t criticized my plays at all, not even my missed layup.”

“Sorry I was trying to be supportive.” She snorts and finishes off her second mug of wine. She pauses her drinking and looks at you, her gaze intense as she studies you.

”Do you.. do you want me to be mean? It fucking seems like you do, what do you like it when I get all mad?” She teases and leans a little closer to you; you're still plenty far apart but she’s suddenly dominating the shared space. You laugh nervously and try to play cool even though you're obviously flustered.

”No I- don't be ridiculous who would want such a thing it's just unexpected.” You babble out and seem to shrink back against the side of the couch a little more. She sits her mug on the floor and leans in even closer, her body angling towards you now.

“I don't think that's true, rook. I think you invited me over specifically to berate you a little bit. Is that what you want? You want me to punish you for getting a tech? Tell you what a shit job you did today?” Her voice drops lower as her eyes search your face; despite her bravado and bold words you can tell she’s a little nervous she might have crossed a dangerous line. You swallow your nerves and decide to be bold as well, assuring her that she is reading you right.

”Maybe I do.” You say softly your voice nearly a whisper.

”Hmm what was that? Speak up rook.” Diana teases, her voice taking on more of the commanding tone she used on the court, proving she definitely heard you but wanted to hear you say it again.

”I said maybe I do. Maybe I like it when you get onto me. Maybe I like you a little mad.” You jut your chin out defiantly and she grins.

”I see, you brought me here for your own fantasy right? Are you gonna get off to me yelling? Wait till I leave and reach your hand down your cute little pink panties?” She moves even closer, reaching out to grab your leg, tugging you closer with a smug grin.

”I- fuck Dee you can’t say shit like that unless you mean it.” You say then gasp as she forces you to close the distance, her large hand feeling like a brand on your skin even through your sweatpants.

“What you think I don't mean it? Hate to break it to you baby but I’ve been thinking about the little bow on your panties all night.” Diana's voice drops to a husky whisper as her hand creeps further up your leg. You look at her, mouth agape at the implication.

“You can drive me crazy out there in your little rolled up fucking shorts. I can almost see your ass half the time. Was that your plan? Make yourself look like fucking candy to me so Ill come over?” Her hand brushes the inside of your knee and you look from her hand to her face and see no hint of teasing. She means it.

”Maybe I want you to think about my ass. Having dirty thoughts about your rookie.” You shoot back and she gives a huff.

”I can’t help it when you serve yourself up to me like a fucking dessert. Tell me what you want rook. You have to tell me you want this or ill stop right now and we never have to talk about it again.” She pulls her hand away slightly and you realize she wants your permission to continue, she wants to make sure you really want this too.

”Fuck. Yes Diana, I want you.” You say with more conviction than you meant. Her answering grin is practically feral as her hand touches you again, this time on your inner thigh and tighter.

”Let me guess you want me to order you around? You want me to be like I am on the court? Tell you you're acting like a little slut inviting me over like this.” Her words are phrased as a question but you suck in a breath nonetheless.

“Y..yes I do,” You hesitate for a moment, “I want you to tell me what to do, order me around Diana. I..I'm your little slut tonight.” Your voice is a little shaky as she continues her slow ascent up your thigh.

“Aww what was that baby, I'll need you to say it again, like you mean it.” You didn’t realize she had gotten so close, her large frame practically draped over you, caging you in.

“I..” You clear your throat. “I'm your little slut and I want you to tell me what to do.”

“Good girl, see, was that so hard? Now get on your fucking knees.” Her voice dropped an octave as she clearly commanded you. You move without a second thought, sliding off the couch and sitting back on your heels, the empty wine bottle clatters over; the sound loud in the suddenly tense space.

“Closer baby I can’t quite reach you all the way over there.” She reclines back on the couch and spreads her legs again, signaling you to rest between them. You move between her legs and lift to your hands to the waist of her shorts but she grabs your wrists quickly.

“So eager already. Turn and watch the tv baby, the games only half over.” She pushes your hands off her and roughly turns you so you're facing away from her and to the tv. Diana turns the tv back on and reclines again, absently stroking your hair, her strong thighs half trapping you between them. You lean into her touch without meaning too and her hand suddenly grips your hair, pulling your head back so your eyes are locked on the tv.

“You missed my perfect assist right then, you fucked up my game. What do you have to say for yourself baby?” Her fingers dig into your scalp as she leans down to you, her breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“I..I’m sorry.” You stutter and she releases your hair and leans back up, her hand patting your cheek slightly harder than you were expecting.

”Good girl, you should be fucking sorry.” She goes back to her slow almost petting of your hair and you lean against her thigh. Diana uses the opportunity to let her hand wander down to cup your cheek then her fingers brush against your neck. Your heart rate spikes under her soft but claiming touch.

“You’re so worked up baby, relax.” She practically purrs and traces a finger down your pulse point, just dipping under your collar. She hooks her finger under your bra strap and lets it snap against your skin, You let out a tiny gasp, your breath picking up even under her slow touch.

”Diana” You say in a needy whisper, she’s barely done anything but already worked you up into a needy mess. Her hand stills.

”What baby?” She asks in a softer tone, worried she’d gone too far.

“I.. I need you please” You beg and immediately she resumes her touch, satisfied that you're enjoying this.

“You think you deserve a reward already baby girl? So greedy.” Diana leans back up and places both hands on your shoulder, her lips right by your ear.

“I'm feeling generous baby since you’ve listened to me so well.” She nips your earlobe, tugging it between her teeth gently.

“You wanted me so bad earlier, ok babygirl you can have some of me. Turn around.” Her last words are a command as she spreads her legs a little more and lifts her hips to tug down her shorts. You turn quickly and help her pull down her shorts, your fingers hook under the waistband of her boxers.

”No, I didn’t say you could do that yet, you have to earn it babygirl” She gently strokes your cheeks, the caring motion seemingly at odds with her stern words.

“O..ok” You say, a little unsure what to do.

“You can touch me baby, make me want you, drive me crazy.” She pats your cheek again before reclining back on the couch, she seems to not even pay attention as her eyes watch the game. You swallow your nerves and tentatively kiss along the inside of her thigh, one of your hands going up to her boxer clad core.

”You're so shy now baby, touch me like you mean it.” She grabs your wrist and presses your hand more firmly against her cunt. You use your thumb to press against her, she’s in control but you can feel how wet she is through her boxers. She lets out a low groan as you return to kissing up her thigh, you're more confident in your movements now, kissing and sucking, alternating thighs as your hands still rub her through her clothes.

”That’s it baby you're doing so good.” Her hand tangles in your hair again, her hand just resting on the back of your head. You nip and suck the inside of her thigh and groan again, her fingers tightening.

“Keep fucking going. You like to talk so much on the fucking court, use your fucking mouth now princess.” You can’t stop the small moan that escapes you as you lick up her cunt, her wetness mixing with the taste of fabric in a surprisingly erotic way. You push your face harder against her, sucking the fabric into your mouth a little.

“Fuck that’s right baby, you want to taste my pussy dont you?” You nod against her and flit your eyes up to meet hers.

“Your words princess, you have to use your words.” Her grip tightens in your hair again.

”I want your pussy, please Diana let me taste you.” You say, the need in your voice is surprising even yourself.

“Ok baby” She lifts her hips to help you pull her boxers off, your own cunt dripping with need as you see her bare before you.

”Fuck” You say quietly, taking her in for the first time. To you she’s perfect everywhere and her cunt is no different. She’s not shaved but not wild either, the dark hair matching her curls; she’s already so wet, her pussy practically glistening and inviting.

“Go on baby, you wanted me so bad.” Her tone is commanding but you can hear the hitch in her voice telling you she needs you just as much as you want her. You don’t answer with words but instead lick up her folds, your face half buried against her. You moan as her taste hits your tongue and she lets out a sharp breath, clearly restraining herself.

“Don’t be a fucking tease baby.” She says, her voice a little shaky now. You move faster, your tongue lapping at her clit greedily, hands braced on her thighs. Diana lets out a low groan and pushes your head against her more. You move your face down a little, your tongue swirling around her entrance.

“Fuck baby you're such a good girl such a good fucking girl.” Her hips rise off the couch a bit to meet your mouth. You moan and suck her folds into your mouth, using your tongue to flick at her clit.

“God dont fucking stop, just like that baby, make me cum.” Her hips buck slightly and her eyes flutter closed. This spurs you on and you move with vigor, sucking and slurping at her clit, moving up and down from her core and back, the lewd noises mingling with her quiet groans.

“Fuck, shit, good baby, good girl, eat my fucking pussy princess fuck dont stop.” Her words are a breathy babble as she starts to grind against your face more, her movements growing sloppy. You move one hand from her thigh and and circle your thumb around her entrance as you lavish her clit. She lets out a strangled groan as you push two fingers inside her.

“Oh god baby fuck” She pants her hips bucking. You crook your fingers, brushing against her inner wall and suck her clit into your mouth. She gasps and her eyes fly open.

“Im gonna cum baby, Im gonna cum all over your fucking face and you're going to take it, fuck look at me when you make me cum.” She commands and you can feel her tightening around my fingers. You bring my eyes up to meet hers. Her face is flushed, her pupils blown out in lust. You pump your fingers in and out of her, hooking them slightly, swapping between swirling your tongue around her clit and sucking it into your mouth. Finally you can feel her on the brink and you let your teeth scrape gently over her sensitive bud.

“Fuck!” She gasps and her legs shake slightly, her grip on your hair turns mildly painful as she grinds her cunt against your face. You pull your fingers out and immediately replace them with your tongue, lapping up her release greedily.

”oh god fuck baby you're so good fuck so good.” She pants as she comes down from her high. You don't stop until she tugs your face away gently.

”Enough baby.” She says softly and pulls you to stand up. You suck your fingers into your mouth not wanting to waste any of her. You look at Diana in a daze, intoxicated by her. You pant slightly as you crawl up her, she closes her legs and maneuvers you to sit in her lap.

“You did so good, baby girl.” Diana says, her hand rubbing your back.

”You taste so good mommy.” You whine and she stiffens slightly her hand stilling.

”I.. fuck I’m sorry I-“

”Say it again.”

“Y..you taste good?”

“Don’t be dense.”

“You taste so good… mommy” You blush and she shivers

“Fuck I didn’t know I’d like that.” Diana says softly and moves her hand to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing absently.

“I know you want me in charge baby but I have to follow your lead, I don’t want to take it too far, tell me what you want.” She sucks in a breath.

“Tell mommy what you want her to do to you.” You let out a small moan at her words and squirm in her lap, desperate for friction.

“I want you to do whatever you want, I want you to use me. I..I’ll tell you to stop if it’s too much, I’m not made of glass.”

“My fierce rookie, my little slut.” She grips your cheeks, her fingers digging into the skin and forcing your mouth open.

“Stick your tongue out baby. Open wide for mommy.” You obey and stick your tongue out immediately, tilting your head back slightly.

“You’re so obedient for me baby, such a good little slut.” She lets a string of spit fall from her mouth onto your waiting tongue.

“Swallow.” Diana uses her hand to force your jaw shut and you swallow, a shiver running through you at how dirty this is.

“Fuck you’re so good baby.” She coos and strokes her thumb across your bottom lip softly

[icaruskey]

"Talking about trans men "playing up the F in AFAB" to access women spaces. Please someone send me an ask about this specifically so I have an excuse to go off tomorrow after work."

Fourth time's the charm right?

And I gotta disclaim that I'm one of them transes who sees his past self as the gender he thought he was. Little 11 year old me? Girl. I was a girl up to the point I wasn't and I don't really know where that line is. Somewhere between 19 and 25. But I do call myself AFAB and I do see a lot of my experiences as a child and teen as being both through the lenses of womanhood and closeted/subconscious transness.

So needless to say I'm a little biased and get a little angry when this argument that trans masculine people are trying to play up the F in their AGAB up.

First and foremost, the biggest push away from AGAB language I've seen is from nonbinary and trans masculine folks. So let's jot that down (again though, I have consciously put myself into spaces that allow me to hear these voices over trans feminine voices after nearly a decade of the reverse).

And there's the fact that trans people who present with traditionally "female" reproductive and secondary sex characteristics are typically more vulnerable in men only spaces... we gotta be realistic here. People who look like women are going to be treated like women by strangers and while I'm a firm advocate for not treating all men like dirt... well. We have statistics.

And that's even if there are men spaces... shit like shelters for domestic violence victims oh so rarely allow men in the first place.

Plus, let's not forget a lot of this "playing up the F in AFAB" talk is coming around during the repeal of Roe v Wade in the US, which brought up the discussion of reproductive healthcare and abortion access back into international center stage. We're supposedly leaning on our AGAB by pointing out that We! Need! Healthcare! And our healthcare needs generally line up with those seen as women's only.

A totally stealth trans man who is being denied reproductive healthcare because he's legally a man is going to have to lean on his AGAB to get a checkup with the ObGyn. Otherwise they're not going to see him... because he doesn't look like a woman to him. Sometimes, using your AGAB is necessary, if only because the largely cishet world doesn't get that sometimes women have dicks and men have vaginas, and there are some people who want both or neither.

Finally, and I guess this just irritates me the most because of the above mentioned bias... saying trans masculine and nonbinary folks are playing up their AGAB is outright denying the way so many of us grew up. I was raised as a girl. I was seen as a girl. I had expectations put on me that only women in my small part of Southern Baptist culture would have. I had a promise ring. I memorized the Proverbs 31 wife list. I had nightmares of my wedding night, and I was made fun of and belittled by my own mother for not liking makeup and not taking care of my appearance. My lack of sexual harassment, despite it being a super common thing for girls and women, still has me mentally fucked up despite now identifying mostly male.

I'm not playing up my AGAB by talking about these experiences and saying that I've experienced misogyny because of how I am seen. Claiming the trauma and benefits of womanhood when I saw myself as a girl and when the world sees me as a woman (as it oh so overwhelmingly does currently) is not me trying to play up my AGAB for victimhood points or to access women's only spaces.

Yes, there are trans men, masculine folks, and nonbinary people who were AFAB and currently enter women's spaces where AMAB folks aren't allowed. If I wasn't aware of them before, I certainly am after getting through the first few chapters of Whipping Girl because Julia Serano does not shut up about it. She's clearly salty despite pretending not to be.

But guess what! There's shitty trans women and trans feminine people out there too! Baeddels! TIRFs! The fact that there's shitty trans people like Buck Angel or Caitlyn Jenner is just because they're people! Who happen to be trans! And people will absolutely use whatever they can as leverage to be shitty! That's why there are gay and black Republicans. They leveraged their minority status to become figures in a group that hates them. Shocking.

But for fuck's sake, saying trans men, masculine, and nonbinary folks who happened to be AFAB are trying to express their victimhood through the F in their AGAB both reeks of ROGD as well as a clear yellow flag that maybe

just maybe

these people are trying to find the language to talk about the problems they're facing but people like Serano aren't letting them.

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

y'all, I'm so high rn, but I think I wanna write something in omegaverse. It would be my own twist on it, of course.

Imma put the thingy cause I got a little ramblelly

Bc I think like the trope itself could be so fun to examine through a world building aspect. Having a secondary sex, (or gender, that's something else I'll get into) is such an amazing thing in and of itself. There would be whole new ways to be transgender and/or queer.

So, would transgender people really be treated differently? When they have to be pretty common, like say statistically 30% of the population, at bare minimum.

But back to the sex thing. Like, assumably, you could still reproduce with your primary sex? So, theoretically, you could be the biological mother or father of your child. That means in a society like this, gender roles about parenthood could be virtually none existent.

And your secondary sex (I'm calling it a sex bc it aids in reproduction) is also sort of an assigned gender. Like, in fic, that I have read (bc sometimes when you got a rare pair, you gotta step outta your comfort zone) omegas are sort of looked down on, and alphas are looked up to. But what if you're born physically an alpha, but you feel like an omega? And is being alpha/omega rare? And aren't they sort of expected to go together? So what would people think of alpha/alpha pairings, or omega/omega? I imagine being beta is like, the equivalent of being cis het here, in terms of commonality.

And then there’s that scent thing. Apparently, it makes you very attractive to your...idk how to explain this gender split stuff rn, bc I'm like, so baked. Like how irl some people still think men/women are opposites, in omegaverse people think alpha/omega are. Attractive to your opposite sex/gender.

But like, if alphas are supposed to be this charismatic idol, then naturally, they make it to the top. But what if that scent thing also works on all people attracted to alphas?

And the omega scent thing is also supposed to be all sex and shit. But also like, protective? Like it gives you this urge to keep them safe or some bullshit? Bc they might be pregers. And it works on all people attracted to omegas.

And like there could be people omegas attracted to other omegas. But they might be able to get away with it if they're male/female bc that's always been the expected thing. (Bc obviously, if betas are in charge, they aren't going to think about the needs of alphas/omegas.)

(Though it could be entirely the other way around, with alpha/omegas being the norm, and betas being looked down on bc they only had one method to breed.)

See? There's so much you can do with it. But usually, all you see is the sex stuff. Which is cool if that's what you're looking for.

But I want a political intrigue type drama where the different genders play against conventional roles. And also there's a lot of smut.

But like the being in heat leaves you coherent enough to say yes or no. Or that their scent starts to smell bad as a self-defense mechanism. Oh, I like that, actually. But anyway, I don’t like dub-con like this. For like, personal reasons.

So there is a lot of smut. That is at least a little queer every once in awhile. But tbh that's just bc this gummy got me horny af. Except I'm also asexual af and the thought of myself in any sort sexual scenario makes me want to have a panic attack irl.

Anyway, you could write it as this gender equality utopia.

Or you could right it as the way it probably would be--humans always find a way to build culture, to make a society. Societies have rules to keep the status que. There will always be those who are by nature against that status que and will be seen as different or other.

Ok, I think I have accidentally done like, some of my world building here. That makes this a sacred post.

Wait shit. Am I actually going to do this? I don't really think I can. Unless I write it on my phone, bc the shitty ass laptop is too far away.

[elderemorune]

Time and My Wife

I'm not the oldest or the youngest anymore. I'm approximately halfway through the average human's lifespan, give or take some bad math.

What I am, however, is surprisingly scared of time passing forward. Passing me by, it feels like. Cherry, my wife, my best friend, my darling love, is in film school and is a staff favorite. She's smart, she's funny, she's quick-witted and well spoken, she's really the best person.

We met when we were 19. I was failing college because I was spending all my time gaming or flirting with anyone that looked at me. School just didn't feel important, and I didn't know what I wanted to do anyway, so why waste the time?

I wish I knew then what I did now, that I'd wasted a huge opportunity.

When we met, Cherry was best friends with another girl I was dating at the time, Allie. We didn't work out, obviously, and we ended up splitting for a variety of reasons. The primary one was that she was trying to get over her ex, and honestly I just wanted to be loved.

I still remember the first time I locked eyes with Cherry. I knew that she was going to be everything to me right away. She was everything I wanted to be. Alt, creative, funny, everything I said above. She's always been this amazing person. We exchanged Facebooks and I did what any classless loser does after getting broken up with by a girl.

I hit her friend up and asked if she wanted to hook up. I didn't want something serious, not really. But she seemed fun, and I knew that we'd at least have a good time together.

Cherry and I met, and we laid in the back of her Jimmy for hours, just talking and kissing. We never ended up having sex, because why would we? I could have kept laying there forever. But eventually it grew late, and dinner needed to be had. Fortunately, her friends were making dinner and she'd offered for me to tag along.

This was when I met two other important people in my life, Sun and Sky. Sky and I didn't get along at first. Hell, it took us ten years to figure out how to talk to each other, but we eventually got it figured out and we're tight these days. Now we shoot the shit about JRPGs whenever we've got the spare time, and I'm trying to get him playing FF14 with me.

Sun's always been a nice person. Truly just the kindest soul, unfortunately to her own detriment a lot of the time. We love Sun very deeply, and she's one of Cherry's best friends. When Cherry'd been tossed out by whatever parent had decided they didn't want to be responsible anymore, Sun, Allie, Sky, and a bunch of assholes I won't give fake names to banded together to help keep her safe.

Anyway, dinner. I don't remember what we ate, but I do recall corn. And feeling welcome. Genuinely, warmly welcomed. I was raised by WASPS (my dad is the disinherited heir of US royalty, no I won't say who), so warmth was something I had to grow accustomed to, and holy shit, that first time was something.

That first day together really solidified who I wanted to become.

It just took me a long time to get here.

Now we're at a halfway point, statistically speaking, and she's in school. I'm here, at the apartment, doing everything in my power to make sure her only job is to go to school. I clean, I cook, I work, I pack her lunches and make sure her bag's got everything she needs for the day. I love doing this for her, because I want her to know every fucking day just how much I love her.

But then she leaves for the day, and so does my roommate, and suddenly I'm here alone. Working, learning programming languages that barely click to me, designing web pages and doing sales calls. It's a big job I do. But I do it alone.

And that leaves me with a lot of Time.

Time and I used to be enemies. When I had Time, I'd fill it with dumb choices and life-altering mistakes. Nowadays we're still not friends, but we're not at each other's throats so much. I have to confess though, that I'm becoming scared of it as I'm getting older.

Isn't that a funny word, older? It's really just a mark of the passage of time. We wrinkle, we creak, we have to piss more often, things stop working quite as well as they used to.

But what do I have to show for it? My marriage, which is literally the best part of my life, no bones about it. My job, which is the result of nepotism. My car, which my dad got me.

What have I done with my time on this earth?

And the actual answer is grow. With the time I've spent here, I've answered for the sins of my Father, committed a few sins of my own and answered for those, moved forward in my life, and become a better person than I've ever been.

Now though, I'm grown. I'm ready to step outside the plant pot, you know? See what the world is really like. And as I watch my wife go through her education, I feel a little jealous. I'd pissed mine away at 19, and my folks told me that was that, if I wanted to go back to school I'd have to pay for it myself.

It feels like I'm watching time pass me by as the people around me grow too. I take care of them as they do what they need to in order to become who they want to be.

And now that I think on that, isn't that such an important fucking job? Isn't it kind of incredible that I'm comfortable enough in my skin to be able to get in the dirt and remove the weeds so that she can grow?

I guess, now that I'm thinking about it, that was always my thing. I've always loved taking care of and helping others. I think, now that I'm really considering it, I could be happy doing this for a very long time. School won't take forever, and eventually she won't need me to do this for her, but I think for now, I can just take joy in watching her find her confidence again.

Anyway, I've spent too long writing this. If anyone wants to play Final Fantasy, hit me up!

[turquoiselover-99]

Flufftober Day 8

I'm a couple days behind, but no biggie. I can catch up... i hope.

Rain came down in sheets outside the window, droplets sliding down the balcony doors and pooling on the concrete outside, turning it dark and slick.

Inside the O’Connell residence, though, it was warm and dry, the occupants content to ignore the storm outside in favor of being in each other’s presence—and to have some fun of their own.

“You’re not winning again.”

“You sure about that, babe?”

“It’s statistically impossible! No one can be this good at a card game!”

“I was in Vegas for a few years, and I am banned from five different casinos for my skills.” Joshua glanced at his cards, then smirked at his partner and laid them down, “Read ‘em and weep.”

Carlos stared at the full flush, and groaned, throwing his two pairs down, “That’s it, I give up. No more.”

To the side, Allie giggled, and reached for the cards to shuffle them, while Joshua reached for the pot and started munching on a pretzel.

“You up for a game of pool, Uncle Carlos?” Allie asked with a mischievous smirk.

“Madre di Dios—hell no. That’s worse! How do you two do it?!”

“Practice.”

“Luck.”

Joshua and Allie looked at each other and shared a grin.

“I’m getting another drink,” Carlos grumped, uncurling his legs and climbing to his feet. He grabbed his mug of coffee, “Why did I decide to play games with you two?”

“Because you love us and there was no way you were going outside in this,” Joshua pointed towards the balcony doors. On cue, a streak of lightning flashed across the sky; there were a few beats of silence, before the crash of thunder followed, sending vibrations through the floor.

Carlos grimaced, “Yeah, no kidding.” Then, he left the duo to get himself a refill.

Joshua followed just a few seconds later with his own mug, and a sheepish look.

“We can find something else to do, if you want,” the writer offered, “Maybe a movie?”

“No, querido, I’m fine,” Carlos assured, “I’m just at a loss on how you keep winning.”

“Again, Vegas.”

Carlos rolled his eyes, pausing with his mug halfway to his lips as thunder boomed again. He winced.

“Not a fan of storms?”

“Nope.”

Joshua hummed and sipped his refill. After a moment, he looked at Carlos.

“You know what storms remind me of?”

He had Carlos’s attention, the brunet cocking a curious eyebrow.

“When we stopped dancing around each other and got our shit together,” Joshua admitted; Carlos blinked, realizing that Joshua was right—things had come to a head between them during a storm, not unlike this one.

“Huh,” Carlos mused. “How long has that been, now?”

“Three years.”

“… that’s it?”

“… don’t you dare tell me it feels longer.”

“Shorter, actually.”

“Huh,” Joshua blinked, surprised, then smiled fondly at the agent. “Feels just right, to me.”

Carlos chuckled and leaned over to catch Joshua’s mouth in a chaste kiss. Distantly, the rain continued to pound against the windows, faint rumbles of thunder vibrating the floor. Carlos pulled back to press his and Joshua’s foreheads together.

“You know what, querido? I think you’re right.”

[todayisafridaynight]

Throwing in fun (not fun) facts to contribute esp bc I was tagged in the essay: (Sorry in advance this is literally my career and special interest AND I just got back from a training conference about this SO obv I am going to talk too much. Disclosure: These statistics are from peer-reviewed sources AND the National Children's Alliance. The NCA IS an American association, though, so take this all with a grain of salt bc we're applying it to someone whose bg is not American lmao. This is an essay for funsies. CW: discussion of and stats about CSA, Child Abuse) Relevant to the Jo stuff is also that victims of one/any kind of abuse are statistically much more likely to subsequently face overlapping abuse, so knowing he comes from a home where abuse and potential neglect was actively occurring sets Jo-boy up for some sad statistics. I am looking for my notes on the stats for that but it's something stupid high, I wanna say over 30 or 40%.

Additionally, 47%~ of CSA victims are revictimized. Abysmal statistic but mostly just an interesting note if this IS the case/if we choose to interpret Jo this way bc of the other things mentioned in Masu's ask, specifically if we're viewing his unhealthy and ultimately traumatic relationship with Ikumi as a potential example of that revictimization (similarly, coming from a like background, it may have been revictimizing for Ikumi if she had ever experienced something like CSA, as well. It's one of those cases where they both got hurt even if neither of them were at fault for "playing house" as Jo calls it).

Seconding/Adding on to Masu's thoughts about Jo's behavior being as self-destructive as it is because of the compounded trauma of his life, victims of adolescent abuse "engage in health-risk behaviors such as substance use, physical fighting, and risky sexual activity," in far higher numbers than non-victims. We know for facts that adolescent Jo checks at least 2 of those 3 boxes, and that he still puts himself in unnecessary danger as a full grown adult (the Heian Tower fight, and Hoshino's Office fight): An interesting and well-written cycle of trauma and abuse on RGGs part, tbh, but also so narratively telling about how he saw/sees/continues to see himself as more an object than a person. (Love your notes on that btw, it rings very true. I could write an essay on that alone tbh.)

Another weird little thing I notice from both a Doyalist AND Watsonian perspective: Jo's disclosure of his father's abuse would classify as what we call an "accidental disclosure" in the field even though it's clearly intentional that he shares it with Ichi - it's offhanded and markedly unimportant in the story he's telling. He says it passively in a literary sense, as well: "The only thing waiting for me at home was my father's fists." Like homie, that's the most roundabout way you could have said "My dad beat me." Interestingly, up to 50% of [specifically CSA] victims do not state outright that abuse occurs, but disclose it accidentally/offhandedly; and in general, accidental disclosure is more common among people who have also delayed disclosure. Up to 66% of admissions from victims of child abuse come delayed if they come at all.

I think it's a very in-character remark of him to make, but statistically, it lines up with other victims of abuse as a whole. I think it's also just cool that from the Doyalist perspective, writing his lines in this way was intentional. It's part of the whole "Everything Jo says sounds like it could mean more than one thing" thing. He speaks poetically - it's intentional not just for the character but for the writer.

Okay, I'm done for now I'm sorry I just wanted to throw some added stuff into the convo bc I love applying my everyday usage of adolescent-focused trauma care and pysch shit to blorbos and seeing what sticks. Anyway, I also have a shit ton of thoughts on Masumi Arakawa as an abuse survivor but THATS another essay I won't dig into now. If I am still in your good graces after this long ass spiel I will consider it not only amazing but perhaps even cool as hell.

[ continuity of this ask ]

[doublegoblin]

15 Tags, 15 Mutuals OC Style

Much appreciated @tailoroffates

As far as whomst to tag: @asterhaze @lola-theshowgrl @lettersandinkstains @monstrousfreedom and I think I'll leave it there as direct tags, but if'n ya see this and want in, open mic.

Rules Choose a character from a WIP and use them to answer the questions below.

So I have done with with Alex the MC of Rituals and Red Tape, I want to have a little fun and do this one for their manager. That omnipresent fractal in the sky, upper level manager in a literal sense, unknowable eldritch being: Dave

1. Are you named after anyone?

I have been given many titles by your tongue. My employees however have ordained in me a name they profess speaks highly of my character. To quote Previous Manager Douglas "You just really seem like a Dave." I am not one to argue with an immutable truth.

2. When was the last time you cried?

When last the pale star of H'yn'gth faded into the noise of the cosmos, when all noise from the pulsating vortex ceased, when the life blood of the slain false deity washed across the galaxies beyond even the greatest of sights. That is to say, the last employee review I had with Alex. They are meeting my expectations adequately and is that not which all Managers strive for?

3. Do you have kids?

My staff has spoken at length of these creatures that are sired. My employees then are akin to my children, some more well liked than others as is traditional I hear.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Clear and open communication is the cornerstone of any good workplace relationship. They bemoan it but I know my employees truly appreciate my direct honest feedback.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their adherence to our dress code.

6. What's your eye color?

It has been described as colors within colors, an ever shifting kaleidoscope of melting and pulsating spectrums here to unknown by less developed eyes. I would assume this is to say; I have blue eyes but not entirely blue, gray with speckles of brown and a ring of green. They must be beautiful though, none long look me directly in them.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

A perfect union of the two.

8. Any special talents?

I am a wonderful communicator.

9. Where were you born?

I am unaware of this concept. Is being born something that would assist in employee to Management relations? I will speak with Alex about having me become 'born'.

10. What are your hobbies?

I enjoy making things. And then, organizing those things. It is very therapeutic.

11. Have you any pets?

My employees are also like my pets.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

There was at one time I attempted to engage in a game known as "Tennis". HR has requested I no longer engage with "tennis".

13. How tall are you?

Average dimensions. Perhaps a small percentile under average. I am unsure how lower level being perceive me. To also quote Previous Manager Douglas "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, no matter where I look you are right fucking there, holy shit I am starting to lose it." While his profanity was unneeded I never did get the answer as to what 'it' was.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Do you beings go to places for learning? Curious. Your minds have such limitations, yet your elasticity is marvelous. However I will answer this question with the best of my ability. Statistical Analysis, would be the closest approximation.

15. Dream job?

I have already fulfilled my place. To deviate is unthinkable.

[yourlocalgrammarpolice]

Hourly comics except I'm bad at art so it's just a timeline:

1am: Went to sleep. Stayed up too late watching movies but oh well.

5:30am: First alarm went off, was too pissed to wake up fully, threw my iPad.

6:30am: My mom called me! She's so awesome I love her so much. :)

8:09am: I finally woke up. School starts at 8:20 though, so I didn't brunch my teeth and instead just threw on some jeans and made a mad dash for the door.

9:00am: English teacher is absent. Cue creepy old substitute struggling to understand English 3 coursework while the three vaping kids all go to the bathroom. Also, I didn't get to see my girlfriend this morning.

10:00am: I GET TO SEE MY GIRLFRIEND LET'S FUCKING GO! We also watch the Sound of Music in Chorus. How fun! :D

11:00am: ACADEMIC ADVISING AND LUNCH! PIZZA! CORN!!! CURLY FRIES!!! GIRLFRIEND TIME!!!!

12:00pm: Lunch was tasty but now my stomach hurts. Threw up a lil but kept it down for the most part.

1:00pm: In Mythology class, talking shit about the Beta Convention, because they want me to give them my $200 Captain America shield for a skit.

2:00pm: GOING TO PROBABILITY AND STATISTICS! LOVE THAT CLASS, MY GIRLFRIEND IS IN IT!

3:00pm: I'm kinda over this class, but it's okay, my girlfriend has her hand on my back so I can work. :)

4:00pm: Went home, then had to go get a doctor's note for a field trip. Forced dad to listen to my music. He does not like 100 Gecs.

5:00pm: They tried taking me to church. They failed. >:) Instead, I watched Markiplier play The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe.

6:00pm: I'm stinky. I should shower. (I did not shower) (Instead I made soup and continued the Markiplier vid) (and also gave my dog some doggy ice cream)

7:00pm: I'm still stinky. What if instead of showering, I packed for a trip I am not taking, so I can see exactly what a weeks worth of care looks like?

8:00pm: I am now surrounded by mess. Instead of cleaning up, I'll go shower! After that, I ate more soup.

9:00pm: I am now on the phone with my girlfriend. I have thrown up again. She is consoling me because I am upset that I threw up my delicious soup.

10:00pm: I have taken two Benadryl and 12mg of melatonin. Good night.

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

not waiting for a response I'm writing it down now.

obligatory disclaimer that these thoughts aren't meant to fully encompass the realities of everyone with OCD, they're based on my own understanding and experience (that being said some of the shit I'm going to say won't even be direct OCD symptoms but rather indirect things I find interesting) and also again I'm talking about the character here, based on edited videos where a character/persona is played, not trying to diagnose the real guy.

Grian is such a fun character I love him very much. And he has OCD of course. One of the most obvious examples here is from season 10 - the mending book fishing incident. I fully believe Grian developed an obsessive compulsive fixation. Something along the lines of "If I don't fish 24/7 someone else will get the mending book - so I must not stop fishing".

With OCD there's a lot of 'I am afraid of [blank] happening therefore I do [blank] to prevent it', which can be illogical or partially logical but always going beyond a "normal" level of fixation on the bad thing happening, to the point of meltdowns and panics if the person with OCD can't do the Thing. Here then, Grian is afraid of missing the chance to get mending, so he pushes himself to unhealthy limits trying to fish. To the point that it becomes a bit for the other hermits.

Of course, the hermits are used to Grian's wacky shenanigans, so they don't think it's that unusual. Though they do join in on the bit, poke fun, and get silly. Grian also extends the obsession and compulsions by analysing fishing statistics and making the fish chamber. Which brings the whole thing to new levels of extremely unhealthy - but ultimately kinda funny.

Anyway, if you look hard enough there are definitely examples of this same phenomenon happening elsewhere in different hc seasons. Grian tends to get obsessively attached to certain things and keeps up "rituals" to prevent Bad Things from happening, to varying levels of logic and success. He also has a Builders Itch that just has to be scratched, which you could argue is another OCD moment. Like "if I don't build Right Now, something bad will happen" kind of urge.

Also could argue that the opposite is true too - sometimes he goes through periods of inability to build, procrastinating out of fear that it will go wrong. "If I don't start building, nothing bad can happen" - a sort of avoidant OCD, it could be argued. (Also similar to ADHD).

Intrusive thoughts are something that can't exactly be proven unless you're literally In the characters head, but Grian does narrate his thoughts quite a lot. He has a lot of impulsive thoughts and actions - which he acts on - but it's hard to gather evidence for intrusive thoughts because they usually go unsaid and never acted upon. I'm *sure* someone could find examples of Grian saying some wild stuff randomly and not doing anything about it, but I'm not that guy. It's also tricky because Hermitcraft has very few lasting consequences... so intrusive thoughts about death and destruction wouldnt hold the same impact as usual and therefore wouldn't come up as often as they do irl.

Anyway, I also think Grian has a tendency to believe things that people say - "moral" things, that is. Like, for example, if someone left a sign out saying 'anyone who leaves chest monsters around is stinky' he would either go on a crazy cleaning streak or declare himself stinky. He wouldn't necessarily try to challenge it, despite his often defiant nature. When it comes to "moral" identifiers, he is kind of paranoid about what people think of him. Idk if that makes any sense idk I can't think of a good actual example of this but it feels true in my heart ❤️

^ he also gives in to peer pressure quite a lot.

In the life series Grians OCD gets crazy. Which is understandable. It's why he can't really handle being around Scar and gets very frustrated with him and other chaotic characters. Grian wants, ultimately, to have control. He wants to Do Things His Way and if that doesn't happen he gets very emotional. His Way is also not necessarily the Best Way. But he wants things done a certain way and by god... he's gonna do it.

In the life series Grian is hyper aware of danger lurking around every corner. He's paranoid - feels the life and opportunities slipping from him with every passing second. Which all really heightens this idea of 'if I don't do [thing] then Bad Things Will Happen'.

He's also a control freak on hermitcraft but he hates responsibility which is hilarious and relatable.

Other things I think are Grian OCD moments are: button pushing (OCD soothing compulsion), general perfectionism, organisation systems that only make sense to him, any kind of grindy repetitive task

Thanks for coming to my ted talk it's 10.30pm and I have a headache this does not cover everything good night

sometimes I feel like I NEED to make an insane post analysing (c!)Grians obvious OCD but then I remember I might get crucified by the woke mob (hermitblr) for being mean about it 😔 would you guys still love me if I recognised deep rooted characterisation nuances within my blorbo...

[amazingphilza]

study buddies :: cc!multiple x reader

fluff , platonic , gender neutral ! some headcanons if the mcyts were trying to help you do hw :D

cc’s included in order: tommyinnit , tubbo , ranboo , wilbur soot , philza , technoblade

tommyinnit

i feel like he’s the type to be in a long discord call with you whilst you both try to finish your work

mans uses the screensharing feature like there’s no tomorrow

“y/n watch my stream on discord and help me guess the answers”

“tommy no! i haven’t even taken a film class before”

“your guess is good as mine”

“just cheat and google the answers!!!”

“fuck you”

he actually just wants your attention because he’s bored out of his mind doing homework

five minutes later of asking you to help him guess questions he’s like

“hey y/n”

“what now?”

“let’s play bedwars”

“oh my god shut up!!!”

if tommy has to speedrun something before a deadline, it is a whole different story tho; he will be so focused on completing that he won’t hear what you’re saying

if you’re struggling in math, you’re on your own

“math is shit, only numbers i need is my primes and youtube analytics” says tommy any time you complain about math

besides the fact he isn’t good at solving math problems, you can’t even read his handwriting if he did try showing you how to do a problem

“okay, y/n, it’s simple, just look” he says in his kareninnit voice and everything

you’d be like “is the variable a G or a 9??”

“fuck you that’s a 4!!!”

tubbo

i don’t know if tubbo ever talked about school before but something about him makes me think he’s actually pretty good at math

like he can explain a few things when it comes to math / algebra

CODING GO BRRRR

no geometry or calculus though, anything past algebra will go bad

if tubbo is doing homework with you, he will definitely tune you out

“hey tubbo can you help me on this question?”

you don’t get a response until like 20 minutes later

“oh yeah, what was it y/n?”

like now you answer? i just got the answer myself after so long, forget you smh

“oh nothing tubbo, nevermind!”

but you’re still grumbling in your head because if he answered just a bit earlier you wouldn’t have gone through the work of finding the answer online

i can also imagine if you’re taking chemistry tubbo is like ;

“oh you’re taking chemistry? let’s make some bombs!” /lh

tubbo would definitely pull an all-nighter with you to finish your projects together

if you had a group project, he would make you do the writing part while he does the drawing part

“we definitely aced this project”

“of course we did, if i made you draw we would’ve ended up with stick figure diagrams”

“TUBBO. THE FUCK?”

ranboo

okay i know ranboo said he isn’t a theatre or band kid (unless im wrong and forgetful) but i feel like he’d be somewhat educated in the topics nonetheless

half the time he’s great moral support, helping you stay motivated !

the other half is him making fun of you

“i cant believe you’re failing, that is so sad, can’t be me”

“it’s literally an honors class, ranboo! it’s supposed to be hard!!”

“taking an honors class willingly? also cant be me AHAHA”

i honestly can’t see ranboo going to school like i know he’s a minor and said he had zoom calls before and plays volleyball but like did i miss something? has he dropped out yet? like something about ranboo does not scream “student” /lh

besides that, i’m not sure what subject he would actually be good in,,, but something about nutrition/health sciences,, he knows a few things

don’t get me wrong, i don’t think he actually likes the subject but somehow remembers what he learned from the class

also gives me the type of energy of the type of person to take a first aid class to be a certified person to do cpr on someone just to kill time during his lunch breaks for a while or something

“i am a certified cpr person”

“my life in ranboo’s hands? oh god please no”

you two would probably joke about the ‘bad’ people in your classes or talk shit about your schools than actually doing anything homework related ngl AHAHAH

“you think your school is down bad? mine went back to campus full time after like 6 months into quarantine because they were running out of money”

“what the hell y/n? your school is a scam, drop out”

“arghhhh i knowww”

“i bet i make more money than your teachers combined AHAHAH”

wilbur soot

he doesn’t seem like the best person to ask for help for homework but can info dump you on very specific historical events + a bit of geography

i kinda see him as the person you can ask to proof read an essay for you and would help it improve immensely

who needs a thesaurus when you have vocabulary boy wilbur?

i dunno if it’s an american thing only or at all, but if/when you get to studying hamilton in your english class, he will get so fucking excited

“no wilbur it isn’t fun! imagine listening to lin-manuel miranda rap ‘alexander hamilton’ at the white house from like 2009 on repeat for over an hour whilst trying to write an analysis about it!! it was so distracting”

“well clearly someone has a personal problem with mr lin-manuel. if i were you, i’d be singing the whole thing”

is this last bit personal and complete spite from my freshman year english class? yes. i do not care? no. /hj

unrelated but i actually scribbled nice guy ballad lyrics and other songs on my english scratch papers in freshman year but anyway

probably isn’t the best person to be in a call to do homework with but wilbur doesn’t mind you ringing him occasionally sometimes

i dunno i can just see him easily get bored of the silence or something but also doesn’t want to bother you too much

but he is genuinely proud of you whenever you tell him you aced a big test you were studying for :D

philza

this man’s bad advice is as bad as him trying to help you on any subject

he’s an old man so /hj

but like honestly, he hasn’t been at school for so long, phil can probably only help with the most basic things when it comes to school

if you have a wack teacher that makes you collect data through surveying people, phil would be one of the best people to ask! straightforward and won’t take too much of your time compared to other people ahem,,

statistics things ! sobs

if you ever complain a lot about your classes and contemplating dropping out and stuff, he will def scold you hard

“ugh phillllllllll can i just like,, never go to school again?”

“do not drop out”

“argh fine, i won’t just ‘cause philza minecraft said so”

honestly if you get a high score in a big test like your sats/gcse’s (whatever you’re taking from wherever you are) he’d probably order you a small meal or something to celebrate :D

like how phil bought ranboo bought him food to his house, it would start as a joke but when you get your test scores back he’s like “YOOO GOOD JOB Y/N”

expect a left meat pizza coming to your house .

technoblade

like wilbur, techno is also helpful when it comes to history!

def knows a decent bit of literature too

besides that i don’t really see him being that helpful

even if he was supposed to be an english major

he will just get mad at the school system for teaching you useless things

“being in school is good but why do you need to know how to know if something is a triangle or not? i can obviously see with my eyes that it’s a triangle”

“i dunno! ask the person that made up geometry”

“just look at a kaleidoscope and be over with it, it isn’t that hard”

“that isn’t how it works—”

“bruhhh”

if you’re looking for the person to call while doing homework, he is not the person /lh

it’s either like 0 or 100 with techno

he can just completely not say anything and ignore you or go on a full rant about whatever class or homework you have

if you have an essay you need written, it will take a lot of bribing but he might take the opportunity if you are rich

“techno i’ll paypal you $10 please help me”

“no. i can make 10 times that amount in 5 minutes if i just started streaming right now”

“techno i don’t have that kind of money! pleaseee”

“no. instead of complaining, you can use that time to actually start you work”

“you’re the worst”

then you speedrun the essay and get an A just to spite him

[whocalledhimannux]

hello my friends it's time for another wildly self-indulgent AU, based on the fact that I spent several hours tonight with two windows open on my laptop, one showing Queen's Thief fic and the other showing the Philadelphia Phillies absolutely crushing the Reds:

Q T B A S E B A L L AU

featuring Eugenides as a hotshot player who is a rediciulous thief of bases (if u click on that link, take moment to pray for Roman Quinn's achilles 😢), incredible speed, no one can touch him, if he gets on base he will be scoring...

...until noted Absolute Asshole Nahuseresh "accidentally" steps on his hand with sharpened cleats (for the grip! he had no idea they would be dangerous! shocked and apalled and apologetic, really!) and causes nerve damage bad enough that Eugenides is more or less forced into an early retirement, reigniting the old Eddisian Griffins-Attolian Lilies rivalry with a vengeance

Helen is the manager (main coach) of the Griffins (she played baseball on teams with her brothers as a kid) and Irene is the owner of the Lilies

a year later, during the off-season, Irene and Eugenides elope, she hires him as the manager for the Lilies, and trades Nahuseresh while making it clear it's not about his playing, which is good, but because he's an absolute asshole. all of this happens in like a week and sports media goes BUCK WILD.

Dite is a very precocious pitcher, Sejanus is a shortstop. Eugenides trades both of them just under the trade deadline because he suspects Erondites is doing some shady Black Sox shit behind the scenes

Sophos is a pretty inconsistent player when he's younger and it's openly speculated he only makes it into professional ball because of nepotism--ironically, once his uncle loses a shit ton of money in a business takeover and has to sell the team to [random rich owner, idk], he really hits his stride and is called up from the minors to play for a major league team under the guidance of the Magus, who is his manager. he's a center fielder. drove his father nuts in his youth because he was always daydreaming instead of paying attention to the ball.

fun side note: like Sophos, I have a scar on my lip that alters my smile. I got mine when a softball glanced off my glove and hit me in the face, and my lip got caught in my braces. so I like to think he gets an injury in this AU in a similar way, lol.

I haven't thought this through for all of them, because it's midnight and I can't be doing this for hours, but major King's Guard/Attendants are Lilies players, cousins/major Eddisians are Griffins, etc. I'm de-aging some of them to make it fit.

MoW (is it weird that's still my default for him?) is a base coach, Ornon is a long-suffering umpire

Teleus is captain of the Lilies and their catcher (for non-baseball fans, the catcher does a lot of directing during the game--helping pitchers choose which pitch to throw, helping to decide if fielders should move back or move in or cover certain gaps)

he does get into a shouting match with Eugenides at one point, on the field, and again, sports media goes BUCK. WILD. the Lilies have so many good unwritten rules/bench-clearing/wtf-just-happened moments during this time.

as a player Eugenides defied a couple of the unwritten rules--he was not shy about bunting or stealing bases whenever tf he wanted to, for example. he dodged a lot of intentional hits from pitchers but he was too damn charming for the fans to be really mad at him

Relius is their general manager at first, the guy in charge of numbers and trades and negotiating. he's kicked out after a scandal but Irene ends up keeping him around. he starts to actually attend games in a private box and watch instead of schmoozing and rediscovers his love for the game.

oooooh I kind of like the idea of most of the attendants being pitchers. pitchers are sort of divas and teams have like 10+ and fans of Certain Teams experience a LOT of exasperation over their pitchers' inconsistent performance (not that I would ever ever point to any specific team and the fact that Lilies rhymes with Phillies means absolutely nothing)

Costis is the first baseman (because TALL) and has a killer batting average, is v close with Aris who plays second base, and kinda sorta accidentally becomes the first out MLB player when he gets caught making out with Kamet after winning the home run derby. oops.

Teleus, who has been successfully avoided winning that title for years, mocks him ruthlessly (although he does have a Glenn Burke kind of deal where his teammates know but keep it private)

Kamet has relatively little interest in sports and there is a lot of online complaining about the fact that he openly grades papers/works on other stuff during games, but hey, this PhD isn't going to earn itself. he does pay attention to Costis's at-bats, though, and gets more invested in the games as he gets to know other players better--he also eventually reveals that he's got a mean head for stats, even if he doesn't feel the need to be watching every second of every game. there are 162 of them for each team and they go on for 4 hours, okay? give him a break.

dear god, I don't even know exactly where Pheris fits in (once he's like. an adult.) but please take a moment to scroll through this page of commonly tracked baseball statistics and appreciate how much Pheris would lose his mind over this game

WAIT no I've got it, Relius becomes the scouting director for the Lilies and Pheris works with him. Moneyball.

the equivalent of the fighting the guards scene at the end of KoA is one day Eugenides is running a practice with the team and lets Laecdomon (one of the pitchers, doomed to be traded soon after) goad him into stepping in the batter's box. Laecdomon goes between strikes and balls that come VERY close to hitting him, including one that almost beans him in the head, but Eugenides manages to hit the ball even with his bad hand, fuckin' zooms around the bases while the team fumbles and commits multiple errors trying to stop him, and leaps over Teleus at home to score.

ok I spent an hour typing this up when I should have been sleeping lmao, but I have written two other baseball AUs for two other fandoms (as a contributing writer/brainstormer for one, tbf) and I am totally down to talk more about this concept if there are other QT baseball fans out there

[madamtrashbat]

A couple of thoughts

We doin' okay, Cats family? We're good? Good. I have one last thing to add.

This is kinda about pro- and anti-shippers, but it's really more about fandom culture in general and just my experiences. You can read it, if you want, or not.

Up to you.

I've been doin' this for a while. A good fifteen years at least, closer probably to sixteen. I've been doing things in fandom for longer than some of my mutuals have been alive.

(Oh Jesus)

And there's something I gotta tell you guys, both as a person who has been doing fandom-y stuff for years and for someone who literally has college degrees in English Literature and Creative Writing.

Being an anti is not normal.

And I know that comes across as harsh and mean and it sounds unreasonable but I'd like to explain what I mean by that.

I can trace back being an anti to two main sources: Voltron and Star Wars. I was never into Voltron or really even around anyone who was but I remember the screaming and fighting over the ships, and I remember the hellish crusade that began when people dared to ship Rey and Kylo Ren together. It was nasty, guys. It was absolutely insane that suddenly people were doing this over fictional ships, that people were being sent actual abuse and hatred because someone wanted the broody shitlord man and the unwashed desert scrounger to smooch. Like... imagine that in real time.

I was not, nor have I ever been, a Reylo shipper, but you know what I did, when that ship began, and I didn't like it? I ignored it and went about my day. Because that's how I was taught. Nothing in the fiction world was worth fighting over. It was not worth getting into arguments over. What was the point?

Then the antis got bolder, started branching out, and when people like me started standing up and saying, "Hey, stop being a dick to people!" someone hired the world's best PR machine and suddenly people who were not antis were pedophiles and abusive and incestuous.

How's that for some whiplash.

This anti movement of berating, bullying, harming, and threatening has been their MO, and it's dangerous. And now, they all buy their own bullshit. They actually think people like me are all out here twisting our mustaches like Snidely Whiplash and diddling kids. Without a shred of irony, they believe this.

Proship only labeled itself that as a response to the antiship, and antiship, make no mistake, named itself first. It was not anti-pedophile. It was not anti-incest. It was not anti-abuse.

It was all about disliking fictional ships that other people enjoyed, and thus attacking people over it.

And it's pointless. It's driven a child to suicide. It has gotten people fired. It has ruined careers, livelihoods, friendships. For nothing. For a boogeyman that doesn't exist.

Sex experts across the board all agree that what gives us our jollies is not at all what we want in real life. There's some wild statistic like 70% of women have had a sexual fantasy about rape at least once in their lives. About rape! That act that most AFAB people have a deep ingrained fear of! And we've used it to get off! Because sexual fantasy isn't that deep. Our brains are idiots. And since time immemorial, we as humans have written just the most fucked up shit.

It's even in the Bible. Humans have been nasty forever. And it doesn't mean shit.

It's in the TV shows. It's in our movies. It's in our books. It's in our music, our podcasts, everything. Being an anti is not the way of humanity at all. Ever. Except for like... maybe the puritans but they sucked so who cares about them.

Antis believe a lie. They believe a lie and they hurt people for it. I am not in any way, shape, or form exaggerating when I say I am fearful for those who regularly interact with me, because I am worried that one day the art they make or the "clout" they carry isn't going to be enough to save them from their friendship with me and antis will tear them to shreds. Because that is how they behave. They may not think they're bullies, and they may think they're in the right, but I want you to look up the Youtube RPF kid who killed themselves over anti harassment. Look at that horrible ask I just got. This is how they behave.

And that is what proshippers stand against. It's a stance against bullying, harassment, threats. That is it. There are plenty of proshippers out in the world that would never, ever think of writing anything involving someone underage, or between relatives, or involving anything gruesome. Because that's not what it's about.

Antis are new in the world of fandom, and they are the absolute root of toxicity. I do not exaggerate. They waste the time of agencies actually trying to eradicate CSAM by sending them art someone drew of a teenage character that isn't real. They've driven people to suicide. They've outright admitted to not caring about actual humans as much as they care about fictional ships. They have shown time and time again that they are not above abuse, vitriol, and bullying. There are blogs that post stories from ex-antis who say they were afraid to say anything different than their anti friends for fear of righteous backlash.

I repeat: I am legitimately afraid that my friends are going to get dogpiled and harassed because they dare to be my friend. That fear is not baseless. And it's all because of the way antis act.

I am liberal with the block button. I try to maintain boundaries because I don't want to see any of that shit as much as they don't want to see any of mine (though only a very scant few actually block me back, which is a joke in and of itself). But it still slips through. And I hate it, every time I see it.

Because this is not the way we're supposed to be. We are not supposed to be at odds with each other. We are supposed to share and have fun and be joyful about some people in lycra.

But because some people wanted to put on the pilgrim hat and play Morality Council to someone who's been doing this for years, I gotta tiptoe around people that think I'm actually out in the world diddling children. Do you know how fucked up that is. Do you know how that feels? To not only have someone make that judgment without any evidence, but to tell it to other people who don't know me either?

When someone finally snaps and starts biting back, it's not out of nowhere. And antis never, ever see themselves as doing something wrong. But they are. They are wrong.

Can I let you in on a little secret?

Seriously, just between you and me, come here.

If you think it's wrong to bully someone because of fiction, then you're proship. That is the long and short of it. No more or less. I hate to break it to you, but that is the only definition, and anyone who says it's something else is lying to you for their own gain.

And sure, there are lots of people who try to hide behind the proship label as they do shitty things. But antis do the same. Humans being assholes and trying to blame it on something else is not new.

The fact that people have come to me and told me that the antis have made them feel uncomfortable, that they're afraid if they do something they might view as negative they might receive hate, that people are actually AFRAID of people in this fandom, is not okay.

There was a fandom I was involved in where one of the prominent people actively hated me and I was never afraid of what she would do. I am afraid of the antis in this fandom, though. Because they have teeth and they like to use them.

Fandom isn't supposed to be like this. Nobody should be screaming at teenagers for talking to adults in fandom, infantilizing them like they're not a whole autonomous human. Nobody should be telling someone to kill themselves because they ship Tuggerstrap. Nobody should be afraid of the other people in their fandom.

Antis, if any of them even read this (I doubt it, but just in case), I want you to look around. The people who are neutral are not afraid of what the proshippers will say to them. They are afraid of you. You and your ilk are the ones causing the damage, and you are the outliers in the entire world of fiction. You're a loud minority that thinks it knows better when it knows absolutely nothing.

Ruminate on that.

My blog is still a safe space from bullying, abuse, and nastiness. If someone is being mean to you, you will always find a friend here. And if you can't say the same, then what's wrong with you?

Be excellent to each other. Stop making people afraid.

And sit down and ask yourself what it is you really want when you make vague posts about people and tell people vicious, awful things. What are you hoping to gain.

[literaticat]

I know every day as an agent is different, but of the agent-y tasks you tend to deal with on a regular/daily basis, what makes you happiest/gives you satisfaction? (even if it's something mundane like updating a spreadsheet!)

There are lots of things I like about my job -- but in terms of like, day-to-day satisfaction on a pure and uncomplicated level, it probably actually IS updating spreadsheets lol. I have multiple ones I like updating. (THIS IS NERDY, I'M SORRY IN ADVANCE, I LOVE MY SPREADSHEETS, FEEL FREE TO SKIP)

One is "Books I've Sold" which lists literally every book I've sold since I started (which as of this writing is 565) with the title, author, and vital statistics. And there's a color coding aspect for when the book has been announced, if they owe us money, if I have to chase them for something, etc, though much of that part has slipped into disuse now; when I started, this list was like, the only way to keep track of my books -- now we have a very sophisticated contracts database that runs reports and whatnot so the codes in this spreadsheet are obsolete.

Anyway, it's so long at this point that arguably it isn't that useful and there are different/better ways we organize things, BUT, it's still fun to see everything all in one place and whatever, I like my dang list, it's a tradition! It's fun! It means I sold something! Yay!

One is "Contracts incoming" -- this was a recent invention, from probably late last year, because there was SUCH a backlog of contracts that I was losing track of where they all were in the process (sincerely around Christmas time / Jan I had at least 15 in various stages of completion and it was becoming a shit-show, and another handful that were horrifically late!). . .

So, "Contracts Incoming" is a rolling spreadsheet that ONLY has the contracts in play on it. When I sell a book, I simply add the title author publisher date sold. Once the contract comes, it shifts up and gets color coded and contracts person added, along with the date contract came. It changes color and adds a date when I send them notes or vice-versa, it changes color and adds a date when it is out for signature, and it changes color and adds a date when it is finalized. Once we are paid the on-signing and it is entered into our contract database, it can be removed from the spreadsheet. (I like it because it's really elegant and simple, it's a pretty rainbow, and also it just is really useful for keeping up with where things are and enables me to more easily chase after things that are stuck somewhere in the pipeline).

One is "Payments" -- a yearly spreadsheet that breaks down payments that have come in, author's share, commish/ agency share, my share, etc. So once a week we do our "check run" (which I still call it that though it's mostly not checks anymore but ACH, but ACH run sounds weird ANYWAY) -- on Tuesdays I get a bunch of statements from our bookkeeper / admin of all the payments for my clients that have come in that week. It's my responsibility to look at all of them, make sure that they are correct, match what was due, that the math is mathing, etc, and approve them (or submit changes/clear up confusion) before the payments are processed for the whole agency on Wednesday.

This spreadsheet is fun because, well, I like counting money -- but also because I am obsessed when formulas in excel work correctly, it's like magic, and it's fun to see everything reconcile, and if there IS a problem it's kinda fun to be a detective and figure it out. (And usually it's because of a typo on my end, not an actual problem - but sometimes it's an actual problem and I get to wear my INVESTIGATOR hat!) -- I also find myself checking this ALL THE TIME on behalf of clients who are asking, "did such-and-such come in" or "when did such-and-such happen" or "I got my 1099 but why is this like this" etc -- literally probably check this every other day to answer questions.

USEFUL! SATISFYING! SPREADSHEETS!

[tuanhood]

theta

pairing: frat!bambam x reader

genre: smut

warnings: 18+, language, cringey frat stuff, fingering

word count: 4,400+ 

summary: you haven’t been doing so well in stats, so your tutor - the last person you thought would be teaching you something - recommends giving you an incentive. 

a/n: hi guys! i’m a little late... but it’s kinda technically still the weekend? ngl this definitely isn’t my best work and I’m sorry for that because I feel like I’ve been lacking a little bit lately! but i promise that i have a few things in the works that will hopefully be better! but nonetheless enjoY! 

lambda | alpha | delta | gamma | kappa | sigma

“Okay so in a college class, the average IQ is 115. Assuming that the distribution is normal and that the standard deviation is 15. What percentage of the class has an IQ between 105 and 130?” 

You felt like you were going to die. 

When you were a little girl, you’d fantasize about all the fun and cool things you’d be able to do in college. Stay up late, hang out with your friends all the time, eat whatever you wanted, and take the classes that would help you become the best-selling author you aspired to be. 

In all of those daydreams and fantasies, you never pictured yourself in practical agony studying for a statistics class that you never wanted to take in the first place. You were more of an English and critical analysis girl, definitely not a science and math girl. Especially not stats. 

You told yourself probably a hundred times throughout the quarter that you could make it through. That you could maybe actually do this, but sometime between weeks three and four you got completely lost and when you received your midterm grade back, you knew you had to ask for help. 

“I don’t fucking know,” you exhaled in frustration as you practically slammed your head down onto the table in front of you. 

There’s a pause before Bambam lets out a sigh of his own, “let’s come back to that one later then.” 

This was how most of your sessions with Bambam went. He’d read the questions out loud to you as if was going to help, hope that you’d be able to solve it – which you typically wouldn’t – and then you’d give up in frustration. Then you’d call it a day. 

That was another thing. Another thing that made this whole tutoring thing even worse – you were being tutored by Bambam. As in Bambam of Theta Chi.

As dumb as you felt saying it, but you felt even more pathetic for having to be so terrible at stats that you have to be tutored by a frat boy. Sure he came highly recommended by the people at your school that put together and pair people off for the tutoring sessions, but it didn’t get rid of the pain you felt when you had to tell your friends who exactly was helping you pass stats. Or… at least trying to help. 

“Okay, so what is the probability of rolling snake eyes using two fair dice?”

Maybe you were being shallow, but even his voice screamed frat guy and not the master of statistics who is now teaching his peers. You don’t know why but it aggravated you. Traditionally he wasn’t supposed to be good at these kinds of things, someone like you was. It didn’t make sense. 

You groaned, your head still on the table, muffled by the surface, “I don’t know? 1/36?” 

At your answer, you could feel Bambam straighten up beside you. You had to admit the boy was a trooper for being willing to meet you at your apartment today instead of your usual spot in the library or at Starbucks. You just couldn’t be bothered to make the trek to campus, if you were going to have another agonizing day of probability, deviation, and whatever – it was going to be from the comfort of your living room floor. 

“Correct! See Y/N you’re not a lost cause.”

Bringing your head up from the coffee table, you grimace at him, “I never said I was a lost cause.” 

His cheeks turned a shade of light pink, clearly embarrassed by his statement, but being the cool and easygoing frat guy, he is – he covers it up, “I know. Dude, I’m just saying, chill.” Leave it to Bambam to cover up any real emotions. 

Even though it was frustrating that you were being tutored by a guy in Theta Chi and you felt lame whenever you admitted to anyone, it didn’t necessarily mean that you had anything against Bambam. Before he had started tutoring you, the encounters you had with Bambam were fine – certainly not an “oh my god you are so freaking annoying” situation. They were minimal of course, just a hello or a how are you at various school events or parties. You didn’t hate him, which was why at the beginning between the studying you had tried to talk to him and get to know him. But he never said anything real or authentic – it always felt like he was putting on some kind of ultra-frat boy act for you. Whenever you asked questions about him, things he liked to do, what he was studying or his family he would simply shy away from it and talk about Theta Chi. You didn’t get it. 

“Bambam is so freaking deep. I had a two-hour drunk conversation with him at Theta Chi’s party last weekend and my mind has been opened.” Your friend had told you when you told her about him tutoring you. 

So what? Did he have to be drunk to want to talk to you about something other than probability? Or was it just that he didn’t want to talk to you? You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it bothered you a little too much for some unexplainable reason.

“I am chill,” you confirmed with him – a bit too bitterly. You couldn’t tell if your annoyance came from the ongoing frustration of not understanding stats regardless of how many times you’ve met with Bambam or the fact that he was constantly shying away from you two actually getting to know each other. 

“Well…” he began suddenly, swallowing almost nervously, “what if we work on a rewards-based system?” 

You scoffed at him, “what am I? A child?” 

“Do you want me to answer that? Listen… all I’m saying is that rewards or a prize can be a good motivator sometimes. It definitely can’t hurt the studying process.” 

There was a part of you that felt annoyed at Bambam for thinking that the only way that you were going to understand any of this was through some kind of incentive. An incentive that had nothing to do with your overall goal which was to not fail the class. However, you had to admit you were curious as to what Bambam could bring to the table when it came to “rewards,” so you decided to play along – for now.

“What kind of motivators are we talking about?” 

For a second you swear you see Bambam fidget nervously in his seat, but it happens so quickly, you’re sure it must be your brain playing a trick on you, “I don’t know… I’m literally the co-social chair of Theta Chi so I pretty much can get you whatever you want. Booze, drugs… sex.” 

At his last “category” for rewards, your interest is peeked, but not in a weird or perverted way – you swear, “what the social chair orchestrates and plans sexual encounters now?” 

He laughed and shakes his head, “definitely not. I’m just saying… If there was anyone you were interested in at Theta Chi… I could probably set it up for you. I mean you’re definitely not bad looking so I don’t think it would be difficult.” 

You were half pleased by Bambam’s compliment and intrigued that by the fact that it seemed like perhaps his “non-tutoring” personality was emerging from the surface. It caused you to push more regarding his “reward” if it meant that you could see more of it, “So what? I solve the next equation and I get to fuck Im Jaebeom? Is that how this works?” 

He clicked his tongue, “Jaebeom, huh? Wouldn’t have thought he would be your type.”

For some reason, you suddenly felt a wave of nervousness rush through your body and you feel defensive as though you have to explain yourself for some reason, “No- I mean it was just an example.” 

Bambam nodded his slowly and looked away from you for the first time since he brought up the incentive thing. His focus goes back to the textbook in front of both of you, “It’s okay if he is. Jaebeom’s a chill guy.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, for a moment there you almost got a hint of something from him. You weren’t quite sure as to what, but it almost felt like he was… jealous? But then he has to cower away and go back to stats… That was technically why he was sitting in your living room, but right now this seemed like the least important thing going on.

“What is it with you and chill? Does everything need to be chill? Why can’t you just be… normal?” 

He laughed at your query, “What if being chill is normal for some people?”  

You grabbed the pencil in front of you and tapped it on the table rhythmically in thought, “Chill people aren’t masters at stats. That’s just a fact.” 

Bambam’s face goes into fake shock, “really? Damn well, I guess that’s why you haven’t learned anything the last month that we’ve been doing this.”

It’s obvious that it was meant as a playful dig, to tease you, but Bambam feels his heart race when you simply frown in response instead of laugh. It was clear that he had gone too far. This was the thing he had been most worried about this entire time he had been tutoring you. 

He had heard from one of his brothers in Theta who knew a friend of yours that you felt embarrassed by being tutored by a frat guy – by him. Hearing that certainly didn’t make him feel good, but he tried his best to help you the last month or so. He didn’t want to do or say anything that could allude to “frat guy” behavior – so most of the time he tried to keep conversations statistics related. Part of him felt like it was because he was offended by your embarrassment, but another part of him felt like it was maybe because he wanted to impress you. He wanted to prove that he wasn’t the typical frat guy because you probably didn’t like that. 

But he had to admit… in certain ways, he was the typical frat guy and restricting that part of himself meant restricting segments of his personality. The teasing – that was apart of it. 

“Shit – y/n I’m sorry I didn’t actually mean it. I meant it more like-”

At his quick and panicked response, you burst out into a fit of giggles, “dude I can be chill too. I was just fucking with you. Now come on… let’s keep working, I want my prize.” 

Bambam lets out a sigh in relief. Maybe he had misjudged you, “so you do want a reward?” 

“Of course, I want a reward.”

He licked his lips in thought and you have to admit it’s hard not to stare, “okay what should we start with?” 

You began to tap the pencil on your chin instead of the table, thinking about what exactly it was you wanted. When you finally have your grand prize in mind, you figure it’s better to start small. 

“I don’t want to be charged cover at any future Theta Chi parties.” 

He looked at you with surprise written on his face, “you go to our parties?” 

You rolled your eyes at him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, he can’t help but admire how cute you look when you do it, “of course. They’re the biggest parties on campus… why wouldn’t I go?” 

Bambam shrugged, “I just didn’t think you liked frat stuff…” drifting off he looks to see the confusion written on your face and he doesn’t know why, but for some reason, he feels the need to keep talking, “Unless it’s for Jaebeom.” Immediately he wants to punch himself in the face for his continual teasing.

You thought it was funny how he was stuck on the Jaebeom thing. You had just said his name as an example – something you already explained to Bambam – but for some reason, it seemed to bother him. Bambam was more your type than Jaebeom, but it would have been weird if you had brought him up as an example.

“What was that?” 

His voice causes your body to jolt up in surprise. Had he heard you? No way.

“Y/N what did you just say?” Bambam asked once again.

The second question regarding what you had just said sends you into a frenzy, considering he was the last person who had just said something based on your recollection. Therefore… he fucking heard you. 

“Did I say that out loud?” You asked embarrassed and judging on the look on Bambam’s face – you have your answer. 

You felt your mouth go dry, “I- shit… Bam I didn’t mean- Well I mean I did, but- Fuck I-” you cut off your stuttering with nervous laughter and you feel more awkward than you’ve probably ever felt in your adult life. 

Rather than saying anything, Bambam looks at you curiously. A hint of a smile appears on his face but soon disappears as if he’s thought of an idea or just something. Hopefully, an idea to get me out of this, you think to yourself. Instead, he scoots closer next to you on the floor and for a moment you have to remind yourself to exhale. 

“Instead of the cover as your reward… What about…” he begins, placing his right hand onto your thigh, “this? Is this okay?” If you had to keep your breathing in check just when he moved closer to you, then you felt like you were going to need to be resuscitated now. 

Rather than verbally answering, you nodded your head, afraid to open your mouth in case the wrong thing came out.

Keeping his hand placed firmly on your thigh, he asked you the next question, “Suppose X and Y are independent random variables. The variance of X is equal to 16; and the variance of Y is equal to 9. Let Z = X – Y. What is the standard deviation of Z?” 

It’s becoming harder to concentrate. All you can focus on is the placement of his hand on your thigh and when you don’t answer right away, he begins to move it up and down your leg. 

“Come on, I know you can do this one,” he said softly. 

You couldn’t believe that your tutoring session was now taking a sharp turn – a turn that you had to admit you were now craving – but Bambam was still expecting you to be focused enough to answer questions. You weren’t able to typically do it even when you didn’t have his hand on you. 

It’s almost as though you’re on autopilot as you put your pencil to paper and work out the problem. The only thing on your mind is the curiosity of what his next move will be if you answer him correctly. 

“5?” 

He gives you your answer by drifting his hand up your thigh until it sits at the top of your thigh, dangerously close to your core. You wonder if he can tell how damp you’ve become, even with the sweatpants you’re wearing. It was probably evident just by looking at your face. 

“A coin is tossed three times. What’s the probability that it lands on heads exactly one time?” 

This was becoming frustrating. How the fuck were you getting turned on by him asking you stats questions? You felt like your brain was about to explode with how completely mixed up it felt. The cause of your stress for the entire quarter was now the cause of you being turned on? Your mind was currently rewiring itself.

For this question, it takes you some time to focus enough to work it out and calculate. Bambam who is usually patient with you when you struggle, has instead been replaced with a much more impatient version of himself as he slips his hand up to the waistband of your sweatpants, delicately playing with the top to tease you, you suddenly wished you would have worn better underwear for what’s about to happen. If you could answer the question that is. 

Just as you feel as though you’ve come to the end of the problem, you feel him dip a single finger underneath the top of the band, rubbing it softly against your stomach. It causes your hand to slip up on the paper, drawing a line right through your problem. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked innocently, completely aware of what he was doing to you, “do you need help?” 

You shook your head in response, unable to say anything. It was becoming more and more difficult to even get your hand to move fluidly on the paper. It was instead starting to get more jagged. Your fives were beginning to look more like threes. When you’ve finally solved the problem, you find yourself pointing at the paper for Bambam to look at your answer. He laughed. 

“Correct again. You’re doing so well,” he murmured as he finally dips his hand beneath the band of your sweatpants and down to your panties. You sucked a deep breath in, waiting in anticipation for his next actions, feeling him so much closer to where you need him the most, but instead, his hand just rests there, over the material. 

Letting a very out of character whine escape your lips causes him to chuckle. “Do you think you can have your reward that fast? No, no,” he tutted, “you have to finish answering all the questions like a good girl.” 

You try so hard to remember the next question he asks, but he soon begins gently rubbing you through your panties and it makes you want to kill him for playing so dirty. How were you able to solve any problems when it felt like an actual ocean was forming in your underwear? You knew Bambam could feel it too with the way his gaze on you got even darker, one of his fingers wandering to the side of your panties, playing with the hem but not daring to slip underneath. 

What the fuck was the question? 

“Having trouble angel?” 

He doesn’t give you time to answer – even if he did you weren’t sure you’d be able to provide him with one – instead, he slips his hand underneath your panties until his fingers find your entrance, slowly stroking up and down. You let out a moan when he’s left his index finger on your clit, rubbing small circles around the bundle of nerves. 

“It can’t be that hard to remember a simple question. Is something distracting you?”

Another sigh of pleasure is released from you when he presses down a bit to place more pressure on your clit, “I’ll ask you one more time. You have to remember this time or you lose your reward, okay? Are you listening?” 

Nodding your head, he smiled, “The standard normal curve is symmetric about 0 and the total area under it is 1. True or False?” 

Bambam himself was losing his patience, he so badly wanted to bring you to your release and see how tight you get around his fingers, how much you ask him for it. He had to admit that wasn’t the original question he had asked you, but at this rate, he just wanted to ask you the easier questions so both of you could get what you wanted. 

“T-True?” You managed to stutter out.

“Doing so well for me,” he whispered into your ear at your response. The teasing had been so achingly painful that when he finally fully inserts his pointer finger you feel like a kid on Christmas. You feel as though you can finally let out the breath you had been holding in since he started the taunting. 

The pace he starts with is clearly another method to get you worked up – which you certainly are – but you also felt thankful that at least it was something compared to the nothing you were getting from him previously. When he curls his finger, hitting you in the spot that drives you crazy, you felt your body instinctively jerk forward in surprise. He had found it so fast and with such ease, you wondered if the two of you had down this before in another life.  

“Bam, I-” you begin, but as his thumb draws circles over your clit, you ultimately lose your train of thought and fall even closer into him, until your head is resting on his shoulder.

“There’s one more question left… Do you think you can handle it?” 

The whimper you let out sounds borderline inhumane and in any other situation you would be frustrated with yourself for giving in so quickly, but right now you didn’t care. All you needed was him to keep going – to really give you your reward. The noise is enough for him to dive into the last question and you feel like you’re gonna pass out at the way he begins to rhythmically tap your clit, his finger now going stagnant.

His eyes drift down to the textbook on the table, gazing through which questions on the page are still viable to be asked. After a moment he locks eyes with you, the tapping still consistent. 

For a moment he looks shy and despite his previous teasing, you feel your heart leap out of your chest in deep want and longing. It’s a weird feeling you have to admit, but somehow it feels just right. 

“What’s the probability of you going out on a date with me after this?” Bambam blushed when he asked you his query and for some reason, he feels so small being in front of you – asking this – despite his current position with his hand in between your legs. 

You, on the other hand, have no trouble answering this final question. The question that’ll get you your reward and perhaps something else entirely. 

“Without a doubt, 100% chance.” 

The smile that emerged on his face is so big, you take a picture of it in your mind, wanting to keep it safe and bottle it up to view later, a hundred times over. 

He slipped in another finger, watching your face as it contorts into even more pleasure, “there we go.” 

You felt a groan arise in your throat as soon as he began to pick up the original pace of his sole finger. With both of them curling and pumping in and out of you, you felt even more overwhelmed than before. Bambam smirked, taking in your tightly shut eyes, “Good?” Opening your eyes, you felt your climax right around the corner, only able to moan his name in response to his question. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured, leaning in to place his lips on your own.

Somehow, the pace of his fingers only increased, practically fucking into you over and over, hitting your g-spot each time. Even though you were sat on the floor, already mostly leaning onto Bambam for support, you still felt as though you could melt into the floor. With a final few pumps that hit your sweet spot and his thumb still massaging your clit, you feel your walls tighten around his fingers. “That’s it, good girl,” he said against your lips.  

Soon you fall apart, feeling as though there’s no breath left in your body, your body falling practically limp at your release around Bambam’s fingers. He takes a moment to slip his hand out from between your legs and you don’t ignore the feeling you get in your core again when he slowly places his fingers in his mouth. 

You groaned, feeling like you were practically in a sedative state at how relaxed your release made you feel, “do you have to do that?” 

Bambam narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “what do you mean?” 

“Be so damn seductive.” 

The two of you look at each other before bursting into laughter at your very serious confession. After a moment when it’s silent you look down at your lap to realize that somewhere during your encounter with Bambam, your sweatpants managed to slip down to the bottom of your thighs. 

“I should probably go get cleaned up…” 

Bambam coughed awkwardly and turned to his things on the coffee table, “yeah… I guess I should probably just get my stuff together too and get out of your hair.” 

Get out of your hair? Who the fuck says that Bam? He asked himself. 

You looked at him with confusion, “I thought you were taking me out? Remember? 100% chance? I mean… unless you didn’t mean it…” 

His eyes went big, “No!” he exclaimed, “I definitely meant it! I just didn’t know if maybe you said it in the moment and- Or I don’t maybe you did mean it- but also if you didn’t that’s cool. Just so you know I would have still given you your- uh reward if you had said no- Sorry I’m rambling. I ramble when I get nervous.” 

When he stops talking, he instantly avoids your gaze. This was the Bambam you wanted to see. This display of authenticity made you feel as though the curtain had finally been drawn. 

“I said it because it was true. The likeliness was 100%. Give me like 15 minutes and I’ll be ready to go,” just as you’re about to head to the stairs, you stop yourself and remember why the two of you were even here in the first place, “shit stats…” 

Instantly, Bambam shakes his head, “if you think we’re going to go back to probability, standard deviation, and bullshit right now after what just happened you are very mistaken. We’ve done enough… work for today.” 

Smiling, you nodded your head in confirmation and begin to go up the stairs to your room. Considering something, you find yourself stopping on the third stop, turning towards the living room where Bambam looks up at you with his head cocked to the side. 

“You picked easier questions towards the end on purpose, didn’t you?” 

He let out a laugh and grinned – another smile that you decided to file away in your memories, something that you figured might soon become a regular part of your life. 

“Let’s just say that I wanted to give you your reward as much as you wanted to have it.”

[itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto]

A/N: Hi guys! This was something I came up with whilst talking to @hotchsbabygirl and this fic was born, so enjoy! 

Possible Triggers: Swearing, reference to a bad previous relationship where consent was not given and smoking.  It’s called... Sugar, yes please! 

You sigh, typing up your report of the last case as you rub your eyes. “Anyone else jet lagged?” You ask Spencer and Emily who work at the desks beside you. It’s your fourth case with the team, and as much as you are settling in well, the flying is taking it’s toll on you and you suffer badly from jet lag.

“You get used to it. Took me a few months.” Emily said patting your shoulder relating to how you are feeling. “3 months, 1 day, 4 hours and 1 minute and 59 seconds.” Spencer added. “Oh, so the first few numbers of Pi then?” You smirked. “I didn’t think of that, but yes, I suppose you could think of it that way.” Spencer said, adjusting his glasses. “Nerds.” Morgan said. “Anyone wants a coffee speak now whilst it’s fresh.” “Nothing nerdy about numbers and statistics.” You smile, walking over to the coffee machine as Spencer looks at you with googly eyes. “Just like that, IQ of 187 drops to 60.” Emily laughed knowing Spencer has a crush on the young agent. Spencer snapped back into reality and went to join you at the coffee machine where you were deciding which donut to have, settling on the chocolate sprinkles one. “That’s my favourite too!” Spencer exclaimed “Oh, sorry! Do you want it? I can have the cinnamon sugar instead.” You offer “No. It’s fine really.” Spencer smiled picking up the cinnamon one. “You have it.” “Or we can share.” You offer taking a large bite of the chocolate one, leaving Spencer the remaining half on a napkin. Spencer nods, doing the same thing and hands you the other half of the cinnamon one, noticing you make a coffee. “You want one?” You ask, noticing Spencer is still staring at you, not that you mind. You’ve developed a small crush on the slightly older agent, with you being 25 and Spencer being 28. “Please. My mug has my name on it.. The one you have been drinking out of.. But it’s fine. A different mug will be sufficient.” Spencer says blushing “Oh Spencer, I’m so sorry, I thought all these mugs were the same!” You say, feeling awful. “I don’t wear my glasses very often.” “Don’t worry Y/N. Honestly. They are mostly the same, apart from the brightly coloured ones. They are Penelope’s.” Spencer said. Meanwhile . . .

“Rossi, you won’t believe this. Y/N used Spencer’s mug and shared a donut with him, and he didn’t even flinch.” Derek said, sipping his coffee. “Damn. He must have the hots for Y/N. You know she’s studying for a PhD in psychology and forensics?” Rossi said signing off a document that Penelope gave him. “What are you all talking about?” Hotch said in a stern voice noticing the agents  are not doing their work. “Well…” JJ began and told Hotch “Pretty boy better say something soon or I’m going to flip a table.” Morgan said “Keep it professional.” Hotch said, pleased that Spencer has a crush. “No. We will not rest until genius makes a move.” Penelope giggled Back by the coffee machine . . . “You want sugar?” You ask Spencer getting it down for yourself, adding an unhealthy amount. “Please, same amount actually.” Spencer smiled, trying to buck up the courage to ask Y/N on a date. This weekend he had planned to go to a pumpkin patch and get a sweet pumpkin spiced latte afterwards, but would much rather have company, and take Y/N with him. “And I thought I was the only one who liked sweet coffee.” You say putting the now empty bag of sugar in the bin. “Looks like they’ll have to order more sugar.” Spencer smiled as you both walked back to your desks as everyone goes back to pretending they were busy and not listening/watching your conversation.

 Later in the day . . .

Since there isn’t a case, you and the team go for a beer after work to celebrate your first month with the team. You sit in the middle fiddling with your converse and sipping your beer. “So, what do you guys have planned for the weekend guys, if we don’t get a case?” You ask, attempting to make some form of conversation that isn’t work related. “Chocolate thunder and I are going to his Mom’s birthday party.” Penelope smiled, sipping her cocktail as Derek smiled as Penelope snuggled into his arms. You think Penelope and Derek are adorable together, and wish you had a relationship like that. “I’m taking Jack go-karting with Henry.” Hotch smiled “They had so much fun playing mini golf last time.” JJ said showing you photos on her phone. “I’m taking Sergio for a check-up and meeting some college friends for a drink.” Emily smiled “I’m revising for my Psychology exam. You all have much more fun planned than me.” You sigh, wishing to be doing something fun. “I’m going to a Pumpkin patch and getting some pumpkins to carve.” Spencer smiled “Do you like Halloween Spencer?” You ask, sipping your beer as everyone groans knowing what’s coming. After about 5 minutes of Halloween facts... “So yes, I guess you could say I like Halloween.” Spencer says sipping his fruit cider. “Well the pumpkin patch sounds like a lovely way to spend a Saturday.” You smile, “I’m going for a cigarette and to get another drink. Does everyone want the same of what they have had?” I’ll get a round on my way back.” You say Everyone nods, and Rossi joins you outside. “So pretty boy, you going to ask Y/N to the pumpkin patch with you?” Morgan asked “No! I’m sure she was just being polite.” Spencer said sipping his cider, trying to hide his blushing cheeks. “Just ask her Spence, I think she’d love to go with you.” JJ smiled “You have nothing to lose besides us embarrassing you for a while regardless of the outcome.” Hotch said “Besides, you have already shared cooties with her anyway.” Penelope said reminding them all of earlier “Fuck this. I’ll do it if it shuts you all up.” Spencer sighed getting up Outside …

“I can’t believe you have been here a month Y/N.” Rossi said exhaling from his cigarette. “It feels like you have been here longer.” “I hope that’s a good thing Rossi.” You smile “It is.. and Spencer has taken quite the shine to you too.” He says “I think it’s that I’m studying for a PhD, or that he’s no longer the youngest on the team.” You say Rossi chooses not to say anything, as the door opens and out comes Spencer. “Hey guys.” He says and gives Rossi a facial expression that means, “Please go away”. Rossi nods in understanding and goes back inside where the team are all behind the door like children, about to listen to the conversation. “Hey Doctor Reid.” You smile at him “Hey future Doctor Y/S/N.” He smiled back “You come out to smoke or just to say hello?” You ask. “Both actually, plus I got a leg cramp.” He said stretching his leg “I didn’t realise you smoked.” You say lighting another one up “Mainly after cases as a way of relaxing, or if something is on my mind.” Spencer said. “Can I use your lighter?” He asks “Sure. Which is it today?” You ask handing him your lighter. Spencer lights his cigarette and hands your lighter back. “Hm?” “You said you smoke after a case, or if something is on your mind. Which is it? It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me.” You say taking a drag from your cigarette. “The latter.” Spencer says taking a drag from his. “I’ve been thinking...” He begins “You? Thinking? No.. Really?!” You joke, trying to cheer Spencer up from whatever is on his mind. “Come on pretty boy... You can do this.” Morgan whispers from the other side of the door. Spencer flushed his cheeks. “Do you like Halloween?” He asks as a few quiet groans are heard from the other side of the door. “Must be the game on the TV.” You say “Or our bastard co-workers.” Spencer thinks to himself. “Probably.” Spencer says through gritted teeth “I love Halloween! I’ve got pumpkin and ghost lights around my apartment at the moment.” You smile. “Why?” “Er..” Spencer shakes a little dropping his cigarette which he quickly picks up again. “I was wondering… It’s okay if you don’t… But do you fancy going to the Pumpkin Patch with me tomorrow?” He says looking down at his converse, with his Halloween socks, little ghosts on one and Frankenstein’s on the other. You smile, a single tear going down your cheek. It has been a while since a guy asked you out, since you left your ex after he cheated. “Spencer, are you asking me on a date?” You ask “Y..Yes I am. But like I said, it’s fine if you say you don’t want to.” Spencer says, still looking down. “I’d love to go with you Spencer.” You smile, lifting Spencer’s head up with your hands as cheers are heard from the other side of the door. Spencer looks at you, smiling wide. “Really?” You nod. “As long as I get to buy a pumpkin for my apartment.” “As long as I get to kiss your cheek.. Like, right now if that’s okay.” Spencer said biting his lip. “Damn pretty boy.” Derek whispered. “We didn’t discuss this.” “But he did ask for consent. That’s more than her ex did.” Penelope whispered “Her ex?” Derek whispered back “Long story delicious.” Penelope whispered “Yes Spencer, that is more than okay.” You smile as Spencer softly kisses your cheek making you blush. “I’ll pick you up at 12.” Spencer smiled, putting his hand on yours. “For now though, I think you promised the team a round of drinks.” “Shit. I forgot about that.” You say getting up, still holding Spencer’s hand and walk to the door. “MOVE MOVE MOVE.” Emily said shoving everyone back to their seats but it was too late, you and Spencer caught them all in the act. “I didn’t realise a sticky bar floor was comfortable to stand on for more than 2 minutes.” You chuckle, finally clocking what the cheers were about earlier. ________________________________________________________________

Well guys, I hope you enjoyed that! I have a few more in the works, and let me know either in the comments, asks or on messages, if you’d like to be on my taglist! Requests are OPEN!  Follow up coming soon! Taglist: @pumpkin-goob , @jpegjade , @andiebeaword , @hopebaker , @hotchsbabygirl , @hercleverboy , @cupcake525 , @aperrywilliams