#early wicket

[brijendrasstuff]

"Exciting Match Update: Mukesh Kumar Strikes Early as Zimbabwe Chase India in 5th T20I"

Mukesh Kumar Strikes Early as Zimbabwe Chase India in 5th T20 India vs Zimbabwe, t20i match, Mukesh Kumar, cricket update, early wicket Get the latest cricket update on India vs Zimbabwe 5th T20I match – Mukesh Kumar takes an early wicket as Zimbabwe chases India. Stay on top of the action! SANJU SAMSON SMASHED 110 METER SIX 🥶💪#ZIMvIND pic.twitter.com/hL3pSFrO1L — Reality Talks (@RealityTallk)…

[just2bubbly]

just realised if we do not win today and Kohli fails to perform, Indians are gonna know who to blame for it all

[whippetcrimes]

We started the session being comfortable putting our nose in and then immediately pulling back for a treat. We end our session comfortably (loosely) bucked in

[partybarty]

Mitchell Starc either takes a wicket the first over (sometimes two) or he has like a mediocre game.

[death---dealer]

I NEED a one-shot of reader finding out blue eyes can speak.

*in a quiet voice* sno snoft ( so soft )

Title: Temporary Fix. Fandom: ( Dawn of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Mentions of blood, minor injury. ) Pairing: ( AW YEAH ) Implied Blue Eyes x Human!Reader. Words: 3K+ Summary: You were spending your afternoon making spears with the Ape Prince himself. Humans are clumsy, remember?

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There was a lot more said in silence, or at least… That’s how it often felt like when you were with Blue Eyes, the stoic nature of his personality made moments sitting in front of the communal bonfire all the more delectable. You didn't feel pressured into conversations, like you did with Caesar. You knew the Ape King wouldn’t force you to talk regardless, but his relentless stare often left you feeling like you needed to say something to break the otherwise suffocating intimidation he just seeped from every pore.

It was a funny notion to think about, that Blue Eyes was starkly different in that aspect. Maybe, you thought with a tilt of your head as your finger slid across the blunted part of the spearhead between your fingers, with time, he’ll grow into that but for now, he was surely more like his Mother. Silent, but always observing, knowing things about others that they did not even know about themselves. 

Noises were frequent enough, especially given the circumstances of Apes always being around and it ultimately being a very indicative way to communicate across the Colony when they were too far from each other to actually sign or even in rare instances, speak. Hoots and hoos, howls and huffs all when Blue Eyes was with Ash and a joke had been made or they were just bent on pestering each other with no intended thoughts on getting anything done were amusing enough and you found yourself often laughing along with them.

But, you had managed to get the regal Prince alone for once, your chest swelling with the tiniest bit of pride at that. Incredibly placid quiet draped over the two of you like the stillness of a lake in the early morning and you didn't want it any other way. He’d occasionally sign at you - Well, not occasionally, he was more or less hassling at you as your fingers worked diligently at tying a spearhead to the top of a semi-thick wicket. Blue Eyes was giving direction with one hand, the signing a bit fast for you to properly understand but you got the gist.

You fell in and out of conversations, spotting here and there primarily about how you were working the twine into the spear to keep it steady and gripped when you went to use it. The way his thickened fingertips had gently urged yours for a split second, his body graceful in its movements as he shuffled in a crouched position to angle himself right in front of you. Your eyes met his, the ample nature of yours a curious thing to Blue Eyes as he looked down at the work in process fishing spear you were working on, his brow ridge sinking in a bit. Humans… So hard to read their emotions, he thought to himself and huffed silently. The Prince had a hard time reading your eyes especially when they were coated in flurry and frenzy.

Shoulders rose and then fell in a quickened pace as he urged you to hand your stick over, it felt like your heart was resting in the back of your throat and whatever reality the bonfire was keeping you secure in seemed to fly right out the window. Overcome with a mild roundedness of embarrassment at the fact that you had been gawking at him by the closeness he provided, he took the stick into his own hands and inspected it waveringly. Blue Eyes was aware you were looking at him. He’d be too obvious to not notice that. Humans, again, he thought, unlike Apes, were not subtle with staring. At least, so he noticed from the times you had been infatuated with watching the Apes prepare meals, with how Apes communally groomed on occasion, the pure stances of which they all walked compared to the amused gait that you used, tripping over yourself… All fascinated you, all left you breathless but to Blue Eyes, they were all incredibly mundane. He found himself amused enough, often in silent moments of self-introspection… What you were thinking about them. A constant battle he admittedly found himself wrapped in. The vague idea that this was what Ceasar intended when Blue Eyes was given the task to keep an eye on you did occur to him once or twice, not that it was any more of a problem than the scars that were building along his shoulder and chest. You’d been here long enough to establish an opinion on them. From his own Father, Blue Eyes learned only toleration towards Humans and adamantly refused to see the good in them, but once you began spending more time with him and Ash, occasionally falling into a quartet when River joined along, his toleration was able to evolve into moderate acceptance and only now teetered the line of full-blown acceptance of you being an actual and contributing part of the Colony. 

That was the Caesar in him talking, Blue Eyes knew and hated that his Father had pestered him enough to draw his thoughts down that road. As long as you contributed, you were allowed to stay. He wondered about that, letting his gaze lead over towards the family nest for a second when you were enthralled in watching his inspection. Blue Eyes had the feeling his Father would let you stay even if you didn't give anything back in return. Caesar was imposing and undiluted, but he had yet to turn heartless and had a fevered hot-spot for Humans in trouble. Hence why you were. Hence why you remained here.

While times like these were nice to the Chimp, he found the suffocation of tension drifting off you tearing him down to the very depths of the innermost thoughts he tried often to leave to their own devices. He… Was unable to tell what it was though, the tension. You had every right to be afraid of him, but you didn't appear that way. Not when you sought to look him in the eyes, not the way that your face had dropped when he arrived back from the Hunt weeks ago with three bloodied gashes along his body, a cut on his face.

Not when you offered him something called ‘antibiotics’, a cream of sorts you had kindly explained to him holding the tube for his eyes to inspect and judge, similar in nature to the root paste that the Apes themselves used for minor cuts and bruises. Blue Eyes had denied it then but--- His train of thought derailed, one wheel at a time, would you have put it on him if he accepted? The fur along his shoulder unexpectedly bristed at the idea of your much daintier and smaller hands against his body. A fleeting thought, but enough to cause that pit in the deepest depths of his navel.

Blue Eyes tightened your twine with a nimble touch, bringing the head down and smacking it on the ground experimentally to make sure it wouldn’t falter. You had jumped at the clutter, an instinct that was based in primal fear. Blue Eyes, you knew very well from the proximity now of his canines dangling in front of your gaze, his mouth slightly ajar, could take your life if he chose. He was gentle-spoken and seemed considerate to your needs but… There was always that lingerance in the back of your head like a hammer. You searched for his gaze again to interlock in quiet to see if you were able to deduce what he was thinking, but he refused and was pretty set in giving you back the spear with a mild ‘good, move onto the next. Young Ape start fishing next sunrise, need 5 more.’

Your knowledge of their flipped signing was rudimentary at best, but it was easy to figure out pecked words here and there when Blue Eyes really took his time to explain something. His elongated digits were rightfully arrogant, he was the child of Caesar by all means, but it never felt like it was intentional arrogance. It didn't yell at you ‘you’re just a stupid human, I am an Ape. Greater than you’.

It seemed faux to an extent, the way he acted around you at times. Recollection was a great thing as your spotted memory recalled moments of lax with Blue Eyes, especially when he was around Ash, River or Lake - His friends, the ones he grew up with. Jealousy has seated itself in the back of your throat now, pushing down your heart towards your stomach. How you… Wanted him to act like that with you, not like you were an adverse bug sitting on his shoulder than he just wanted to flick away.

Shaking that thought off before it tore down the rest of your afternoon, you nodded and twisted your body just enough to get more twine, already-pre cut by yours truly, a spearhead and another stick and began the repeated process. You told yourself five more, only an hour or so more and Blue Eyes would leave in silence just like he did when he beckoned you to help and you’d have to grin and bear it during dinner with the regular crowd of Apes as Blue Eyes chose to eat with his family, high above the rest.

That visual inside of your head gave you pause as you began wrapping the twine intricately into the hole of the wood, out the other side and established a good connection of the spearhead so you could begin tying it properly. He was… A Prince. Jokingly one day, you had given Caesar the name of ‘King of the Apes’, and while intended to just be funny, it took on life of its own once your words became a quick parallel to actual reality. There was no reason for him to like you, there was no reason for him to be here other than Caesar telling him he needed to be. A Prince bound by Duty of his King. You had caught a conversation between Blue Eyes and Koba only a week ago, talking about your presence there. And while Blue Eyes had not said anything explicit, the silence itself in that moment was deafening and it left you reeling at times like this when you were left to dwell with the idea that the Ape you were helping merely saw you as an inconvenience and he would kill you without remorse if you ever showed any sign towards being too human. Koba was already on his way to that, giving you a good stare on a day-to-day basis, followed by his eyes meeting Blue Eyes’ and then back to yours. Something deeply seeded it your senses at times like that; like they were working together and you were ultimately going to end up strung on a tree, dead and left to the sunrays to make delicious human jerky that the Colony could share--- Swallowing lightly, your hand trailed along the sharper edge of the spearhead and you felt it press into your skin, leaving a reddening imprint that began swelling. You tried to not think like that. If you were going to get killed, they’d have done it when you were weak and starved to death when you were first brought to the Colony. You told yourself that, over and over again to the point where it had to be your reality otherwise you were going to live in fear while they had provided you refuge. Blue Eyes’ shoulders moved with increased dexterity compared to your own as you fumbled a bit, dropping the spearhead between your legs and cursing as you went to grasp at it. 

You weren’t paying attention, blood hitting your eyes first before the actual sting set in, “Oh fu-” Not even able to get that out of your mouth, Blue Eyes was quicker to react like he was inside of your mind. Instead of you bringing your hand closer to your face to inspect the cut the spearhead had given you as you tried to grab it before it hit the ground, he had your wrist in his grasp. The coarse nature of his skin sent a rocketing complexion along your entire body. It felt like a shiver hit your spine like you were cold, but the heat along the bridge of your nose, upwards towards your ears, was quite a contradiction. “I’m okay, I just---” You had no excuse for clumsiness. The concept itself was foreign to Apes. They were built to be as sturdy as possible. Blue Eyes only stared at the cut on your hand for a moment, your fingers flexing inwards a bit to close your palm to stop him from looking at it, more than likely judging you for being so stupid with your reflexes and getting hurt in the process, something he had to have known really well considering the amounts of times during your stay at the Colony did you see Caesar doing that exact thing to him.

Swallowing back a hard ball that had formed in your throat at the hold he had on you, his fingers expanded and instead of holding your wrist, he was caressing the back of your hand and brought it closer to his azure stare. 

“Have…” Your eyes widened at the nature of the voice that came from Blue Eyes. “Never seen… Human…” You licked your lips in anticipation of the rest of his words, and it appeared he contemplated it for a moment before deciding on, “Bleed. Like Ape.” How much he sounded like Caesar, you thought to yourself, your mouth falling forward in mild surprise as you blinked, trying to bring yourself back into the moment and to stop drawing dumb comparisons of Blue Eyes towards his Father. He was his own Ape, he was allowed to make his own choices and opinions but still the thought persisted. You had never heard Blue Eyes mutter anything, let alone two complete and whole phrases. Ignorantly, you supposed that you lived in a fantasy world and never put much thought into it given many of the Apes chose to sign or make more brash and throaty noises to communicate.

Of course he was able to speak, you thought and mentally slapped your forehead as he continued his eyes along the small cut on your hand. Not wanting to pull him away from the moment as he was… Shocked it appeared at the notions that maybe Humans and Apes were more similar than he was really willing to give any credit to, you felt an equal brush of jolt at his voice as it replayed in your mind again. 

You wanted to hear him. Anything.

“You’ve…  never seen a human until you met me,” Only stating what you knew as an irrefutable fact, you hoped it was enough bait to get Blue Eyes to say something, his mouth ghosting words right in front of your eyes as a tease of what could be, like he was practicing what he wanted to vocalize before it was spoke, a tactic to assure you were able to understand his words, broken and scrambled, but words nonetheless. 

“We bleed. Probably more than you.” Letting your eyes flutter to the injury on his shoulder, scabbing over in some places but still rather red, you scaled your attention back to his face, looking at the mild cut on his cheek before sweeping from the wrinkles around his nose and under his eyes. While Caesar’s Son, he held no disposition to be intimidating. He was… Timid. Thoughtful, more like-minded it seemed to his Mother… “Did not hurt me.” Blue Eyes assured you knowing that you were looking at his scrapings, lifting his other hand upwards to place it against your open palm out of curiosity. Blood trickled onto the barest touch of his fingertips as you winced softly, sucking breath in through your teeth. “You… are hurt.” “It’s just a small cut,” It was your turn to assure the Ape through your chest felt like it was rattling on the inside, all your rib bones nothing more than crushed dust and your organs were solidified as you thought more about Blue Eyes actually speaking to you, actually taking time to accommodate you accordingly.

He had to have known that you were better with speech, having seen you converse intently with Caesar on occasions. “Happens a lot really…” You joked softly, letting your hand drift towards your body once Blue Eyes was kind enough to relinquish his hold on you. Flexing your fingers now out of desperation to have him hold you again, you cleared your throat. “I’m just gonna get a band-aid,” You hoped you had one in the scavenged first-aid kit you’d been holding onto for almost two years. “I’ll be right back okay?” “Band… aid?” 

“D-...” Your eyes drifted towards your lap, almost ashamed as you had forgotten such human things were so foreign to him. Even though you spoke words, did not mean that he understood them or what they meant to you. He did ask though, you were happy at that feeling a small satisfaction rolling along your collarbones like you were preening.

“It’s this thing… Like… A cloth sort of… Goes on cuts and stuff for Humans.” The perplexity on his face made you stifle a small giggle. “Do you… Wanna see?” You prayed now to the high Heavens that that first aid-kit was stocked properly. “I can-can show you.”

Without another word, there was nothing else needed to be spoken as Blue Eyes contemplated, weighing the situation before giving you a silent nod. Not stoic, as it usually was, and you were trying to tell yourself that there was no excitement but the way he walked next to you, both legs on the ground as he knew that galloping on all fours was too quick for you, it was hard to ignore that he was taking more languid steps to fall in line with you rather than lead you.

Shoulders equal to each other, you trailed your way towards the accommodating and cute hut that the Colony had built for you. Blue Eyes looked down at your hand once again, admiring the flush of red as it trickled down your fingertips and onto the ground, giving a trail behind the two of you as you walked side-by-side. Huh. A cloth of sorts that goes on cuts for Humans. Now this? He had to see.

[hawkeyeslaughter]

i think the thing i really do love and enjoy about henry probably most is that he genuinely tries to understand people . i think the obvious example is how he treats klinger , he doesn’t write him off or anything , he just simply understands the fact that ( at least early seasons klinger ) is simply doing what he can to get out on a section - eight . and he does the same thing with hawkeye , when hawkeye is upset ( sometimes you hear the bullet and sticky wicket , off the top of my head ) . he doesn’t get impatient or angry with hawk when he knows something is genuinely wrong , he talks to him to try to understand why hawkeye is acting like this . or in doctor pierce and mr hyde , when he literally asks trapper , “ why does he do these things , mcintyre ? “ he’s not asking just to ask , it’s genuine . why does he do it ? and you know it’s not just with people he likes . although he does love hawkeye and trapper and klinger and radar etc . etc , but he even does it with frank and margaret . even if it’s really obvious from his demeanor before frank and/or margaret even talk to him that he definitely won’t agree with whatever it is that they have to say , he still hears them out . i mean , yes , he has to , but there’s something else to it . he does what he can to talk frank off the ledge and actually find out and understand what it is that hawkeye and trapper did to upset him and if it’s really anything worth getting that worked up over . it’s a very little detail but it’s a very important one , i feel like .

[greenerteacups]

Hello dear, first I want to say how happy I am that you are back and I am ecstatic that you are prioritizing your health first. You are a treasure to the fandom and I know I'm not the only one who would wait happily for decades to read even a scrap of your writing. I feel like I take up 20% of your inbox with my random questions but what is your hogwarts house? Do you think it changes as we age? I am of the opinion that we all have qualities from each house and it’s hard to define us to one.

Thank you, my friend! I wish the Tumblr search function wasn't fucked because I feel like I wrote a long essay about this some time ago, but basically, I think each House is a culture that shapes those who are Sorted into it, and that people are given a House that either challenges or reassures them in whatever way the Hat deems best for their development. For the kids with strong personalities, that means giving them somewhere they can meet other like-minded kids and develop their virtues together. For the kids who are still figuring themselves out, that means a place they can fit in and grow, or possibly somewhere that helps them find themselves, even if they don't fit in at first. That means House might not necessarily reflect one's personality, especially early-on, but that it will usually reflect something about you by the time you graduate.

My personal, un-evidenced, un-peer-reviewed, blind-speculation conspiracy theory is that the Hogwarts Houses were never meant to be as significant or divisive as they came to be by 1991. I think they would have started out as literal dormitories stewarded by the respective founders, for ease of labor distribution — "houses" being the usual way you divide space in British boarding school — and not much more than that. I don't even know if I buy that Gryffindors would have been sorted because they were per se brave, originally. Like, the whole story of them going "how do we chop up this batch of kids into four parts?" and Gryffindor going "I've got it! my hat will decide!" is, in my opinion, a pretty solid metaphor for pulling names out of a literal hat, which you could back when you only had a few students in any given year. The Sorting Hat, in this view, would be an invention created later on to make the process easier in large numbers, and to give the impression of order in the Sorting process. 

[Sidebar: I've always been eager to know where the Sorting Hat comes from, and what kind of enchantments are on it. The answer that we get in the books is that the Founders made it, but in no other part of the series is there any other kind of magic that has the ability to fully read a human mind and make sentient deductions based on its findings. (I'm reminded of the iconic Arthur Weasley line: "Never trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brain.") Maybe that's just early installment weirdness; maybe it's just magic, and I shouldn't think too hard about it. But if I were the author, I would want readers to pick up on how obviously and chillingly well Arthur's line applies to the object that is responsible for a vast majority of things that happen to Harry after Chapter 7 of The Sorcerer's Stone. End sidebar.]

This raises the question of how the Houses became associated with characteristics in the first place, if the first cohorts were really random selection. I think it's more that the first batches of students in Gryffindor's house naturally followed and emulated him as a model, and over the years, that developed into Gryffindor having a culture of bravery/recklessness, after Godric himself. Same with Ravenclaw and Slytherin — though there's a sticky wicket in that Slytherin seems to be on record from Day 1 as being against muggle-born students in his hosue. The line "We teach those whose ancestry is purest" comes from the Hat's song — but like, that couldn't have possibly been an original stipulation for Slytherin house, right? Because they were having disagreements about whether to admit muggle-borns well after the school was opened, implying that either there weren't really enough muggle-borns for that to be an issue beforehand, or that Slytherin tolerated it up to a point, reached his limit, went "well, I'M not fucking teaching them," and banned them from his house in a pissy gesture of so-there-ism. If that's the case, it could be that the blood ban was the first institutional requirement to be admitted to a certain house. (There's still an open question of whether there are any, or have ever been, muggle-born Slytherins. If I'm an administrator, I see absolutely no reason to respect some asshole's wishes to have a literal Blood Segregation House after he's resigned and/or died; but that's also assuming a progressivism that we can't fairly assign to wizarding administrators from the 1600s, say). There's Rowling ephemera about all of this, but in my view, the books are inconclusive.

Hufflepuff makes even more sense in this light, because then you don't have to wrestle out the inconsistent characterizations it gets in the series — is their House virtue "loyal?" or "hardworking"? or "determined"? or "free-spirited"? — and don't have to square Helga Hufflepuff going "I'll take the rest" in the Hat's song, because then it's just like: oh, yeah, Helga was a really easygoing lady, she didn't cultivate a cult of personality among her students, and that means Hufflepuff House never developed a really clear identity based on her profile. Things like the House Cup, the point system, the quidditch teams, and the various reputations/rivalries (like Slytherin being the "Dark wizard" house in some circles) are all traditions that could have developed over the centuries.

None of this is necessarily supported by canon. I just think that it would be a neat way to explain some facets of the Sorting Hat and the House system without having to resort to "because it's magic" as an answer.

[bylerismyeverything]

My predictions:

Season 4 - Francesca

Season 5 - Eloise

Season 6 - Benedict

Season 7 - Gregory

Season 8 - Hyacinth

Here are some explanations:

Yes I know hyacinth is before Gregory in the books but if there won’t be a time jump she’ll be 15 in season 7 and I don’t think she can be out in society that early as Pen and Edwina came out to society at 17 and Eloise and Francesca who delayed their coming out came out to society at 18.

Eloise’s ball went through the 5th wicket not once but twice (idk don’t ask me how).

I don’t feel like Benedict is ready to find Sophie or whoever it’d be right now and it’s not like Colin didn’t actually intend to find a wife and then found Pen but I don’t actually think he’s ready after the way he rejected Tilley, he definitely needs to explore his sexuality and freedom a bit first, and there definitely is some long awaited art storyline we’ve yet to experience.

They already introduced us to Michaela and showed us Fran’s reaction to her and I don’t think they’re gonna make us wait long before their story.

[klaramarieleblochova]

Let's go back to season 2 for a moment and review the famous Pall Mall scene full of easter eggs once again, because I think it says who's turn it is in season 4.

I think it's Francesca, then Eloise and then Benedict as season 6.

I hope I'm wrong tho, because I'm not happy about it.

We can only speculate who makes it through the first wicket, because it's never shown on camera, although it seems like it was Daphne.

Kate gets her ball through wicket number two - as a season 2 lead.

Benedict missed the third wicket, which gave Colin a chance to get his ball through - foreshadowing Benedict is to be skipped and it's Colin's turn.

Eloise hits wicket number five.

But we never see any Bridgerton getting their ball through the fourth wicket, it's Kate who gets it through. There is, in fact a direct shot of her leaving the screen and the camera shifting to Colin and Benedict behind her. But Benedict never makes it through any of the wickets on camera. And Francesca is not present in this game.

Jess Brownell was talking about Benedict being delayed and she clearly mentioned that "fans should be happy about that, because he's a fan favorite and this means he gets to stick around for longer", which to me is prepping for the anger that is about to come when he's about to be skipped again. Also, the fact his story line this season is so dull and nothing like getting the ground ready for him (like Anthony in season 1 or Colin in season 2) is speaking volumes..

It might be early for this presumption, because episodes 7&8 are yet to be seen, since they're keeping it secret, because Brownell shared it's obvious from the last two episodes who's the next season leader and there's to be an announcement of the next story pretty much right after season 3 airs.. but that's just my POV.

[justcallmefox89]

Gnome Troubles - Chapter Five (Astarion's POV)

Gale gives Astarion something to think about.

There’s something wrong with the gnome.  Astarion has suspected it since that night Wicket offered him blood, and after a tenday of traveling together he’s near certain of it.  Wicket barely sleeps, and when he does he wakes screaming.  The others pretend to not notice the wretched, soul-clenching cries and ignore the hoarseness of his voice in the mornings.  Astarion’s flesh crawls when the screams begin, reminding him of the year he spent entombed at Cazador’s orders.  He cannot imagine what terrors come to torment Wicket in his dreams, and at such moments he feels the barest flash of sympathy for the gnome. 

Wicket’s nighttime habits aren’t the only thing that trouble the vampire.  Astarion isn’t one to begrudge a person their love for fine wines, but Wicket indulges in drink far too often, as if he’s searching for oblivion.  And at times he clutches at his chest as if he’s in great pain.  Astarion would almost swear he’s seen the faintest glow beneath Wicket’s camp shirt, as if there’s something illuminating him from the inside.

Maybe all cleric are just indescribably odd.

Shadowheart is no less strange than the gnome, also choosing to remain aloof and enigmatic, only revealing bits of her past when she’s forced too.  Astarion shakes his head.

No… there is something very, very wrong with Wicket.

Attempting to push the troubling thoughts away, the elf closes his eyes and tilts his face up, allowing the rays from the early morning sun to warm his face.  The rustling of cloth announces another’s presence, and from the creaking of their joints as they sit down next to him Astarion is able to tell that it’s Gale. 

“You seem introspective this morning,” he murmurs, settling his robes about him.

“Just thinking, darling,” Astarion murmurs without opening his eyes.  “Considering all that’s happened to our little group recently.”

“Is there something in particular on your mind?  Or someone, to be more precise?”

The vampire cracks open one eyes and glances over at Gale.  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, my dear.”

Gale shrugs nonchalantly.  “It’s hard not to notice how considerate a certain cleric has been towards your particular needs.”

Astarion remains obstinately silent.  Undeniably… in his own coarse, obnoxiously high-handed way, Wicket has taken rather decent care of him.  Making sure he’s fed adequately each day, tending to his wounds with efficient, thorough care while implicitly making sure his hands don’t linger longer than strictly necessary… Astarion can grudgingly admit that Wicket has treated him with more care than he probably deserves, considering his attitude towards the other man.  But for purely practical reasons, he’s sure.  It wouldn’t do to think any differently.

“If this is your poor attempt to convince me that Wicket’s actions are merely altruistic, I will have to insist otherwise,” Astarion protests irritably.

“Kelemvor’s necrobanes are notoriously devoted to their oath,” Gale muses, stroking his beard thoughtfully.  “To have one not only deny his holy mission, but aid in the survival of the very thing he’s sworn to destroy… it makes one wonder what could cause him to defy his god.”

“Given our rather unique circumstances I am of more use to him alive than dead.  That is all.”

Gale arches one eyebrow skeptically.

 “I’ve lived long enough to know that altruism is a farce,” Astarion replies sharply.  “Whatever Wicket has done for me he will expect repayment, I’m sure.  They always do.”

“I think you may be doing him a disservice,” the wizard murmurs. 

Astarion mimics Gale’s earlier shrug, feigning disinterest in his companion’s opinion.  But some infinitesimally small part of him, a bit of him so heavily guarded and locked away he’d nearly forgotten about it, dares to hope that Gale is right.

[thebreakfastgenie]

Alright Frank Burns manifesto. I think by the end of his run Frank is written as cartoonishly incompetent, but that's something that was exaggerated over the years to the detriment of the character and the show. The fact is, most of Frank's patients survive, and he doesn't seem to lose any more than anybody else. This is partly because sometimes another doctor like Trapper or BJ takes over, but that's obviously not happening most of them time. Henry describes him as "good" and "fair," and once says "he's a good doctor and we need him" to Hawkeye, who does not dispute it. I think early on, Frank's incompetence was exaggerated both in-universe and by the structure of the show, similar to Radar's apparent psychic abilities.

I think the reality of Frank is that he's competent at the routine work he does back home. His technique is probably not as sophisticated, something that would be very apparent to a highly skilled surgeon like Hawkeye, but not apparent to someone who did not work in the field. It's not possible for every surgeon to be the top surgeon and from a patient's perspective, for the routine work, Frank is probably fine. What he's not good at is thinking on his feet. Henry says Hawkeye is a better doctor "when the heat's on." Frank panics under pressure and is ill-suited to work in a MASH; Hawkeye, by contrast, is great in a crisis, which makes him very good at working in a MASH and is why he's chief surgeon.

What Frank is really bad at is the rest of the job, and notably that's what the bulk of Hawkeye's dressing down in Sticky Wicket is about. Frank doesn't take correction or criticism well, he doesn't acknowledge when he makes mistakes or take responsibility, he's not a team player, he has a bad attitude and a terrible bedside manner, he's self-serving and self-centered, he treats his colleagues badly. These are all important to the job; many people in the field would argue they're just as important as medical skills. So in that sense, Frank is a bad doctor. But I think somewhere along the line the show lost the nuance and as a result fans did too.

[drrutherford]

LOCATION — Lord's Cricket Ground, London. DATE — Early May, 2024. STARTER — Closed for @ceceliaahathaway

Felix had wanted to watch a cricket match, so a trip to Lord's they'd taken.

It doesn't matter that the day's swelteringly hot, that Gideon wishes the dress code in the Pavilion had allowed for shorts instead of chinos, or that he's rather certain his five year old son doesn't actually have the requisite attention span to watch an entire game of cricket, even if they'd only bought tickets for the last two days.

Three hours in, and both father and son's attention alike is beginning to flag. Felix is complaining about the fielding team and the wicket keeper, Gideon is wishing he'd roped Damon into this particular excursion in his stead, and both father and son are absolutely famished. He's counting down the last eight minutes to the lunch break, eyes roving over the other spectators when his gaze snags abruptly on a familiar face.

Long enough that to pretend he hasn't noticed her might be an unpardonable faux pas.

So he offers her a nod, and finds his attention raptly re-occupied by the match. Funny how that works. Four minutes, three minutes, two minutes, one... The bell rings and the crowd shifts in mass exodus towards the doors that lead to a promised lunch. He tries to move quick, to steer Felix towards any option for food that a Hathaway might find beneath them — and finds himself standing in front of BBQ Smoke Shack, staring at a giant advertisement for something called the Bratwurst Big Dog.

"Fancy a hotdog, Felix?"

[beardedmrbean]

Q “How do you tell if someone is a vegan?” 

A: “You don’t have to, they’ll tell you.” 

Maybe it’s jokes like that, highlighting society’s stereotypical view of vegans as arrogant virtue-signallers, that have led to a slump in demand for some plant-based alternatives to meat and dairy, as well as a slew of business failures among manufacturers of plant-based food – most recently Heather Mills’s company VBites, which has just announced it is going into administration. 

Despite veganism being endorsed by a number of celebrities, such as the BBC’s controversial wildlife presenter Chris Packham, it doesn’t seem to have made much headway beyond those segments of the market that are either apocalyptic about climate change or fanatical about animal rights – or both. Perhaps much like Mr Packham himself. 

Then there’s the argument that veganism is good for your health, which has been on an increasingly sticky wicket, deconstructed by books such as the award-winning The Great Plant Based Con by Jayne Buxton. There is also a growing backlash against ultra-processed foods, which many vegan products are. 

But Ms Mills had the gall to blame “gaslighting” by the meat industry for the collapse of her vegan food empire. As a member of the meat “industry”, I take exception to that. Of course it is not really an industry at all in the UK – it is made up of family farms, in stark contrast to the public relations agencies promoting vegan diets. 

Farmers have been hounded and smeared by radical vegan activists for years. I wrote in these pages back in September about Laura Corbett, the Gourmet Goat Farmer, who was targeted by vegan “activists” on social media. Her business was attacked by malicious Trip Advisor reviews. 

Indeed, I would suggest that consumers have been put off by the taint of fanaticism surrounding vegan foods. Recent research has shown that omnivorous consumers are less likely to buy products if they are labelled with the V-word. While it is too early to consign veganism to the history books, I suspect when that history is written it will be seen as a fad that was rejected by the British public largely because the wild behaviour of its more extreme followers trashed the brand. 

It always seemed unlikely that, after millennia evolving on an omnivorous meat-rich diet, we would then wholly abandon it. There is only one species that has ever done that: the panda. And that has not been an unqualified success. 

If the vegans had wanted to actually persuade people to eat better, rather than hector them, they could have chosen a much less blunt message. But a more effective, nuanced approach, focused on stopping the harmful aspects of meat and dairy production, was not pursued and all livestock farmers were tarred with the same brush. This happened even after the positive environmental role of grass-based beef farmers was recognised by the authorities, as they began to be paid carbon credits for the net carbon they sequester.

We can’t allow vegans to continue to ruin the debate about food. We need a real food counter-revolution. 

[avinwrites]

CAN YOU DO GANJI X GN!READER MODERN HIGHSCHOOL HEAD CANNONS?? YOU CAN ADD MORE CHARACTERS TOO IF YOU WANT!!

Ganji x reader || Highschool AU Headcannons

-Ganji is both introverted and extroverted. When he’s in class, he’ll stay relatively quiet, answering or asking questions on the off occasion, but mostly just paying silent attention. He has to force himself to focus more than most people, he has trouble sitting still. However, when he’s on the field, he’s like a whole different person. His true self shines through when he plays cricket. Even though he has a serious, almost grim, look on his face when he’s playing, he genuinely enjoys himself. It's easy to catch him smiling each time he runs between the wickets. 

-He never really considered a relationship before, having to focus too much on practice or on school work. You would most likely start talking to him after being paired up for a group project. He’d be… eager to get it done as soon as possible. It’s not that he doesn’t like you, he’s just an introvert and also doesn’t like projects. If you’re even a little patient with him and take both conversation slow and show interest in him/his interests, he’d open up to you pretty quickly.

-Ganji is the type to go from strangers to friends to close friends to lovers, instead of just strangers to dating to lovers. Once you get to know him, and he gets to know you, he’ll be quick to become friends. It isn’t difficult to tell what he likes and dislikes early on, he’s big on open communication, and he doesn’t exactly hide his emotions. His sentiment towards you grows each time you notice that he feels a particular way and talk to him about it.

-Melts when you do something as simple as ask him if he is ok when he looks particularly grumpy, or inquire as to what has him so excited if he seems to be livelier than usual. He does do the same, part of how you two got so close is just by talking to each other so much that you practically know what each slump of the shoulders or every slight sigh means. People think you’re dating way before you actually make it official just from how well you know each other.

-Speaking of the public, it’s difficult not to be a bit of the center of attention, at least, when it comes to the other Cricket players. They worry that because their star batsmen is thinking about someone constantly, that he’ll become distracted, but you actually have the opposite effect. If he sees you out in the stands, cheering him on, even just in practice, his energy increases tenfold. He’ll make sure he does his best just for you. The others start referring to you as the team’s ‘good luck charm,’ since, if Ganji is doing good, it benefits the whole team, and if you make his performance improve, then they’ll want you at every game. So expect to be friends with his teammates too, but not as close as you are to Ganji.

-If you do make it a habit to attend his games, he’ll expect affections in return for his performance. “We won the game, shouldn’t I get a congratulatory kiss?” He’ll tease, hugging you close in excitement. On the other hand, if he happens to lose (not likely, by his words) then console him with little displays of affection and sweet words, it will absolutely make him feel better. He makes it a habit as well to take you out for ice cream, or your favorite treat, after a game, just because he feels like it.

-Then, once you have to split ways and go home, he’ll leave you with a lingering hug, one that makes you all the more ready to see him again. Though, you’ll call often outside of school. He prefers to talk to you face to face, but if you’re both busy, sometimes just having you there with him virtually, even when not talking, is nice to him. 

-When at school, it's clear that you are friends with him, but PDA isn’t something he particularly enjoys, he’s rather save the more close and intimate moments for complete privacy. You’ll definitely start sitting together at lunch, and if there’s ever any more partnered projects in whatever classes you may have with him, he’ll partner with you every time. But, most of your time together is spent outside of school. Usually at one of your houses, or at a park, just, enjoying each other's presence.

-You may have to help him study. He will ask you, and be sad but accepting if you say no, but he feels like you help him understand things better, plus, you’re patient with him. Study dates in a library happen often. It’s mostly just before finals, where you both will help each other prepare for tests. He’ll bring two large drinks for the both of you, and just sit down and get it done. He finds your encouragement to be more motivating than anything else. If he seems to be getting overwhelmed, just… carefully lift his face so that he isn’t staring at whatever paper he’s trying to get information from and press a simple peck to the tip of his nose and say: “let's take a break for a minute.” 

-After a short break, maybe you show him something funny on your phone, or you just let him rest his eyes for five minutes on your shoulder, he’ll feel rejuvenated just being around you, going back to his attempt on the practice test he’s taking. He’ll encourage you to stop procrastinating as well. 

-All in all, it's a very chill and sweet relationship. While you’re both young and experiencing life, he’s a great partner to experience life with.

TYSM for this request! I love highschool/college aus!! I hope that this is to your liking!! (*^▽^*)

[handeaux]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ginerva-mollyweasley]

we’re bowling first…. i…. i hope we get early wickets🤷🏽‍♀️