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teamchasezwrites · 29 days ago

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The Ride

Word Count: 6,802

Characters: Roman Reigns (minor appearances from others)

Genre: Smut

Summary: A tight fit leads to an interesting ride.

Author's Note: Not very good at writing smut, at least not like some of the great ones I've read on here. Hope you all enjoy!

THE RIDE

“Try it now!”

She heard the muffled voice as she walked through the parking lot toward one of the few remaining vehicles. A black soft side suitcase rolled along behind her; a matching black book bag slung over one shoulder. A yawn escaped and she wished she was on her way to the hotel, but it was a travel night.

Hershey to Columbus.

A five and a half hour drive.

Not bad in the grand scheme of things, but it was nothing like the other night when it was Philadelphia to Hershey. A quick two hour ride. She was still wired when she arrived at the hotel. Now though…

She was thankful it wasn’t her turn to drive. She was tired and worn out after her match with Dana Brook. If she were being honest with herself, a little sore too. She took a helluva spot into the steel steps.

The whining of an engine trying to turn over broke through the silence. A few empty parking spaces down from the Toyota Sienna rental she shared with the rest of the faction she was currently a member of was a silver colored hatch back. The hood currently up; the driver’s side door hanging open.

A leg clad in black joggers hung out the open door. Black and white Jordans pressed against the asphalt. The cotton material of the joggers clung to a muscular thigh. The owner of the thigh sat in the driver’s seat with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the ignition turning the key.

“I don’t fucking know…” Dean Ambrose appeared around the front of the car leaning his arms across the open door.

“Call the rental place, Ro.” Seth Rollin’s head appeared over the hood to look at the remaining member of The Shield through the windshield.

Roman, the owner of the muscular thigh, sat back in the seat. The whine of the sickly engine ceased. “I did when it wouldn’t start the first time. It’s closed.”

“Call them again.” Dean pestered.

“What part of closed don’t you understand?”

“What are we supposed to do?” Dean’s voice rose. His hands jerked in agitation.

The pending argument between the faction was interrupted as laughter echoed across the parking lot. She watched as their heads turned toward the sound as the rest of her team finally appeared.

The Royals.

The name caused her to make a face, but that’s what Creative – Vince – wanted.

Wrestling royalty.

Charlotte Flair.

Natalya.

Tamina.

Her.

All bloodline to top wrestlers from the past. Charlotte to Ric. Natalya to The Harts. Tamina to The Rock. Then there was her. Descended from a secretary and a plumber. Bloodline to no where. Fortunately for her, she was popular with the crowd in NXT and had the right look the powers at be were going for. So she became a Piper.

She supposed if Kane and The Undertaker could be brothers, she could be related to Roddy Piper. She didn’t care. She would do whatever she needed to do to make it on the main roster. Wrestling was her dream.

With her being the lone team member not truly with the proper lineage, she was the outcast of the group. Sure they played their parts well, but once the cameras were off, she was the leper. A lonely girl sitting at the lunch room table in middle school by herself all over again.

Not that she didn’t have friends. Naomi and Bayley were warm and welcoming. They clicked so well she wished creative would let them team up. In the meantime, she worked out like hell. Worked on her mic skills with anyone willing to help bounce word battles. Took notes on who was kicking it, what was causing the fans to react. Anything to get ahead for the moment the hammer dropped and she was kicked out of the group.

It was coming, she knew. The whispers and meetings that didn’t include her were a dead giveaway. When it came she wanted to be ready.

“Perfect.” She heard Seth mumble. “Hey!

The yell caused her to jolt but she watched from her spot leaning against the van. It was locked and Charlotte had the keys.

“What are you doing?” Roman whispered as he climbed from the car.

“Getting us to Columbus,” Seth answered. “Unless you have a better idea?”

“Hitchhiking,” Dean mumbled under his breath.

“Pretty boy like Roman would get us far,” Seth ran a hand over the man’s chiseled cheeks. He grinned when it was slapped away.

She giggled watching the antics of The Shield. A sense of longing moving through her wishing her own group was the same way. These long drives wouldn’t suck so much.

“What’s up boys?” Natalya asked as she, Charlotte, and Tamina came up to them. “Car trouble?”

“Ro got us a lemon.”

“Man fuck off,” Roman snapped, glaring at Dean. “Next time you can get the car.”

“I can’t do any worse.”

“Can we squeeze in with you?” Seth asked, ignoring his brothers. “Rental place is closed and I don’t even know when we can get another car.”

She watched the girls look at each other. The silent communication used to get under her skin but now it just is what it is.

“Should be plenty of room with the six of us even with our bags…” Seth continued.

“Uh… seven…” she said speaking up for the first time. Heads whirled in her direction and she raised her hand, wiggling her fingers in a little wave.

“Jesus Christ, when did you get here!”

“Right before you were prostituting Roman out...” Even from the distance she could see the blush on Roman’s cheeks.

“Well that makes it a little more crowded but it should work.” She could practically see the gears turning in Seth’s head as he worked out the logistics of seating and suitcases. “Someone might have to sit on a lap…”

Heads turned in her direction again and it was her turn to blush. If someone needed to sit on a lap, then it was obviously her with her small frame. Barely five foot four. She almost wished it was her turn to drive, but knew there’d be concessions made to the travel rules if it was.

She bit her tongue to make a snide remark about the number of suitcases each of the other women had. It wouldn’t get her anywhere. The rest of the members of The Royalty did not travel lightly.

“I’m cool with it,” Tamina said exchanging looks with Charlotte and Natalya.

“Sure,” Charlotte shrugged. “No big deal.”

Of course. No skin off their backs. She planned on passing out across the back seats for the whole ride. Not anymore.

Expectant eyes turned toward her. Well three sets anyway. Her faction already started walking toward the van as if it was a done deal.

Of course it was.

“Sure. The more the merrier,” she pasted a smile on her face.

“Great.” Seth moved quickly to shut the hood of the car then scooted around to the trunk.

In the cluster of doors opening and closing, came the sound of wheels moving over asphalt. She climbed into the van and over the collapsed middle seat and into the back. She put her suitcase on the seat opposite her and stuffed her book bag on the floor in front of it. She let everyone else deal with their own luggage.

She wasn’t sure how it happened but suitcases and bags were passed to her to stack on the seat alongside her own. Biting her tongue she just stacked them trying to give her as much room as possible.

There was plenty of room for her and another person until she watched with wide eyes as Roman climbed into the backseat with her. Large and impersonating Roman Reigns. All three members of The Shield were big but she thought Seth would be squeezing in with her. Out of the three, he was the smallest and even then, not by much.

“Fucking Dean and rock, paper, scissors,” Roman grumbled catching her look. He shrugged and carefully turned to sit on the seat. It was a snug fit. His thigh pressed right up against hers. He reached forward and pulled the seat in front of him back into its upright position. The space got even smaller.

“You’re just pissed I always kick your ass.” Dean was grinning as he climbed into the seat Roman just popped up.

She watched as the rest of the crew filed into the vehicle. Natalya next to Dean in the middle seat with Seth on her other side behind the driver’s seat. Charlotte in the driver’s seat with Tamina riding shotgun. There was a few moments as everyone got situated and fought for phone chargers.

It crossed her mind to raise a complaint with the seating assignments. Roman and his big bulky self should be driving or at least in the passenger seat. She and Charlotte would be the best ones to squeeze in the back. While Charlotte towered over her in height, the woman was skinny. Before she could though, the diva was backing from the parking spot and pulling away.

Tense didn’t describe the atmosphere in the back of the Sienna. She held herself pressed against the luggage pile, trying to put as much room between her and Roman as possible. She wasn’t even buckled. Didn’t even know where the housing was. Probably beneath Roman. He hadn’t buckled either, she noticed. She sent a quick prayer Charlotte would drive save.

“I don’t bite…”

The voice startled her and she turned her head to meet Roman’s gaze. His eyes were dark. Every so often the headlights of a passing car would reflect in the brown orbs. “What?”

“I said, I don’t bite.”

“He will if you ask,” Dean turned his head around to look at her with a smirk.

“Fuck off,” Roman slapped the back of Dean’s head. He turned his attention back to the woman next to him as Dean turned back toward the front laughing. He gave her enough room as possible, scooting himself as close to the interior panels as he could. With his wide frame it wasn’t much.

“I’m okay,” she told him, determined to keep herself against the luggage. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the bigger man shrug.

The hum of the vehicle and the low tone of the music playing through the speakers lulled her. She wasn’t sure about Tamina in the front seat, hearing low chatter every so often, but Dean was out; his head against the window, thick headphones settled on his ears. Seth mirrored his friend on the opposite side of the seat. Natayla’s head rested against Seth’s shoulder in apparent sleep.

A couple hours already passed and the time was getting to her. Every time she felt herself relaxing, she’d snap back up. Her posture on point as any woman who attended and graduated etiquette school. Luckily the ride was easy on the Pennsylvania turnpike then to I-70. The late night hour held less traffic. Mostly tractor trailers.

The next time her eyes drifted closed and she slumped, arms grabbed her.

“Wh-what?” Her eyes shot open and her breath grew heavy as panicked eyes looked around. The bodies in front of her were still in the same position as they were earlier.

“This is ridiculous,” came the whispered growl in her ear. Goosebumps broke out over her arms at the deep sound. A hand gripped either of her biceps. Then she was plucked and unceremoniously dumped into the lap of Roman Reigns.

“I’m tired of watching you try to keep from touching me,” Roman murmured in her ear, aware of close by ears. “We’re touching. Now get over it. Relax and get some sleep.”

She sat frozen in his lap. His left arm fell to the vacant seat besides them while his right hand stayed on her thigh keeping her stable. Her ass pressed into his crotch. Her legs fell on either side of his left thigh. She wasn’t relaxed. Not even a little bit.

“If you don’t relax, I’ll make you.” Roman spoke directly in her ear. His hot breath moved across her skin and she shivered.

It took a few minutes before she started to move. Then they both started shifted in the seat, moving together to find the most comfortable position for them both. As she angled herself more toward the interior panel and less against the hard chest behind her, he moved with her. He sort of wedged himself in the corner where the seat met the panel, slouching a little. In doing so, he was able to move his left thigh more up onto the seat.

“Sorry,” she murmured when she noticed her hands were gripping his thighs. She blushed feeling his muscles flex beneath her hold.

“Just relax,” Roman rolled his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her steady as she finally relaxed back into him. He accepted her weight. What there was of it anyway. “Isn’t this better?” He whispered in her ear. He was able to finally relax himself. Her sitting next to him on edge had him on edge. He hoped to catch at least a couple hours of sleep during the drive.

A shiver worked its way through her feeling the hair on his chin tickle the sensitive skin of her neck. His hot breath brushing over her ear. Her face flushed red feeling wetness pool at her center and she pressed her thighs together.

“Cold?”

She shook her head. Cold was the furthest she was feeling. Roman’s body heat invaded her space chasing the chill from body. Every part of her body that touched his felt on fire. She quietly released a breath she’d been holding. Closing her eyes, she let the tension melt from her body. Her head lobbed to the side; her temple resting against his chin.

Looking back she’d probably blame the late hour combined with exhaustion. She felt a sharp pinch at the crease where her thigh met her center. She bit her lip and shifted her hips slightly, hoping the movement would scratch the section of skin and bring some sort of relief.

It didn’t.

The itch persisted.

Without thought she reached down between her thighs and rubbed a finger over the itch. A strangled noise sounded in her ear and she froze.

“If you need help with that…” Roman spoke quietly in her ear; the sound so quiet he barely made a sound. He was caught somewhere between awake and dozing. Drowsy but hadn’t quite fallen asleep when he felt the movement on his arm. She had both her arms resting on his over her belly. It was the loss that alerted him. Focusing his eyes, he watched her left hand reach down and he nearly swallowed his tongue when she touched herself.

“Just an inch…” she hissed just as quietly, snatching her hand back, trying to cover her embarrassment. “On my thigh. I shaved the other day and forgot my lotion at the last hotel.” She still smarted about that too. Left the nearly full bottle she religiously applied daily after shaving her bikini line and the rest of her pussy bald to ward off the irritation.

“I can scratch it,” Roman murmured. His right hand left her belly and slowly moved south toward the apex of her thighs. He had no idea what he was doing. Why he hadn’t pretended he didn’t see her hand. Maybe it was the drowsy state he was in. Maybe it was the sweet smell of her hair permeating his senses. Maybe it was the firm ass pressing into his crotch making him work to keep himself contained.

Seeing her hand on her center, blew his concentration. His hand kept moving. The touch of his fingers light over the spandex of her leggings as they moved down her thigh dangerously close. He felt more than heard her breath hitch. Her hips shifted in his lap and he bit back a groan as her ass rubbed against his cock who was taking interest in the situation.

Roman continued to move his fingers up and down her thigh. His left hand dipped down and found the soft skin of her belly. He brushed his fingers against the taunt skin warm beneath his touch. Because of him? He didn’t know. He brushed his nose across the side of her head; from her temple back to her ear. He nipped the lobe causing her to jump. He soothed the bite with the soft stroke of his tongue.

“Roman…” she whispered her hand falling onto his on her thigh stopping his movements.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered in her ear. He would have stopped if she told him. Pulled his hands back to a neutral position, leaned his head back and caught some z’s to the hotel. This wasn’t even on his mind when he climbed into the van hours before. Now it was the only thing he could think about.

His hand started on its path down her thigh again, this time her hand didn’t stop him. He grinned against her ear; victorious. “Good girl…” her breath hitched and he filed the information away. “You gotta be quiet.” He thought he could smell her arousal and he quickly glanced to the other patrons in the van. They still appeared to be sleeping. “Promise to be quiet…”

She nodded against his shoulder. Her legs widened, giving him more room and her hips shifted chasing his hand. “Please…”

“This would be easier if you had your ring gear on…” He placed damp kisses on her neck. Her ring gear… a dangerously short red plaid skirt where he could easily slip his hand underneath to reach his prize.

“I’ll remember that for next time I’m stuck in the back of a van sitting on someone’s lap…”

He growled at the thought of someone else in his current position. A random flair of anger ripped through him. On the next pass of his fingers, he moved them just enough and he was running them up the center seam of her leggings. He felt her heat and he released another low growl. “I bet you’re soaked.”

She whimpered and pressed against his hand seeking relief. She felt like a bitch in heat.

“You need me Baby?” He asked softly. His tongue traced the outer shell of her ear. His fingers still completing the ministrations over the leggings, up and down her center. Her hips started moving back and forth in his lap. His cock filled and pulsed inside his joggers. He gripped her hips with either hand and pulled her firmly into his lap and he flexed his muscled and pressed up into her.

A full body shiver worked its way through them both. He clenched his eyes shut and breathed heavily pressing himself into her ass again.

“Ring gear would come in handy right now, huh?” Came her teasing whisper in his ear, complete with a wiggle of her hips.

“You’re not so innocent,” he grumbled as his mind exploded with images of her sinking down on his cock with that little tantalizing skirt on her hips. “Stop moving.” His hands gripped her hips tightly. He shuddered again wondering how the tables were turned. He gave his head a shake and got back with the program.

His fingers trailed across her belly along the hem of her leggings. Her belly quivered beneath his touch and her breath caught when his fingers dipped beneath the fabric. “Quiet,” he whispered before sucking her lobe into his mouth. It was his turn to moan softly when his fingers encountered smooth, bare skin. “Fuck...”

She shifted against his hand trying to get his probing fingers where she wanted them. In her hot, wet center. “Roman,” she moaned softly, barely making a sound.

Her pleading had the desired effect. Roman’s fingers moved down over her outer lips. The black spandex of her leggings pressed uncomfortably against his wrist, but he didn’t let that hinder him. He gave teasing strokes before he pressed a finger between her folds. He nearly came in his pants feeling how wet she was. She was a dripping mess.

“You need my fingers, don’t you?” His left hand came down and shifted her left leg over his knee, opening her up more for him “You’re so wet for me,” he whispered working his fingers through the slick folds. He pressed his face against her neck and shuddered.

A moan had him slapping his free hand over her mouth. They both froze as Dean shifted in front of them, but the man never woke.

“Quiet,” Roman commanded roughly. “If you don’t stay quiet, I can’t do this,” as he spoke he pressed a finger deep inside her. “Don’t you want me to do this?”

She nodded her head frantically. She squirmed in his lap. An ache built deep in her belly and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she would be coming all over his fingers.

He started moving his finger once it was clear Dean wasn’t going to wake. Withdrawing his finger only to slowly press it back in. He pressed hot kisses along her neck. This time when he pulled out, he ran his finger up her center finding her bundle of nerves. He circled it with his fingers and he breath caught. He pressed his finger on it, causing the back of her head to hit his shoulder with a sigh.

She bit her lip in order to keep sounds from spilling out. Her eyes drifted close as she kept moving her hips in a circular motion seeking his fingers. Her fingers gripped his right thigh, the muscles hard in her palm. She could smell her arousal and was concerned everyone else could as well, but she was beyond caring.

She was inundated with a kaleidoscope of emotions. They all swirled within her. Swirling and churning. The want. The need. The naughtiness of being so brazen in a semi-public place. At any moment a head could turn around and catch Roman’s hand down her pants. Her flushed skin. Blown pupils. She almost relished it.

Roman brought his fingers back to her entrance. This time sinking two digits deep inside her. He felt her wetness gush over his fingers and he wanted to pull them from her and bring them to his lips where he could taste her. His mouth watered at the thought. He found himself thinking about more. Instead of licking her taste off his fingers, pressing his face between her legs and going right to the source.

“I wonder what you taste like,” he whispered hotly in her ear. “I bet you’d taste sweet on my tongue… shhh….” He hushed her moan. “You’d cling to my beard, driving me crazy for hours after.”

His fingers continued to piston in and out of her. She heard the squelching of her juices. They rang loud in the quiet of the van but she was unable to put a stop to anything. She was too far gone. Her hips moved with his fingers, seeking more. His cock pressed against her ass. She clenched around his fingers, wishing his cock would replace them. He felt big and she nearly wept with need.

She panted behind his hand still covering her mouth as if he didn’t trust her to keep quiet. She wouldn’t trust her either. She wanted to wail loudly especially when his thumb found her clit. Her limbs tingled; goosebumps peppered her skin. Her stomach churned with a ball of want and need.

“You’re so tight around my fingers,” Roman murmured, continuing to work his fingers in and out of her. She clenched each time he pulled out as if attempting to keep him inside. He groaned against her ear. “I keep imaging you on my cock. Ripping your pants off and lowering yourself on my cock…”

She nodded desperately. Fuck yes. She wanted that too. Sinking down on him and bouncing with wild abandon bringing them both to a frantic finish.

She squeezed his fingers at his words and he pressed his face against her neck to muffle the moan he couldn’t hold at bay. His fingers left that warm, wet cavern causing her to moan behind his hand. He hushed her once more and moved his fingers to her clit. The bundle of nerves pulsed beneath his fingers. He moved his fingers in a circular motion. He was done teasing. He wanted her to fall apart in his arms.

“I want you to come for me…” he licked a strip up her neck to her ear where he blew softly. He felt the tremor work through her body. He pressed two fingers back inside her and pressed as deep as he could. He curled them forward, searching for that elusive spot.

Her legs snapped shut, trapping his hand, stopping most of his movements. Her eyes wide. “You want me to scream… do that again…”

Roman’s grin against her neck was predatory-like but he backed off the spot. Now was not the time nor were they in the right location. He set an easy pace moving his fingers in and out. Her body relaxed in his lap and her legs spread back open giving him access once again. Using the hand across her mouth, he tightening his fingers moving her head away from him. Once her neck was bared to him, he bit down on the curve on her shoulder. He soothed the sting with a couple soft licks.

She clenched her eyes shut. Her breath heavy against his hand. She licked her lips, feeling the rough pads of the palm of his hand. She felt the hiss of his breath and she gave another teasing lick to his palm.

“You need something in your mouth, Sweetheart?” Roman said gruffly. He adjusted his hand sliding it further up her cheek. His thumb caressed her glistening lips. When her tongue came out to tease the tip of the digit, he wished for another hand to shove into his mouth to bite down against the groan threatening to release. A bead of cum drippled down his cock at the teasing ministrations; a perfect imitation of what it would be doing on another part of his anatomy.

She sucked at his thumb, nipping at the tip before allowing it to slip into the wet heat of her mouth. His fingers picked up their pace. Heat coiled deep in her belly threatening to release. His hips gave short thrusts against her. His hard cock digging into the cleft of her ass. Her hips chased his fingers giving teasing rubs against him. Her mouth watered and she sucked his thumb harder. Her tongue teasing the underside.

“You want my cock don’t you,” Roman whispered hotly in her ear. At the mention of his cock, she squeezed his fingers nearly trapping his movement and it took everything he had not to release a sound. “Fuck…I want you on your knees in front of me so I can sink my dick in that pretty little mouth.”

With his fingers covered in her wetness, he drug them up her slit once more to her clit. He rubbed her clit with perfectly measured strokes.

She surrendered to the feelings he was bringing her to. Pure euphoria. She raised an arm behind her, wrapping it around the back of his neck. With a quick pull, his hair fell down from the bun it was pulled back in to. The long dark strands fell down tickling her neck. With her fingers buried in the strands at the back of his head, she pressed his face against her neck.

“You gonna cum for me?” Roman growled into her ear. Her hips moved with wild abandon, undulating in his lap. If he wasn’t careful he was going to end up coming in his pants. Something he hadn’t done since was a teenager. His hair pulled tight from his scalp, clutched in her fingers.

Nodding her head furiously, she swallowed a gasp as his fingers pushed back into her straight to the hilt. They slid in with ease, slicked with her excitement. He pumped them feverishly. His thumb pressed against her clit.

Her hand slapped against his over her mouth, holding it tight, trapping the cry wanting to escape.

“Cum all over my fingers,” he whispered, the movements of his fingers and thumb unrelenting. “Don’t make a sound Sweetheart…” his teeth sank into the tendon on her neck and that was it.

Her body jolted hard. Her eyes clenched shut as white light burst behind her eyelids as her climax slammed through her. She wanted to wail uncontrollably, but his hand pressed hard over mouth suppressed any sound she might have made. Lightning raced through her body as she rode his fingers until the waves ended.

“Fuck,” he growled in her ear. She clenched so tight around his fingers, it nearly drew a moan from his mouth. Juices coated his fingers and he rode her climax, continuing to pump in and out of her until her legs clamped around his hand. Then her body slumped back on his chest. Her chest heaving rapidly. The hold she had on his hair loosened, but her fingers never quite untangled from the strands. A blissed out look on her face, he caught in the headlights of a passing car.

He was poised for release himself. His cock hard and pulsating almost to the point of pain. Wouldn’t take much for him to shoot off. Just a quick reach down and squeeze. He’d pop off like one of those toy rockets.

He placed light kisses up and down her neck. He licked at her pulse point, beating rapidly on the side of her neck. A trail of wet kisses to her ear, he growled softly, drawling in his breath through his teeth. Her body shivered in his lap and she clenched around his fingers, still deep inside her channel. “That was so fucking hot…” he breathed. “Gushing all over my fingers like a good little girl.” He nipped at her ear before suckling the lobe between his teeth. “You almost made me cum in my pants…”

The words roused her. Her head rolled across his shoulder so her temple met his chin. Her laxed fingers start to tighten in his hair. Her hips rolled in his lap. The movement caused them both to hiss. His thumb still pressed against her sensitive clit.

He removed his fingers from her, causing her to moan softly behind the hand that still covered her mouth. When he was free, he used both hands to grip either side of her hips to stop her movements. “It’s okay,” he whispered in her ear. He had a helluva case of blue balls, but he’d live. He’d take care of that particular state later on in the hotel room when he called dibs on the shower first. It wouldn’t take long. All he had to do was draw up the sounds of her breathy moans, muffled by his hand. The feeling of her firm ass pressed against his dick. The way her body clenched and the wetness coating his hand when she came apart on his fingers. He’d blow his load in no time.

His words had the desired effect as she relaxed once again on him. This time her hand fell from his hair to her stomach. He lowered his own hand from her mouth – worried for a second he left a mark behind – but that thought caused his cock to twitch, still very much interested in the body in his arms. He shifted in the seat into a better position and a smile graced his lips at her soft moan of protest. Her hands grabbed his as if to stop him from removing her.

“Just sleep,” he whispered and pressed a kiss into her hair.

It was all she needed to hear. Her body went lax. His arms tightened around her for she would melt right onto the floor.

“I knew I could get you to relax.”

The door to her hotel room shutting behind her echoed through the quiet of the night. The strap of her backpack fell off her shoulder as she dropped it to the floor next to the generic table that sat along the wall. Turning around she wheeled her suitcase further into the room. She collapsed the handle and picked the suitcase up, sitting it on the end of the bed closest to the door. Then set about unpacking the items she needed.

The first thing she plucked from the luggage was her toiletry kit; crammed so full the zipper nearly burst. It took everything she had to zip it after each hotel stay. Absentmindedly scratching an errant itch at the base of her head, she rifled through her clothes in search of the oversized t-shirt she slept in. Armed with her sleep shirt, a clean pair of panties and her toiletry kit, she walked into the bathroom.

The exhaust fan blew loudly when she turned the light on. The hotel was on the average side of the echelon than where wrestlers usually stayed. Ultimately she didn’t care. As long as there was a bed, hot water, and a working A/C unit she was good. While she waited for the water to warm for her shower, she scrolled her phone. A message waited.

‘Staying with Char tonight.’

The message from Natalya didn’t surprise her. Most times she had hotel rooms to herself.

Whatever.

Walking from the bathroom, she knelt at the floor next to her bag and dug into the outside zippered pocket for her charger. Unearthing the cord, she plugged it into the outlet attached to the lamp next to the bed. With her phone charging, she pulled the hoodie over her head and pushed the joggers and underwear down her legs, letting the articles of clothing pool on the floor.

Dropping her bra to the pile, she turned to walk naked back to the bathroom when she spotted a box sitting on the table.

She frowned.

The table was empty except for the box, a desk lamp, the tip envelope, and a pad of paper with the hotel letterhead on top and a pen.

She cautiously approached the table. Her steps slow and pointed. A quick glance around the room told her nothing else was out of place. Both beds remained undisturbed. The TV, sitting on a long dresser with drawers stacked two by two, was black. The remote sitting right in front of it. The curtains pulled closed, blocking the parking lot lights but did very little to block the sound of the expressway beyond.

Now upon the box, she stared down at it. A simple square brown box, no bigger than six inches tall. A plain white label held the top flaps together and she further frowned seeing her name. It obviously didn’t come through the mail. Someone from the hotel staff must have placed it in her room.

Holding a breath, she lifted the edge of the flap, ripping the label right down the middle. She paused and counted to ten in her head. If it was a bomb or another type of exploding device, ten seconds was a long enough window. Obviously nothing was going to blow up in her face.

Pulling back the flaps, she peered into the box. Her shoulders slumped and she rolled her eyes at her silliness. A three by five white cardstock laid on top of another box. The card blocked the information of the product so she lifted it out. Her eyes bulged seeing the item laying by itself in the box.

Coochy Plus.

The four ounce bottle lay on its side. The bottle clear with a silver screw top and a black dispenser. Another clear cap on the dispenser. A white label faced up. A purple line drawing a square lined the label with black letters depicting the product.

Intimate After Shave Moisturizer.

“What on earth…” she murmured staring at the item. She didn’t order anything of the such. Her own lotion was currently tucked in her toiletry kit in the bathroom. The hot water steam leaking out of the bathroom. The mirror already fogged over.

Lifting the card in her hand, she stared at the writing.

‘For when I’m not there to scratch that itch.’

Her face flamed bright red in embarrassment. The car ride with Roman a couple weeks ago was never far from her mind. She still found it hard to believe it truly happened. Thoroughly embarrassed when she woke up when the car stopped near the West Virginia-Ohio border for fuel – for the vehicle and its occupants. She could almost believe she dreamt Roman’s hand down her pants if it wasn’t for the slickness she still felt in her underwear and the knowing wink he sent her under the bright lights of the gas station awning.

No more car issues arose. The Shield traveled together while she was left feeling noticeably empty with her own faction. He never sought her out backstage nor did she look him up. Earlier while backstage for Monday Night Raw, she thought she felt eyes on her, but no one was ever around when she looked.

That night became fodder for her bedtime activities. She pulled up that delectable growl in her ear. A proper mix of breathe and sound that made her instantly become a poodle of goo. While she brought herself to orgasm every time to his voice demanding she come on his fingers, her fingers were never enough. Even with three stuffed inside her, they never felt like his. Her dildo paled in comparison to what she felt pressing into her ass. Her orgasms always left her feeling empty and unfulfilled.

With him on her mind, she placed the items back in the box and went into the bathroom to shower the show away. She didn’t linger like she planned on the way to the hotel. Her dildo might be shut away in the drawer next to her bed back home, but she had her fingers, his acknowledgement of their titillating coupling, and a sexy day dream of her in her ring gear on her knees in front of him his fingers tangled in her hair while his other hand unbuckled his belt to feed her his cock.

Back in the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her body and one in her hair, she glanced at the box once more. Her cheeks heated at the intimate item inside. She picked up her suitcase and put it on the floor against the wall, out of the way. With a tug on the blankets, she pulled the blankets back, revealing the crisp white sheets.

The bed turned down, she went back to the bathroom to hang her towels up. Using the one in her hair, she rubbed it through her hair one final time, removing any of the lingering water clinging to the strands. Tomorrow was a travel day back home for a few days. Her hair was going up on the top of her head in a messy bun. She could sleep with it damp.

When she shut the bathroom light off, the room was encased in darkness. Using her hands, she checked to make sure the latch was on the door before shuffling her feet back to the bed. She slide beneath the covers, the sheets cool on her skin. Her phone beeped with a text notification, the display coming to life.

‘Did you get my gift?’

Her eyes widened at the message. Her eyes shooting toward the box on the table. The shadow just noticeable in the darkness of the room.

Roman!

How did he get her number? Beyond that, how did he even get her room number to leave the gift?

‘Roman?’ She tried to be coy.

‘Someone else scratching your itches?’

‘Just me currently.’

‘Currently? You got your fingers deep in that pussy?’

‘Not yet.’ She bit her lip, debating on her next text.

‘Show me.’

‘Come see it in person.’ She held her breath at the text, not believing she could be so bold. Then again, she let the man bring her to orgasm in the back of a van traveling down the interstate with three of their co-workers a foot away.

‘Where’s your roommate?’

‘Sleeping elsewhere.’

‘If I come to your room, we won’t be sleeping.’

A shiver of delight worked through her body, starting and ending at her center. Her legs shifted listlessly. She rubbed her thighs together trying to relieve the pressure building.

‘Good.’

#wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfics #Roman Reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #wwe smut #wwe x reader #wwe fic #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x reader

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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This is your brain on fraud apologetics

In 1998, two Stanford students published a paper in Computer Networks entitled “The Anatomy of a Large-Scale Hypertextual Web Search Engine,” in which they wrote, “Advertising funded search engines will be inherently biased towards the advertisers and away from the needs of consumers.”

https://research.google/pubs/pub334/

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

The co-authors were Lawrence Page and Sergey Brin, and the “large-scale hypertextual web search-engine” they were describing was their new project, which they called “Google.” They were 100% correct — prescient, even!

On Wednesday night, a friend came over to watch some TV with us. We ordered out. We got scammed. We searched for a great local Thai place we like called Kiin and clicked a sponsored link for a Wix site called “Kiinthaila.com.” We should have clicked the third link down (kiinthaiburbank.com).

We got scammed. The Wix site was a lookalike for Kiin Thai, which marked up their prices by 15% and relayed the order to our local, mom-and-pop, one-branch restaurant. The restaurant knew it, too — they called us and told us they were canceling the order, and said we could still come get our food, but we’d have to call Amex to reverse the charge.

As it turned out, the scammers double-billed us for our order. I called Amex, who advised us to call back in a couple days when the charge posted to cancel it — in other words, they were treating it as a regular customer dispute, and not a systemic, widespread fraud (there’s no way this scammer is just doing this for one restaurant).

In the grand scheme of things, this is a minor hassle, but boy, it’s haunting to watch the quarter-century old prophecy of Brin and Page coming true. Search Google for carpenters, plumbers, gas-stations, locksmiths, concert tickets, entry visas, jobs at the US Post Office or (not making this up) tech support for Google products, and the top result will be a paid ad for a scam. Sometimes it’s several of the top ads.

This kind of “intermediation” business is actually revered in business-schools. As Douglas Rushkoff has written, the modern business wisdom reveres “going meta” — not doing anything useful, but rather, creating a chokepoint between people who do useful things and people who want to pay for those things, and squatting there, collecting rent:

https://rushkoff.medium.com/going-meta-d42c6a09225e

It’s the ultimate passive income/rise and grind side-hustle: It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to discover a whole festering nest of creeps on Tiktok talking about how they pay Mechanical Turks to produce these lookalike sites at scale.

This mindset is so pervasive that people running companies with billions in revenue and massive hoards of venture capital run exactly the same scam. During lockdown, companies like Doordash, Grubhub and Uber Eats stood up predatory lookalike websites for local restaurants, without their consent, and played monster-in-the-middle, tricking diners into ordering through them:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/19/we-are-beautiful/#man-in-the-middle

These delivery app companies were playing a classic enshittification game: first they directed surpluses to customers to lock them in (heavily discounting food), then they directed surplus to restaurants (preferential search results, free delivery, low commissions) — then, having locked in both consumers and producers, they harvested the surplus for themselves.

Today, delivery apps charge massive premiums to both eaters and restaurants, load up every order with junk fees, and clone the most successful restaurants out of ghost kitchens — shipping containers in parking lots crammed with low-waged workers cranking out orders for 15 different fake “virtual restaurants”:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/01/autophagic-buckeyes/#subsidized-autophagia

Delivery apps speedran the enshittification cycle, but Google took a slower path to get there. The company has locked in billions of users (e.g. by paying billions to be the default search on Safari and Firefox and using legal bullying to block third party Android device-makers from pre-installing browsers other than Chrome). For years, it’s been leveraging our lock-in to prey on small businesses, getting them to set up Google Business Profiles.

These profiles are supposed to help Google distinguish between real sellers and scammers. But Kiin Thai has a Google Business Profile, and searching for “kiin thai burbank” brings up a “Knowledge Panel” with the correct website address — on a page that is headed with a link to a scam website for the same business. Google, in other words, has everything it needs to flag lookalike sites and confirm them with their registered owners. It would cost Google money to do this — engineer-time to build and maintain the system, content moderator time to manually check flagged listings, and lost ad-revenue from scammers — but letting the scams flourish makes Google money, at the expense of Google users and Google business customers.

Now, Google has an answer for this: they tell merchants who are being impersonated by ad-buying scammers that all they need to do is outbid them for the top ad-spot. This is a common approach — Amazon has a $31b/year “ad business” that’s mostly its own platform sellers bidding against each other to show you fake results for your query. The first five screens of Amazon search results are 50% ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

This is “going meta,” so naturally, Meta is doing it too: Facebook and Instagram have announced a $12/month “verification” badge that will let you report impersonation and tweak the algorithm to make it more likely that the posts you make are shown to the people who explicitly asked to see them:

https://www.vox.com/recode/2023/2/21/23609375/meta-verified-twitter-blue-checkmark-badge-instagram-facebook

The corollary of this, of course, is that if you don’t pay, they won’t police your impersonators, and they won’t show your posts to the people who asked to see them. This is pure enshittification — the surplus from users and business customers is harvested for the benefit of the platform owners:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

The idea that merchants should master the platforms as a means of keeping us safe from their impersonators is a hollow joke. For one thing, the rules change all the time, as the platforms endlessly twiddle the knobs that determine what gets shown to whom:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

And they refuse to tell anyone what the rules are, because if they told you what the rules were, you’d be able to bypass them. Content moderation is the only infosec domain where “security through obscurity” doesn’t get laughed out of the room:

https://doctorow.medium.com/como-is-infosec-307f87004563

Worse: the one thing the platforms do hunt down and exterminate with extreme prejudice is anything that users or business-customers use to twiddle back — add-ons and plugins and jailbreaks that override their poor choices with better ones:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/9/29/23378541/the-og-app-instagram-clone-pulled-from-app-store

As I was submitting complaints about the fake Kiin scam-site (and Amex’s handling of my fraud call) to the FTC, the California Attorney General, the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau and Wix, I wrote a little Twitter thread about what a gross scam this is:

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1628948906657878016

The thread got more than two million reads and got picked up by Hacker News and other sites. While most of the responses evinced solidarity and frustration and recounted similar incidents in other domains, a significant plurality of the replies were scam apologetics — messages from people who wanted to explain why this wasn’t a problem after all.

The most common of these was victim-blaming: “you should have used an adblocker” or “never click the sponsored link.” Of course, I do use an ad-blocker — but this order was placed with a mobile browser, after an absentminded query into the Google search-box permanently placed on the home screen, which opens results in Chrome (where I don’t have an ad-blocker, so I can see material behind an ad-blocker-blocker), not Firefox (which does have an ad-blocker).

Now, I also have a PiHole on my home LAN, which blocks most ads even in a default browser — but earlier this day, I’d been on a public wifi network that was erroneously blocking a website (the always excellent superpunch.net) so I’d turned my wifi off, which meant the connection came over my phone’s 5G connection, bypassing the PiHole:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/28/shut-yer-pi-hole/

“Don’t click a sponsored link” — well, the irony here is that if you habitually use a browser with an ad-blocker, and you backstop it with a PiHole, you never see sponsored links, so it’s easy to miss the tiny “Sponsored” notification beside the search result. That goes double if you’re relaxing with a dinner guest on the sofa and ordering dinner while chatting.

There’s a name for this kind of security failure: the Swiss Cheese Model. We all have multiple defenses (in my case: foreknowledge of Google’s ad-scam problem, an ad-blocker in my browser, LAN-wide ad sinkholing). We also have multiple vulnerabilities (in my case: forgetting I was on 5G, being distracted by conversation, using a mobile device with a permanent insecure search bar on the homescreen, and being so accustomed to ad-blocked results that I got out of the habit of checking whether a result was an ad).

If you think you aren’t vulnerable to scams, you’re wrong — and your confidence in your invulnerability actually increases your risk. This isn’t the first time I’ve been scammed, and it won’t be the last — and every time, it’s been a Swiss Cheese failure, where all the holes in all my defenses lined up for a brief instant and left me vulnerable:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

Other apologetics: “just call the restaurant rather than using its website.” Look, I know the people who say this don’t think I have a time-machine I can use to travel back to the 1980s and retrieve a Yellow Pages, but it’s hard not to snark at them, just the same. Scammers don’t just set up fake websites for your local businesses — they staff them with fake call-centers, too. The same search that takes you to a fake website will also take you to a fake phone number.

Finally, there’s “What do you expect Google to do? They can’t possibly detect this kind of scam.” But they can. Indeed, they are better situated to discover these scams than anyone else, because they have their business profiles, with verified contact information for the merchants being impersonated. When they get an ad that seems to be for the same business but to a different website, they could interrupt the ad process to confirm it with their verified contact info.

Instead, they choose to avoid the expense, and pocket the ad revenue. If a company promises to “to organize the world’s information and make it universally accessible and useful,” I think we have the right to demand these kinds of basic countermeasures:

https://www.google.com/search/howsearchworks/our-approach/

The same goes for Amex: when a merchant is scamming customers, they shouldn’t treat complaints as “chargebacks” — they should treat them as reports of a crime in progress. Amex has the bird’s eye view of their transaction flow and when a customer reports a scam, they can backtrack it to see if the same scammer is doing this with other merchants — but the credit card companies make money by not chasing down fraud:

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/rosalindadams/mastercard-visa-fraud

Wix also has platform-scale analytics that they could use to detect and interdict this kind of fraud — when a scammer creates a hundred lookalike websites for restaurants and uses Wix’s merchant services to process payments for them, that could trigger human review — but it didn’t.

Where do all of these apologetics come from? Why are people so eager to leap to the defense of scammers and their adtech and fintech enablers? Why is there such an impulse to victim-blame?

I think it’s fear: in their hearts, people — especially techies — know that they, too, are vulnerable to these ripoffs, but they don’t want to admit it. They want to convince themselves that the person who got scammed made an easily avoidable mistake, and that they themselves will never make a similar mistake.

This is doubly true for readerships on tech-heavy forums like Twitter or (especially) Hacker News. These readers know just how many vulnerabilities there are — how many holes are in their Swiss cheese — and they are also overexposed to rise-and-grind/passive income rhetoric.

This produces a powerful cognitive dissonance: “If all the ‘entrepreneurs’ I worship are just laying traps for the unwary, and if I am sometimes unwary, then I’m cheering on the authors of my future enduring misery.” The only way to resolve this dissonance — short of re-evaluating your view of platform capitalism or questioning your own immunity to scams — is to blame the victim.

The median Hacker News reader has to somehow resolve the tension between “just install an adblocker” and “Chrome’s extension sandbox is a dumpster fire and it’s basically impossible to know whether any add-on you install can steal every keystroke and all your other data”:

https://mattfrisbie.substack.com/p/spy-chrome-extension

In my Twitter thread, I called this “the worst of all possible timelines.” Everything we do is mediated by gigantic, surveillant monopolists that spy on us comprehensively from asshole to appetite — but none of them, not a 20th century payment giant nor a 21st century search giant — can bestir itself to use that data to keep us safe from scams.

Next Thu (Mar 2) I'll be in Brussels for Antitrust, Regulation and the Political Economy, along with a who's-who of European and US trustbusters. It's livestreamed, and both in-person and virtual attendance are free:

https://www.brusselsconference.com/registration

On Fri (Mar 3), I'll be in Graz for the Elevate Festival:

https://elevate.at/diskurs/programm/event/e23doctorow/

[Image ID: A modified version of Hieronymus Bosch's painting 'The Conjurer,' which depicts a scam artist playing a shell-game for a group of gawking rubes. The image has been modified so that the scam artist's table has a Google logo and the pea he is triumphantly holding aloft bears the 'Sponsored' wordmark that appears alongside Google search results.]

#pluralistic #victim blaming #fraud #going meta #douglas rushkoff #ad-tech #local search #wix #amex #thai food #business #rent-seeking #entrepreneurship #passive income #chokepoint capitalism #platform lawyers

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oceandirtcountry · 6 months ago

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the most fun part about shipping is making kids, both for me and for the characters *ba dum tss*

Aurelia Rose: After kidnapping Ruby and Ben’s Necrofridgian child, doctor Animo planned to torment Ben by turning the two into ungodly abominations. However, he didn’t factor in how absolutely batshit insane Ben can get when maternal instincts of all things kick in, and Ben accidentally fries the machinery, splicing the Necrofridgian child with Ruby’s DNA and making her an identical genetic clone.

Due to her Necrofridgian DNA, Aurelia lacks the ability to make most facial features. Hence, she seems cold and distant from everyone but her close ones. In reality, she’s very close to her mother in talking about her interests.

She sports an upgraded version of Ruby’s Semblance that she dubbed “Freeze Tag”, combining the abilities of super speed from Ruby, plus the cryokinesis and intangibility from Big Chill.

The oldest of Ben and Ruby’s kids, and the biggest handful considering she can disappear at will.

She took her mother’s name, because Ben didn’t think it was right to name her after himself.

Kenny Tennyson: Kenny was conceived naturally, four years after Aurelia. Ruby felt like another one couldn’t be so bad.

Kenny is a splitting image of his dad, but is far more reserved and introverted. He doesn’t like talking to people, and takes a really long time to warm up to somebody—to the point where he doesn’t smack talk his villains.

He received his very own Omnitrix at age 10. An Ectonurite actually took host in the Omnitrix Ben built for him, but Kenny bonded with the visitor and has Ghostfreak as one of his favourite aliens. The Ectonurite, named Kasper, tags along and takes over Kenny’s fighting when he’s too weak to fight.

Kenny feels that violence is never the answer and will attempt to be as peaceful as possible.

After unlocking his dormant Anodite abilities, he swaps to battling with energy-based weaponry. By then, Kasper was appointed as his Plumber partner, so he ends up passing the Omnitrix to Charlie, his little sister.

He took his dad’s name as Ruby wanted to have one kid taking Ben’s surname as well, just to be fair.

Charlie Tennyson-Rose: Charlie was the wildcard that nobody was expecting. Basically, somebody forgot to use protection.

Two years younger than Kenny, Charlie is the bundle of joy that takes after her dad. At family gatherings, she basically talks with everyone, and resembles her aunt Yang more than Ruby or Ben.

Charlie is the only one to have an irrational fear, being flamingoes. Her dad has vowed to never bring them to the bird park.

Having no special abilities, taking after her dad’s lack of Semblance, Charlie runs her mouth giving logistic help to her siblings and other Huntsmen from the backlines while still training her fighting skills. Eventually, after Kenny hands her the Omnitrix, she dons the title “Charlie 20”, twice as good as Ben.

Her favourite transformation is Jetray, and like her dad, subjects it to overuse.

She takes both surnames because Ben and Ruby were running out of reasons.

Summer Cunningham: Wanting to distance herself more from the Schnee family name and paying homage to the greatest Huntress to ever live, Weiss let Cunningham’s surname take the spotlight. Summer is unable to wield the Ninja mask, much to her dad’s disappointment. However, her Semblance of Schnee summoning and some Ninja Earth attack allows her to influence her summons with Dust.

However, Winter spoils her rotten, and she’s probably the next candidate for the Winter Maiden powers.

Summer acts close to her namesake, being bright, bubbly and positive, but is really airheaded. Randy and Weiss have made sure that she’s really nice, but she very much doesn’t understand what it’s like to be middle class, spending money for her friends like water.

She’s the same age as Kenny, and the two have some odd feelings in between them that remind Ben of his own.

Randy has retired off the Ninja role post Salem’s death, but since he’s unable to pass it on to his kid, he decides to give it to Rex’s son.

Jake Xiao-Long: One of Yang and Blake’s twin son’s (which you shouldn’t ask me how they had him), Jake is about as stubborn as Yang. His Semblance is a bolster to this, leaving behind an explosive imprint of himself—he can leave clones, which he can detonate at will.

Yang starts to feel the real pinch of how her dad raised her, as Jake is as much of a crazy party animal, literally as a lion Faunus, and picks fights about every couple minutes. However, his heart (and hair) of gold means that he often does so to stand up for those he cares about.

He’s oddly closer with Blake, as she knows how to keep him in check as compared to Yang, who’s still working on keeping herself in check.

Ruby dotes on him because he chose a scythe that splits into twin sickles as his weapon of choice.

(it’s low hanging fruit. I have to name the kid Jake Long. He’s…it’s so…it fits…)

Sherri Xiao-Long: Sherri is a jackass. Coming off as quiet, shy and unassuming, she loves to play pranks on everyone, and nobody suspects her. Her twin brother finds her a little obnoxious, but they mostly end up being partners in crime as Sherri helps him sneak out of the house.

Her Semblance allows her to create a field of heat-induced hallucinations, the illusions seeming almost solid due to Blake’s cloning abilities being amped up.

A Panther Faunus, Sherri isn’t exactly lacking in the power department either, but would much rather not fight, and when she does, it’s with underhanded techniques and borderline cheating.

She longs to become the Ninja with all its fun gadgets and abilities, but she can’t.

Pietro (Junior) Salazar: Penny and Rex’s only son. Not wanting to burden their son with nanites, they made sure that he was nanite-free. It left him with Penny’s weapon-telekinesis abilities, which didn’t work as well until Randy offered him the Ninja mask “in secret”.

Now armed with an entire Ninja arsenal, Pietro whoops ass on the battlefield and keeps Bash, the heir to McFist’s company, from trying anything.

Pietro is calculative and tends to focus on the smaller things, and can seem hard on many people. However, he opens up to those he’s close with, which is extremely rare.

And yeah that’s it

#rwby #ben 10 #ben tennyson #rc9gn #ruby rose #generator rex #rex salazar #cookiecrossau #crackship #yang xiao long #blake belladonna

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blizzardfluffykpop · 9 months ago

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Scaredy-cats

Summary: Trying to branch out of your comfort zone, you try a haunted house installation in the middle of March.

Oneshot

Fluff, Meet-Cute, Non-idol au

Trigger Warnings: It is a haunted house, so it has light/minor horror themes.

Word Count: 2,056

Jacob X Reader

[A/n: As @jinkoh said; we watched Wings of Escape together and well, here’s another addition of that brainrot we experienced there. To check out jinkoh’s addition(s) to it you can find ‘em on kebbi’s blog 🥰]

------

This year, you were determined to try things outside of your comfort zone. So when they announced a haunted house installation in March at an old youth hostel near you, you were all for it because “It’s just a haunted house. How bad can it be?” You were confident that it definitely couldn’t be spooky because it was becoming spring, daffodils were starting to bloom, and the outside ambiance would make for a non-scary experience. But what you underestimated was that it still was a haunted house. It wasn’t the outside that mattered. It was the actors and ambiance inside that did.

---Pov Switch---

Jacob had applied for countless jobs and finally heard back on a security job. He was getting desperate, and anything would do for rent money at this point. So when he walked in, he wasn’t sure what the position entirely entailed until the person said, "You're aware this is for a security position watching live CCTV footage at a haunted house?" He nearly threw up, but considering it was also his last option, and that he was running low on funds, he could do it, right? "Yeah, that's fine." He should have never agreed to this. Although, he’s met all the scarers and has been friends with them long before this installation began. He still refuses to enter the ‘scarer floor’ after they decorated it, or he’d feel his stomach tie in knots.

Even driving to work made his stomach turn. His guts twist every time he puts his car in park. All he ever wants to do when he walks up to the building is turn ducktail and run to his car. But that’s money on the line he can’t risk. He goes down the basement steps, unlocks the door, and gets inside, quickly turning on the lights and locking it behind him. He sighed in relief before checking everything over, inspecting all the cameras to see if they were working correctly. Before turning his two-way radio on and going, “Good afternoon!” He hears ten friendly voices greet him back. And he asks, “Anyone on the floor? Or are you all getting ready?” Getting various answers of; “Getting ready.” “Waiting.” “Snacking.” He laughs, “Any good snacks?” “Gummies, you want some?” “Hell yeah.” A few minutes later, a knock rings through the door. He peeks through the peephole and sees Kevin, “You’re not in costume. That’s nice.” “Don’t need you sick.” He puts out his hand, “Gummies?” Kevin hands him the pack, and he asks, “Everyone’s doing the same routine as usual, right?” Kevin nods, “Yeah, as always. Hopefully, no dates go awry this time.” Jacob laughs, “It was cute to see Younghoon take them around, though. It was much more pleasant to watch than your gorey scenes~.” Kevin rolls his eyes, “All I do is chop jello.” Which makes Jacob shiver, “It doesn’t read the same on the CCTV. It really looks like guts.” Kevin shakes his head at him, “Later?” He nods, “Yeah, later.”

He eats his gummies, looking over the main control panel as the ‘night’ starts at the hotel. “Overhead lights off in 3… 2… 1… Stage lights on!” There are little cheers before they get into character, and he refuses to look up, only listening to his two-way radio and hearing the random songs Haknyeon performs every time Haknyeon turns on his radio, “Spooky scary plumbers~” Which makes Jacob tune in and cackle over the radio. He looks at his designated camera and sees him singing his heart out into the plunger. Jacob shakes his head and carries on playing on his phone. He looks up occasionally, assuring no one is actually getting murdered there. And he laughs as he watches a couple cowering behind Younghoon as if that would help their case. Younghoon, as if on cue, turns around with a sinister grin, effectively spooking them. Which makes his nerves stand on end at the motion. He shakes it off and goes back to his phone.

And that’s how he spends the majority of his shift until he hears a door slam over the two-way radio someone’s turned on. He looks up to see Juyeon and Younghoon staring at it curiously. When Juyeon goes over the two-way, “Jacob… Uh… Someone just ran right into the utility closet and locked the door. We can’t help them out. I think Younghoon terrified them too much.” Younghoon scoffs, “I did not!” Juyeon continues, “Sure. Anyways, you’re the only one who has keys…” Jacob couldn’t believe his ears. This was the first time the crew didn’t have the situation under control. And of course, because he refused to do a floor check when the decorations were finally up, a door was left unlocked.

With haste, he looks at his keys and the panel before deciding to go and get you. And with nerves shooting through him, he goes over the two-way, “You all go to our assigned rooms and stay in there!” Eric calls back, “Where do you want me to go!?” “The other side of the building- I don’t care!” He throws the door open after flipping the overhead lights on and rushes into the building as he searches for the correct key. He refuses to look ahead, only down at the floor, “Fuck! Why are there so many fake mice!” He rushes to the room you’ve locked yourself in, and unlocks it. He tries to push it open as he calls out, “Hey!” Inside the closet he hears you yell back, “Leave me alone!” “I’m not a scare actor!” He hears your mumbles, but you still don’t budge from the door. He sighs, “Please come on... This building scares me so much. I want to be out of here just as much as you do.” You ask softly, “You promise me you’re not wearing scary clothes?” “Promise. I’m wearing a jean jacket with flowers on it if that helps.” You sigh, “Pinky swear?” “Pinky swear.”

---Pov Switch---

You hesitantly lift your weight off the door, and he carefully pushes the door in. You cover your eyes with your hands and peek out of them to see his blue jean jacket with pretty painted flowers on it like he said. No blood in sight. And you whisper, “I don’t… I don’t think I can move.” He gulps, “You want to stay here for a minute with me?” You nod, and he walks in and leans against the door. He mutters, “I hate working here.” Thinking he meant because he had to save scaredy-cats like you, you apologize, “Oh, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, “Oh, that’s not what I meant!” He looks at you and says, “It’s not your fault! I just get scared easily and like, uh… It’s just not good for a person who doesn’t stomach this well.” You giggle at him and go, “Really? Then why are you working here?” He sighs, “It was my last option left. No one else would hire me.” You shake your head, “Is it good money?” “Not in comparison to being scared shitless every day at work.” You look at him confused, “Why don’t you quit?” “Until I find something else, it makes due. Plus, I've known my coworkers since high school, so it makes it easier.” You shake your head, “Well if it makes due and they’re genuinely nice guys outside of work. I understand.” He nods before asking, “Are you okay to go back out there?” “You can get us through? No scares?” “Yeah, promise, they’re all away.” You hear his two-way radio scratch, “I’m getting bored!!” He rolls his eyes, “Eric, our gardener… He’s a little excitable when it comes to scares. So we better move before he decides to be a meanie.” You agree and he calls back, “We’ll be out in three, no funny business.” “That’s my job, though…” “Eric…” “Fine.” He laughs as he opens the door and looks down.

You follow suit gulping as you exit the doorway with him to see the fake mice, snakes, and spiders on the ground, “Can um… Can you hold my hand?” He nods, waiting for you with his hand out. You quickly grab it and cling to his side. “Not that far, right?” “No, but look down. Mice and snakes are somehow easier to stomach compared to the rest.” You let out an, “Uh-huh.” But your curiosity gets the best of you. You look up and see the amber lights illuminating the spiders and spiderwebs above along with the netting with fake limbs entangled in it dangling down at you. You let out a small, “Yikes!” He laughs, “Told you not to look up.” And you quickly look down with him. Every time the building creaks, you shiver, and he does too. When you see the bottom of the curtain, he says, “Here’s our exit.” He moves the curtain, and the sunlight greets you as he opens the door. You nearly kiss the ground as you mutter countless thank yous.

You don’t let go of his hand even though you’ve made it out. Feeling a sense of comfort with his hand in yours before you ask, “Um… is there any way I can stay with you for a bit until I get my nerve back up to drive?” He nods, “Yeah, that’s fine. I just need to go back to my security room.” “Is it okay if I go with you?” “Yeah.” He leads you along the side of the building and down the stairs. He unlocks the door and leads you in before calling on the two-way radio, “Back to business.” He flicks the overheads off, and you watch as everyone exits their rooms on the cameras. He gestures for you to sit in the spinny chair, “I’m gonna grab the chair from over there.” He points to the corner and lets go of your hand before getting it. He joins you, his knee touching yours under his desk. You watch the CCTV roll, seeing all of the scares live at once, making you feel sick to your stomach again. And he goes, “I wouldn’t watch that if I were you.” You gulp and nod before looking down at your shoes.

He distracts you from it by asking, “So what scared you so bad you ran to the first open door?” “Uh… It sounds silly.” He laughs, “I’m just as much of a scaredy cat as you, so it’s not silly. I promise.” “So uh, the one with the doll face? Yeah… So he was stitching that Frankenstein or something together. And it freaked me out… And when the butler-dude turned away from me to show me to the next room. I made my break for it, thinking it was the exit…” He laughs, and you pout, “I thought you promised it wouldn’t sound silly….” He shakes his hand, trying to hold his laughter back, “No, it’s funny, 'cause I would have done the same thing.” You grin and end up laughing with him. You stay with him his whole shift as he tells you a little about each actor to ease your nerves. “And the doll guy?” “He's a good dancer. But he loves what the two of us would consider scary dolls.” “Oh.” “Yeah, and he calls them cute.” You laugh, “Of course he does. What about you: any weird hobbies?” He shrugs, “Well, it’s not weird, but I like to play guitar and sing.” You smile, “That sounds lovely.” He smiles, “Maybe I could play for you sometime?” You ask, “There’ll be a next time?” “I uh… well, I’d hope so. You seem fun.” You laugh, “You just watched me get trapped in a haunted utility closet.” He laughs, “Yeah, I did.” “But I’d like to hear you play sometime soon.”

You exchange numbers before he turns the overhead lights on and the stage lights off as all the actors head to the basement to change back into their casual attire. You start to leave since you and Jacob already had plans to meet again sometime soon. You figured it was best to get going while the going was good. Until he asks, “Since we both had a scary experience, what do you say to getting some ice cream with me?” You grin, waiting for him to join you, “I’d love to.”

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pixeldistractions · 7 months ago

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With Maria on the train and dashing back to her daughter, Jordan had a date to keep of his own. He told the boys he’d be a little late for their usual 4:00 chat.

“Hey guys, I’m here now.” In the background of their image, the normally sterile counters were cluttered with pans and bowls. “Oh, hey, did your mom cook?”

“She tried to make mac and cheese,” Milo said. “But the water kept bubbling over and she almost burnt the kitchen down, so she got really mad and dumped it all down the sink. But then it clogged the drain, and now she has to call a plumber. You should have seen the veins in her head.”

“Oh, no. So what did you eat for dinner?”

“Pizza again,” Milo said. “It’s okay, we like pizza.”

“Ok. Well, sorry I was late. I had a visit from a friend. She just got on the train.”

“Was it Maria?”

“Wait, what? How did you know?”

“Because she’s your best friend. She said so, but she said it kind of funny. And you said she took a train, so it must have been kind of far.”

These boys were too smart.

“Right. She is my best friend.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Felix asked.

Instant paralysis. “Where’s your mom?” Jordan scanned the background of the video for Colette. He suspected that she often listened in on these calls. And sure, these conversations would have to happen someday, but he wasn’t ready to deal with that now, especially when apparently her veins were already popping out of her head today.

“She’s taking a bath. She said she needed self care.”

Relief.

“Okay,” Jordan said. “What do you boys know about girlfriends?”

“It’s like, kissing and holding hands and stuff,” Felix said.

“Felix wants Lily to be his girlfriend,” Milo tattled.

“Shut up, no I don’t, you idiot.”

“Felix, no name calling,” Jordan said.

“And Connor had a girlfriend last year. It was Bianca, except she said he wasn’t her boyfriend. But we saw them kissing during recess.”

“Kissing, in fourth grade?”

“Dad! They weren’t in fourth grade, they were in fifth. But now they went to middle school this year. They’re like eleven already.”

“Of course. Eleven.” Jordan felt so old. “But you don’t have to kiss someone just because everybody else is.”

“Was mom the first girl you kissed?” Milo asked.

“Um, no, it was somebody else.”

“How old were you?” Felix asked.

“I was, uh, fifteen,” Jordan said.

Felix cackled. “Ha ha, that's so old. I better get to kiss someone before I’m fifteen.”

“It’s not a race.”

“Were you a dork in middle school?”

“Ha. Maybe I was.”

“That’s why,” Felix said, nodding sagely. “Dorks don’t get kissed until high school.”

Jordan was hoping this side track into middle school romantic gossip might make them forget their question, but no, it didn’t.

“So, is she? Your girlfriend?”

“This is the kind of thing I should probably tell your mom first,” Jordan said. “Does that make sense? It’s the right thing to do.”

“So, she is then?”

“You know your mom and I never got married, right?”

“Yeah, we know.”

“How do you feel about me having a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know,” Milo said. “It’s kind of weird. But I guess she’s nice.”

“She’s very nice. Felix, what do you think?”

“I never really talked to her before,” Felix said. “I don’t know if she’s nice.”

“You can talk to her sometime if you want,” Jordan said. “Soon. We’ll all spend some time together soon.”

“I guess we could.”

“Your mom is still in the bath?”

They nodded.

“Are you sure? Make sure.”

Felix elbowed his brother in the ribs and Milo crept up the stairs and then back down. “Yeah,” he confirmed.

“Okay,” Jordan said. “Yes, Maria is my girlfriend.”

“Oh, okay,” they both said, sitting in that new truth for a moment.

And then, thankfully, they had other things to talk about. Very exciting things. Like how Connor McCullough got suspended for pranking the school toilets, and how the new Voidcritter movies were kind of dumb, but they watched them all three times anyway, and did he know there was a skate park being built at the harbor? And when he comes back in December, could he take them there? Please please please?

“A thousand percent, yes,” Jordan promised. “No matter how cold, even if there’s snow.”

They were smart and getting so big. They could walk themselves to the bus stop and pour their own cereal and didn’t need to be reminded to wash behind their ears most of the time. But they weren’t done with their dad. Jordan wasn’t even done with his own dad at twenty-two. And this was special, what they had, him and his boys. Colette had her role, and he wouldn’t call it an unimportant one, but he couldn’t imagine her holding space for them, being open for them, talking with them like he did. Maybe it was a boy thing. Which meant that his leaving left an immense void, and were these video chats good enough to fill that void?

Life was a seesaw—one thing goes up and another thing hits the ground. In one hand an answer and the other hand a quagmire. You might need it all, but you can’t have it all, and there’s the tragedy. Something precious will be lost, and what will it be?

— from “boxes and squares #4.5: home is wherever you are, part 2” (5/10)

story notes: Jordan always tells his boys first

Next ->

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #sims story #sim stories #jordan #milo #felix

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red-n-ded · 1 year ago

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The World According to Kris (reverse!au) 1/4

K-008, Kritical or Kris to family and friends, suffers from Black Rust Disease, which is an infection that makes him rot from the inside.

Kris knows how much his family sacrificed for him and just wants to stop being a burden for once. He’s given that chance when he and his brother team up with humans to get their ticket back home. Maybe now, he can finally be the hero he always wanted.

Reverse Roles AU and basically Kris takes Bee’s place in RotB, killed by Scourge trying to steal the transwarp key before being revived, followed by flashbacks on Noah’s and Kris’ life before the crash that sent hundreds of Cybertronians to Earth.

Ao3 Sneak Peek

Kris has heard of the earthly saying, “your life flashing before your eyes.”

Oddly enough, when he felt his spark go out, the last thing he remembered wasn’t his life but the last conversation he had with his brother.

Kris remembers standing on a hill. The darkness of the night sky blocked the vision of any passing humans seeing metal aliens in the distance. The only thing illuminating is the shine of the stars against their plating.

Their human allies stand in a circle not too far from them. The blond teen Bumblebee stands next to his leader Optimus with the pink-haired motorcyclist Arcee standing on his other side. Mirage isn’t with them, busy grabbing the holotech promised to get Kris into the museum.

Kris is next to his brother and he spots the antennas on Noah’s helmet to flicker every few seconds. Clearly, the forest green Challenger wasn’t so fond of these squishy beings in the middle of their own mission to go home.

That doesn’t make sense. Humans are great! They made movies, video games𑁋although the one with the red plumber and the weird fire-breathing reptile is frustrating to finish𑁋and consume such colorful resources! The orange bot can’t help but envy the fact that he doesn’t have taste buds just thinking about it.

“What’s up with your face plate?”

Noah’s voice snaps Kris out of his thoughts, realizing the jealous scowl on his intake and immediately dropping his derma to a nervous smile.

“It’s nothing. Just thinking about how cool it would be to take a bite of those Earth cheeseburgers.” Kris assures his brother while trying to guess what a burger would taste like, “Do you think it’s like the Francium frankfurters back home or-”

“You know we can’t stay, right?”

Kris stops talking, looking up at the tall transformer. Noah’s voice was stern yet his expression looked delicate. It seemed he was afraid to offend the smaller bot while maintaining his usual serious older-brother persona.

The words regarding Earthly foods vanish from his glossa and the orange Viper just groans. “I know.”

A soft breeze leaves Noah’s cooling fans like an understanding but tired sigh, “You can’t get too attached to this planet. It will hurt even more when we have to leave.”

Kris grinds his denta. He knows that his older brother is just trying to protect him and he admires that. Everything that Noah has ever done was to protect him and his happiness, even at the sacrifice of his own. The memories of the bitter looks from everyone as Noah walked past them hurts just thinking about it and knowing those looks are because of him.

This involuntary visit to Earth would end eventually but that doesn’t soften the upcoming pain of having to leave this ruined yet beautiful planet.

Seven months ago when they crashed, the two brothers were separated. Noah was apparently all the way in Puerto Rico while the orange bot crashed near the border of New York all alone.

After a few Earth weeks, Kris had the bravery to venture into the city. With a teen holoform and a burnt orange pick-up truck alt, he drove into every part of New York. He ventured into Queens, Manhattan, and a bright red area they named Chinatown. He also visited Times Square where he copied the look of a beautiful Dodge Viper on display and had a newfound rage against human parking and traffic.

They were all flashy and beautiful but his favorite place was Brooklyn, mainly the small neighborhoods with kids that played on the streets, soft chatter from the sidewalks and the familiar feeling within the area.

Obviously, the place wasn’t completely safe—often startled and woken up by the sirens of the Decepticon police force almost every night��but something about this planet felt alive.

“You don’t understand.” Kris grumbles, trying to push down the frustration in his vocalizer, “Everything they make is so colorful! They don’t need movies, games or music to fight their bad leader. They just have it because they do!”

Kris looks away from his brother and onto the gathered humans with determination in their eyes as Mirage arrives. His silver Porsche pulls up and the driver begins to walk towards his team but first waving hello at the robots with the illusion disk at hand. Only Kris waves back in a similar manner.

“Their world is so messed up yet the Racers still have hope.” Kris crosses his arms and grins unapologetically, “So, sorry if I get attached. Human are just so fun!”

Noah’s brow plates furrow in confusion but now, his eyes gleam with a certain curiosity, “And how does fun help them survive?”

Surely in a world where humans are ruled under an iron fist, Mirage’s smile shouldn’t be as bright and wide at the sight of new friends and the hope in the Freedom Racers shouldn’t be so infectious.

“It doesn’t help them survive, it helps them live.”

Kris won’t ever know if Noah understood what he said or changed his mind about humans. He wouldn’t blame him after this.

A human controlling a Cybertronian’s corpse killed his little brother, who was trying to save humans.

The Viper isn't worried if Noah cares about humans. He worries how Noah will change.

Kris knew he died. He’s not stupid but not ready to leave his brother alone. Noah has always been protecting him and vice versa as much Kris tries.

With the younger one gone, who will protect his Sonic now.

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handeaux · 7 months ago

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Why Did Cincinnati Abandon Cricket To Become America’s First Baseball Powerhouse?

You can blame the Civil War for Cincinnati becoming the home of professional baseball. Well into the 1860s, this was a cricket town with “town ball” and “base ball” taking a distant second place to bowlers and wickets.

The curious researcher can still find references to Cincinnati’s early cricketeers today, but most often as footnotes to the history of baseball. However, it is not too much of a stretch to say that baseball would not have prevailed in Cincinnati without the boost it received from the old-time cricket clubs.

Cincinnati’s cricket clubs were formidable opponents, hosting international matches with Canadian teams and participating in home-and-away rivalries with cricket clubs in Chicago, Cleveland and Pittsburgh. Cincinnati cricketeers were professionals long before the nascent Red Stockings decided to pay their players.

Cricket was most definitely an Englishman’s game and Cincinnati before the Civil War was largely a city of English origins. The Cincinnati Gazette [6 October 1853] summed up the popularity of the “manly old game”:

“Cricket matches are now quite in fashion. We see notice of them in numerous exchanges, East, North and West. Wherever Englishmen are found, there a Cricket Club is found with them.”

Although Cincinnati newspapers carried stories about out-of-town cricket matches as early as the 1820s, local cricketeers didn’t get organized until the 1840s. The Queen City Cricket Club convened in 1843 every Thursday at 2:00 p.m. at “Wade’s Woods” northwest of the intersection of Liberty Street and Central Avenue. By 1845, the Western Cricket Club offered some stiff competition to the Queen City club and the two teams battled it out on grounds located “at the foot of Eighth Street” in the Millcreek bottoms near the Whitewater Canal. It appears that the players were solidly middle-class – salesmen, plumbers, carpenters and shopkeepers – the sorts of folks who could spare a weekly afternoon to indulge in outdoor recreation.

By 1850 the Union Cricket Club, apparently a merger of the Queen City and Western clubs, was the dominant local team. Cricket grounds were hard to come by and the Union Club played variously at the Orphan Asylum lot where Music Hall now stands, on a wood-ringed field off Madison Road in East Walnut Hills, near the canal in Camp Washington and at the back of what later became known as Lincoln Park, location of Union Terminal today. From time to time, reports indicate that adherents of “town ball” or “base ball” also made use of the Union Cricket grounds, but only on days when the cricketeers were otherwise occupied.

Among the Cincinnati cricket stalwarts back in the day was Jonathan Hattersley, born in Sheffield, England, in 1835. Hattersley emigrated to the United States as a young man, arriving in New Orleans and working his way up the rivers to Cincinnati. After a failed start as manager of a weaving operation, he set himself up as the sales agent for a number of British steel refineries. He later joined the firm of Thomas Turner, manufacturer of cutting and slicing equipment. Hattersley married the owner’s daughter, bought out his father-in-law, and set up a saw manufactory with his son, Harry. Before the Cincinnati Fire Department went professional in 1853, Hattersley battled blazes with the Franklins, one of the amateur companies active in the city. He was among the founders of the Western Cricket Club and later became president of the mighty Union Cricket Club. His office in the saw blade factory on Third Street served essentially as the club’s headquarters.

The Union Cricket Club dominated Cincinnati cricket from the 1840s into the 1870s. Its bench was so deep that the club supported two teams – the stars and a farm team both under one roof. While the “first eleven” participated in matches from Chicago to the East Coast, the “second eleven” kept the hometown fans occupied by playing clubs from Northern Kentucky, Lawrenceburg and some smaller Ohio towns. The Union Club even challenged a championship English club then touring the states but couldn’t reconcile schedules. About half the Union Cricket Club players were paid professionals.

It was Jonathan Hattersley who recruited George and Harry Wright to Cincinnati from New York’s stellar St. George Cricket Club. Although the Wright brothers carried the original Cincinnati Red Stockings to baseball glory, they arrived in the Queen City as professional cricket players. Harry Wright was also from Sheffield, born the same year as Jonathan Hattersley. One may assume they had met in childhood. In an interview with the Enquirer [20 August 1875], Harry, by then manager of the Boston Red Stockings, recounted his arrival in Cincinnati:

“I was under contract, and was offered very fine inducements to leave New York. When I arrived in Cincinnati cricket was all the rage, but it finally subsided, and from the club I managed the old Red Stockings of that city was organized. I would like to say in this connection that the uniform I used as the cricketer was adopted by the Base-Ball Club.”

Wright glosses over what specific factors caused the “rage” for cricket to “subside,” but baseball scholars generally point to the Civil War, which brought young men from all over the United States together and gave them a great deal of free time when they weren’t busy shooting each other. Simon Worrall, writing in Smithsonian Magazine [October 2006] describes the wartime conditions that promoted baseball over cricket:

“A year before the Civil War broke out, “Beadle's Dime Base-Ball Player,” published in New York City, sold 50,000 copies in the United States. Soldiers from both sides of the conflict carried it, and both North and South embraced the new game. It was faster than cricket, easier to learn and required little in the way of equipment: just a bat (simpler to make than a cricket bat, which requires sophisticated joinery), a ball and four gunnysacks thrown on a patch of ground, and you're ready to play.”

By the time the war ended, Cincinnati seethed with baseball fever. Even Jonathan Hatterley’s son, Harry, took up baseball, catching for the junior-league Pickwicks in Cincinnati. A group of young executives – many of them Civil War veterans – organized the Cincinnati Base Ball Club on 23 July 1866 and quickly allied with the Union Cricket Club, who already had very nice facilities ready for play. According to Harry Ellard’s 1907 “Baseball in Cincinnati”:

“In 1867 the club moved to the grounds of the Union Cricket Club, with which was made a quasi alliance. These grounds were situated at the foot of Richmond Street. They were used in the summer for cricket and baseball and in winter were flooded and used for skating purposes, where great enthusiasm was manifested in this winter sport, with a series of interesting carnivals.”

Harry Wright and his brother George were convinced to give up cricket to lead America’s first professional baseball team. The rest, as they say, is history. Still, Harry, George and the rest of their team did not totally abandon cricket. It is not often reported that the Cincinnati Red Stockings, during their undefeated inaugural season, actually played a cricket match. In San Francisco, on 28 September 1869, the Cincinnati baseball team engaged the “All California Eleven.” According to Ellard:

“For the sake of variety and amusement they played a game of cricket with the California eleven, in which they showed that they could play cricket as well as baseball.”

The former cricketeers now known as the Cincinnati Red Stockings prevailed 118 to 79.

#cincinnati cricket #union cricket club #union cricket grounds #queen city cricket club

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