#philip the bold

[illustratus]

Mediaeval Battle of French and English — The Surrender of John II of France at the Battle of Poitiers.

English School, (19th century)

[dreamconsumer]

Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy (1342-1404). Unknown artist.

[tiny-librarian]

Royal Birthdays for today, January 17th:

Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, 1342

Frederick III, Elector of Saxony, 1463

Stanislaus II Augustus, King of Poland, 1732

Maria Cristina of Naples and Sicily, Queen of Sardinia, 1779

Elisabeth Franziska, Archduchess of Austria, 1831

Marie Louise of Bourbon-Parma, Princess Consort of Bulgaria, 1870

Dibyalangkarn, Princess of Thailand, 1891

Mia Tindall, Granddaughter of Princess Anne, 2014

[apatheticshots]

[rmelster]

Hello my friend, can you share some interesting facts about Philip the Good and Charles the Bold?

I love his question! Well, here they are:

Philip the Good:

-He was the son of the legendary John the Fearless and his Bavarian wife, Margaret of Bavaria-Straubing.

-He sold Joan of Arc to the English, of whom he had become ally after his father was killed by the friends of Charles VII of France.

-He was kind of a lavish dude, serving roasted swans and peacocks during his feasts.

-He married thrice; firstly to Michelle of Valois, sister of Charles VII, of whom he had a daughter who died young; secondly, to his uncle’s widow, Bonne of Artois; and finally, to a Portuguese infanta woman he had rejected once, Isabella of Portugal. Both were in their early thirties, but their union was surprisingly fruity, having three children (of whom the last and only surviving would become Charles the Bold).

-He was the founder of the Order of the Golden Fleece, made to honour his wedding to his Portuguese wife.

-He was also quite amorous having at least thirty illegitimate children.

-His wife Isabella and his infant son Charles Martin were briefly kidnapped by rebels in the city of Bruges, to which he hastily responded by seizing the city economically.

-He lived to his seventies!

Charles the Bold.

-He was the youngest knight of the Golden Fleece in his time, being ordered within days of being born.

-He played music! He was quite the music lover, seemingly quitting holy music himself. He also sang, but it appears that he did not have that much of a pleasant voice.

-He met Hungarian king Matthias Corvinus (history’s greatest crossovers).

-He had a complicated relationship with his father the Good Duke, based in the fact that he had to often beat with his demanding upraising (learning to ride at four; almost fighting to death as eighteen as his father prompted his adversary to fight “harder”) and yet the duke’s fears of loosing his only legitimate son made him force him out of his first battlefield experience with lies of the duchess being terribly ill. He misliked his father’s amorous tendencies, but ultimately, when his father fell ill and nearer death, he hastened to his deathbed and wept most soundly during his funeral, reportedly tearing his own hair and falling to the floor in the church.

-He firstly married at age six to a French princess, Catherine of Valois. This union lasted eight years, until she passed away of tuberculosis; she supported his musical inclination and was reportedly very dear to him. Most tragically, his next wife, Isabelle of Bourbon, died of tuberculosis fairly young too.

-He was most likely celibate (his only child was Mary of Burgundy, born to his wife Isabelle).

-He burned Liege. Twice.

-Had he survived Nancy and lived as much as his father and maternal grandfather did, he would have lived enough to meet his great grandson and namesake, Charles V.

[lazyspeedy]

becoming a zutara fan as a young adult is really on brand for me bc ive been betting on losing dogs since i was eight (rooting for the second male lead in k dramas)

[thefreelancehistorywriter]

Marie of Luxembourg, Countess of Saint-Pol and Soissons and Vendôme

Marie of Luxembourg, Countess of Saint-Pol, Soissons and Vendôme from the Book of Hours of Catherine de’Medici While researching my book about the women of Burgundy, the name of Marie of Luxembourg arose as she married her maternal uncle Jacques of Savoy, Count of Romont. Yolande of France, Duchess of Savoy, had to contend with the political shenanigans of Jacques during her reign as regent for…

[illustratus]

[traggalicious]

AURGRH THIS FUCKS

another fanart of this crusty vile bitch /pos

agh i should use my actual main artstyle often

[oceantornadoo]

too sweet (simon riley x f!reader, possessiveness turned into fluff)

"i don't know why you keep coming back here."

you poured him a whiskey, neat, and slid it across the table. simon caught it with grace, signaling his thanks by lifting the glass your way. he raised it to his scarred lips and your breath caught in your chest, captivated by the way his throat moved as he swallowed his drink. shaking yourself out of that haze, you busied yourself with cleaning the bartop. "jus' like to keep watch." he murmured over the low din of bar chatter.

"thought we weren't dating." you said nonchalantly. "we're not." he was leaning over the counter now, making searing eye contact. "then why-"

"'scuse me." a man appeared, raising his two fingers to signal an order. you closed your mouth, ending the conversation effectively, and put on your customer service smile. "what can i get you?" he smiled, and you noticed he had a nice one. you had been too caught up in simon at first realize the stranger was quite attractive. "gin and tonic, ma'am." the nicety made you smile, his low southern accent quite endearing.

simon turned towards the stranger, pissed off your conversation was cut short. he’s as american as apple pie, all southern charm and a moonshine smile. "fuckin’ yank." simon grumbles, turning back to his drink. you try to hide a grin at his annoyance, ducking to find a clean glass for the stranger’s drink.

you pour it in front of him, years of practice letting the gin out of the bottle with a giant flourish. he gives you another one of those charming smiles, teeth so white he could be in a toothpaste ad. “wouldn’t peg you for a gin and tonic kind of guy.” you try to talk to patrons for a good tip, toeing the line of flirty. with simon’s pissed off mood, refusing to label the two of you and choosing to act like a guard dog at the same time, you decide to have a little fun. at the end of the night, you’ll hopefully get an orgasm with either guy you choose.

“and what kinda guy would’ya peg me for?” he leans on the counter, calloused hands raised loosely to grab his drink. he pulls it to his mouth sensually, drinking half in one go. his tongue darts out to clean a stray drop, all while his eyes sparkle in the dim light of the bar. you grow bold, left hand reaching to touch the brim of the actual cowboy hat he’s wearing. you rub your thumb over the edge for just a second, then bring it back down to your bar counter. “mint julep. maybe an old fashioned.” he laughed at that and you could practically feel the laser eyes simon is sending your way. an old fashioned is one of his go to’s, right after his whiskey (neat), something he orders without fail. and for you to casually throw that around? you obviously didn’t understand your agreement.

“just cause of the accent don’t mean i’m a mint julep kinda man. too sweet for my taste.” he drained the other of his drink and you watched his throat work, strong neck muscles straining. “another?” he cocked his head, assessing. “surprise me, sugar.” you giggled and simon stood up, chair squeaking with the weight of him. you cocked an eyebrow. no way he was giving up that easy. “goin’ for a smoke.” you nodded and he disappeared, like his namesake. you plopped the drink down in front of your stranger, and much to your delight, he gave you a genuine laugh. “i’ll be damned, a long island iced tea. you just got yourself a 30% tip, sweetheart.” you smirked. “all these nicknames and i still don’t know your name.” he eyed your name tag. “you’ve got a pretty one yourself.” you cocked your head, waiting. “philip graves. pleasure’s all mine.”

simon was stewing. did you not understand that once you fucked, you were his? you were claimed, he belonged to you as much as you belonged to him. he even had the bite mark to prove it. so he'd wait, like a good soldier. he could wait for eternity.

you figured simon had left. it was two hours later, and graves was still at your bar, flirting up a storm. he had nursed the long island awhile, a bit tipsy but nothing more. if simon wanted to give up and leave you at the first sign of competition, fine. all the more reason to go home with the cute stranger who'd been sending you looks all night. your shift was ending and graves noticed you wiping down the counters and counting out your till. "that guy earlier yours?" you shook your head. finally. you'd been waiting for this all night. "don't have a guy. i'm a free agent." he hummed thoughtfully. "can i walk you home?" you smirked. "sure."

you were walking out the door with graves when you felt it. a dark presence just outside the bar, lurking in the alleyway. simon. in a flash, your walking buddy was against the alley wall, simon's forearm pinning him to it. "y'r gonna walk y'rself home and never come back. copy?" graves seemed to be weighing his options, eyes darting from yours to simon's. seemingly, he decided you weren't worth it (bitch), and nodded to simon. "copy." simon pressed him harder into the wall, then let him go. graves walked off without a second look back, oozing sliminess that seemed to be hidden by the bar lighting.

your feet kept moving towards your apartment, ignoring the glowering man behind you. no one asked him to go all caveman, yet here he was. his steps echoed behind you, making them heavy on purpose so you could hear him. always so calculated. "stop." you kept walking. "said stop." you turned down your street instead. "baby, please."

you spun on your heel, marching towards the imposing figure he cut in the night. "you can't call me that." simon cocked his head at the finger you pressed into his chest. "why not?" a frustrated breath of air passed your lips. "because we're not dating. that's what you said." he stepped closer, your finger on his chest turning into a splayed hand to keep him away. "you were goin' t' leave with him." you shook your head. "you don't get to say that. you left." he pushed closer until he was towering over you, hands finding your waist. "was jus' waitin' f' you." some force moved your hand up his chest to find his neck, thumb brushing his pulse point. "you're so stupid." he squeezed your waist in admonishment. "an' y'r bossy." you squeezed his neck back in a fake choke. "you gonna kiss your girlfriend? you seem to be all talk no-" and he shut you up with a kiss.

--

um so i hate this. but it's been in my drafts for months so:

[codnasties]

p!link collection 👻🚬🧢🧼🪦🗡 (🌽 links)

includes: ghost, price, gaz, soap, graves & konig

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

ghost 👻

cheater!ghost giving you a hand with your stubborn child - that doesn't seem to want to leave you just yet - by fucking you

ghost deserves to be spoiled and what better way than helping him with his mornig wood by waking him up with some head

poly relationship with ghost and soap is all fun and games until they get rowdy. good thing that a handjob keeps them tame

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

price 🚬

stong and powerful price turning putty the second your hands are wrapped around his cock, specially if you are teasing him

sending a slutty pic to john and him wanting to send someting back to show you how horny you got him, just that he ends up cumming by mistake

price getting home from a boring dinner and all he want is your hands wrapped around his throbbing cock

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

gaz 🧢

gaz is an amazing roommate. he takes care of you in many ways, including fucking you as a result of a cuddle session

going for a pregnancy checkup and doctor!gaz making sure that his patient is well taken care of by eating you out

finally making a move on neighbour!gaz ends with you riding his dick on your kitchen floor when he came to fix your sink

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

soap 🧼

getting his bush waxed got soap a bit too excited. and so much so that he ended up cumming all over himself

poly relationship with soap and ghost is all fun and games until they get rowdy. good thing that a handjob keeps them tame

johnny is a horny mutt. he needs his walkies to keep the tension at bey, even if those end up with his cock out and one of your hands around it

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

graves ����

acting like a brat? philip doesn't have time to put up with that. he just uses his belt as collar and leash to make sure that you follow his orders

graves is one honry fucker, so he won't hesitate to fuck you in a random closet at base without a single care about who hears

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

konig 🗡

pervy roommate!konig is getting bold with his antics. masturbaing over your sleeping form ends with him giving you an unexpected facial

he's been misbehaving in public, so if konig wants public he's getting just that in the form of cumming all over himself in the train

worshiping konigs cock through his shorts, fondling his balls and palming his boner. maybe sucking him though the thin material until he cums

[70sscifiart]

Hello! I don’t know if you have a 60s scifi art equivalent or not, but do you know anything about the cover of D-99 by HB Fyfe? It was published in 1962, my friend and I found a copy of it in a second hand shop and literally have never been able to stop thinking about it ever since. Thank you!

I see why it stuck with you, it's very striking! haha

According to ISFDB, the artist is Ralph Brillhart, which makes sense. I like Brillhart! You can see some of his other covers over here, and they're almost all from the early 1960s, with another handful done in 1981-'82.

Like most 60s artists, his work doesn't have the finer detail or realistic perspectives that you tend to get with 1970s artists. But he has some great concepts, and I think he picks really interesting compositions - in my opinion, the cover here is unsettling entirely because that one wide-eyed alien in the foreground has stuck his face right up against the viewer. Very confrontational!

I bet Brillhart knew that, too, because he pulled the same trick for this 1965 cover:

Here's my favorite Brillhart cover, used for Martian Time-Slip by Philip K. Dick, 1964. I love the odd color choices, like the pink sky.

Here's a later one that Brillhart did in 1981, for The Ends of the Circle, by Paul O. Williams. He's using another bold perspective choice, with the perfectly straight road cutting down the center of the image, and it totally works for me!

Anyway, he's a good artist! You can see a fairly complete list of his covers here. They're not all winners, admittedly, but it's a bit of a shame he wasn't more well-known or prolific.

Edit: Oh, also I have an art book that you should check out if you liked this post! No Brillhart, sadly.

[rmelster]

The pipeline of Charles “they had to deceive and drag me to my wedding” ofthe Bold, to his son in law Maximilian “hey… This Burgundian lady is pretty. I think I’m going to like her :)”, Holy Roman Emperor to Maximilian’s son Philip “marry me to this girl right now, idc if we need more pomp, I need to consummate” the Handsome is real, and it can happen to you too.

[petalpetal]

Anyway here is the full list of books I’ve read this year this is a mix of adult and YA with one middle school book the ones in bold are my big reccomenders

- Hild and Menewood by Nicola Griffith

- Thousand Crimes of Ming Tsu by Tom Lin

- Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

- Joan by Kathrine J. Chen

- The Daughter of Doctor Moreau by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

- Butcher of The Forest by Premee Mohamed

- The Fox Wife by Yangsze Choo

- Red Rabbit by Alex Grecian

- Nettle & Bone by T. Kingfisher

- Starling House by Alix E. Harrow

- The Scholomance series by Naomi Novik

- Our Hideous Progeny by C.E. McGill

- Fifty Beasts to Break Your Heart: and Other Stories by GennaRose Nethercott

- Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik

- Godkiller and Sunbringer by Hannah Kaner

- Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson

- The Weaver and the Witch Queen by Genevieve Gornichec

- A Clash of Steel: A Treasure Island Remix by C.B. Lee

- The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White

- Lore by Alexandra Bracken

- The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

- The Twisted Ones by T. Kingfisher

- Gallant by V.E. Schwab

- Clytemnestra by Costanza Casati

- The Eyes Are the Best Part by Monika Kim

- No One Will Come Back For Us: And Other Stories by Premee Mohamed

- Slasher Girls & Monster Boys by Various Authors

- The Libarary of Legends by Janie Chang

- The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman

- Girls Who Burn by MK Pagano

- Starve Arc by Andrew Michael Hurley

- Home Before Dark by Riley Sager

- Catfish Rolling by Clara Kumagai

- A Sorceress Comes To Call by T. Kingfisher

- The Cautious Traveller’s Guide to the Wastelands by Sarah Brooks

- Circe by Madeline Miller

- Woodworm by Layla Martínez

- The Dance Tree by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

- Sworn Soldier series by T. Kingfisher

- Bitter Greens by Kate Forsyth

- A Drop of Venom by Sajni Patel

- Black River Orchard by Chuck Wendig

- Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

- Jonathan Strange & Me Norrell by Susanna Clarke

- The Darkest Part of The Forest by Holly Black

- The Fortune Teller by Gwendolyn Womack

- Six Crimson Cranes series by Elizabeth Lim

- A House With Good Bones by T. Kingfisher

- Boys In the Valley by Philip Fracassi

- The West Passage by Jared Pechaček @jpechacek

- The Girl Who Fell Beneath The Sea by Axie Oh

- Revelator by Daryl Gregory

- The Last Cuentista by Donna Barba Higuera

- Hera by Jennifer Saint

- Life Ceremony by Sayaka Murata

- Thornhedge by T. Kingfisher

- The Drowned Woods by Emily Lloyd-Jones

- The Devil and the Dark Water by Stuart Turton

- Ink Blood Sister Scribe by Emma Törzs

- The Last Tale of the Flower Bride by Roshani Chokshi

- The Last Murder at the End of the World by Stuart Turton

- The Hearts We Sold by Emily Lloyd-Jones

- Sistersong by Lucy Holland

- House of Hollow by Krystal Sutherland

- The Book of Gothel by Mary McMyne

- The Hollow Places by T. Kingfisher

- The Children of Gods and Fighting Men by Shauna Lawless

- The Witch of Colchis by Rosie Hewlett

- Sisters of Sword & Song by Rebecca Ross

- Dragonfruit by Makiia Lucier

- Little Eve by Catriona Ward

- Pilgrim: A Medieval Horror by Mitchell Lüthi

- The Empusium by Olga Tokarczuk

- Juniper & Thorn by Ava Reid

- O Caledonia by Elspeth Barker

- everything by Shirley Jackson

[hopeless-eccentric]

dick mullen, hard-boiled detectives, and cultural occupation

hi all. im back with more disco elysium meta. knowing me, this'll be long, so bear with me--

i'm really interested in thinking about the dick mullen series's role in revacholian culture, particularly by reflecting and creating a patriarchal and destructive police culture. taking it one step farther, i'm interested in their potential role in vesper's occupation

before we begin, i want to clarify that i'm taking the approach that art and culture influence each other constantly (art isn't just reflecting culture/history, it's also creating it). it's an idea that comes out of the school of new historicism if you want to look more into it! anyway, my argument is guided by the assumption that the world of disco elysium operates this way

with that out of the way, let's talk detectives! I want to zero in on this passage:

[Image ID: White text on a black background from the game Disco Elysium reading "Spillane needs Mullen to drive him in from Vesper to a small town along the Insulindian coast. Despite his friend's apparent agitation, Mullen does as he's asked, then returns home where he passes out drunk, as he does most nights..." Below the text is a red bar with the word "continue" on it, and an arrow pointing right. End image ID]

Right off the bat, there are two really interesting explicit references: Philip Marlowe and Mike Hammer.

First, the opening of this novel is borrowed from Raymond Chandler's The Long Goodbye, where detective Philip Marlowe's old friend (/homoerotic, depending on whose work you read) shows up out of the blue and asks to be covertly taken across the border from Los Angeles to Tijuana. The next day, the friend's wife is found dead, and Marlowe is arrested as an accesory to murder. He spends the rest of the book proving his (and his friend's) innocence. You're probably seeing a few parallels to Mullen already.

A few other things to know about Marlowe and the series he stars in--some of these might ring a bell:

Marlowe is depressed, at-times suicidal, and a likely alcoholic, though the books are deeply concerned with normative masculinity and try to minimize these

Adapted into a 1973 movie where Marlowe is recast as a "man out of time," (AKA sopping wet disco detective) awkwardly split between the 50s and the 70s

Generally tout conservative USAmerican values circa ~1940-1955, especially pushing white, cishet male individualism, fear of marginalized identity, and promoting the idea that government punishment and surveillance are the best, most desirable solutions to social issues

You're probably already seeing some interesting parallels (or places Disco Elysium adapts/interrogates some of these ideas). Hang onto the conservatism and government stuff--we'll get back into it.

(Quick caveat that basically ALL detective fiction pushes the bolded ideas above to some extent or another, but that Chandler's stuff gets especially highlighted in literature because he wrote a very famous essay about American detective fiction and the essay and his body of work were very popular and influential)

The next reference is a general one to Mickey Spillane, author of the Mike Hammer series. This is a pretty interesting pull, because

they're a bit niche!

2. they have some of the most explicitly sexualized violence against women in the entire hard-boiled detective genre (Mitzi Brunsdale has some great work on this). a few scholars i've read discuss them as outliers, but most consider them "the quiet part out loud" of a genre largely about controlling and punishing women

(if you're curious, this is a really interesting reading of some of them guided by queer/feminist theory and a focus on the post-WWII era).

I'll admit Hammer's a little bit more outside of my research niche than Marlowe, but I've read enough to know he's also very much in the "individualist straight white guy who represents the government has to fix uppity women" school of fifties detective fiction

Both of these references affirm and contextualize what we can tell about Dick Mullen from reading the book: he's the white macho-individualist picture of repressed trauma and masculine anxiety, while also constituting the popular fictional idea of policing

keeping that in mind, i want to return to the beginning of The Long Goodbye/Dick Mullen and the Case of the Stolen Identity, where Mexico and Insulinde both occupy an imperialist fantasy role as "lawless" places Americans/Vespertines can flee in order to avoid consequence for their actions. It's not a one-to-one cultural comparison (very little in this world is), but it gives us a little context for why it's weird and interesting to me that the Mullen books are so popular in Revachol

considering all of this, i think it's interesting to consider that the police culture of the RCM (intensely sexist, homophobic, racist/xenophobic, and generally supportive of an occupying government) might have been partially created, or at least reinforced through the popular notions of fictional policing produced and popularized within an occupying nation. given the RCM's roots as the ICM, i think there might have been a potential incentive to mass publish and produce these books in an occupied, formerly-communist region to normalize and entrench ideas of individualism, patriarchy, and government surveillance, especially among the only revacholians with any government power or representation

that being said, I think it's a little limiting to act like people will not naturally turn against a failed rebellion, especially given the ensuing mass destruction. despite being an ostensibly individualist and capitalist genre, hard-boiled detective fiction was born and popularized out of the Great Depression. its work to romanticize a return sociopolitical "normalcy" and to speak to the experience of the working class are what kept it popular in moments of social and economic upheaval in the US, even if, ultimately, it puts the pill of pro-capitalist/individualist sentiment in the cheese of working class appeal and bitter suspicion towards government bigwigs. granted, interpellation by the art of one's own culture has a different connotation from interpellation into the desired culture of an occupier, though i think it's important not to romanticize revachol as a place with 0 conservative sentiment before its occupation by the moralintern

i think there are a few possible and interesting arguments here--that there was an incentive for vespertine governments and businesses to promote vespertine individualism to help quell rebel sentiment within the RCM and revachol in general, that people naturally turned to the comfort and "normalcy" of conservative fictions in periods of turmoil despite their ideas being actively harmful (in neo-marxist theory, this is called interpellation, which, for the record, is all over the game), maybe some of column A, some of column B

regardless, i think it's interesting to view the dick mullen books as something which have created culture, rather than just reflecting it. it's definitely a lens that helps to explain part of the radical cultural shift between the idealized heyday of the ICM and the RCM (though i think the cracks in that shift are equally interesting and worth exploring another time)

(if you can't access any of the articles, please shoot me a dm! i'm happy to share wherever i can. i believe i have some pdf scans of pages from the linked books, but those are unfortunately limited)

[whyareyouhere66]

Call Me A Snitch - Benny Rodriguez/The Sandlot x GN Reader

“Could it be something like benny rodriguez x gn!reader and its they are on philips team and playing against the sandlot boys and the philips convinces the reader to cheat by using like this sticky rosin stuff…”

Here we go @yourgirljen4life - hope you enjoy and I hope this is what you were looking for 

[mind you I don’t know a lot about rosin or anything- also Phillips doesn’t have a listed full name, so I used the actors first name.]

CW: slightly rushed I haven’t written in a hot minute, not heavy on any relationships, Wil Phillips

Benny Rodriguez x GN!Tiger’s player Reader

x

It’s the middle of the day, sun hot and sticky beating down on the trees and dirt that cover the ground, temperature at least 80 degrees, when I realize I should’ve stayed home.

I used to say I’d never miss a good game of baseball, especially not with someone as invested as Benny Rodriguez or Wil Phillips. But then again, I’ve never played such an un-fun one in my life. Which is actually pretty impressive.

The ball swings across the field as Benny’s team hits it spot on again, and I see as our outfielder scurries to get it. I can’t remember who’s out there, probably Eric. Guess that wasn’t a great idea. Bertram, looking accomplished, smoothly jogs across the base. 

They’re getting real cocky, now. It’s funny, I think, I’d crack a grin when I hear Ham’s next remark but with the vein nearly popping out of Phillips’ forehead I decide to bite it back. 

“How are we doing so shit?” I hear him ask, but I don’t think he wants a real answer. The expensive jerseys can only cover so much, an idea he seems very much unaware of.

I look down at my wrinkled jersey, the white fabric tinted with dirt after I took a dive for home base in the last inning. I dust some of it off, hearing another crack of the wooden bat across the way. To follow, a curse mumbled from Phillips lips. 

I sigh slightly, and glance back at the score board. We’re down by 2, which isn’t horrible, but I know we’d all prefer not being down at all. My cleats scuff against the sand as I stand up from our bench, and stand next to the blonde boy. His gaze is strong and fixed on the new batter, Benny. 

‘Oh boy.’ 

Droplets of sweat trickle down his forehead, over his nose, and he stares intently at our pitcher. He’s in jeans in a t-shirt, to no one’s surprise, and I look over him as he gets into position. His eyes narrow, blocking the sun the best they can. 

From the dugout, I watch with crossed arms. I still remember the first game against the sandlot boys- when Phillips tried to stand off on their own field. I think that’s when I first realized, baseball would be a lot more fun if there weren’t the pressure of winning constantly on my shoulders. 

He’s so focused, swaying the bat over his shoulder and adjusting his feet across home base. Beside me, Phillips’ scoffs, I can basically hear how his teeth clench in his jaw.

Benny hits it mere feet away from the fence, our outfielder sprinting for it and suddenly Phillips’ hand grabs a firm hold on my shoulder, snatching my thoughts from the game.

“This is bullshit,” he complains, and uses the grip on my shoulder to turn me towards the bench behind us, “come on.”

My arms remain crossed even as he tugs me towards his bag, and he leans down to grab something from inside. Red flag, I think, he’s up to something.

“You’re up next,” when he comes back up, he’s holding a small tub in his hand, “use this.” 

I look down at the tub in his hands, and skim over the word “Rosin” bolded on the lid. 

He’s gotta be kidding.

I glance up at him, he’s looking at me expectantly, as if I’m supposed to immediately understand. When I don’t enthusiastically go along with it, he rattles his hand impatiently.

“No.” I tell him, and he groans.

“Y/n come on-“ he whines, “we’ve gotta get a leg up.”

“This is pathetic, Phillips.”

He groans again, dramatically throwing his head back, and I feel his fingers tightening against the bone of my shoulder. 

“Dude- it’s not a big deal, just do it so we don’t lose against these…” he looks back to the field, where Benny has already made it to 2nd base and players from our team and his are spread across the dirt and grass. Ham chuckles smugly, rolling up to base, and immediately just from one look at the field Phillips’ face scrunches into one of disgust. 

“…losers.”

He finishes, I scoff.

“Dude.”

He doesn’t listen to my protest at all, instead shoving the tub of rosin into my hand. Tan fingers slip away from my shoulder, finally, and he reaches back into his bag and pulls out another baseball, placing it into my free hand. 

“Do it, or I swear to god L/n.”  He looks at me like he’s giving a threat, which he is, but it’s not a strong one. I sigh, and he steps away from me back to the edge of the dugout to watch the game. I’m left alone by the cluttered bench.

Looking down at the ball and the tub, I sigh once more. But nonetheless, I unscrew the tub. 

It’s a bad idea, pathetic as I said, I should’ve known the second we went down a point Phillips would resort to a cheat. 

.

But hey, it worked. 

My fingers are still sticky with rosin as the game ends- the scoreboard has changed, now in our favor with 3 points above the sandlot group. 

Curses echo from them as ham kicks the dirt below his feet, and I watch as Benny throws his hat to the ground in a fit. It clashes well with the smug cheers from my team- but at the sight of the others so defeated, I feel guilty.

“Told you.” Phillips’ smirks into my ear, patting my shoulder much harder than needed before strutting off with the rest of the team. I dont join him, though.

It wasn’t our win to get. 

“Some pop and fries at the diner sound good to you guys?” Phillips asks, raising his voice knowing the sandlot boys will hear him across the dugout. Of course he needs to rub it in, sometimes i think he’s a better actor than he is a baseball player.

As my team saunters off, I listen in on the grumbles from Benny’s team.

“Damn tigers…” ham mumbles, glaring at the ground. 

“Yeah yeah- we had ‘em in the first half too. Like, what the hell?”

With all the mumbling, Benny shakes his head with a glare. I can tell by the clench of his fist he’s frustrated, he turns around to his friends.

“Just shut up about it guys- we lost, it’s whatever.” His voice contradicts him easily, but it quiets his friends grumbling a fair amount. He spins back around, about to match off to their dugout, and last second my mouth opens.

“Wait!”

They all turn around, faces still dark as ever when they see me approaching them, trying to catch up with a light jog. I don’t know why I’m doing this, I’ve never been much more than acquaintances with them, but it’s obvious they’re better friends than my team will ever get to be. Maybe that’s what motivates me to continue.

“Hold on, it’s,” I pause, breathing out and coming to a stop right in front of them, “hold on.”

“What do you want?” Squints obnoxiously adjusts his glasses at me. The only ones not glaring me down seem to be Smalls and the twins. Though, when i catch Benny’s eyes again there isn’t any anger directed at me behind his gaze. 

“I,” I glance behind me, my team is gone, and I turn back with a hesitant look, “you didn’t lose.”

This seems to confuse them, Bertram scoffs.

“Right, funny.” He says bitterly.

“Yeah yeah, hilarious.” Yeah yeah pipes up, but Squints holds up a finger to both of them, staring at me with vague interest.

Benny is lost, closing his eyes in thought. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t technically lose,” I rephrase, “not legally, I mean.”

When they’re about to question me further, I look down at my hand and squeeze my fingers, the rosin sticking to my skin. They catch on quickly, by the time I look back up squints has already marched over to me.

“What’s this?” He questions, grabbing my hand and examining the skin. I awkwardly watch on as he recognizes the sticky shit on my hand, glaring at me in disbelief. Spinning around to the others, he grabs my wrist.

“They used sticky rosin!” He exclaims, holding up my hand for the others like a clue. His friend’s eyes widen, and I take my hand back to quickly explain.

“They cheated?” Smalls let the question sit in the air, because no one really answered him.

“It was Phillips’ idea,” none of them are surprised, as Benny mutters with rolling eyes, “he got pressed when you started winning, he’d kept some in his bag.” 

Groans rumble from the group, I notice as Benny pulls off his hat once more, leaving his sweaty hair to the breeze. 

“I mean- are we surprised?” His voice is thick in sarcasm, standing out over the grumbles from Ham and Yeah Yeah.

“No- of course that blonde Bambi would cheat, pussy move.” Bertram curses, and despite their glares I feel a grin form at the words “blonde Bambi.”

“Sorry- I should’ve told him to quit, but…”

The hot sun is baking my skin, the baseball cap sitting on my head only giving so much. 

“So why didn’t you?” Ham quips- I almost bite my tongue, but Benny whacks him with his hat. 

“Shut up,” he clicks his tongue, before his gaze returns to me, and I’m not really sure what to do with it. “Thanks for uh- for telling us.” He gives the slightest hint at a smile, his teeth sticking through his lips. I smile back at him, the guilt from before falling further into the back of my mind. 

“Yeah- I mean,” I dip my head, “you guys were having a lot more fun out there than I’ve had in a minute.”

Smalls furrows his eyebrows. “Then you should play with us!”

Everyone turns to look at him.

I’m surprised by his offer, though not at the many, many quips thrown his way afterwards. I’ve never thought about it, never having been invited before, but now that the idea is fresh in front of me I consider it.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Benny jumps in- and that’s what really surprises me. 

“For real?” I ask, and Benny steps forward, blocking off the rest of the boys from giving their loud input. Face to face, I finally notice more of his grin. 

“Yeah- might be fun, plus, would drive Phillips crazy.” 

I grin. 

He holds out a hand to me, and I have to remember to switch to the not sticky one to return the gesture.

“We’ll play tomorrow- the sandlot at noon. If you’re in, join us.”

His hold is firm, yet his hands are softer than I think I expected.  Despite the blisters that cross his palm, his touch is warm. I look up at him through the shade of my hat. For a second, he looks hopeful. And after a moment of thinking, pushing away the migraine for Phillips to face the second he finds out, I nod.

“I’ll be there.”

He’s the last the leave as the others walk away, Smalls walking by his side at the back of the group as Benny throws me one last shiny grin.

Not as uninteresting as I thought it would be anymore- I walk home with the Tiger’s jersey now in lost value on my shoulders.