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dykeknightrises · 1 year ago

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FALLING

A/N: Sooo, I never actually wrote anything like this, but this one pretty much wrote itself randomly in my brain and I kinda liked it! So I appreciate any feedback I can get and I really hope you guys enjoy it :)

(Also english is not my first language. I did check it but something may not be quite right )

Next parts: Part 2 - PROMISES Part 3 - US

She smelled like the sun. Whether this is a real thing or not, Y/N didn’t care. Right now, buried under and completely surrounded by her, Y/N would vow on whatever entity really existed that Alexia smelled like the sun.

It wasn’t always the case. Before, Alexia smelled like comfort, maybe even a little bit like being under the covers, a mug of hot chocolate between her hands while the rain poured outside. Now everything changed. Now she smelled like summer, like the water wetting your feet right on the edge on the sand on a hot day spent on the beach.

The in-between of then and now, and even the before that, if Y/N was being honest, was a rollercoaster of joy, happiness, heartbreak, and sadness. Falling for Alexia was far too easy and almost a habit for her, she had been doing that for years now.

Y/N first fell in awe of Alexia when she watched her play her first u-17 Euros, back in 2010, when she was just fifteen. Even when the Young Lionesses didn’t go very far, Y/N managed to convince her parents that they absolutely had to stay for the whole tournament.

Alexia was still a wide-eyed teenager, shy to give interviews and speak up, but so confident and skilled in the pitch that Y/N could not helped but to feel in absolute awe. It wasn’t even a question that the midfielder would be a great player and it wasn’t even a question that Y/N would start to keep up with her career the best she could, she would even use the poor excuse that the shared their position when her friends bugged her too much about it.

Y/N first feel in admiration with Alexia when she played against her during the 2012 u-19 Euros. Despite being only fifteen, Y/N was called up when someone got injured and even made the line-up for the game against Spain.

Ninety brutal minutes later that resulted in England being eliminated, Alexia made sure to speak and praise every single one of her opponents. That was the first time they ever spoke. Y/N wasn’t even sure if Alexia remembered that, but the praise the older girl gave her and the sheer amount of respect she was given made her admire Alexia as a player on a whole new level.

The “See you in a Champions League game.” that the older girl said goodbye with echoed in her head for years, until the moment she signed with Arsenal as her first professional contract a couple of years later. Y/N really hoped to play against Alexia again.

Y/N first fell in respect with Alexia in Budapest, during the Champions League final in 2019. Despite the overwhelming loss from the start, she watched as Alexia gave her blood on the pitch. One of the most agonizing games Y/N had ever watched, being able to even taste the desperation while surrounded by thousands of culés ins the stands.

She watched the absolute heartbreak the team faced, the broken stares as they watched Lyon lift the Champions League cup again. She watched as the twenty-five years old fourth captain picked her teammates up, reassured them and listened to them. She watched the midfield swallow her own despair and angst to take care of her teammates, as a captain and leader would. Y/N could help but to respect the Catalonian as player, as person. Not everybody can do that.

Y/N first fell in fondness with Alexia when she was the first to make her feel at home in Barcelona. Leaving Arsenal and home behind was terrifying, even if Lucy and Keira were in Barcelona too. It’s a new city, a new culture, a new language, new teammates, and a new sense of self.

Arriving and settling in Barcelona was easy, but fitting in and becoming a part of the team was much harder. Spending so many countless evenings and night trying to learn the language that Y/N began to neglect herself a little bit seemed like a small price to pay to be in the team. It wasn’t until Alexia herself asked to speak to you, realizing that you were unconsciously closing yourself off until you were “ready” that you realized what you were doing. Upon seeing the realization in your eyes and knowing that her mission was complete, the older woman slipped a bar of your favourite chocolate over and left with a squeeze on your shoulder.

After that, it wasn’t long until you were a part of the very chaotic Barcelona family. By the time that the Winter Break arrived, the team had settled in a very nice post-practice routine. On Mondays, the guiris got together, helping each other fit with the country. Tuesdays and Wednesdays the whole team holed up at someone’s house, usually Irene’s, and just bonded, going from watching trashy movies to destroying each other on board games. When there were no games on the weekend, the Fridays were for going out on a very non-wild night, just to eat out and spend more time with each other.

Thursdays were sacred. You and Alexia got together, spending the whole time watching old matches, nitpicking plays and dissecting games from opponents or your favourite players. The night usually ending with you cooking, her cleaning and crashing at the bed after taking Nala for her night walk.

Y/N first fell in love with Alexia after the Winter Break, when Alexia was opening the gift, she brought from England. It was a grand thing, but the older woman’s eyes shone so brightly when the Christmas tree’s light sparked that Y/N was sure her heart skipped a beat.

Being in love with Alexia was easy. Between the team’s bonding and their own, all their weekdays were spent together, and Alexia usually dragged Y/N over for lunch with the rest of the Putellas family, where she fit right in. Her days were filled with Alexia’s presence and her nights were filled with dreams of her.

Y/N never entertained the thought of Alexia loving her back. Not she was an asshole or anything, but Alexia was different. Keeping her feelings to herself, not even telling her best friends came naturally, as she knew they would encourage her to try something, but that is just because they didn’t see Alexia like she did.

Friendships with Spaniards were very confusing at first. They were very touchy and very feely and, at first, it made Y/N a bit uneasy to be able the differ when they were hitting on each other and when they were just being friends. She finally settled in taking everything as a friendship moment if she wasn’t told otherwise and left at that.

On a Thursday, instead of watching a game like their usual, Alexia wanted to go dancing. They got ready at arrived at the Sala Apollo when it was already packed, heading to the bar, and having a couple of drinks before the older woman dragged them both to the dance floor. The closeness and intimacy of dancing with each other came easily for them. Letting the heavy bass of reggaeton guide their moves and being pressed together was almost as natural as cuddling on the couch after a movie.

It wasn’t until Alexia’s hands began to wonder that Y/N though better about the whole night. When the older woman’s lips found a spot on her neck and her hands found their place on her hips after squeezing her ass, Y/N was gone. Turning around and kissing Alexia, they were locked in a much wilder dance at that point. Not staying too long after that was natural, as it was sharing a bed of a whole different manner.

Y/N first fell in heartbreak with Alexia when she called their night a mistake. Waking up the next day, surrounded of filled with the midfielder, Y/N smiled and lost herself on the skin of Alexia’s back being hit by sun. Having coffee turned sour on her mouth after Alexia’s words and feeling has heart break on her chest was hard enough, but she could let the older woman know the damage her words had done, she loved her too much for that.

Leaving Alexia’s house that day was one of the easiest and hardest things Y/N had ever done. It was easy because she desperately needed to leave, she needed to let the tears stream down her cheeks away from the other woman’s praying gaze. It was hard because it closed the door on any possibility of the words being a mistake themselves. After promising Alexia, and lying through her teeth, that everything was okay, Y/N left.

People say grieve has five stages. Y/N was no expert, but she was pretty sure that whoever was supposed to go through them was the person grieving, so she didn’t quite understand Alexia’s sudden avoidance. The captain found new teammates to do all the training exercises together, spoke to her only when necessary and cancelled all Their Thursdays for the past few weeks.

A part of her told herself that maybe Alexia felt guilty, maybe she wanted to take the word Mistake back. That part was very strong, it was pulsating, it gave her hope. That part told her to not give up and just give her part.

Y/N arrived just in time on the locker room to overhear Alexia answering a question about a date. Her latest one. On a Thursday. She couldn’t pay a lot of attention to the midfielder answer without had eyes tearing up, so she tried to block the conversation as much as she could, and it was going pretty damn well until she lied to her teeth once again when someone asked if she didn’t mind that the dates where always on a Thursday.

The called up to represent the Lionesses came as a blessing, giving her a break from the club. It was much easier to be her usual self, joke around with her teammates and going on a full-blown prank war against Georgia when she could pretend Alexia didn’t exist. It was also much easing swallowing down her hopes and downloading Tinder when she was sure Alexia would not pop-up on her screen.

Swiping left on all the women that the app showed her was unconscious. Y/N didn’t even realize she was doing that until Leah caught her with the app opened and started to swipe with her. When the captain asked for the billionth time what was wrong with the last woman, the only answer she had to give was that none of them were her. That prompted her to tell her best friend everything. After convincing Leah to not do something stupid, the captain just told you not to worry and that she would find you the perfect date.

With the time with the national team up, Y/N flew back to Barcelona, smiling as the she sees the city lighting up against the night sky. She barely has time to settle back before Leah texts her that she found her a great date and saying that they will both fly out for the Champions League match in a couple of weeks.

Between trying to find out more information on Leah’s mysterious friend and the sting that came whenever Alexia promptly ignored her, Y/N days passed slowly. It’s easy to distract herself on the days that are occupied by the team, but Thursdays were the worst. The hurt that came the being subbed out of Alexia’s life was just more prominent on these days and Y/N didn’t quite know what to do about it.

The Champions League finally came and with it, Leah and her friend being in town. The date was going to happen the day before the match and Y/N wasn’t sure whether the anxious feeling she had were for the match or for the date.

Getting ready was almost automatic. A nice short black dress paired up with a light makeup as they would go to dinner at a nice restaurant that Y/N absolutely loved. Waiting for the time to go out, she turned the TV on started watching and old match, absently minded remembering that it was a Thursday. Not that any of that mattered anymore.

The doorbell rang just as Ronaldinho scored a goal, making her tear her eyes away from the game. Y/N walk to the door in confusion, not expecting anyone today. The team was doing their own Thursday thing and Leah was out with Lucy and Keira, leaving literally no one to be at her doorstep at almost eight.

Hazel eyes greeted her upon opening the door. Alexia stood in front of her, in her comfiest hoodie and sweatpants, the beanie tucked in her head, cheeks rosy from the wind. Her gaze, holding hope and a thousand secrets, wandered through you figure, before settling back in your own eyes.

“I was hoping we could have our usual Thursday? I have a lot that I need to say to you.”

#woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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popculturebuffet · 10 months ago

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Monthly Muppet Madness: Sesame Street Luis and Maria Valentine's Day Special (Comission for Emma Fici)

Happy valentine's day all you happy people and welcome back to monthly muppet madness. All the muppets you can handle once a month. And for this special day of love and chocolate we're going down to sesame street to look at the love story and wedding of Luis and Maria.

Now this one was a bit of a challenge for two reasons: the first is that my Seasame Street knowledge is limited: i know the 2010's decently enough as I watched a ton of it when my niece and nephew were toddlers, and I reviewed Follow that Bird last year, which was exellent.. but I really don't know who most of the cast are as characters outside of the major muppets and even some of those escape me as many have been phased out over the years. I mean why they don't use the two headed monster ine verything is beyond me, he's a two headed monster> that's awesome.

Thankfully the muppet wiki is super expansive so if like me you didn't know these characters going into this article yoru great. If you did, well... go get some juice or a pop while I fill in the blanks.

Luis and Maria were both introduced in season 3 of Seasame street and lasted all the way to 2015. Luis was introduced as the owner of the local fixit shop, a kind man who fixed bikes, toasters what have you. He also fixed them for Snuffy before knowing he was real. They were dropped off and picked up by... oh let's say moe. He's notable for playing the longest lasting mexican american roll on a television series and Seasame Street celebrated his heritage frequently. Sesame Street did not fuck around and I appricate that. Maria was introduced as a local teen who worked at the library, aging in real time and quickly becoming a young adult. She soon started working with Luis at the fixit shop, getting hired by simply pitching in when he was too busy to actually listen to her ask for a job and being hired on the spot as it helped with his work load. She later asked for a raise... only to not only get THAT but be promoted to partner.

So the two already had a working relationship and friendship when Sonia Manzano, Maria's Actress, got pregnant. Rather than dance around it Seasame Street decided to integrate the story, but since it was the 80's by the time of this pregnancy, they also needed Maria to get married first because GASP apparently kids couldn't handle the idea of a single parent. Or a multiracial couple as her previous love intrest David, was also ruled out though the why is a bit murky: One documentary said his actor was leaving anyway , another said he was devistated. I wouldn't rule out an 80's tv show avoiding an interracial marriage to avoid scandal.. but I also think Seasame Street was progressive enough to try it anyway, so i'm inclined to belivie the actor simply wasn't avaliable, especailly since the idea was pitched by Carol Spinney's wife Debra and passed on to Caroll himself. Given the two characters were already close as friends, buisness partners and on good terms, having them do the relationship upgrade makes some sense: while friends to lovers CAN be really tricky, here it just feels wholesome: like two people who were simply friends for a long time, caught feelings eventually and fell in love.

So today we'll be covering the two realizing their in love and thent heir wedding day. I wish I had something for the middle but Sesame Street.. is hard to track down these days. Most of it WAS on max.. but Max being max, a lot of it was removed and digtially most of seasame street is best of compliations and what not. There really isn't a consitent, episode by episode archive for the show that I found. So I found two complitions on youtube covering parts of this storyline. I am sorry that I coudln't find a more in depth one covering the whole thing up to the wedding, and would be glad to cover more of their story in the future. For now though let's tell the timeless tale of man and woman brought together by two 5 year olds asking difficult questions.

Part 1: In Love So the Luis and Maria story has a LOT of parts to it, and like I said I could only find so much on youtube. I tried archive of our own too, no luck. So before this the two started growing from friends to something more after tending to a baby bird... and not the normal one they tend to what lives in the back of their store.

The building feelings pay off here.. but first what most people come to seasame street for: two five year olds arguing: while playing Cowboys, Big Bird wants to go Eha Eha, and Snuffy wants to go Eha Eha Eha. Somehow it's far from the most gripping cowboy dillema i've seen

Gordon easily solves the issue and the two get their eha's on when they notice Maria and Luis holding hands. We don't see it because they only have a set for that part of sesame street, but it leaves the boys confused and they decide to go ask the adults up front.

Luis and Maria.. have no adquate explination for why they were holding hands and i'ts hilarous, mostly beause it feels so REAL. Kids will oftne ask questions that end up super awkward simply because they don't know any better. The two REALLY don't know how to answer this, saying adults do it because they like each other not because they need to, but not sure how they feel about each other. Until an idea hits

But since it would they instead realize their in love and go to tell each other and we get a really sweet well done shot as we look in on the fixit store through it's window as the two confess. it's some really well done acting and really cute.. then they shut the curtain so all of sesame street dosen't see their live sex celebration.

That night Big BIrd asks when their getting married which panics the two especially since you know THEY JUST STARTED DATING. Again it works because it's a harmless kid thing and Big Bird is just a giant toddler. But he bets they will

And he's right though there's according to the wiki a whole ass arc where everyone in sesame street is pressuring the two to get married. I mean Delgado's pregnancy is part of why they speed it up and as a show for younger kids they don't have to really get into emotional complexity... buuuuut it dosen't make it any less hilarous that all the muppets are wondering when this couple's going to get hitched already depsite being none of thier buisness.

Eventually Luis proposes, we get some planning and now it's time for the wedding.

Part 2: It's Your Wedding Day

So we get to the wedding, as everyone prepares: Maria's been so nervous she can't sleep while Luiz

Maria talks to linda, her bestie and just the best. Linda is kinda sorta dating bob, the og sesame street human and local teacher, the two even getting a mental duet about possibly getting maried and Linda catching the boquet. Both of these things go nowhere but given the two never married anyone else, I like to think they just had a quiet wedding officiated by kermit off screen.

Anyways everyone prepares for the wedding day with a big fucking musical number, as you should, and then has the wedding to one as the soon to be weds panic internally, the various adults and their relatives sing about how in love they are , and Oscar hopes fo ra fight because of course he does. Also elmo looks like Oscar slipped him about 80 ounces of cocaine because he is TRIPPING BALLS the entire cermony while panicking about dropping the rings.

Hey kids, just a life lesson if the garbage monster on your street offers you cocaine to help you relax before a wedding, don't take it. he's probably just wnatin ga laugh at your expense. Also just.. don't give 5 year olds cocaine. That's not a good thing to do. And don't shake them.. unless your Larry david then that sorta thing is just expected of you and you'll be dealt with later.

This message has been brought to you by popculturebuffet and the two penguins on my desk.

The wedding ends up working an dis beautiful. Also oscar the grouch somehow got a plus one, his girlfriend grungetta who i'm somehow just finding out exists. Oscar was getting it on the reg and not ONE of you fuckers thought it was a good idea to tell me. Good for him. A reception is held and everyone is happy... well almost everyone.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

#seasame street #valentine's day #luis rodriguez #maria rodriguez #wedding #muppets #monthly muppets

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zoeology31 · 2 years ago

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Three thoughts each on the nine Twins games since my last post-series recap:

4/7, Astros 2, Twins 3:

Offense looked rough in this game but Sonny Gray is a freaking beast, man. Career high in strikeouts, hell yeah

Correa, bud, what

God it’s nice to have someone like Kyle Farmer as a depth guy. Great way to start off the home half of the season. Also José Miranda clutch as hell to tie it up a few batters earlier, man when he can hit he really can hit!

4/8, Astros 6, Twins 9 (in person!):

Kyle Farmer is absolutely gonna be a fan favorite this year (once he recovers from, uh, later incidents at least). Walk-off one day, 3-run homer to open the scoring the next? We love to see it

Most inevitable grand slam ever btw. Stadium was dead quiet for like an inning. Ryan did super solid outside of that though

RIP Moran (homer to one of the easiest guys to strike out on the planet rn) but Duran 3 pitch strikeout save was insanely badass. His intro on the upgraded video boards slaps so hard

4/9, Astros 5, Twins 1:

Oof Mahle, I know the McCormick homer had like a .190 xBA but still he’s getting roughed up fairly consistently between spring and now

Not looking forward to getting Verlander’d by Verlander 2.0 for the next several years btw

Solano is really good actually. I think everyone doubted this signing but he’s our best hitter for average

4/10, White Sox 4, Twins 3:

Man the White Sox defense really is something else. José Abreu died left for this

RIP having the lead for like five minutes before Maeda hung a slider to Alberto

Not surprised we lost this one with the lineup we put out but we had enough chances that it’s frustrating to not get the win, especially against 4 innings of White Sox bullpen

4/11, White Sox 3, Twins 4:

I absolutely thought this was gonna be a disaster after the first four batters, but holy shit Lopez is good. 23 straight retired??? A start that would’ve been the second longest by a Twin last season, 11 games into this one??? Could we really have an ace after all this time???

Byron Buxton career homer #100 to tie it up!!! Love this guy, he’s not one of my specific personal favorites but he does so much for the team

Aaaaand that’s Duran’s first ever blown save, first time he’s ever entered with the lead and given it up, first extra-base hit allowed with a 1-run lead, and first ever homer given up at Target Field. Man you could tell he was pissed after that. Glad we pulled it out in the end, neither Lopez nor Duran deserved for us to lose that

4/12, White Sox 1, Twins 3 (in person!):

Extremely, deeply cursed game. Thankful the injuries weren’t nearly as bad as they could’ve been/as they looked at the time

White Sox defense does it again, also Jeffers has been doing pretty well so far. Guess that reworked swing is making a difference

Duran??? Buddy??? Like he still got it done but man was I glad for those insurance runs

4/13, Twins 11, Yankees 2:

Turned on the game during the replay review of Julien at 2nd and man was that a fever dream of an inning. Like. Is this allowed???

Sir, a second Michael A. Taylor home run has hit Yankee Stadium

Correa telling Sands to be ready to pitch today because they were gonna put up 10 runs is some inspirational sports movie shit like damn lol

4/14, Twins 4, Yankees 3:

Got Duran and Cortes both on my fantasy team, I’m playing both sides so I always come out on top

The Louie Varland Yankee Stadium legend continues to grow. Man it was impressive for him to lock it down after 2 homers on his first 3 pitches and turn that into a quality start

C4! C4! C4! This is what I wanted to see, man that guy can be so fucking clutch. We get at least six more years of this can you believe

4/15, Twins 1, Yankees 6:

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ok then. That was weird. RIP the Yankee Stadium win streak

Ok so like. I know what everyone said. I know the issue was rosin which is legal. But I’m gonna Occam’s Razor this one: what’s more likely here, that German was cheating, or that he just happened to pitch the game of his life with noticeably more movement on his pitches, and also get repeatedly questioned by the umpires for substances on his hands?

If Mahle is our worst starter we’re honestly in a pretty good spot but also. Goddamnit Mahle. Broke the 5-inning start streak and everything

T-2 hours until the last matchup in the Death Star, ace vs. ace, here we go.

#baseball #my stuff #minnesota twins

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battingforhours · 2 years ago

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Basin Reserve, Wellington: Day Five

Most of the time, the life of a sports fan is a fairly unrewarding experience involving poor performances, uninspiring venues, expensive tickets. Occasionally, though, you strike gold, and attend something so special and satisfying that you will forever be able to tell the tale of it — an ‘I was there’ match. For all the supporters who had spent their time, money and effort to attend this Test at the Basin Reserve, this was the ultimate reward.

The match had bubbled away nicely for four days, and despite the circuitous route they had taken the expected outcome remained that England would find their way to victory. On the fifth morning, though, they found a way to undermine their chances quite severely.

Ollie Robinson had notionally succeeded in the role of nightwatchman, but his ability to provide useful runs was not demonstrated on this occasion as he was caught playing a pretty abject pull shot — not the last of those that we would see on this final day. Ben Duckett soon played a lazy cut shot and edged behind. Ollie Pope found a similar way to get out, although he actually guided the ball to the cordon as if he was in on the deal. This was a bad enough start without what came next.

Joe Root and Harry Brook were both fresh to the crease when Root defended the ball behind square and set off for a quick single. Brook was slow to respond but duly honoured the call and came through for the run. Unfortunately, Michael Bracewell at slip made enough ground to pick the ball up, which Root hadn’t countenanced. Brook was well short as Blundell whipped the bails off and New Zealand celebrated fervently, having removed England’s most hostile threat without facing a single delivery. At 80/5 needing another 178 to win, things had suddenly become very real.

As Stokes strode to the crease, everyone was wondering what his approach to the situation would be — which way would his leadership approach fall in favour of, play responsibly or be the talisman? It appeared this time that his head was screwed on, as he blocked and left the ball very cautiously. Root was more fluent than the equivalent stage of his first innings century, punishing the latest poor over from Bracewell — the combination of drag downs and inadequate protection in the deep didn’t exactly help New Zealand’s cause. He settled into a better rhythm against Stokes, who refused to engage with much outside off stump.

The two experienced pros managed to stabilise the situation, an imbalanced 50 partnership brought up by Root who had made 45 of them. He was the only player who had looked fluent on this fifth day pitch, which was misbehaving a little with some variable bounce. But as lunch approached, Root and Stokes had succeeded in taking the sting out of the game and brought the runs required down to 90 with 5 wickets in hand. They had faced an almost identical number of deliveries, but Root had 73 runs and Stokes just 20. It was working nicely, though.

New Zealand’s cause was further dented by the need for Matt Henry to leave the attack mid-over thanks to a back complaint, but some physio treatment and a few practice deliveries righted the problem. It must have worked a great, as Henry bowled an unbroken spell for an hour and a half after the break. His persistence kept England honest, but it was the return of Neil Wagner — the man who had disappeared in the previous game, and struggled to make an impact in the first innings here — that broke the game back open again.

After the game, Stokes explained how they had wanted to counter-attack Wagner and take advantage of his short ball approach by scoring a bucketload of runs in a short space of time. It sounds like good logic, and it has been quite effective for his team this series. Unfortunately it requires a degree of care in its execution. Stokes had been circumspect for 115 balls on his way to 33, but one Wagner bouncer and he decided to play an ungainly hack of a pull shot, succeeding only in hitting the ball vertically. Wagner was typically feverish in his celebration. New Zealand had an opening again.

Falling into the most obvious trap once would be careless, but twice would be stupidity. Having been fluent and untroubled all innings, Root followed his captain like a lemming and was dismissed in identical fashion. Wagner somehow managed to increase his levels of fervour from the previous dismissal, which seemed impossible. From a position of strength, England’s two most experienced players had thrown it all away and left Ben Foakes with a very weak tail requiring another 56 runs to win. Good luck!

Stuart Broad’s approach to the crisis was to swing hard at everything and hope for the best. That he would get out caught wasn’t in doubt, it was merely a question of how many runs he would score first before the inevitable occurred. It didn’t take long to find the answer, as Henry — still bowling — dug a few in short and succeeded, with Broad ramping a ball to third man. 46 needed as Jack Leach joined Foakes.

Foakes took his time to settle in, picking up singles from the fourth ball of every over and leaving Leach with two to block. There was plenty of time left in the game, but you wondered just how sustainable this one-run-per-over approach would be given just how many short balls were being dug in with catchers lurking everywhere.

The slowing down of the game was the perfect way to build tension, though. The slow burn of the game was building up to a crescendo, and drawing an array of responses from an equally excited and nervous crowd — every run was applauded, blocks and leaves too; advice was shouted to the bowlers; some stood at the back, unable to sit still any longer.

Eventually, Foakes knew he needed to seek greater rewards. He edged a pull shot over the keeper’s head. Then, a crucial moment in the match, and yet another Bracewell error — he stepped in when Foakes aimed a pull shot to deep mid-wicket, only to realise he’d misjudged it. A despairing dive couldn’t stop the ball from flying over his head, bouncing once before it crossed the rope.

Overs ticked by in familiar fashion — four balls for Foakes, two for Leach — but Foakes was finding the boundary with a bit more conviction. A Wagner short ball was hammered past the standing umpire for four, and another was pulled between two deep fielders to the fence at deep mid-wicket. A couple of twos helped bring the target towards single figures, with Southee wasting his one chance to keep Foakes on strike by leaving everyone deep for the fifth ball of an over.

Tim Southee had finally taken responsibility and grabbed the ball. Foakes cut for two more, but then hooked a ball that got big on him and top edged it to fine leg where Wagner once again took the catch. It was a devastating blow after a hearty effort to carry his team home, but once again the propensity to play the shot rather than wait for a better opportunity had proven fatal. England needed seven more runs as out walked number 11, Jimmy Anderson — a man who had never hit the winning runs in a game, and had never shown any interest in doing so. Leach hadn’t scored a run, but now found himself as the senior partner.

Excitement and nerves had been ratcheted up disproportionately by this stage. Few were in complete control of their emotions in the crowd, with all sorts of clapping, shouting, standing and probably some hiding going on. Every ball could be the last, here.

Leach managed to pick up a single after playing an awfully risking flap at a short ball. Anderson’s initial defensive shots were perilously close to looping up for a catch, but he got away with it. He had a couple of Wagner deliveries to survive — he swayed away from the first, but to the second and final ball of the over he charged down the pitch and nailed it towards mid-on where Williamson failed to intercept it. Four runs! Two to win! This was absolutely remarkable cricket.

Leach faced Southee, with an opportunity to end the game. He was careful, perhaps overly so, and ended up playing out a maiden to leave Anderson on strike to Wagner again.

Five days of entertainment, intrigue, excitement and patience had built to this perfect crescendo. One last hurdle to clear for either side. Or perhaps we would see a tie! The favourite to win had swung this way and that throughout the day — going into what turned out to be the final over, everything was still possible.

Wagner bounced Anderson. He tried to glance the ball away to fine leg, but only succeeded in getting a fine contact on the ball. Blundell fell towards the ball, catching it cleanly. Wagner burst into the biggest appeal of his life. Rod Tucker raised his finger. Anderson stood with his back turned — aghast, gutted, resigned to his fate. No review was forthcoming. He knew. It was over.

New Zealanders on and off the field went ballistic, with the irrepressible, irresistible passion of Wagner at the centre of it. New Zealand had won the match by one solitary run.

England were ultimately the masters of their own downfall. Criticism of their defeat here was brushed off given the madness of the game, but it is legitimate. They paid the price for going for broke on the third day, becoming only the fourth team in history to enforce the follow-on and lose, as well as the second team to lose by a margin of one run — “the rarest of margins”, as so eloquently coined by Ali Martin of the Guardian. Diligence and steady accumulation from New Zealand’s prime players (Latham, Conway, Blundell and man-of-the-match Williamson) had brought them back into a match they could have been played out of, and afforded them a shot at victory against a team that would given them chances in the fourth innings. And they certainly took them. Well, most of them.

Disappointment at the result could not mask the feeling of awe at witnessing cricket at its purest and most exhilarating. Flying to the other side of the world to enjoy the game in an iconic setting was one thing, but witnessing a finale like this was beyond anything a devotee of the game could have dreamed of. And it is never more satisfying than when you have invested five days of your life watching a contest unfold and it reaches the ultimate climax like that.

I swear you’ll never see anything like this every again, so watch it, drink it in.

0 notes

danwebster37 · 2 years ago

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Basin Reserve, Wellington: Day Five

Leach faced Southee, with an opportunity to end the game. He was careful, perhaps overly so, and ended up playing out a maiden to leave Anderson on strike to Wagner again.

New Zealanders on and off the field went ballistic, with the irrepressible, irresistible passion of Wagner at the centre of it. New Zealand had won the match by one solitary run.

I swear you’ll never see anything like this every again, so watch it, drink it in.

0 notes

stevenbasic · 3 years ago

Text

“Hi Dr J, I’m glad we finally get to chat…”

Holy shit.

——

Earlier that day, I’d been told at the front desk that there was a lady from Evolution Pharmaceuticals on the line, and that she’d like to speak with me. Aubrey had always been good about screening out the sales pitches, the irate patients, the people with whom I really never needed to actually talk. So that she was pulling me aside for this call told me that this one might be something I should probably take...

But - ugh. No. I didn’t want to. This had been a long day, a long week so far - and it was only Tuesday! God, the past few months had been more and more exhausting, humiliating and emasculating with each passing hour. And the more I learned, the more it seemed that this company was at the heart of my troubles. Yes, it offered the opportunities of great financial rewards for the practice with this clinical study trial in which we were going to be participating. Since Jeanette, my previous Office Manager, had left, the mismanagement of the business had us in dire straits. Without the money from Evolution’s study and the “Lean In” grant from the women’s advancement group, I’m not sure we’d still be afloat. So, yeah, maybe I should have taken the call.

“I’ll call them later,” I told Aubrey, and grabbed the films I needed for my next patient.

That had been three hours ago, before my little hallway meeting with Melissa. Since then Gianna - some woman who’d wanted to speak to me about the trial - had called two more times. Left messages. Really wanted just fifteen minutes of my afternoon. Needed to speak with me. I refused each call.

Finally done with patients, sitting in my office at the end of the day as darkness crept in from outside, I sighed as Brittni from the desk buzzed me. She said that Gianna was on the line again. “Can I transfer her?”

“No,” I replied on the intercom, noticing that a little green light had blinked to life on the camera I had clipped to my monitor. I hadn’t seen it before, this light. In fact...when did I get a camera on this computer?

“Tell her I'll call tomorrow...” I finished.

I had set back to finishing some patient notes on my desktop when, suddenly, my screen flashed to black. For a quick moment I thought - oh no, a crash - but then a new, unfamiliar window appeared, and my mouse pointer began moving on its own accord. What the…? The window went full screen and next thing I knew I was in a video chat with-

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were avoiding my calls…” the woman onscreen spoke, laughing casually as she tossed her hair...

“oh, uh…” I was immediately agape. This was who’d been trying to call me all day??

“Anyway...Hi Dr J, I’m glad we finally get to chat…”

Holy shit. This girl was gorgeous. Look at those tits.

As I stared, still shell-shocked and speechless from having my computer hijacked out from under me by a bosomy corporate careerist, she went on to introduce herself as Gianna Albertini, from the clinical trials department at Evolution Pharmaceuticals. She explained how excited she and her team was to get the study off the ground at the practice. Things had been fast tracked at the FDA, they were just waiting for some rubber stamps, and everything looked very promising for their product. She apologized for not being able to meet in person, at least for a while. “I’m on some new retroviral treatment, and they have me quarantined at home,” she explained with surprising nonchalance, “yadda yadda yadda…”

Finally, after a good several minutes of watching her talk - and she held my attention easily, her rack possibly rivaling Melissa’s - she let me get a word in edgewise. I was still confused by how in one moment I was working on my patient charts, and then in the next I was in a video chat. “H-how did you…?”

“Sorry,” Gianna laughed, casually waving away any privacy concerns I was currently about to voice, “I had to remote in, take over your desktop. I really needed to speak with you.” Beyond the blatant intrusions tactics she was obviously willing to employ, there was something in this woman’s eyes, her demeanor, that was making me more and more concerned as the conversation - such as it was - continued. She may have been acting relaxed and friendly, decidedly informal, but there was a seriousness just below the surface that even I could see, even through the screen, and even in the face of those enormous tits. “Plus, maybe it’s actually better we do it this way, rather than on the phone,” she said, as she sat up nice and straight, “So we can see one another’s...smiling faces.”

Gahh...

As she got down to brass tacks, this young woman went on to describe to me some of the details of the new wings in our building into which the office would be expanding, how much more space we and Evolution be acquiring to fulfill the needs of the trial, and when it would all be ready. “Construction is ultra-fast tracked,” she said, “should be done within a few weeks.”

Weeks?? I marveled, silently incredulous. I’d seen the plans; it was a huge project. I’d figured months, if it ever really got done at all. But, the teams did seem motivated, and there were a lot of them, working day-in and day-out, all through the night. Maybe, perhaps? Could they pull it off in weeks?

We also talked about the structure of the trial, what it would involve day-to-day, and the long-term forecast. Evolution seemed ready to set up permanent shop with a clinic in the building, by taking over much of the lease of the new space, with the study just the first step in the door.

“You’ll be listed as the lead investigator,” Gianna explained, continuing on to detail the ins-and-outs of the trial, “but don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of people in place. You really won’t have to do too much, or deal with anyone at the main office. You’ll be reporting just to me...”

“r-reporting to you?” I asked, trying to ignore the impressive bosom which filled the screen, cowed me. That had taken me back a bit...'reporting to her'? I had noticed something in this young woman’s tone, through our chat, that led me to believe that she and I possibly had different views as to the, uh, hierarchy of this whole thing. I was the doctor around this place, and had gotten used to expecting a little respect, being top of the food chain. She, on the other hand, maybe had other ideas.

“That's right,” she said, “we’ll do these chats once a week, more if I feel like we need it. I’ll expect a report from you every day, but again don’t worry. It’s basically something you just have to sign, the girls will do it all. Our other providers will be handling most of the work with the patients in the study, entering data, keeping the FDA happy, blah blah blah. Maybe we’ll ask you to go in and talk to, examine a few of the subjects, just to keep things interesting for you.”

If I hadn’t felt totally emasculated and marginalized, my authority crippled by the horde of women who’d apparently taken over my practice recently, this was the clincher. It would appear that for this study I was going to be not much more than a coddled figurehead, a token man of straw, expected to satisfy the whims of some half-rate pharm company and this woman, at her beck and call. No way!

“I’m going to have to insist on directing care for, uh, the trial subjects,” I asserted, finally getting a moment to exert my will, “they will, technically, be my patients.”

“Oh, of course!” Gianna replied, smiling and throwing her hair over her shoulder, “Allowing for some oversight from the other providers we’ll have in place, you’ll have lots of medical-decision-making to keep yourself busy!”

What did she mean, ‘oversight’?

“They’ll be different than your usual patients, the subjects that we’ll be bringing in for the study, but I think you’ll like them,” she continued, trying to reassure me, “maybe a younger crowd, and of course all female. But in general all you’ll have to do is sit back and watch the money coming in.” She sat, looked into the screen for a moment, in thought. “Though I guess we have some people there handling that for you, too, hm?”

That gave me pause, made me rethink the litany of arguments that were beginning to boil up in my throat. I’d seen some of the paperwork, quickly, as it had moved past my desk for my signatures. It involved a lot of money for the practice. Like, a lot of money. I thought of my bills, my expenses, what I still somehow owed on my student loans. If Sheryl wasn’t going to be there to provide for me, help me pay these things…

If any of it remained, there was obviously some pride I was going to need to swallow.

“S-speaking of money,” I began, “what's my compensation going to look like?“

Something about my question, something about how I was holding myself, made Gianna smile again and then sigh, a sigh that told me she knew something I didn’t, I couldn’t help but think. With that she leaned in, her eyes locked on mine through the camera, and a shiver went up my spine. “Oh don’t worry, Dr. J,” she spoke, “you’ll be well taken care of...“

===================================

Muchos Gracias to long-time friend, supporter of the story and behind-the-scenes ninja Antares for helping me assemble these clips.

Newer posts and other goodies at my Patreon

#growing into the job

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plaidbooks · 3 years ago

Text

Nicknames and Slumps - “The Big Leagues” baseball AU

(moodboard by @witches-unruly-heart)

A/N: Here’s chapter 2 of the Baseball AU! I know I mentioned some chapters going towards the Summer Bingo--and they will--but I wanted to establish Sonny in this universe a little bit, first. This chapter takes place in the off season, and the beginning to Sonny’s second season of pitching for the Mets. Like before, feel free to DM me any questions you have about baseball/the AU!

Also, shoutout to @thatesqcrush and her husband for answering my arbitrary Mets questions!

P.S. Aquafresh is a brand of toothpaste

Tags: yelling, otherwise none

Words: 1803

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandblacktea @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

Sonny’s first year in the majors was almost flawless. Outside of his perfect game in his sixth start, he was dominate; he kept his ERA hovering around the low 1.00’s, and he was still undefeated. He did, however, have a few no decisions, only two of which were his fault. But besides that, he was the star everyone talked about. He even won the Rookie of the Year award; something almost unheard of with pitchers. The Cy Young award shocked no one, and the Mets were frantically offering him more money, trying to keep him. As if he’d go anywhere else.

Even with his spectacular pitching, the Mets didn’t make it to the post-season. But as the Mets watched the World Series from their homes, all anyone could talk about was the kid, Sonny Carisi.

He had gained notoriety among sportscasters and journalists for his outstanding performance on the field. But the fans adored him for his off days, and for how he conducted himself off the field. Not only did Sonny donate most of his time in the off season—not to mention his money—to multiple volunteer organizations, but he also offered to do signings at small, struggling mom and pop shops for free. He’d bring in huge crowds, spending hours at these events, taking pictures, signing autographs, talking to kids and adults alike.

While in the ballpark, on days he pitched, he would do his workouts in the trainer’s room, coming out of the dugout just to throw in the bullpen. He was focused, working on his mechanics. But on days he didn’t pitch, he was one of the first out on the field. Sonny had a penchant for hanging out right next to the dugout, signing autographs and taking pictures. He never declined—unless the umpire was yelling at him to get off the field so they could start the game—and he had a blast. And when he was in the outfield, shagging balls during batting practice, he’d toss them up to the crowd, or give them to kids with a huge smile.

Sonny’s trademark smile earned him his first nickname: Aquafresh. He threw his head back and laughed when he first heard it, loving it. He wasn’t as fond of his other nicknames that sprung up afterwards: Stringbean and Earthworm Jim being his least favorites. But there was one that apparently was going around that he didn’t hear from the crowd.

*************************

It was early morning, and he was watching the postgame wrap from the night before while he ate breakfast. Normally, Sonny didn’t watch the pre- or postgame commentary. But since he started dating you, he made it a point to watch if you were on. He smiled as he saw you wearing his jersey, thinking you were too damn cute, and wanting to cuddle with you on the couch.

The conversation slowly shifted from the game that happened to Sonny, as it normally did…not because you forced them to talk about him. In fact, you did your job as normal; it was your cohosts that would change the subject to him. And now that they knew—the world knew—that you two were dating, he almost wondered if it was on purpose, to see if you slip up on some personal info about him, or you two together.

“Speaking of Carisi, have you heard the new nickname? I heard the Staten Island Little Leaguers came up with it,” one of the guys said.

Sonny watched your face light up. “I have! They call him Peanut Butter Cup, right?” you asked, though he knew you didn’t need to; you never said anything that you couldn’t back up.

“Peanut Butter Cup? Where did they get that from?” another of your colleagues wondered out loud.

You smiled, and Sonny felt a swell of pride at your knowledge. “From his last name. They went from Carisi to Risi, then to Reese, then Reese’s and bam! Peanut Butter Cup,” you explained.

Sonny laughed, flushing with embarrassment, his heart warm. Children called him Peanut Butter Cup. Not for the first time, he felt an intense longing; Sonny wanted children, wanted a family. He was only 22, but he had known most of his life that he wanted to be a father. He made a mental note to bring up the prospect of children with you. It was still early in your relationship; you’ve been dating about five months, but with your jobs, you rarely saw each other. Hell, you saw each other more at work than off the field. Your relationship was mostly over text or phone calls, but he still felt deeply about you. He wasn’t sure if it was love yet, but he was hoping to get to know you more in person in the off season.

Once he finished breakfast, Sonny sent you a text: I saw your show from last night.

You responded almost instantly, unsurprising to him; your whole livelihood was on your phone. And? Did I do well?

He smiled, heart fluttering; he liked that you valued his opinion. Fantastic. Just one thing.

What??

I hate peanut butter.

***********************

Sonny Carisi was named the Opening Day starter for the Mets, shocking absolutely no one. He had just turned 23 and was already the best pitcher for the club, maybe even in baseball at the moment. Or so he, and everyone who watched him, thought. But that first game, the Cubs lit him up. Sonny gave up more runs in that game than he had in any other start combined. His manager took him out in the 4th, something that’s never happened to him before. When Sonny pitched, he was normally a shoo-in for at least 7 innings.

Frustrated, Sonny sat hard on the bench, not letting anyone outside the pitching coach talk to him.

“It happens to everyone eventually, Carisi. Just gotta let this roll off your back, come back strong your next outing.”

But that next outing, he did worse. He didn’t know what was happening to him. His command was perfect, his stuff great. It’s like everyone he faced suddenly could see right through him, knew every pitch he was going to throw before he threw it. It was infuriating. His ERA ballooned up to the 5.00’s, and he wondered dimly if the Mets would trade him.

Sonny eventually started shutting everyone out. He even stopped watching the pre- and postgame shows, whether you were on it or not. He stopped reading the articles you wrote, and he stopped reaching out. He even stopped being the first out of the dugout, stopped signing things by the dugout. On his days off, he spent it hiding in the locker room until game time. He didn’t want to field the questions about what was wrong with him; he didn’t have an answer, for them or himself.

************************

“Sonny, please open the door,” you called, knocking on the front door to his loft. He’d been avoiding you, and you worried about him.

You heard the latch unlock and took a step back. Sonny opened the door, looking annoyed. “What do you want?”

“I want to make sure my boyfriend is okay. Can I come in, please?” you asked. You knew he was frustrated, and that this may be something you’d have to deal with while dating. And you planned to force yourself into his life, to help him as best you could, whether he wanted to shut you out or not.

Sonny scoffed, turning and walking into his home. But he left the door open, and you followed, closing it behind you. “Of course, I’m not okay! Haven’t you been watching?”

“You know I have been. So, you’re in a slump; it happens—”

“Not to me!” he yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

You took a breath, staying calm. “It was bound to happen, babe.” You tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged you off.

“So, what? You’re going to side with those other analysts? Calling me a fluke and writing shitty articles about me?”

You flinched at the accusatory tone in his voice. “Of course, not—”

“Why not? Everyone else is doing it; I’m sure your bosses would eat it up.”

You sighed, trying to shove down your own defensiveness. “Would you please just listen to me for a moment?” He shot you a glare but didn’t speak up. “You know I analyze pitching for a living, right?”

“So? I’ve tried to make my fastball faster, tried to make my curve drop more, but I can’t—”

“Sonny,” you said softly, making him stop his rant. “Instead of trying to blow pitches passed batters, you should be working more on your mechanics and command. If batters are making contact, then make that work for you. Force grounders or popups, trust your defense to back you up; they’re there for a reason.”

His eyes scanned yours as he took in your words. “Th-that’s a great idea, actually….”

“I’m glad you think so,” you replied, smiling.

Sonny returned your grin. “I—I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he sighed heavily. “I just…I don’t know what’s changed between last season and now—”

“You’re not new anymore; teams can break down your pitching style. You won a Cy Young and Rookie of the Year; they’re all so threatened by you that they all probably studied the hell out of you.”

He nodded, feeling a little better with your praise. “Y-yeah….”

You reached up, cupping his face, making him look at you. “There’s nothing wrong with you or your pitching. The batters just stepped up their game. So now, you have to answer back, okay?”

He lifted a hand, placing it on top of yours, and turned his face in your hold, pressing his lips to your palm. “Thank you, doll. And again, I’m sorry for yelling—”

“It’s fine, Sonny. I understand that you’re frustrated,” you said, smiling.

He squeezed your hand. “It’s not fine; you’re just trying to help. I should listen to you more; you’re so smart, and not to mention beautiful. I promise to never snap at you again.”

Your smile grew, and you lifted to your tiptoes, giving him a tender kiss. He leaned down, deepening the kiss. He wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you flush against him, and you hummed into his mouth. Slowly, he pulled back, leaning his forehead against yours, rubbing his nose with yours.

“Just so you know, I’ve never, and will never, write a shitty article about you, or call you a fluke, Stringbean,” you muttered against his lips.

Sonny let out a chuckle. “You know, you’re the only person who can call me that to my face, and not have me get annoyed.”

You giggled, pressing your lips to his once more. And sure enough, his next start had him looking back to normal, except instead of striking out double digits, he forced grounders for eight scoreless innings.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #the big leagues au #baseball!au #baseball!sonny

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teamhappyme · 4 years ago

Note

31 from the fluff prompts with peter!!! (yes this is what i meant oops-)

my darling red! so happy you requested peter as this is my first peter fic!

yes i went way too into detail about baseball but it’s the first thing that came to mind-

pairing: peter stone x female!reader

prompt: “shut up before i kiss you”

warnings: none.

word count: 1.4k

****

“Are you kidding me? He has a no hitter through six innings, and as soon as he lets someone on first, which was actually due to an error by the shortstop, he gets pulled?” You threw your empty cup on the ground before turning to Peter.

He was silent, with a growing smirk on his face as you continued to ramble on about the coaching staff, or lack thereof, in your opinion.

“Great, now they’re putting this guy in? I know it’s early in the season, but he’s closed three games so far and he doesn’t even have a win.”

You and Peter were at Citi Field, watching the Mets go against the Phillies. You’d agreed to go to a game with him under one circumstance; you got to sit in the bleachers like regular people. No boxes, no special menu for the former starting pitcher. You wanted to experience the game like you always had growing up; with greasy hot dogs, and beers spilling all around you.

This was technically your first date with the ADA. According to Rollins, Peter had been trying to ask you out for weeks. Asking you to join him for drinks after a long case, offering to get dinner after a late night interrogation, but you said no every time, too invested in the case, or too oblivious to his motives.

It was a no brainer for you when he finally asked you to come to the game with him, on a date, he clarified, the two of you sharing a laugh over his failed past attempts. He’d been working with the unit for almost a year now, but it was weird to think of your job without him in the mix.

Although you were surprised that Peter was trying to take you on a date for months, it was him that now stood speechless as you critiqued every pitching change, stolen base, and balls that seemed to be just outside of the strike zone. “Christ, this guy couldn’t find the strike zone if it hit him in the face.”

What surprised him the most would have to be your vocabulary. He knew you could go off on a perp in interrogation, but he didn’t peg you for the profanity enduring type. But your passion for the game only made him feel warmer inside.

“Peter, he hasn’t cleared the plate once,” You started as the batter took his place on first base. “You’d think they’d approach the mound, at least try-”

“Would you shut up before I kiss you?” He interrupted you, the smirk on his face unbelievably teasing.

You turned to face him, silenced by his statement, a red flush starting to cover your face. But you recovered quickly, not ready to show your hand completely to the counselor.

“Peter Stone, I don’t kiss on the first date.”

“You wouldn’t be willing to make an exception for me?” He asked, eyes flickering to your lips for a brief second before locking on your eyes again.

You were certainly tempted. But you were also having too much fun.

“Maybe, if you joined in on my expert commentary, I could rethink my stance. I mean, I am at a baseball game with the former starting pitcher for the Cubs.” He rolled his eyes as I lightly shoved his shoulder. “C’mon, you know I’m right about that pitching move. And you’re just dying to tell me how smart I am for recognizing it.”

“Alright, alright, you are right about pulling the pitcher.” You smiled, shooting your hand into the air in victory. “But don’t let it get to your head. We have two and a half innings left, and like you said, you’re here with the former starting pitcher for the Cubs. I may know a thing or two more than you.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and you easily leaned into him. You couldn’t hide the smile growing on your face, even if you wanted too.

“Bring it on, Ace.”

****

“So I think we can both agree that you should be the new manager for the New York Mets,”

“Deal. But only if you sign on to be my pitching coach. And Noah Porter Benson is our number one starting pitcher.”

“Deal.” Peter smiled, and looked over at you.

After the game, the two of you took the subway from Queens back to Manhattan, when Peter insisted on walking you home. You only objected four times, but after he grabbed your hand and started leading the way to your apartment, you quickly shut your mouth.

You thought he would’ve let go of your hand after a few seconds. Instead, he laced your fingers together, and hadn’t let go in ten minutes.

The night had gone so smooth, never a lull in the conversation, due in large part to your inability to keep your coaching opinions to yourself. But Peter liked that about you; he liked that you didn’t shy away from him, or make him take charge of the night. Everything was so easy with the two of you. Everything just made sense.

When you approached your brick building, you let out a sigh. You really didn’t want this night to end.

“Let me walk you up,” He offered, clearly not done spending time together either.

You took the elevator, letting you off at the third floor to walk to your door. Peter still hadn’t let go of your hand.

“This is me. Lucky number nine.” You said as you stood in front of your door, turning to face Peter. He looked so soft in his jeans and crew neck, so much more relaxed than in his suits for the office.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” He started. “Thank you for finally agreeing to come on a date with me.”

You let out a laugh, while looking down at your intertwined hands. “Yeah well, I would’ve agreed sooner had I not been so blind to your intentions.”

“Well we can still make up for lost time.” He gave your hand a squeeze, and you looked up to meet his gaze. “Would you come to dinner with me Friday night, for a second date?”

“You sure you still want to spend time with me after tonight? I don’t shut up easily,” You teased, earning a grin from your handsome date.

“I’m sure. You keep me on my toes, detective.”

“Good. Because I’ve been rethinking that rule I have about first dates,” You took a step towards him, still leaving enough space for him to back out. But the red tinge on his cheeks told you he wouldn’t.

“Oh really?” He asked, letting go of your hand to wrap his arms around your waist. It brought you closer to him, enough to see that his eyes held a little bit of green amongst the sea of blue.

He cocked his head to the side the slightest bit, as if to ask if this was okay. You wrapped your arms around his neck in response, a small nod to show you meant it.

When his lips met your own, they were soft, perfectly fitting together in a short, sweet kiss. He started to pull away, but you quickly pulled him back to your lips, not done with him just yet. You felt him smile into it, a little exhale of breath leaving his nose and tickling your upper lip. That made you smile, preventing you from staying together any longer.

You leaned back, removing your hands from around his neck to circle his waist, finally feeling the soft fabric of the blue crew neck.

“I’d say that made up for months of miscommunication.” He grinned, and you could only smile in response.

“Definitely.” Your eyes found the clock at the end of the hall, already eleven thirty. “As much as I’d love to talk all night about my coaching strategy, we both have to be in court early tomorrow morning.”

He bowed his head in disappointment, knowing you were right. Rollins and Carisi were testifying tomorrow and needed all the rest you could get.

“Then you’ll just have to save it for Friday.” He said and unwrapped himself from you. You held on another second, enjoying the warmth from his torso.

“I will. Now, go get some sleep. I’ll see you from the gallery tomorrow.”

“Okay. Make sure you keep your comments to yourself in there.” He joked, earning him a light smack to his chest. “See you in the morning.”

He leaned down and kissed your cheek, then lightly pecked your lips. “Sleep tight.”

You watched him walk back down the hall as you unlocked your door, a little dizzy from the charming effects of ADA Peter Stone.

****

#peter stone x female!reader #peter stone x reader #peter stone fic #law and order svu #jules writes shit ??

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years ago

Note

BJ doesn't care for sports, especially after the time charles tried to do baseball with him and lydia and he lost his head, but that as the prompt.

this turned out cute actually hold on-

Truth be told, BJ doesn't especially like sports, and, at first, especially doesn't care much for baseball. If he had his way, he'd be at a hockey game instead, since at least there's lots of physical fighting and bloodshed at those games. The smell of hot human blood hitting cold ice is thrilling. But the thing is, Charles doesn't like hockey, Charles likes baseball. And BJ, he has so little in common with his dad, it feels. So he goes with Charles to the games, and sits through the kind of long and tedious innings, and enjoys the snacks his dad buys him, and most of all, enjoys sitting with Charles, and listening to his father enthuse. So maybe the sport begins to grow on him, over the years, not because he especially cares about it, but because he very much cares about his Charles. "This next guy up to bat's gonna bunt, pop," he says, and Charles snorts. "Bunt? What are you, nuts? With one out, two men on base, and a left handed batter coming up? He'll walk right into a triple play just like it happened in the fifth game of the world series in 1923." "You memorized that, old man" "Guilty," his father smiles, and the sudden crack of fastball against the wooden bat breaks the small moment they were sharing. The ball is flying overhead, and he and Charles both ready their mitts and stand, excited. "It's coming this way-" They both reach out, at the same time, and the ball lands with a satisfying noise into his leather gloved hand. It only hurts a little. "What a catch! Good one, BJ!" Charles enthuses, clapping his son on the back, and Beetlejuice grins, and clutches his prize.

"Oh, Emily, it was a great game," Charles says, later that night, the four of them seated around the table to dinner. His mother is all smiles, delighted at their day out, and Lydia's looking a little sour. She's not a baseball fan, never tried to get into it, and gets more than a little annoyed when talk of the sport dominates dinner. "So he caught a ball, so what? I bet he was using magic," she says, twirling spaghetti around her fork. "I bet he cheated." "Did not," Beetlejuice argues, because he actually didn't, and it's not like it's his fault his nine year old sister is in a bratty mood. "We should toss the ball around, this evening," Charles smiles. "You'll see what a natural talent your brother has, Lydia." "Great," she grouses. "Sounds like a blast."

The very inside Deetz children are herded outside, after dinner, and even Emily joins in. It is pretty easy for him to catch the ball when it's thrown his way- it's not like it's a flyball, soaring through the air into the crowd, pitched at a hundred miles an hour- it's just a baseball tossed around a backyard. Still, it feels good to impress his father, and especially feels good to rub it in Lydia's face. She slaps his leg with her mitt, and huffs. "Why don't you catch it in your teeth, you jerk?" she says, which he absolutely takes as a challenge. He tosses the ball back to Charles, and calls to him. "Really let it fly this time, pop! I got it!" Charles nods, winds up, and pitches. His form's actually pretty good, maybe they should play in a local league together- and then the ball connects with his face, and suddenly his view of the world is rolling around, as his head just straight up detaches from his body, and lands in the grass, tumbling and coming to a stop. His body stands there for a beat, before dropping, motionless, and Charles lets out a strangled, startled noise, and goes running over, to pick up his son's decapitated head, only to find- "I goh eet," BJ says, around a mouthful of baseball, and Charles sighs, and pats at his heart, as he holds his son's head up. "Yes, I see that. Very nice. What did I tell you, Lydia!" he turns to his daughter, and holds BJ's head up, proudly. "Natural talent!"

#my writing #answered asks #im in a mood to write about dads apparently!!!!#beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fic

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lazuliquetzal · 4 years ago

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Don't Take It Personally, Asshole!

@snowlikestardust

BY POPULAR REQUEST: This is a (cleaned up) version of an early draft of CH11 of AA Batteries, which is in Akira’s POV instead of Miyuki’s! You’ll probably recognize a lot of turns of phrase because I’m unoriginal and like, 80% of what I cut gets recycled. This scene got cut up and Frankensteined a LOT into later chapters haha.

So this takes place during the Yakushi practice match, right after Eijun throws wild and Miyuki talks to Kataoka about his inability to throw to the inside.

“Akira.” Akira stiffens and turns his gaze away from the mound. Coach is standing on the sidelines, and he makes a ‘come here’ gesture. Akira jogs over. He tries to ignore the flicker of hope in his chest, but he can’t stop the way his heart is pounding out of control, leaving him barely able to hear. “Coach,” Akira dips his head in respect and clenches his jaw. His eyes fix upon the ground below. “Can you fix this?” ‘This’ being the obvious — the fact that Eijun can’t throw to the inside. He looks back to the mound. Eijun is stiff and pale, his left hand clenching and unclenching in unconscious denial. He looks a little scared, yes, but mostly, he looks confused. And — this is the important thing — he hasn’t given up. This Eijun won’t shuffle back to the dugout, defeated. This Eijun will go down kicking and screaming. Eijun still wants to pitch. Maybe he can’t pitch. But he wants to. Yeah, Akira thinks. I’ll take those odds.

He looks back at the coach and nods his head.

Kataoka breaks his gaze and looks to the outfield. “Asou!”

Their left fielder jogs in, mouth pulled into a firm line.

“Miyuki, you’re playing left field. Akira, you’re in.”

You’re in.

The words echo around Akira’s brain. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

While Kataoka sorts out the substitution with the umpires, Akira exhales. He drops down onto the bench and adjusts the straps on his leg guards, making sure they’re not too tight or too loose. Beside him, Furuya hovers, eyes narrowed.

Are you going to be okay?

Akira nods.

The truth is: he’d thought about the Inajitsu thing for a long time. And after the initial anger and grief and shame, he’d come to the following conclusion:

Coach Kataoka was right. Akira probably would not have survived that inning.

It wasn’t nerves. Akira had never been nervous in his life.

(Okay, he had been nervous, of course he had. But not for a baseball game.)

And it wasn’t lack of skill or experience, though that probably played a big role in the coach’s decision.

(Okay, definitely played a big role in the coach’s decision. Let’s be honest: Akira was not the best catcher in the dugout that day.)

The truth is this: Akira was scared, too.

For good or ill, better or worse, Eijun and Akira have always fed off each other like a chemical reaction. If Eijun got excited, Akira got excited. If Akira got competitive, Eijun got competitive. Having them play while they were both out of their minds would not have ended well.

Today is a different story.

He’s not going to lie: it is weird seeing Eijun unable to pitch to the inside. It’s practically unthinkable. Eijun and Akira lived and died by the inside pitch. It pretty much defined their entire middle school career.

But right now? Akira’s not scared. And as long as he can hold onto that, he can fix this.

Kataoka gestures for him to get out on the field, and Akira steps out of the dugout.

“Do your best,” Miyuki says, from behind him.

Akira resists the urge to roll his eyes. As if I’d do anything less.

They split off: Miyuki to the outfield, and Akira to the mound. He jogs up to where Eijun is standing. When he arrives, he stops just an arm’s length away from his brother.

Eijun stares at him for a moment, and Akira stares back.

“Hey,” Akira says. “What sign does Miyuki-senpai use for the cutter kai?”

Eijun blinks, caught off guard by the question. He shakes his head and answers the question. “Ah, he uses a ‘four,’” he says, and he makes the sign with his hand.

“Cool,” Akira says. “I’m gonna use a seven.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Eijun makes a face. “You’re doing this just to be annoying, aren’t you.”

“Yep.”

“And even if I argue, you’re going to use it anyway.”

“Absolutely.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Great,” Akira says, in the flat voice that he knows Eijun finds irritating. “Good talk.”

He steps away and turns to the rest of the field. “So, uh, they’re probably gonna get a lot of hits,” Akira yells out. “Like, a lot. Sorry about the workout. Thanks for your cooperation.”

“You’re saying it wrong!” Eijun hisses at him. “And they are not gonna get a lot of hits!”

“I dunno, Ei,” Akira says, rolling his eyes. “You’re not exactly on top of your game, are you?”

“I’ll kick your ass if you make bad calls.”

“So shake them.” Akira glares at Eijun, daring him.

Eijun agitatedly waves his arms around. “You know I — ugh! Shut up! Get off my mound!”

Akira waves good-bye, as annoyingly as he can, and he walks down to home plate. He sketches a quick bow to the batter and the umpire, and then he crouches down.

The game resumes.

Akira takes a quick look around, the way Chris-senpai taught him to. The runners are at ease, barely paying attention to him. The guy on first base looks especially relaxed.

Hm. He’s never done a pickoff before. That would be pretty cool.

Akira turns his attention back to the mound, and he’s about to make a call —

And then he frowns.

He wants to tell Eijun to throw to the inside. And he knows, by the expression on his brother’s face, that it’s what Eijun wants to do, too.

But there’s something else in Eijun’s gaze. His eyes keep darting around — not to the runners, but to the batter.

Akira glances over at Todoroki Raichi. Yakushi’s monster first-year, a batter who can crush an ace in a single hit. Logic says to be careful; logic says to keep their guard up against the best batter in West Tokyo.

Well, fuck that, Akira decides. If Eijun really can’t pitch to the inside, then every batter might as well be Todoroki Raichi. It’s like middle school all over again.

He spreads his arms wide.

Eijun blinks.

Ignore him, Eijun. Just pitch whatever.

You’re joking, right?

Akira smirks. What, you think I can’t catch it?

Eijun sticks his tongue out — petty and dramatic as always. Akira rolls his eyes, and he knows that his brother can see it because he rolls his eyes back.

Eijun throws the ball.

It's instinctual, at this point, to move his feet and stretch his arm, catching the ball before it can fly out of reach. It slams into the back of his mitt, his vision tunnels — and before his brain can catch up with his body, he chucks the ball down to first base.

Wait, shit —

Thankfully, Zono-senpai catches the ball and tags out the runner. Pickoff.

"Out," says the umpire, looking just as surprised as Akira feels.

Holy crap! Akira thinks, in the safety of his own mind. That actually worked?

Zono tosses the ball back to Eijun, and then sends Akira a fiercely enraged expression.

Akira winces and ducks his head. He can hear Chris-senpai’s voice in his mind: baseball is a team sport.

Oops.

But they got the out, so at least he didn’t fuck up his very first play in the game.

Akira looks back to Eijun. Judging by the wild course of his last pitch, he’s still overly aware of the batter.

Akira spreads his arms, again.

Eijun grits his teeth. He steps onto the rubber and winds up.

It comes. Low. It hits dirt, and Akira stops it. Then he tosses it back.

Throw what you want.

“Are you leading me, or not?” Eijun yells, finally cracking.

“Depends!” Akira yells back.

Eijun crosses his arms. On what?

Akira mimes the motion of a ball hitting him in the face, and then flaps his hand around.

Eijun stares at him incredulously. Excuse me?

It’s a valid concern!

Eijun groans in frustration. I’m not gonna hit you in the face!

Aw, you do care! Akira grins and fires off a sarcastic thumbs up, just rile up his brother a little bit more.

It works, because Eijun’s eyes flash, bubbling up with barely contained fury.

Get mad. It’s better than being scared.

Eijun steps back onto the rubber and tightens his grip on the ball, daring Akira to make the call.

Akira places his mitt. Fastball to the outside.

Eijun throws. Todoroki swings. Foul.

Akira barely registers the hit — as soon as he realized it was a foul, he’d already started planning the next move. Another outside pitch, again, but a four-seamer this time.

Eijun throws.

Foul.

Okay, Akira thinks. He looks back at his brother and studies his expression.

He still looks annoyed and irritated. And even better — he’s not looking at Todoroki Raichi anymore.

Good.

He makes the call. And Eijun follows.

It’s like déjà vu, Akira thinks, as the ball makes its way toward him. A fastball to the inside corner, a sight he’s seen thousands of times. The batter tenses, squares his hips, and swings the bat.

Clang.

Like lightning, a sudden stab of oh shit flashes across Akira’s chest. That was a good hit — firm and loud and solid.

Oops, Akira thinks, as Todoroki takes off running and the runners start trickling in. In retrospect? It was probably obvious that they were gunning for an inside pitch. Most batters are pretty comfortable with the gambler’s fallacy —

Someone clicks their tongue, and Akira blinks, crashing back into the present. Eijun’s glaring at him, again.

Deal with that later, dumbass.

Akira rolls his eyes, but Eijun’s right. Unfortunately.

They’re in the middle of a game right now. He can reflect upon his baseball sins at two in the morning.

The moment the next batter steps up to the plate, Akira calls for another inside pitch. And Eijun delivers.

The ball slams into the back of his mitt, and it’s like a gear clicking into place. How long has it been since he caught for his brother outside of mandatory practice? How long has it been since they formed a battery on the field?

The familiar sensation doesn’t wipe away the anger, but it does drown it out. Who needs feelings? They have baseball.

“Nice pitch,” Akira calls out, and he tosses the ball back to the mound. Truce?

Eijun receives the toss. He nods and straightens his back. Truce.

The rest of their play time blurs by after that.

#lazuli writes #this is hilarious to me because eijun and akira are just so stupidly insular with their chaos #they don't even notice that everyone else is terrified #the twins are like: i'm angy >:(( and miyuki is like WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING #aa batteries dna #daiya no ace

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spicykoreantatertots · 3 years ago

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Camp Blue Side - Part Three

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Summer Camp AU, Non Idol AU

Rating: 18+ (eventual smut)

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Swearing, angst, (more in future parts)

Summary: Last summer, sparks flew between you and Hoseok. He had an unforgettable smile, and you were putty in his hands. By the end of the summer, promises were made and you shared your phone number. But he never called. This summer, you're back at camp with a vengeance. Ghosted or not, you're ready for some friendly competition. He may be a Camp Blue Side veteran, but you won't back down.

Notes: This fic has been updated and is now part of the Summer of Love Collab! Please join us as we finish summer strong with seven summer themed fics!

Summer of Love Masterlist

Banner: @sunshinejunghoseokie

Camp Blue Side - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

~~~~~~~

How did it come to this?

You are walking slowly to the camp office where you will meet with Hoseok and the LCT. The two of you will likely be reprimanded, but could she fire you? Would she fire you halfway through camp? She’s had a stick up her ass all summer, but would she actually go as far to remove you from Team Two?

This isn’t who you are, the yelling and screaming. But the competition, wanting to crush Hoseok, has affected you too much. It’s affecting the kids too, and it honestly makes you sick. As you drag your feet to the meeting, the events of the past three weeks unfold clearly in your mind.

~~~~~~~

Kick Ball

“Who wants to beat Team One?!” You shout to a crowd of campers, and they cheer in response. You’ve got a great group of campers this year. It’s still day one, so everyone is still pumped and not too tired to give it their all.

Jessica, an athletic 13 year old, is up to pitch the kickball to Team One’s first kicker. The anticipation builds as she finds her grip on the rubber ball. Hoseok is muttering something to his kicker, some kind of pep talk as he walks up to the plate.

“Great pitch!” Mack yells as Jessica throws the ball down to home plate. Hoseok’s kicker strikes himself out and you’ve never been so stoked to see a child fail to kick a ball. You wouldn’t let them see it, but you’re beaming inside.

“Yes! Great job Jessica!” You cheer from the sidelines.

“That’s alright Braden, you’ll get it next time buddy!” Hoseok comforts his kicker as he returns to the back of the line. You feel a little tug on your shirt and look behind you to see a short boy looking up at you. What is his name again?

“Y/N, can I pitch in the next inning?” The scrawny boy asks. Jessica has already managed to strike someone out, taking her off the pitching mound would risk the game.

“Well, uh, champ, let’s see how Jessica does and then we’ll decide, okay?” As the words come out of your mouth, you feel dirty. You know this isn’t what camp is about.

But Jessica strikes out two more players from Hoseok’s team before they can score any points. Hoseok has his back turned to you, talking to his players, but Yeonjun looks frustrated already and that feels fucking great.

“Let’s keep it going! Who are my strong kickers?” You ask everyone, not addressing the camper in front of you again. The boy sulks away, and doesn’t ask to pitch again.

~~~~~~~

Egg & Spoon Race

An American classic event, the egg and spoon race. It is simple, but by no means is it easy. Especially not when the spoons are held by uncoordinated children. Luckily, Seokjin protested the waste of real eggs and the kids are using ping pong balls instead. So at least there won’t be a huge mess.

The first week of camp is almost over and you’ve had the chance to get to know your campers a little more. Currently they are taking turns running down the field with the spoon. They have to run down the field and come back to tag the next person in line. So far, they are pretty even with their opponents, Team One and Team Three.

“Hey, Y/N, Jakobi said he doesn’t want to do this activity, what should I do?” Mack asks.

Jakobi, poor Jakobi. He was the kid that you turned down for pitching in kickball earlier this week.

“I’ll go talk to him.” You reply. He is standing out of the line of campers, and you jog over to him. “Hey buddy, what’s going on?”

“I don’t want to play this game.” He sulks. “I’m not fast enough.” His explanation hits you in the chest. This is your fault, isn’t it?

“This game isn’t about being fast! It’s about having a steady hand.” You reply cheerfully.

“What do you mean?” He asks, looking up at you with his big brown eyes.

“Here, hold your hands out like this.” You put your hands out in front of you, and he follows suit. “See, your hands are frozen, not moving at all! You won’t drop the egg, and that’s more important than being fast.”

Jakobi, pleased with this response, gets back in line and waits for his turn to help the team. You hadn’t been paying attention to the race for a few minutes, but it looks like your team has actually managed to pull ahead of Hoseok’s.

“Alright Jakobi! You got this!” You cheer as he gets tagged in. Jakobi begins walking down the field. Slowly. “Maybe a little faster, champ!” You cheer again.

“You said I could go slow!” He stops in the middle of the field to talk to you.

“You can, you can! Just keep going please.” You try to reassure him, but you know the smile isn’t convincing.

“Ja-kob-i. Ja-kob-i.” You begin chanting, and the rest of your team does as well. Jakobi, still walking at a slow pace, makes it to the end of the field without dropping the egg, now he’s just got to make it back.

Unfortunately, Hoseok’s team is now on their last few campers. You look over and see Hoseok grinning like a fool. He’s pleased because he knows he’s going to win. You can feel the urge to scream at Jakobi to run, but before you do you lock eyes with him.

He’s beaming.

“I didn’t drop it!” Jakobi celebrates as he finally returns to his team and tags the next person in line.

“You did a great job Jakobi!” You smile and give him a high-five. Your team may lose this game, but at least they all played.

Team One’s last player crosses the finish line, then Team Three’s, then Team Two’s. The winning team cheers gleefully, celebrating their victory. The campers disperse from today’s Team Game and head to their cabins to get ready for dinner.

Hoseok is collecting the supplies from the game to return to the equipment. Your kids handed you the spoon and ping pong ball, so you have to hand it over to him. He’s already walking toward you to gather the supplies.

He’s wearing a white tank top and his beige bucket hat. Somehow he makes it look like high fashion. Just a few days into camp and he’s already gotten a tan. His golden skin glows in the sunlight.

“Hey Y/N, great game.” He laughs, words dripping with sarcasm. You stop about five feet away from him and drop the spoon and ping pong ball on the grass before walking away. “Come on, don’t be a sore loser.”’

“Don’t be a sore winner, Hobi.”

It stops you dead in your tracks. The nickname that you called him last summer just slipped out in your frustration. A lump forms in your throat, and before you can even think about what to do, your feet are running away from him.

~~~~~~~

The Prank

Early in the week, a few counselor’s decided to sneak into cabin 13. Of course Jimin and Jungkook were involved, along with the two female counselor’s they’ve been wooing. Seokjin told you that they were found out because they ran screaming from the cabin after they saw a ghost.

Cabin 13, the long abandoned cabin at the edge of camp, has been used for smoking weed, secret rendezvous, and pranks. Officially, it’s on standby in case the infirmary fills up or if something contagious breaks out.

Several times last summer, you and Hoseok snuck out about a couple hours after lights out to chill and smoke weed. The weed he brought to camp wasn’t very strong, so it really just took the edge of things. The conversations you had there are what cemented your romance. He loved to talk about the stars and what lies beyond them, and it filled the air with mystery.

“Guys, guys! Guess what!” Ryujin approaches you and Seokjin outside the Mess Hall, just after dinner.

“What is it? I don’t like to guess.” Seokjin responds.

“Yeonjun asked me to meet him at cabin 13.” She’s beaming. Her excitement reminds you of the feeling you had when Hoseok first asked you to go there with him.

“Shh!” Seokjin hushes her. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that. Especially not those two.” He adds, pointing at Namjoon and the LCT.

“What? I thought you guys went there.”

“Yeah, sometimes. It’s an open secret, but you still don’t want to get caught there.” You explain.

“Being out past curfew is technically against the rules too, and Namjoon is a stickler for it.” Seokjin adds.

“Oh, well... Hoseok will be there too, he goes there like twice a week. We’ll be careful!” Ryujin turns and walks away.

“Did you hear that Jin?” You ask, a devious smile spreading across your face.

“Oh god, what are you thinking?” Seokjin replies nervously.

“Well, as Lead Counselor of this fine establishment, I think you should be in charge of ghost hunting.”

“Ghost hunting?” He questions.

It wasn’t quite ghost hunting you had in mind, actually. But manufacturing a ghost. One thing you know about Hoseok is that he firmly believes in spirits. It’s honestly surprising that he’s still willing to visit cabin 13 after Jungkook claimed to have seen a ghost there.

A little after midnight, Seokjin taps lightly on the door of your cabin. You open the door slowly and tiptoe out, white sheet in tow.

“What is that? They’re not gonna fall for that.” Seokjin whispers.

“Yes they will, once we prime them for it.” You respond.

Sneaking across camp is a little nerve-racking, but you manage to make it to the side of camp with the boys cabin and then to the north side of camp when cabin 13 is located. You hold up your hand to stop Seokjin from moving any closer.

Holding a finger up to your lip, you signal him to be quiet so you can listen. You can hear giggling coming from the dark cabin, they’re in there.

“Let’s move.” Your whisper is barely audible.

As you approach the cabin, you can hear the group more clearly. Yeonjun is giggling and Ryujin is coughing. Hoseok, is muttering something you can’t make out. His voice is monotone, mellow. Seokjin and you lean up against the side of the cabin, under the window on the back wall.

“Okay so what’s the plan?” Seokjin whispers.

“We’re going to start by making scratching noises and thumping noises, then you’ll get in position.” You explain.

“What do you mean I’ll be getting into position?!” Seokjin whisper-shouts.

“Shh! Did you hear that?” Hoseok asks from inside the cabin.

“No, what was it?” Yeonjun asks, holding back his giggles.

“Just thought I heard something.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and takes the sheet and wraps it around his shoulders. You search the ground and pick up a stray stick. You tap it against the wall a few times, but there’s no reaction from it. Instead of tapping it, you decide to scrape it against the wall slowly.

“Okay I heard it that time too.” Ryujin says.

“There must be something outside.” Hoseok replies, voice wavering.

“Yeah, it’s probably just an animal.” Yeonjun says.

You motion for Seokjin to cover himself with the sheet and crouch in front of the window, ready to jump. There is some whispering inside, so you decide to bang your fist against the wall loudly.

“Fuck!” Hoseok shouts.

“Just look out the window, it’s an animal!” Yeonjun replies. You hear some hesitant footsteps inching closer, then Seokjin springs up from the ground.

“GHOST!” Hoseok wails, and then you can hear the three of them scrambling to get out of the door on the other side of the cabin. The footsteps fade away as they sprint back to their respective cabins.

You and Seokjin fall on the ground, shaking with laughter.

“I can’t believe it worked” Seokjin gasps for air between laughs.

You stand from the ground after the laughter settles. Standing on your toes, you peer into the cabin window.

“Oh shit he left his bag of blunts! He must have really been scared.”

The two of you walk around to the front of the cabin and inspect the cabin. There’s a few empty beer cans and chip bags and the bag of blunts.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” You say, and Seokjin smiles.

~~~~~~~

Red Rover

In the heat of the afternoon, your campers are lined up across the field from their competitors, Team One. After a long day of singing, crafting, and other various outdoor activities, your campers are exhausted. It’s a triple digit day, and even you can’t deny that you’re feeling sluggish.

Red rover is a simple enough game, but Team One has more older boys and you’re afraid that your team won’t stand a chance, especially when they would much rather be cooling off in their cabins. Mack is currently attempting to give everyone a pep talk.

“I think we’re ready, Team One!” Mack yells across the field to Hoseok and Yeonjun. Both groups of campers hold hands with each other and prepare to hang on tight.

“Y’all won the last game, so go ahead and start us off!” Yeonjun announces.

“Let’s call for Tony.” You say in a loud whisper to your campers. You don’t trust them to pick an appropriate runner from the other team.

“Let them play.” Mack hisses at you. You look over at him, puzzled. “They are tired and you just need to let them play.” He must be grumpy from the heat.

“Fine, fine.” You raise your arms defensively.

“Red rover, red rover, let Tony come over!” Team Two shouts in unison. Tony, one of the smaller boys on Team One, does his best to sprint the distance between the two lines of campers. He tries his best, but does not manage to break through the bond on Team Two, so he is added to the line.

“Red rover red rover, let Hyuka come over!” Team One’s rebuttal is to take another small boy. Team Two naturally cheers for Hyuka as he runs over to Team One and he is successful in breaking through. He grabs a member of Team One and drags them over to your team.

“Great job guys! Keep it up!” You’re a little surprised that your team is actually winning right now.

After a few more rounds of red rover, the kids are really starting to sweat in the heat. But Team Two is still winning! Even after Jessica got taken into Team One.

“Hey campers, why don’t we go ahead and grab some ice pops in the Mess Hall!” Namjoon enthuses, practically sneaking up behind you.

“What? No! We’re winning!” You protest.

“Y/N,” Namjoon says, tilting his head at you. “It’s over one hundred degrees out here.”

“Ah... yes. Let’s go inside!” It’s embarrassing to let Namjoon catch you not putting the kids first. Even more embarrassing to watch him write something down his clipboard before motioning for the campers to follow him back to the Mess Hall.

“God, can you believe that?” You whisper to Mack, letting a good amount of distance fall between you and the flock of campers.

“You know, I honestly can’t believe you.” Mack stops in his tracks, glaring at you.

“What?” You gulp.

“Listen, you know I want to win games as much as the next guy, but you’re not putting campers first anymore. We’re almost halfway through the summer and you’re letting your stupid competition with Hoseok ruin the summer for our kids. I’m tired of it, Y/N.”

You’re completely speechless. You’ve never heard Mack yell at anyone before and now here he is, and Junior Counselor, berating you for ruining the summer?

“Just do better.” Mack says before jogging to catch up with the campers.

~~~~~~~

Freeze Tag

“If you see one of your teammates get frozen, make sure you help them get unfrozen. Does everyone understand?” All the campers agree to the rules of the game, and to the small bit of strategy you offered up.

This time, your team isn’t just up against Team One, but Team Three as well. It’s every man for himself, last man standing, truly a free for all. Though, you’re not too worried about Team Three. Their leaders are... distracted.

One of them is a young JC and the other is Jungkook’s new love interest. You don’t envy her. Every girl at this camp, campers and counselors, want a shot at Jungkook, but she’s the one who caught his eye. She did have an unfair advantage though, they were childhood friends or something like that.

“Ready, set, go!” The LCT yells and then blows her shiny whistle. The kids are off, scrambling every which way, trying not to get tagged. You are watching your campers closely, but they are getting tagged left and right.

“AVERY!” You shout at the top of your lungs. “Nikki is on your team, you don’t have to freeze! And Nikki, don’t tag your teammates! Ugh!” You should rather loudly. You shake your head and continue watching your team. You notice Hoseok talking to the LCT and she jots down something on her obnoxiously decorated clipboard.

She looks up from her notes and over at you, giving you a little nod. She walks away, clipboard in hand and you have a feeling she’ll be observing your activities a little more closely. Hoseok turns his attention back to the game.

His team is doing well, only a few of them seem to be frozen and the rest are still zooming around the field. Your team, however, is not following your advice. They’re too worried about being tagged to find teammates to unfreeze.

“Jessica, can you please go unfreeze some of your teammates?” You say as Jessica runs by your post. She stops and turns back to you.

“What did you say?” She asks.

“I said go unfreeze your teammates! Wait, look out!” Just as you’re explaining yourself, a Team Three camper comes up behind Jessica and freezes her. You let out a sigh. “That’s alright Jessica.”

“It’s just a game! Hopefully someone will come by and freeze you!” Mack jogs up to where you and Jessica are standing. “It’s just a game.” He says again, directly to you this time. He’s annoyed.

“I know you’re right, I just want to win.” You sigh.

“Well we have already lost. All of our campers are frozen.” Mack replies.

“WHAT!” You screech. Mack puts a firm hand on your shoulder as a reminder of his earlier words. You try to take a deep breath and you search the field to find Hoseok. He’s looking back at you, a smug grin on his face.

~~~~~~~

Flag Football

The rules of traditional American football have always gone over your head. The flag version of the game is a little more simple, but you still opt to let Hoseok explain the game to both teams. You’re listening intently to his explanation, and he’s doing an annoyingly good job of putting it in terms that the kids (and you) can understand.

Once his explanation is completed, all four team leaders help the campers put on their flag belts. They could probably do it themselves, but everyone wants to make sure that the belts are as secure as possible.

“Huddle up!” Mack calls to your team and everyone forms a circle around him as he doles out assignments for offensive players and defensive players. He was very insistent on doing this part himself. Perhaps it’s because he’s a football buff, but it seems more likely that he wants to evenly spread the assignments and doesn’t trust you to do it.

Mack has been taking more of a leadership role on the team because he thinks you are compromising the team due to your own selfish desire to win. It’s hard to admit, but you know he’s right to some degree.

The teams are lined up across the field from each other, Team One starting with the ball. Your team’s defensive line up is good. Yeonjun blows his whistle and the game begins. Bodies are running all around the field, every which way.

The kids are just aiming to grab flags, they aren’t being strategic at all. They are snapping flags left and right and before Team One can get their ball very far, more than half the field has been de-flagged.

“Wow, their lack of strategy is actually working for them this time.” You laugh.

“Yeah, it’s amazing what happens when you let kids be kids.” Mack chides.

You sulk away from him and walk down to the other end of the field to get some distance. From here, you’ve got a great view of Hoseok. Always wearing his bucket hat.

Suddenly, the whistle blows loudly and Hoseok sprints to the middle of the field where you notice that one of his kids is down. He’s clutching his knee and holding back tears. Hoseok runs to the child and takes a look at the injury.

It can’t be more than a scratch, but Hoseok scoops the camper up in his arms and walks him off the field. He comes to the Team Two side, simply because it’s the fastest way to get off the field.

“Do you want me to take you to the nurse to get a band aid or an ice pack?” He asks as he sets down the camper.

“No, I think I’m okay. Can I just sit out for now?” The camper replies.

“Of course you can, I’ll sit over here with you until it’s time to get ready for dinner.” Hoseok pats the camper’s back.

Mack walks over to see how things are going and chats with Hoseok for a moment. He gives you a look.

“Are you taking notes?” He asks you loudly, in front of Hoseok and everyone. If you could give him the middle finger, you would.

~~~~~~~

The Obstacle Course

The heat between Team One and Team Two has hit an all time high. Earlier this week, your team scored bonus points by staying in the Mess Hall after dinner to scrub the tables after a particularly messy spaghetti night. But after hearing about this, Hoseok decided his team would take some of their free time to tidy up and organize the equipment storage room. This earned Team One even more points.

You’re determined to take him down at today’s obstacle course. It’s already been set up by Seokjin when the teams arrive. The LCT is here to observe the event.

There are different obstacle courses almost every week. This week, it’s your turn to demonstrate the steps for the kids. Crab walk here, hula hoop, hop on one leg, weave, run, skip, and sprint back to the start.

Once the demonstration has been completed, and you are thoroughly sweaty, Hoseok announces that he will flip a coin to see who gets to start off on the practice round.

“Heads, Team One, tails, Team Two!” You yell over at Hoseok and the LCT who are searching for a coin. She has one in her pocket and she flips the coin. Come on tails!

“Going first is... Team Two!” The LCT says, and you cheer. You always like having the edge and going first, even if it is just a practice round for now.

“Alright, Team Two, in a line!” You shout, leading the campers to the starting point. You decide to go through it again, showing them how it’s done one more time. Leading by example, pointing on the tricky parts as you go.

Hoseok is watching you closely. He’s learning too. When it’s his team’s turn to do a practice run of the course, he stands to the side and let’s them run it themselves. He points out the hard parts and cheers them on as they go. It’s frustrating how natural he is at these things.

Hoseok’s team lines back up, going first for the timed speed round. You feel nervous, you know they got through faster than your team, some of them are tired out now, so it will come down to can your campers pull this off and win?

“Alright, Team One, let’s go!” Hoseok cheers and his kids cheer back, letting him know they’re ready. “LCT - you’ve got the stopwatch!” He looks over at the LCT who is either doodling or jotting down notes on her colorful clipboard.

“Oh!” She says, grabbing her phone in her pocket. “Is this Grease? Do I wave a flag?”

“Just count down and say go.” You respond, rolling your eyes at her reference.

“On your mark, get set, go!” She yells.

Hoseok’s team gets off to a good start, but they have a few fumbles. Someone trips and another is painfully bad at hula hooping. It takes everything in you not to do a happy dance when one of Team One’s campers stops in the middle of his turn to slowly tie his shoe back up.

When it’s time again for your team’s turn, they all line up at the front. You and Mack cheer for them to get them hyped up, and now all you can do is hope for the best.

So far, not bad. They are all doing their best and that is surprisingly good. By your own mental clock, they are not far behind Hoseok. After Nikki finishes, Matthew will be up next, and of course you’re a little nervous. He’s notoriously clumsy, but he’s done fairly well this summer. Jessica is behind him and she will likely make up for any time he loses.

Matthew starts off strong with the crab walk, but anything that takes place on two feet slows him down a bit. The backwards running, though, is what takes him down. He trips and lands on his back on the grass.

“Get up!” You shout, trying your very best to sound encouraging. Get up! Keep going, come on! Just a step further! You can do it Matthew, come on!” By the time you finish your encouragement, it’s turned to full blown yelling. But Matthew is refusing to get up and he’s started crying.

You turn away for a moment, rubbing your eyes in frustration. At Matthew and at yourself.

“You can’t yell at a kid!” Hoseok snaps at you as he runs over to Matthew to comfort him. All of your team has huddle around him on the ground by the time you walk over.

“I didn’t! I thought he could have still gotten up!” You reply defensively.

“You yelled at him!” Hoseok reiterates.

“You yelled too!”

“I did not!” Hoseok replies, defending himself against your claim.

“You did! You’re the reason why we’re -”

“Leaders!” The LCT shouts from her post about ten feet away. You’re in trouble now.

“Yeah?” You ask, already tucking your tail between your legs.

“What’s up?” Hoseok asks.

“During your breaks, I will see you both in my office. Do not go to your cabins, do not hop to the Mess Hall for snack, do not stop and talk to anyone unless they are Seokjin or Namjoon, do you understand?” She is breathing fire. Scolding you in front of your campers. It’s embarrassing, but you can’t say you don’t deserve it.

Hoseok agrees and you can barely get a word out, so you just nod and mutter an agreement. The LCT instructs you to get back to the campers. Mack has already started walking Matthew to the infirmary.

Your campers look concerned, so you offer them a heartfelt apology. Hoseok suggests that everyone lines up together, both teams, and does one last run through the obstacle course for fun. You agree.

~~~~~~~

The Meeting

You know you deserve to be here at this meeting. Standing outside the office, you have a hard time taking any further steps. You don’t know what fate awaits you behind that door and you are not looking forward to finding out. Especially with Hoseok sitting next to you.

“Hey.” You jump. It’s Hoseok. “We should go in.” He says.

You take a deep breath and turn to look at him. Your competitor, your enemy, and previously your lover. His eyes are soft. He doesn’t look angry, just tired. He reaches past you and opens the door to the LCT’s office and let’s you step in first.

“Sit.” She says before you even have a moment to take in your surroundings. You’ve never been in this office before. You and Hoseok both slide into the chairs in front of the desk. She pauses for a moment and you look around the room. It’s just an office with supplies and paperwork. The only thing in the office that has any personality is the clipboards hanging on the wall behind her. A collection of decorated and personalized clipboards. How nerdy.

“Let’s talk about what hap -” The LCT starts.

“I just want to say that - that I didn’t mean to yell at him, and that I’m -” You cut her off, wanting to get ahead of the scolding. You know you’re in the wrong here.

“Do you plan on interrupting me this entire time?” She snaps at you, and you sit back in your chair, a little caught off guard.

“I’m sorry, I just, I made a mistake and I’m sorry.” You try again.

“Sorry for interrupting me or sorry for your behavior on the field?” She interrogates you.

“Both?” You reply, a little dumbfounded by her attitude. “I was just -”

“I don’t care what you were ‘just.’” She stops you again. You know you deserve punishment, but who pissed in her fruit salad? “What I witnessed today on the field was completely unacceptable. There is no situation, no occasion at Camp Blue Side where how you two interacted and treated your campers is acceptable. You are so lucky I was the one who witnessed it, instead of Seokjin or Namjoon.”

Hoseok is fidgeting next to you, but you’re paralyzed. You’ve never been spoken to like this from someone you considered a peer. And she’s wrong, if Seokjin had seen it, he would’ve been on your side.

“You are also so unbelievably lucky that your camper isn’t too scarred from your blatant disregard for his wellbeing. You must’ve been graced by the gods today, that all he suffered was a bump on his head and a scratched arm, because if it had been worse, a concussion, a broken bone, a skull fracture, there could’ve been legal ramifications.” She pauses and sighs before continuing. “I cannot believe that either of you have worked yourselves up to such a high level of competition and competitiveness that this was the result.”

“I didn’t mean to yell.” You whimper.

“We’re sorry it got out of hand.” Hoseok sighs.

“I feel awful.” You add.

“We were too into it.” Hoseok sighs, shaking his head.

“I don’t care what you were. That’s the inherent problem with you two, and I knew, I knew this was a possibility of having you on opposing teams, but I hoped it wouldn’t happen. I hoped you would be mature enough to handle this.”

“Hoped?” Hoseok questions.

“Yes, because clearly not only was I wrong, but Seokjin and Namjoon too. I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, if it’s just tension, or some sexual repression, but what happened on that field is not Camp Blue Side.” Her words send a chill down your spine and a blush across your cheeks. How could she say that in front of him?

“You both have been here long enough to know what’s acceptable Camp behavior and what isn’t. I never thought I’d have to have this conversation with you, but this summer is full of nasty surprises. Do better, both of you. Now, get out.”

You and Hoseok waste no time in exiting that office and shutting the door behind you. All you want to do is run back to your cabin and bury your face in the pillow. But you know you owe Hoseok an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

“You better fucking be sorry.” Hoseok replies, bitterness coating his tongue. “And that will never happen again.” He adds before walking away.

It’s a slap in the face on top of a punch to the gut. You are guilty, there is no denying that, but you aren’t the only one. How dare he act like he didn’t start this whole thing. He ghosted you. All he had to do was say “Hey, sorry, I'm actually not interested.” But he didn’t even have the balls to do that.

You have to tone down the competitiveness, but this is certainly not over.

~~~~~~~

#Camp Blue Side

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shystoryrebel · 3 years ago

Text

What is the Score?

Cricket is the most popular game in the country. People forget everything. Everybody was discussing the outstanding parallels of India’s 1983 victory with March 1971 victory in West Indies against West Indies. It was a match between India led by Ajit Wadekar and West Indies led by legendry Sir Garry Sobers. I was thirteen years old when the memorable match happened and was right away enchanted by it. The timings enabled me to be often at home for the day matches due to time difference between the two nations. It was the match I remember most vividly when Late Dilip Sardesai played magnificently throughout the series. India could register her maiden test and series win against West Indies due to him.

Sunil Gavaskar’s debut match, phenomenal job by the Indian spinners, and superior performance made possible for India’s first test and a series win against the Caribbean. It was also the brilliant captaincy of Wadekar which led India to her first test and series win over West Indies led by Sobers. It was a historic win. Before the tour of 1971, India had drawn 11 Tests with them and had lost 12. Worse, It was the first time, India managed to take the first-innings lead against West Indies. So, when India managed to make West Indies follow-on in the first Test at Kingston, thanks to Dilip Sardesai’s wonderful 212 and the spinners, it was already a great moment for the Indians.

India reached Port-of-Spain for the second Test with high moral. India had a debutant in the form of a 21-year-old called Sunil Gavaskar, who would go on to rule Indian cricket for over a decade and a half.

Sobers won the toss and decided to bat. Abid Ali magically bowled a ball that nearly on the pitch and hit experienced Roy Fredericks on the pad, and then the stumps. Soon magical Indian spinners took over. They made the West Indian batsman struggled for runs. But Steve Camacho and legendry Rohan Kanhai managed to save their wickets. Solkar was fielding marvellously at short-leg and got the catch of Camacho off Bishan Bedi and Kanhai off EAS Prasanna and Abid Ali removed Clive Lloyd.

Srinivas Venkataraghavan bowled an outstanding spell and managed to out dangerous Sobers who was trying to rescue his team. The spinners kept the pressure on the Caribbean and they were all out for 214.

India had half an hour to bat. Nervous debutant came on the ground, and a Vanburn Holder ball hit his pads and the ball ran towards deep fine-leg. The batsmen took a couple, but the umpire signalled them as runs instead of leg-byes. That was the beginning off the mark of legendry Sunil Gavaskar who became a run machine later on.

Sunil Gavaskar scored a double century in the same series. I remember dreaming of playing a match in which ... I scored defend that target. Thankfully the weather was clear during the match, all in my family were interested in the cricket but no one was into cricket. My father was a teacher, mother was a housewife and they had a passing interest. My grandparents didn’t care and brothers were deeply interested in the game. Nevertheless, I and my elder brother were glued to the radio in the night for every bit of action we could catch. West-Indies made it to a good beginning. Next day nobody wanted to go to school. Well almost nobody. My father went to college and I was forced to go the school.

Most parents thought in the same manner. There were hardly 50 students in the school who came to the school that day. All the teachers had come, but given that every class had a very small number of students. However, they took all the students to the library and we all turned to the newspaper instead of the book. Now as a class of 8 students, that was already turning out to be a historical day. No classes and passing the entire day watching the pictures of players and the thrilling actions. Already this was a happy day.

Most of the students were pretty young and didn’t know much about the peculiarities about cricket. We were happy to read every detail, every inch even. As Sardesai and Gavesker began what was actually a good partnership, we became very crazy. My lady teacher Miss Fatima kept smiling at me but it wasn’t like natural. She was a young nun. The Indian team was nervous about the match and lacked their usual confidence because West-indies was a very strong side.

As the innings neared its final stage, Sardesai and Gavaskar consolidated belatedly looked to up the ante. For us kids, it was more than enough to see the good score. My teacher was getting more close and affectionate. The affection show was getting more serious. She wanted to stop me in the library. We would hug each time as and we were alone but then she started kissing and cheering if it was a boundary. She holds me back forcefully. Principal Miss Marry came to see the library, and by the time we were in a carnival mood. I told Miss Marry the last score. The teacher felt we should move to the staff room to read more seriously. At one point, my Math teacher Miss Ayesha passed in front of the library, peeping into the library, pointing towards us that one more peep and the match was shifted to the empty staff-room. Now if I could wander here for a bit, for kids in classes 7-8 (which all of us were), school teachers are next in line to superpowers.

The second morning began spectacularly, as Gavaskar and Ashok Mankad played well. After Manked was out, followed by Salim Durani cheaply, the hero of the previous test-Sardesai joined Gavaskar. Sobers wasn’t the same bowler he once used to be. Sardesai soon settled down, and Gavaskar reached his fifty just after lunch, and Kanhai congratulated him with the words, “Well played, son”. In a few years’ time, Gavaskar would name his son after Rohan Kanhai, as Rohan Gavaskar. Gavaskar scored 65 runs. Ajit Wadekar could not open his account. But again Sardesai and Solkar ended the day without any other loss, with Sardesai on 83 and Solkar on 24.

It was my first encounter with an adult woman outside my family circle. Ironically she was a nun and my teacher. I learnt to look at her for studies, permission, approval and anything like these. They shape the future world and lives. I never thought of to cross that line. But that limit seemed blurred after that. So regardless of the fantastic delight of that experience so far, when my teacher Miss Fatima raised her voice and snatched the newspapers, we knew things were getting serious. But at the same time, students were in the status of ecstasy. Those days had been like never other days. Who would students listen to? Our mindset or mood?

As soon as Miss Fatima walked in we all opened the newspaper. She again set on the next chair to me. I narrated her another big shot (It was a big hook by Solkar for four) played. I was a storyteller to her. India very intelligently resisted all calculations and logic. We couldn’t help but overlook the recent attractions and started making a touching each-other. However, the teachers knew that if they allow us to spent time like this, it would cause an irretrievable dent to their authority and respect.

This was a state of affairs that could harm the school’s moral structure. Miss Fatima moved closer without any hesitation, hiding our hand under the big pages of the newspaper. Instantly, hush. Miss Fatima, as expected, now started into an artificially heated outburst about discipline and respecting your elders and learning to behave yourselves. This continued for a few minutes. We all smiled and looked to the floor but I failed to restrain my ravenous to touch her thighs. Miss Fatima was perhaps enjoying up this moment. “You all the time makes a big noise.” We all shook our heads like disciplined kids. A few cute “sorry miss” were heard. Everyone took a sigh of relief. She put the newspapers back. The first thing I saw on her face flickered back a smile…strict and disciplined Miss Fatima, her gown above her knees, smilingly adjusted back on the chair.

There was a perceptible fear all around. For us kids, all we could not understand this. That was neither any bad news. But for the teachers, the adults, they knew what was happening. Miss Fatima was our great English mine. She was responsible for our positive changes. She had taught us through our first half-yearly success after three poor performances. The mellowness of Miss Fatima was like a shock. And the adults, especially Miss Marry and Miss Ayesha, knew that because they had their romantic adventures.

I again started reading the newspaper. Sardesai batted magnificently. Solkar, gave a very good company and runs were automatically coming. Mighty Sobers got desperate for the wickets but Sardesai and Solkar remained on the crease like a rock. Once Sardesai retorted,” a time comes when you feel nobody can get you out, and I had that feeling all through that Caribbean tour”. Ultimately, Sardesai departed after scoring 112. The pair had added 114 decisive runs. Solkar was ninth to out for 55 and finally, India ended on 352. Nevertheless, the real hero of the inning was unquestionably Noreiga, who took up 9 for 95. Miss Fatima was impressed with my art of narration.

I will never forget what happened next, even though it occurred within seconds. Miss Fatima slowly inserted her hand inside my knickers and started playing. Miss Fatima was gasping and her face became red. Her breaths were loud and fast. I could not understand what was happening. The other teachers encircled her and took her to the staff room. I was trying to put this into perspective. Adults, especially teachers, should not sit close to the kids. To see her in that manner was absolutely mind-blowing. To see her breathing loud because someone has scored a century in a match was a flash that changed my perspective on cricket and teachers forever.

Next day West Indies had a solid start; Fredericks and Kanhai opened the inning. The day ended with 150 for 1, 12 run ahead, with Fredericks on 80. The match was evenly poised. On day four, India was chasing the elusive history. During practices in the nets, Fredericks hit a ball that hit David’s right eyebrow. So, Lioyd came out with Fredericks. However, Fredericks was run out without adding any run. Sobers walked in to bat. It was the intelligence of Wadeker and he brought Salim Durani, bowled a mix of fast and spin that clean bowled Sobers. It was an extraordinary, startling sight to see mature the 36-year old Durani jump in the air and thump it in excitement.

Wadekar noticed that sharp spin of Durani and Lloyd had a weakness to turn towards the ball towards mid-wicked and often in the air. Wadekar, himself came there to field and Lloyd immediately played one towards Wadekar. He did no wrong and caught it magnificently off his fingertips. In the very next over Venkat broke the defence of Camacho. West Indies in trouble, just 169 for 5, only 31 runs lead. Soon Venkat, Solkar and Bedi finished the inning of West Indies. David, Barrett, Mike Frindlay Shillingford, and Noregia failed to stop the collapse of the Caribbean’s. Only Davis remained unbeaten with 71. The host could score 261, with only 124 lead.

Gavaskar and Mankad walked to bat. They again gave a solid start, putting up 74 before Mankad was out by Barrett for 29. Barrett struck in quick succession, removed Durani for no score and Sardesai for 3. Suddenly India was in trouble with only 84 for 3. Wadekar again surprised everybody and promoted Abid Ali, probably the best runner of the side, above himself and Solkar. It was another master move, as both Gavaskar and Abid Ali ran aggressively for the target. Gavaskar, by his admission, did not even know that he had completed his fifty. Under pressure, the West Indian fielders became nervous. Ultimately, India registered her first-ever victory by 7 wickets, Gavaskar remained.

The Indians were thrilled so am I. The West Indians were very sad but congratulated Indians. My party was going deep into the night. A well-disciplined Miss Fatima became my friend. On the other hand, the general teacher’s mood was so sore that the play was suspected.

At that moment, I knew that cricket wasn’t like most games in India. Cricket was this captivating exception that led to classes being cancelled and adult teachers sitting with students to see the details.

The biggest thing that strikes me was that Indian fans (and I guess others too) believed that their emotions could be changed with the game. I’ll never understand why all the teachers kept saying “Fatima it’s not your fault” as they led her away. Miss Fatima was a changed teacher. She remained very careful and affectionate to me until I came out of school.

For me, Sardesai and Gavaskar’s blitz meant I will never forget Miss Fatima. By the time I was at home, India had won. The world was never the same again.

As Gavaskar had an extraordinary debut series with 774 runs at 154.80 with 4 hundred — still the best debut series numbers by anyone. The other contributed as well; me and Miss Fatima.

I usually look upon life as a drive involving two gears – cricket and literature – though not related elements. A passionate follower of the history of the sport with an insatiable appetite for literature

I had also a secure love affair with the unbelievable Miss Fatima that cricket could offer. She also thinks I could bowl decent leg-breaks in school cricket, with my innocence.

After almost thirteen years I revisited the old school, the old chapel and met still young and charming Miss Fatima. She smilingly said! I never asked, “What is the score?”

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insidethegiftbasket · 4 years ago

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Nationals (12-15) at Yankees (16-15)

Note From Evan: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, jabronis and jabronettes, and Yankee fans of all ilk, Sam and I are here to let you know that we now have a third contributor here at Inside the Gift Basket, and this is his first post. Everyone say hi to Julio and from now on you’ll have to bring on more cupcake to class to share with everyone. And with that, onto the good stuff.

Game 1: Friday at 7:05pm EDT on YES and MLBN – Jameson Taillon (1-2, 5.24 ERA) vs. Patrick Corbin (1-3, 8.10 ERA)

Game 2: Saturday at 1:05pm EDT on YES and MLBN – Corey Kluber (2-2, 3.03 ERA) vs. Max Scherzer (2-2, 2.54 ERA)

Game 3: Sunday at 1:05pm EDT on YES and MLBN – Domingo German (2-2, 4.32 ERA) vs. Joe Ross (2-2, 4.39 ERA)

Nationals Injury Report

SP Stephen Strasburg: 10-day IL (shoulder inflammation) – will miss series

RP Wander Suero: 10-day IL (oblique strain) – both he and Strasburg will throw in a simulated game Friday

RP Seth Romero: day-to-day (ribs) – will begin throwing next week

LF Juan Soto: day-to-day (shoulder strain) – should get some at-bats this series, may start at DH

Nationals Pitching

Strong starting pitching was a hallmark of the Nationals during their run of eight straight winning seasons from 2012 to 2019, culminating in a World Series victory the final year of the streak. While their core ace trio of Max Scherzer, Stephen Strasburg, and Patrick Corbin remains intact, only Scherzer of the three has continued to see success in 2020 and 2021, and the starting rotation as a whole has struggled, posting a 4.67 ERA (23rd in MLB). Strasburg has barely pitched as he has been plagued by injuries over the last year and a half.

Clay, NY native and childhood Yankees fan Patrick Corbin will pitch the opener opposite Taillon. In 2018 and 2019 Corbin was one of the better pitchers in baseball, finishing 5th and 11th respectively in the NL Cy Young Award race those years while frustrating batters with his trademark tailing-away slider. To say he suffered a World Series hangover may be an understatement:

What has gone wrong for Corbin? Even he and Nationals manager Davey Martinez aren’t sure as it doesn’t appear to be a physical or mechanical issue, and his velocity is close to the same as in his 2018-2019 peak.

There are a few possible explanations. One is that he’s lost some spin on his slider (from 2398 rpm in 2019 to 2218 rpm in 2021), and it has gone from one of the best single pitches in the game to basically league average, with opposing batters just not chasing it like they used to:

This means that Corbin has fallen behind on counts more than in the past, forcing him to go over the heart of the plate with his sinker to get strikes, and that pitch has been absolutely destroyed this year. It wasn’t a particularly great pitch for him in the past, either, but this year hitters are just teeing off on it (1.091 SLG).

Corbin is not striking guys out like he used to and is giving up hard-hit fly balls at an alarming rate. The average launch angle against his pitches has risen to a career-high 14.7° in 2021, and subsequently he has already allowed 7 home runs in just 23.1 IP. For the sake of comparison, he allowed 15 HR in all of 2018 (200 IP).

There are some encouraging signs as he has looked better lately after a cataclysmic start. He allowed 16 ER in 6.1 IP to the Dodgers and Diamondbacks in his first two starts of the season but has pitched to a 3.18 ERA in three starts (17 IP) since. He hasn’t exactly faced red-hot offenses in that span (Mets, Cardinals, Marlins), and the underlying numbers are still not all that great, but it’s progress.

Max Scherzer will pitch the second game in what could be a very good duel with the surging Corey Kluber. Now in his age 36 season, Scherzer is continuing to put up excellent numbers, and like in recent years, the key to beating him is the long ball. He has allowed a measly 27 hits all year in 39 innings pitched, but 7 of the hits have been homers. He doesn’t walk guys, so the Yankees’ best bet against him is to try to barrel up his occasional mistakes and knock them out of the park.

The finale pits RHP Joe Ross against Domingo German, with both pitchers posting remarkably similar numbers so far this season:

Rather like Corbin, however, Ross’ numbers are inflated by one very bad performance (10 ER allowed to the Cardinals on April 19), and he has pitched well outside of that game. Ross has been a mediocre pitcher most of his career, though, so it’s not like these numbers aren’t indicative of what to expect from him. His slider is his definitive put-away pitch (responsible for 15 of his 21 strikeouts), but his other offerings have been hit hard. He also has a strong platoon split (vs RHH: .241/.287/.394, vs. LHH: .297/.376/.474), so expect the Yankees to give most of their available lefty hitters a start in the series finale.

While the rotation has been disappointing, the Nationals’ pen has been a strength for the team in the early going. Washington relievers own a league-best .185 batting average against, admittedly aided by one of the better defenses in the league (league-leading 24 DRS), and offseason acquisition Brad Hand has been a stabilizing force at the back of games, having yet to allow an earned run this year.

Daniel Hudson, Austin Voth, Sam Clay, and Wander Suero (who is likely going to miss this series) have all posted solid numbers behind him, and their most-used reliever, Kyle Finnegan, threw an immaculate inning in their just-completed series with the Braves. Ex-Astro Will Harris was recently activated off the IL and has very good career numbers, though the Yankees have hit him well historically.

The one major blip is Tanner Rainey, who was one of their most important relievers the last two years but has struggled mightily so far this season. He is likely to be limited to low-leverage action until he gets his act together.

Nationals Lineup

A consistently strong offensive team during their 2010’s run, peaking in 2017 when they led the NL in team OPS, the Nationals have had to weather the departure of important contributors like Bryce Harper and Anthony Rendon in recent years. While they still have a few dependably great hitters in the lineup, their offensive output in 2021 has been, at best, mediocre:

As a team they get a lot of hits (for 2021 standards, anyway), as their .247 batting average somehow actually leads the National League. However, they rarely draw walks and have not hit for power so far this year (outside of Trea Turner), resulting in a poor .696 team OPS and a marked difficulty putting up runs – they have yet to score more than 7 runs in any game this season and have been shut out five times. They are coming off a three-game sweep at home at the hands of the Braves in which they only scored six runs.

With Juan Soto battling a shoulder injury, Trea Turner has been their most important and all-around best position player:

While his numbers are a bit down from an outstanding 2020 (163 OPS+) that saw him finish 7th in the NL MVP race, he hits the ball hard to all fields, runs like the wind, and is a plus defender at shortstop. He has been a top 20 player in baseball this year in both bWAR and fWAR.

Antoher bright spot has been Josh Harrison, who signed with the Nationals as a reclamation project after seemingly forgetting how to hit sometime between 2018 and 2019; he has just about revived his career and been one of the team’s best hitters. The same cannot be said for his longtime Pirates teammate Josh Bell, who has been a nonfactor at the plate. While the Nats have been giving him (and the also-struggling Kyle Schwarber) plenty of opportunities to snap out of it, expect them to give more playing time to the hot-hitting Ryan Zimmerman at first base moving forward.

Lastly, keep an eye out for young phenom Juan Soto – he just came off the IL from a shoulder injury and pinch-hit a few times in the Braves series. According to the Nationals, he is ready to start hitting every day, but they are reluctant to let him play the field as his shoulder is not yet fully recovered and he should not be making throws. Luckily for them they are playing in an AL park this weekend, so he may get some starts at DH against the Yankees (which is, of course, bad news for us).

Yankees focus on: Wandy Peralta

LHP “Magic” Wandy Peralta came over from San Francisco (along with a PTBNL) in exchange for beloved backup OF Mike Tauchman, much to the chagrin of certain Yankees fans. Now in his 6th season, the 29 year-old Peralta has, on the surface, been largely unremarkable as a major leaguer to date, with a career 4.66 ERA and 1.477 WHIP. While he is coming off a solid 2020 in which he posted a career-best 3.29 ERA, he struggled to start this season in San Francisco and fell out of Gabe Kapler’s Circle of Trust™.

The raw numbers don’t jump out at you, but clearly the Yankees viewed Peralta as an interesting piece if they were willing to go so far as to part with Tauchman for him. After a bit of digging, it’s not hard to see why they found him appealing:

The underlying metrics have been impressive. In fact, his stuff has looked much better so far this year than it did in 2020, despite posting better standard stats last year.

It may be a microscopic sample size, but Peralta has looked promising in his first few appearances with the Yankees. The coaching staff has encouraged him to spam his wipeout changeup, to great effect:

While he has lost command of the changeup at times earlier in his career, it’s an incredible pitch when he’s throwing it well. So far this season: xBA of .109, xSLG of .133, and a -3 launch angle.

Last year his slider was a very good pitch, but this year it hasn’t been as effective, thus the Yankees have responded by ramping up his changeup usage and cutting back on the slider. In an ideal world, Peralta can learn to use them both effectively to pair with his plus heater. The raw stuff is there, and it always has been; the hope is that the Yankees’ coaching staff can get Peralta to harness his talent and potential.

With Tauchman playing well in San Francisco to this point and providing much-needed support for their banged-up outfield, this could be a trade that proves to be a win-win for both teams involved.

#Yankees #New York Yankees #Nationals #Washington Nationals #Baseball #MLB #Series Preview #Interleague Play #Natinals #Juan Soto #Trea Turner #Wandy Peralta #Everyone Say Hi to Julio

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wordsworthjohnston · 3 years ago

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Married former air hostess turned high school teacher.

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thekitchenismykingdom · 4 years ago

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Take Me Out to the Ball Game - Lovestruck Fanfiction

Relationship: Lucien Rivercrest/Roman Tarrenglade Rating: G Summary: Roman is a huge baseball fan and goes with Lucien to see the Mariners play against the Blue Jays. A catch, a kiss, and a fun date. A/N: Lucien and Roman have such a fun dynamic in the series. Of course I’d end up shipping them. Roman is the “idiot sandwich” to Lucien’s Gordon Ramsay lol

Cheers rang out in the stadium as the sun shone down on the rowdy fans of Seattle. Beer sloshed in cups, popcorn flew through the air, and vendors waved their pretzels around for sale. A couple, one dressed appropriately for the occasion and the other more casual, sat in the middle of the stadium behind second base. The clear baseball fan of the two held a jumbo, overpriced hot dog in one hand and a small container of a bright red jam, the same colour as his hair in fact, in the other. He poured some of the jam onto the hot dog, and when satisfied, snapped the container closed and put it away.

Examining the hot dog carefully, from the line of yellow mustard to the jam he had just put on, Roman finally took a bite.

"Mmm, I can't believe I haven't tried a hot dog until now," he said between chews. "Human food really isn't that bad!"

Lucien hummed and munched on his peanut snacks. A little too sweet for his taste, but they would do for a ball game.

"Perhaps I could convince Liora to add these to the menu..." Roman continued, musing to himself after each bite.

Lucien stopped chewing and glanced at Roman.

"Yes, because these 'jumbo' hot dogs in tasteless buns belong next to my petit fours and raspberry charlotte."

"I would make them just as fancy as your petit fours, Lucien! They would be gourmet."

"Assuming I baked the perfect bun to go with them, maybe."

"I can jazz up any food and you know it," Roman countered with a huff. "This jam I whipped up from cooked gengan fruit adds a wonderfully complex spice and sweetness that pairs perfectly with the tangy mustard and this, ah, all beef hotdog."

Lucien smirked, but put his hand on top of Roman's and gave it a small squeeze.

"Come on, the bottom of the seventh is about to start."

Lucien could see the excitement in Roman's face, feel it in the way Roman gripped his hand as the game wound down to its final inning. It was the bottom of the ninth and the Mariners were losing to the Blue Jays by one run, with only one man out, and one of their best hitters was at bat.

"The Mariners are so close! A run would tie it, and another would win the whole thing!"

"I didn't think they were any good," Lucien mumbled, and Roman glared at him.

"The true point is to go on a date and watch a baseball game, but they have a chance at victory! Even bottom teams win sometimes."

The Blue Jays were also in the bottom, a fact Roman was well aware of, and Lucien sighed.

His eyes were drawn back to the diamond with a CRACK as the batter swung and hit the ball, sending it into the corner of right field.

"Oh, oh! Fair ball! FAIR BALL!!!" Roman shouted and cheered as the batter ran across first, then second, and finally slid into third plate just as the ball went sailing into the third baseman's glove.

"SAFE!"

Roman whooped and punched his hand into his shiny baseball glove.

"Come on boys, get a homerun. A homerun!"

"Yell a little louder and maybe they'll hear you," Lucien teased, settling into his seat and stealing a sip of Roman's drink.

"Oh Lucien, at least pretend to have fun," Roman muttered, eyes rolling as he focused on the game.

"I am," he defended. "I always have fun with you." When Roman didn't respond, Lucien turned back to the game.

The second batter stepped up to the plate and rolled his shoulders before setting up. After a moment the pitcher wound up and sent a nasty screwball straight into the catcher's glove. The batter didn't even twitch.

The second pitch was a fastball, and this time the batter swung. He just missed the ball as that too went flying into the catcher's mitt.

Roman had a hand over his mouth, rubbing his face as he shimmied to the edge of his seat. One more strike and the batter would be out.

Taking some time to loosen up, the batter kicked at some dirt on the plate and set up once more, the bat moving loosely in his grip. The pitcher wound up and unleashed a slider. The batter swung and missed as the ball suddenly dropped, once more into the catcher's mitt.

A collective groan could be heard in the stands, but Roman stayed focused on the game. The next batter made his way to home plate, a fresh trade from another team. Roman turned to Lucien and said, "This guy will do it. I know he will."

"You can predict the future now?"

"Laugh all you want, but I know we're winning this thing," Roman sniffed and turned back to the game. Lucien stared at him before looking back to the game himself, and watched a bad pitch almost miss the catcher entirely. A ball on the first pitch.

The second pitch was a fastball and the batter just got a piece of it, fouling it. Lucien looked around to make sure no one was watching and quickly drew his sigil for a luck spell. He then sat back and watched a curveball go past the batter as the umpire signalled for a second strike.

"Oh come on, come on..." Roman said through gritted teeth. Lucien almost laughed at the sight, not really understanding Roman's interest in this human sport but happy to go to games with him all the same. He refrained from laughing, however, wanting Roman to enjoy the experience.

The batter finally set up, planting his feet into the dirt and staring down the pitcher. With the ball in hand and having received the signal from the catcher, the pitcher finally wound up and threw a hard fastball. With the loudest CRACK of the game the ball hit the bat and went sailing into the air and over the field.

"Roman, get your glove ready! It looks like-"

"I GOT IT!!!" Roman yelled as he jumped up from his seat and caught the ball. He cheered and whooped and held up the ball in his glove as the announcers went wild.

"A two-run homerun and the Mariners take it 5-4 over the Blue Jays! What a spectacular finish!!!"

"Oh Lucien, I can't believe it! I knew they were going to win, of course, but to actually catch a ball from a homerun? A ball from the game-winning homerun!? It's a dream come true!"

"And what are the odds you would catch the homerun baseball after predicting a Mariners win?"

They were walking back to the cafe hand-in-hand and Roman briefly let go to once again examine the baseball, turning it over in his hands and running his fingers over the red lacing. It seemed to Lucien he had done that at least 15 times since leaving the stadium.

"I know you had something to do with it," Roman said.

"Perhaps, but I had nothing to do with that homerun. Your man came through."

"That he did! I told you he would."

"Was it the highlight of the game for you?" Lucien asked, and Roman nodded.

"Of the game? Yes, definitely the best part. The whole thing was fantastic, except the fourth inning, and we had such great seats, and the food! I always love trying out human food when we go out."

Roman was gushing about the sheer amount of food one could purchase at a sporting event, talking about the hot dogs covered in chili and cheese, the giant salty pretzels, and massive bags of popcorn. Lucien smiled to himself, watching Roman's already bright eyes sparkle as he talked and talked about everything he liked at the game.

"-And I know it's not your favourite thing to do, but going to games together truly is some of the best time I've spent with you, Lucien. Putting up with my extreme enthusiasm and the human food-"

They stopped abruptly just outside the café and Roman grabbed Lucien's hand, turning to face him.

"It means the world to me, and I will always be grateful for every day we spend together, every meal we eat together, just...everything. It is all so, so special to me, and I love you all the more for it."

Roman leaned forward and gave Lucien a soft kiss on the cheek, and Lucien turned his face to capture Roman's lips in a stronger kiss, chest tight with emotion at the sweet words Roman said just for him.

"You're special to me, too," Lucien murmured, keeping Roman close. "The most special person in my life. That won't change."

Roman's cheeks reddened as deep as his hair, only overshadowed by the brilliant smile on his face.

"You sweet-talker, you. Come on, I think there are some leftovers in the kitchen. Those peanuts aren't exactly filling." His smile turned into a devilish grin then, as he added, "Unless you'd prefer a different kind of-"

"Just get inside," Lucien grumbled, rolling his eyes at Roman's antics and the untimely shattering of the moment. Roman followed Lucien into the cafe, snickering all the while.

#lovestruck voltage #sweet enchantments #lucien rivercrest #roman tarrenglade #lovestruck fanfiction #lovestruck fic #my writing

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