#telling him don't be the shortstop

[sluttyhenley]

Carmy's stuck in the walk-in? Alright. So what are we gonna do?

THE BEAR | 2x10 The Bear

[gallaghersgal]

tell me about baseball because I know nothing but would like to learn!

FEVER PITCH pro baseball!lip headcanons

TAGS & WARNINGS: mature, 18+. sexual content but non explicit, drinking mention, emotional angst, pregnancy. but also fluff!! silly shenanigans, second chance romance, lip is stupid in love.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is my brain child omfg. tysm for sending this ask, honestly. i yapped!!! there was also more to this but i've been adding to it for days and its getting long for hcs so. lmk if anyone wants part 2 teehee

WC: 1.4k

when he was younger lip always played shortstop, his arm was powerful but not quite precise enough to pitch, but he never minded. pitchers have to remember too much, shortstop just falls into the rhythm; watching the pitch, listening to the crack of the bat, and tracking the ball as it rocketed through the field. the two of you met in college, lip played two seasons at university of chicago before transferring to a better athletic program. there was a mutual breakup before parting ways, but whenever he's in town you can't fight the urge to see each other.

he's picked up on the MLB draft straight out of college, after captaining the national championship team, and sent to an affilliate somewhere warm in the south, georgia or maybe louisiana. he calls you often to boast the climate, while you complain about the stress of your masters degree. over time the calls come less frequently, but each conversation feels like no time has passed at all.

it takes three years for lip to work his way up to the big leagues, where he joins the chicago cubs for his rookie season. now, lip plays centerfield. he's a quick runner, and his powerful arm sends balls to their respective bases at record speed. he's efficient, most teams don't stand a chance.

he doesn't know how to tell you he's coming home again, back to chicago. and back to you. you find out from your best friend, who overheard fiona talking about it at patsy's. you two along with fi & veronica find the money for tickets at centerfield, right where lip will be.

fiona whistles through her fingers the second she reaches her seat and waves down her brother, whose cheeks immediately turn bright pink. if a teammate pointed it out he'd surely brush it off as the chilled march wind, but you know him better than that. he greets the four of you nervously, opening up as he gets sight of the smiles you wear. no one cares he didn't tell, your joy at his homecoming tops any negative in your minds.

after the third inning a guest services rep brings the four of you a handful of meal and beverage vouchers, a gift from lip. later you'll learn he'd tried to have your seats upgraded but was denied, too low on the totem pole for that sort of request. so you pile your arms with hot dogs, pretzels, cheese fries, diet coke and fancy ipa brews.

the game flies by, you and fiona sit side by side and shout teases down to lip, watching his face light up. this is the first time you really see his talent, how he's developed as an athlete. he finally has somewhere to put all of that pent up energy he keeps inside, using it to jump up in the ivy wall for a catch, to react as quick as the ball and sprint in the same direction. when he catches the game-winning out, a fly ball straight to centerfield, he tosses it up into the stands. it sails directly to you, tipsy giggles spilling from your lips as you scrawl your phone number onto the white canvas before throwing it back down.

lip wants to fog up the windows of your honda right there in the parking lot but you have the presence of mind to drag him towards his own parked car while he trails sloppy kisses down your neck. the sex is amazing, it always is, but there’s something different in the way he holds you this time. you pretend not to notice it, until you have a reason to bring it up.

three weeks later, two pregnancy tests sit on the gallaghers bathroom counter. you'd only brought one along, but fiona dug another out of her bedside table drawer when you became anxious at the two pink lines. when the second test reads positive, v offers to call lip for you and you let her.

it's hours before he can get to you, even without a game there's still training, a players meeting, and dinner afterward with franchise sponsors. he's busy, you get it. fi gives you the spare key to his apartment—a studio unit in a high rise downtown, somewhere you couldn't imagine a gallagher living—and lip pays for a cab to take you there.

once you lay eyes on the space it becomes a little more believable that lip gallagher lives there. a box spring and mattress are stacked together in one corner, topped with the classic navy blue sheets and two pillows. he has a small couch (loveseat, more like) that you decide to wait on, favoring it over the bed. his tv sits on the floor against the wall, with the remote balanced precariously on top. flipping through channels is a nice, mind numbing activity to soothe you, and you fall asleep after landing on old sitcom reruns.

the sun has long set when lip comes in the door, eyeing your sleeping frame. he decides to let you sleep while he washes the grime of the day from his body. he kneels by you when he's clean and fresh, clothed in nothing but blue gingham boxers. "'ey kid, wake up," he mumbles, smoothing your hair away from your brow. when he sees you blink up at him he continues softly, "y'can live here with me, until the baby is born, m'kay? an' we can decide what we want to do." "about?" "about us."

you smile up at him, he offers you the bed and insists on taking the couch, not allowing himself too much of a good thing. he's already over the moon you want to keep the baby, his baby. he doesn't want to scare you away. he only makes it a week cramped up on that tiny couch. later in your relationship you have something funny to look back on, old photos of lip with his knees tucked up and one arm hanging awkwardly off the cushions.

when he can't stand the couch anymore he orders you a pregnancy pillow, and you order a bedframe, all on his card of course. you don't even need the pillow yet, most nights of your first trimester you're up and down, in and out of the bathroom. each time you come back to bed lip is on his stomach, arms curled around that damn pillow as he rests on it. he says it helps his sore muscles. whatever the reason is you don't really care, the toned expanse of his back makes a good pillow anyway.

you get into a habit of ordering furniture, decorations, and other home goods while lip is away. he doesn't mind, always makes sure you use his card, he wouldn't know what to do with all that money anyway. little by little the studio apartment starts to feel like home, and lip starts to feel more like a serious boyfriend than a hookup turned baby daddy, for lack of better wording.

before you know it the season is over, lip receives a large bonus after the cubs make the playoffs, and the two of you are kissing over a bottle of sparkling cider as you christen your new two-bedroom townhouse, complete with a downstairs office space and large backyard. october turns the leaves beautiful hues, and the calmness of this new neighborhood soothes your mind, your due date in december rapidly approaching.

between the new place, increased proximity during the off-season, and your pregnancy hormones, you find yourself bickering more and more with lip. it comes to a head one night when he shouts at you, and you feel the baby kick in response before you break down completely. the fight was about something small, insignificant. it had started with you talking about baby names. lip isn't sure how he let it spiral this way.

dutifully, with regret painted on his features, he kneels down beside your crumpled form on the bed. he takes your hand, muttering an apology and promising to make things work. then he says softly, "i like lucy. as a name for the baby?" you just stare at him, and he continues, "could be short for lucille. an' you liked olivia for a middle name, yeah?"

"lucille olivia gallagher. it's so pretty, lip, i love it." you smile in awe, reaching out to cup his cheek. "i love you," you say, and now it's lip's turn to stare. but a moment passes and he smiles, gathering your frame into his arms to pull you into his lap. "love you too, pretty girl."

by new years day you have a healthy baby girl in your arms, and a pretty diamond ring on your left hand.

© gallaghersgal, 2024. dividers © cafekitsune (x)

[beamtori]

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐢)

nonidol!eric sohn x rem!reader

2.3k words, smut (minors dni), p in v sex, reader is on birth control for convenience of hitting it raw, swearing, kissing, fingering, creampie (such an interesting word...), my weird ver of aftercare cuz how tf do u do aftercare post-getting railed at a party 😭, pet names (baby, sweetheart, hon, pretty boy), he's sweet, i think i got it all skfnksndkd

a/n: this is a second part to this fic occupied on my main writing blog! reading part one is not mandatory at all !! for @mosviqu <3 i hope it's not cringy skdnksjd also special thanks to @ethereal-engene and @winterchimez (i feel like there's always a thank u section to these 💀)

You were wearing his cap—a muted red with a rip in the fabric on the side. It was nearly impossible to miss as you clinked your plastic cup against Han Jisung's and toasted to a night of whatever was to come. (Hopefully you.)

Just about an hour ago, you'd come to find your best friend at this party after departing ways with your university baseball team's shortstop, Eric Sohn. He had obligations and an emergency to attend to, so you were biding your time around the place in case he ever wanted to pick up where you two left off. Along the way, you'd found the red cap he was wearing somewhere on the floor and put it on. Maybe it could be a beacon or some shit.

"—that's crazy, man," Jisung chuckled, shaking his head from over the rim of his cup. "I know I said I didn't wanna cockblock you, but I really didn't cockblock you this time."

You rolled your eyes. The liquid in your cup was a bit of tequila watered down with orange juice for a makeshift margarita. It was a little liquid courage in case you needed it. "Yeah, yeah. It was important, so I don't blame him." Though, you could hardly hide the disappointment behind your words.

Your friend gave you a sideways grin. "Well, the night is still young, my friend. Plenty of hot people around to scratch your itch."

"Well, I hope out of all of them, you still choose me."

Startled, you swiveled on your heel and came face to face with one sheepish-looking Eric. He had his hand clasping the back of his neck, brown hair a little more mussed from whatever emergency had arisen. His white shirt was still clinging to only a couple buttons—you had both been in a bit of a rush earlier.

"Felix? What's that? You need to tell me something—?" Jisung made a very swift exit, shooting a pair of finger guns at you.

You arched your brows as Eric came closer. "I think I'm scoping out my options," you teased, lifting your cup to your lips and draining the last bit of the spiked orange juice. You placed your empty cup on the table behind you, watching his eyes trace the path your tongue took along your lower lip.

The corner of his lips curled upward and he set his hand on the table. "Any way I can sway your judgment?" He asked. "I'm getting a bit of déjà vu."

"You have previous references," you shrugged. "I think I can trust that you're the man for the job." Despite your nonchalance, your heart was throwing itself against your ribcage like it was ready for a prison break.

Eric's other hand caged you in, his low chuckle sending a zap down your spine. "Well since my previous references check out, I'll just make sure you like what you saw."

He leaned in closer to you, and you met him in the middle. Your kiss tasted like oranges now, with the slight sharpness of the alcohol. His brows creased as he cupped your jaw and massaged his tongue with yours, trying to figure it out.

You pulled away, and he lifted the brim of his red cap to see your eyes better. "This looks familiar," he grinned.

"Does it now? Well, I'm sorry to say, but finders keepers," you said, switching the cap from front-facing to backward.

His eyes gleamed in the low lighting, and there was a smug sort of curl to his smile. "You're way hotter in it anyways."

Heat rushed to your neck. "If you keep complimenting me…"

"Then what?" He asked, voice dropping. He was in your space, front pressed to yours, lips a teasing hairsbreadth away. The back of his knuckles found your cheek in a gentle caress, a lover's purr. "If I keep complimenting you, then what?"

This was the second time you both lost the hat. You couldn't remember if this was the same room or not—you didn't really care—but you were fumbling for the lock behind you with your brain turning to mush by the way Eric was kissing you. Clearly, you couldn't multitask. His hand slipped down where yours was to twist the lock and entangle his fingers with yours.

His shirt came off a lot faster this time, your fingers used to the slim buttons, but also because he literally only had two of them to undo. The shirt went missing, and Eric's hands roamed from your waist over your backside and to the backs of your thighs. Waiting for something.

"There's a bed," he said between breaths, kisses, laps of his tongue—

"Good to know," you mused.

He scooped you up, your ankles locked behind his back. Your back hit the cool sheets and you found yourself peering up at one beautiful man. Eric Sohn was a marvel in himself to look upon, but this was a nice angle.

He kissed you again, enough to drive you up toward the headboard, his body following after yours like a shadow. His arm dented the mattress beside your head to brace himself over you, the other tucking itself beneath the hem of your shirt to grab your side.

You gasped something sharp. His mouth latched onto the side of your neck, suckling the hot skin there until you were seeing stars. Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair until they were messy, messy, messy—

"Eric," you exhaled, the sound like a whimper.

He hummed against you. "Yeah baby?"

Your fingers tapped against the nape of his neck. "Let me get my shirt off."

"Good idea." He unattached himself from you for the split second it took to rip your shirt over your head.

For good measure, you reached behind yourself and unclasped your bra, tossing it over the side of the bed. Eric's eyes glued themselves to your chest, rising and falling with the breaths you were trying to regain. He licked his lips, and you found yourself smiling.

"What?" You asked, a nervous laugh bubbling up from your throat.

He swallowed and shook his head. His hand smoothed over the back of your head in a soothing manner. "You're just so pretty. Can I…?"

You might as well have gone into cardiac arrest. "Yeah," you nodded.

The last thing you saw was the glint of his grin. He ducked beneath your chin and you lost your breath at the feeling of his lips wrapping around your perked nipple. You clutched at his hair—swore something colorful when his hand came up to squeeze your other breast. It was the rough pads of his fingers against your skin, the nip of his teeth, the bite of the cold rings on his fingers.

He lifted his lips off your chest, your boobs glistening in spit. He gave them an affectionate squeeze and pressed his lips against yours. "You can say no," he murmured against you, "whenever you want. This train stops whenever you want it to."

"Okay," you said. You appreciated that from him. "I want you to keep going."

"Mmmh, atta girl." You could feel his smile against your lips.

His body pressed down against you, the weight present but comforting in a way. You moaned as his hips grinded into yours and you raised yours in a desperate attempt to gain friction. Both of your movements were frantic now as you fumbled for buttons and zippers and kicked away pants—out of the way.

You reached your hand between your bodies and cupped the outline of his cock through his boxers, drawing a sharp inhale from Eric's lips. He pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, rutting his hips into your palm. "Ugh, baby."

"I'm on the pill," you said and squeezed him.

His eyes screwed shut, and his fingers found the wet spot on the underside of your panties. "You're—you're on the pill? Fuck, you're so wet."

He pressed a hurried kiss to your lips, yanking the hem of your underwear down. Cool air hit the wetness clinging to your pussy, and you shivered. He lost the boxers, your underwear following suit.

"Spread wide for me," his voice rumbled. "There you go, baby." He swiped the pad of his finger down the middle, drawing a shuddering breath from you. "Sounds pretty, looks pretty—mmh, tastes pretty." His finger popped out from his mouth, and he used that same one to draw enchanting infinity signs over your clit.

"Fuck," you swore, your hand digging into his shoulder.

Eric ground his hardened cock into the mattress as he watched you fall apart. He bit his lip, replacing his index with his thumb and dipping a finger into your hole.

"Oh god—"

He curled his finger inside you. "C'mon, pretty girl," he drawled, lazily pumping his finger in and out of you. The ring adorning his finger bumped against your lower lips in greeting. "Say my name."

"Eric, please," you said and pushed your hips toward him, wanting and wanting and wanting more—needing more.

His kiss was softer this time. When he leaned over, you felt the heaviness of his hardened cock over your thigh, the precome beading at the tip dripping onto you. "Yeah, baby. I got you."

He pushed another finger into your weeping folds and dug his thumb down into your puffy nub. You felt the tension mounting in your stomach, the knot winding up.

Before you could reach a precipice, he withdrew his hand clean from you.

Your eyes shot open. "Eric."

"Yn," he teased. He adjusted himself slightly, then took the hand he'd been fingering you with to slicken up his cock with a couple pumps. The sight made your tongue dry. A muscle in his jaw feathered and he braced himself over you to line his cock up with your entrance.

His tip rubbed against your pussy lips and collected the juices dripping out—you held your breath, wrestling yourself onto your forearms to watch him sink into you, inch by inch.

Eric swallowed your moans with his mouth, your fingers digging into his bicep to anchor yourself. Your brain was melting and you grasped the back of his neck as his length filled you up, a muscle feathering so attractively in his jaw.

Once he was seated to the hilt, he guided you to lay flat on the bed again, his arms braced on either side of your head. "You good, baby?" He asked you, breathing shallow.

You nodded for him.

He buried his face in your neck and his sweat-matted hair tickled your chin, his hot breath against your skin. You fucking mewled when he started moving in you—at first, a gentle rocking of his hips to test the waters, his cock pulling out halfway before thrusting back in again. His breathing was heavy in your ear, the sound turning into grunts as his strokes lengthened.

"Let me hear you, sweetheart." His hand found purchase with the soft flesh of your ass, hiking your leg up and around his back. "Feel so good around me—squeezing me just right."

His knees angled his hips upward, and you swore you saw stars when his tip curved up slightly and hit a sensitive spot inside you. You cried out, "Shit—holy fuck."

"Is that the spot, baby?"

You clenched down on him and a sluice of curses engraved themselves into your skin. "Eric, that's the spot. That's the spot. Pleasepleaseplease—" Your nails dug into the muscles of his back as you held on for dear life. The headboard of the bed knocked against the wall in tandem with how he drove into you.

Pressure mounted in your lower belly like molten fire, begging to be fanned and fueled to erupt, goddamn it. You were begging to be pushed over the edge and you could taste it with the salty sweat on your tongue.

"Can you come for me, hon? You're close aren't you?" He grunted.

You nodded, head bobbing vigorously, arching further into him. "Close, Eric. So fucking close."

Eric reached down between your bodies and kneaded the pad of his thumb down over your clit. Your breath hitched as the stimuli crested over and you were crying out for him. He coaxed you through it, his strokes becoming more desperate as he fucked his way to his own high.

You squirmed from sensitivity and whimpered. "Eric, Eric, Eric—"

"Fuck, baby, where do you want me?" He rasped.

"Inside," you said while gasping for air.

His head hung until he came, swears tumbling out of his mouth as fast as his cum flooded into you. Your thighs trembled from the sensation, and he braced his forearms on either side of your head to thank you in a sloppy kiss.

Your bodies were slick and sticky with sweat and cum. His cock softened inside you, and you winced as he pulled out. Eric smoothed a hand over your hair, nose nuzzling against yours.

"You did good, baby," he murmured. He wrapped his arms around your body and rolled over onto your sides, holding you against him.

You gave a little laugh and shoved your face between his pecs. "Thanks, pretty boy," you said. "You too."

He chuckled, biting his lip. "Cute… say, Yn?"

"Hmm?"

"I know we've got it backwards, but can I take you out sometime?"

You smiled to yourself and your heart kicked up. "Sure, I'd uh—I'd like that."

Eric's expression lit up, and you got to see that beautiful smile of his. "Thank god," he said. He brushed the hair from the divot in your shoulder, ringed knuckles running down the lines on the side of your neck and over your clavicle. "Hey, you tired?"

Your eyelashes fluttered at the question. "Not super."

"Round two?"

"Round—" Your words cut off with a shriek as he yanked you back under him. And though you started off giggling, he had those sounds melting into moans again just as swiftly.

This room was going to be occupied for a while.

a/n: the amount of times i yelled while writing this... how do people write smut all the time, i need to know ur secrets 😭

tbz m.list

[ninepiecesofcrait]

Me like, “I wish Nine would explain this to me like it was in one of her a/n of Unforced Error”

https://www.reddit.com/r/interestingasfuck/comments/1fagp8u/leaked_audio_of_what_an_ejection_looks_like_in_mlb/

Also Hi! Hope you are well ❤️

wow, i've never been so delighted to answer an ask in my life

someone does a solid job downthread in that post explaining, but what can i say: baseball ben is my favorite child and i will take any excuse to bring him up, even tangentially.

okay, so lots of hot mess involved, but the batter, chase utley, was suspended the previous season for committing what's called a "rolling block slide" aka a slide meant to break up the possibility of a double play. however, when he did this slide, utley slid right into the legs of the mets' shortstop and subsequently broke his left fibula.

this kind of slide was permitted at the time, but utley was suspended for it and accused of purposely injuring the shortstop. (utley has always denied this, but it is a lowkey dirty slide, imho, and i say that as a dodgers gal/utley liker) the mlb banned this kind of slide before the following season, but the suspension was overturned in appeal and utley did not face any other consequences.

this, understandably, pissed the mets off--especially because this happened during the playoffs.

now, that's all backstory.

the clip in that reddit post comes from the first game between the mets and the dodgers the following season, iirc, in 2016. and, as was pretty much expected, the mets intended to hit utley with a pitch in retribution. you can tell because syndergaard's pitch is way, way off--and not in a "whoops, i missed my target" way, but in a "i am going to bean you with a bad pitch because you hurt one of our teammates last year, you ass." his pitch also misses along utley's back rather than his legs or feet, which clearly telegraphs bad intent.

(beaning, by the way, is an expected baseball behavior, believe it or not, and you generally get a free bean and a free "hey don't do that" from the umps before steeper consequences are levied.)

but the pitcher, syndergaard, missed. and because it was clear what he was trying to do and because the mlb was trying to crack down on these kinds of shenanigans, he got ejected straight away.

at the time, syndergaard was one of the mets' best pitchers, so that's why the team manager comes out hollering and fuming. he's saying "you gotta give us our shot" aka you are supposed to warn us first, as losing syndergaard would have been a huge blow to their chances in the series.

but, if you listen to the ump, he basically says "i can't do that because my bosses would be on my ass," because the pressure was on the umps to calm the situation down. in fact, the ump says "you had your shot" aka syndergaard shouldn't have missed because now my hands are tied.

essentially, the pitch was, as one redditor described it, "so gratuitously malicious" that they couldn't give him a warning. (the league has continued to add rules in the past 10 years to discourage beaning.)

.... aren't you glad you asked

[cypionatebandit]

the rest of the baseball team, you're just one of the guys to them. you’re one of them when they're shoving each other around and making crass jokes, you get the same treatment as the rest after you make a home run.

you all go to the captain’s place after the game, most of the team is there, and you and a few of the other varsity guys go to the basement to get high, crowding on the shitty couch.

you take the first drag and it's too deep like you always do, and you're bent over choking and sputtering as you try to breathe. they're all laughing and patting your back as you're doubled over on the couch, and the rest of them pass the pen around.

you don't feel it at first, as you catch your breath, just sinking into the cushions behind you. then the world starts to spin and you can't help the smile almost shoving its way onto your face as you lean your head so far back that it all turns upside down.

and then one of the guys (shortstop, maybe, you can’t tell) pulls at your arm, and you can’t help but go along as the room tilts on it’s axis and your muscles twitch and he guides you to straddle his legs. his palms sweep over your thighs and they’re so, so warm. it’s all you can think about.

he slides his hands up to your hips, shifts you to straddle his muscled thigh and it feels so good, your hips twitching as he grips your waist and guides you to grind down against him. even through the layers of your clothing the friction against your clit feels so good. it’s almost involuntary when you start to hump his leg. you can’t stop, your hips thrusting themselves as you pitch forward and bury your head into his shoulder.

two hands slide up to your back, hooking under your arms and pulling you closer to his chest. you can’t stop grinding on his thigh, he doesn't even have to guide you anymore. one of the other guys strokes a hand through your hair and you feel the couch shift as a third person sits next to you.

the hand in your hair tightens, pulls your head up, and it takes effort to open your eyes. the captain, you can see now, his hand moves from your hair, sliding down your cheek to slip his thumb between your lips. you start to suck almost in tandem with the rhythm of your hips, saliva building and leaking out the corners of your lips even through your cotton-mouth high, your cunt soaking your boxers making each helpless twitch and jerk of your hips even better against your sensitive clit. you whine around the finger in your mouth, eyes falling closed almost against your will as you suck harder with the building pleasure.

the one who had sat next to you both, barely visible in your peripheral—he has to be the first baseman, he was the last one to come down with you all—he grabs one of your hands from where you had forgotten them at your sides, too distracted to care, and you can hear him unzips his pants. his dick is already hard and leaking when he wraps your hand around it, using his own to hold it in place. he starts to thrust into your grip, slick and hot against your palm.

the finger leaves your mouth and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips as you try to chase it, mouth messy and agape, hips still instinctually grinding down and sending sparks of pleasure through your body. you don't have to wait for long as it feels before the thick head of a cock is pushed against your lips. he pushes forward on the edge of too-rough and you nearly choke on it. his hand goes back in your hair and you suck as he pushes you down on his cock at his own pace.

your nerves are overwhelmed, pushed to the brink, and tears are forced out of your eyes as you don't know where to focus between all of the hands on you, the cock in your mouth, in your hand, the thigh between your legs as you helplessly grind your clit against it. you can’t think and you can barely breathe.

you barely recognize the orgasm for what it is when it shutters through you, another whine stopped in your throat by the cock pushing down it, and your muscles seize as your hips keep jerking and twitching, and even as it gets too much you couldn't stop if you tried. it goes on for ages, it feels like, before you slump boneless against the shortstop’s chest, head still tilted upwards by the hand in your hair.

the cock in your mouth hasn’t stopped, but each thrust gets faster and rougher, spit dripping down your chin. the captain pulls out and you heave a breath before you feel the ropes of his cum hit your face, getting in your mouth. around the same time, you think, you can’t really tell anymore, the thrusts of the first baseman next to you start to stutter and you can feel the hot pulse of his dick as he cums in your hand.

you're too tired to tell what’s happening as they shuffle around, and you're dragged to sit in someone else's lap, propped against their chest. you keep your eyes closed, mind spinning like an off-center top.

they tilt your head up with a finger and you can hear the captain’s voice as he wipes the cum from your face with a wipe. such a good boy for us, he says, and you breathe.

[starlitangels]

Good Boy Audios Incorrect Quotes (Part 1)

Faithful, to Albus: Are you done pretending I'm not the love of your life?

•••

Makkaro: I think the words you're looking for are "I surrender"

Guardian: The words I'm looking for I can't say because Zed is present

•••

Albus: Now, remember what I told you, Faithful. The quickest way to a man's heart is...?

Faithful: Through his third and fourth rib!

Albus: That's my girl!

(Devlin: You're horrible)

•••

Ulysses: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Pandora: I’ve been zoned out for the last two and a half hours

Fenrir: I got distracted about halfway through

Odin: Ignoring you was a conscious decision

•••

*Thud!*

Faithful: What was that?

Albus: My shirt fell!

Faithful: It sounded louder than that

Albus: I was still in it

•••

Pandora: Fight me!

Odin: What are you gonna do shortstop, kick me in the shin?

*one minute later*

Tyr, entering the room: Why is Odin on the ground holding his leg?

Ulysses, laughing: Pandora kicked him really hard in the shin

•••

Faithful "Resting B!+ch Face" Koria: Sometimes I wish I looked more fragile and feminine like a dainty flower but I do enjoy looking like I hate everyone

•••

Ulysses: *screaming* You IDIOT!

Odin: *also screaming* I'm sure you're right but why?!

(also Devlin and Albus in that order, or Paradise and Yargwynn)

•••

Devlin: Did you just refer to a knife as a people-opener?

Albus: Should I not have?

•••

Paradise: WHAT DID YOU DO!?

Yargwynn: Shockingly, none of this.

•••

Odin: Do you think I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Ulysses: You’re a hazard to society

Pandora: And a coward. Do 20

•••

Albus: I'm not lying on the floor physically, but I am lying on the floor spiritually

•••

Darling: Is there a word that's a mix between sad and angry?

Makkaro: Disgruntled, malcontented, miserable, desolated

Frank: Smad *insert Frank laugh here*

•••

Pandora: Why did the chicken cross the road?

Odin: IDK, why?

Pandora: To get to the idiot's house. Knock knock

Odin: Who's there?

Pandora: The chicken

Odin: ... I won't punch you on one condition

Pandora: Okay

Odin: Go tell that joke to Ulysses

•••

Faithful: Devlin, have you seen Albus?

Albus, lying facedown on the floor: Present

•••

Zed: Never break someone's heart. They only have one.

Makkaro: Yeah! Break their bones! They have 206!

•••

Okami: I've brought you here because I crave the deadliest game

Odin, nodding sagely: Knife Monopoly

Okami: ... Okay I was gonna hunt you for sport but now I really wanna know what Knife Monopoly is

•••

Paradise: Is anyone else scared?

Yargwynn: Not really. I've already lived longer than I expected

•••

Faithful: This can't get any worse

Albus: Sure it can. Just give me a minute

•••

Tyr: Odin, we tried things your way.

Odin: No we didn't?

Tyr: I did it in my head. It didn't work.

•••

Albus: *wears a dark grey shirt*

Devlin: Ah. Breaking out the spring colors I see

•••

Odin: I have an idea. But I'm going to need your permission

Fenrir: Why do you need my permission?

Odin: Because if I mess it up, I don't want it to be just my fault

•••

Paradise: Can I make a suggestion that doesn’t involve violence or is this the wrong crowd?

•••

Makkaro: You guys are idiots, did you know that?

Frank and the Boney Boys™: In our defense, we actually do know that.

•••

Albus, to Kravitas: I'd tell you to go to Hell, but I don't want to see you again

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

👀 martyn and/or rendog for the mcyt blaseball au?

Oh my god ok so time to divulge a secret. While I said there were three legs of this AU (Empires, Hermitcraft, and the Life Series) I just cannot get the Life Series branch to Totally work. I don't know why, I just have a much more difficult time assigning teams to the Life Series players than any other SMP. I think it’s probably got to do with how wildly different everyone’s story is in any given season and something to do with the fact that dying in a Life Series is just wildly different that dying in Empires or Hermitcraft and that difference just doesn’t transfer quite right to a Blaseball AU.

However the Life Series branch of this AU does exist, and it has basically just become a treebark AU at this point, so you're in luck. You're especially in luck because Martyn still exists in the Hermitcraft AU, so I'll give you them in both!

Let's start with Hermitcraft, because that's the simple one.

Ren Dog is a shortstop for the San Francisco Lovers with the Charm modifier. He spends his time off the field as the test dummy for Doc’s experiments or Martyn’s video games, making any given reporter fall in love with him, and watching a lot of Flormula 1.

The Charm modifier is one that allows players who have it to periodically charm their opponent into failing. In Ren’s case, this means getting the pitcher to throw an extra ball or two with a well timed smile or wink. All the lovers have it, but ladies (and gentlemen and others) get in line, because Ren is particularly good at it. Ren is also the captain of the Lovers- self appointed- because he thinks he’s good at that (he’s not but they let him have this).

Martyn isn’t a player in this universe (but it’s not off the table! It never is off the table to become a player, if the Hermits are looking to add anyone to season 10). He’s just a regular guy doing regular guy things. He and Ren are at the very least living together, I’ve not decided if they’re married. I don’t know why but something in my bones is telling me that Martyn is a video game dev for his day job.

Ren’s Assigned Garages Song: i’m in love with a blaseball player

Sorry I’m not giving Martyn one because he doesn’t play

Martyn Inthelittlewood is our Parker Macmillan in this AU because I am nothing if not consistent.

Martyn I started his career as a first baseman for the Alaskan Immortals during Pre-History. He was one of the best players in the League and made the Fans, some of whom are Watchers, because the metaphor is literally right there, lots of money due to his Profit modification, which increased idol payouts x10. Fans of teams that weren’t the Immortals got jealous and cursed him with Non-Proft, baring any Immortals fans from making money off of him, as well as Firewalker, which would curse any team he left with team wide instability. If the Immortals Watchers wanted to make money off of Martyn, they’d either have to leave the team that he was single-handedly bringing to every championship or risk his leaving the team killing the entire team.

The Watchers chose to risk it.

And then a lot more stuff happened to Martyn I that I’m not gonna get into, and I’m going to assume that you’re a Blaseball fan, anon, so you already know all this anyways. If you’re not, I’d absolutely be willing to explain but this post is already so long without it. Anyways, Martyn I gets trapped in the Vault for an undisclosed number of years and clones get made of him that don’t remember any of this.

We don’t know what happened with Parker II, so we don’t know what happened with Martyn II either. This will never fail to make me deeply deeply angry.

Martyn III is made the intern-interim commissioner of the newest era of Blaseball, the era in which Ren was a season 1 player.

Ren Dog was a first basemen for the LA Tacos while they were still the LA Tacos. He’s our Wyatt Mason in this AU, if you haven’t gathered. This also means he should be way worse of a player than I made him but I felt bad doing that. When the Grand Unslam happened and the world fractured around him, every member of the Tacos suddenly lost their names, the only identifier Blaseball players had at this point, and became Ren Dog. Martyn III guided the Fans (Watchers and Listeners alike cause why not) in restoring all the members of the team, except for Ren. Because that’s just not how this works. It never is.

Ren dissolved into static and became the Microphone, his own entity separate from the gods and management of Blaseball. He plays by his own rules and helps save the world from the guys in charge. Martyn III might not be a fan of the guys in charge, but he doesn’t understand the Microphone, and it scares him, and he doesn’t know why.

It should be known that while Blaseball was running I was a diehard for Parker/Wyatt, and so that heavily effects this whole thing. Specifically, a very important thing to me was that Wyatt/Ren was a normal person during pre-history when Parker I/Martyn I was playing Blaseball for the first time. The Boss (the Watchers) weren’t his biggest fan and maybe, just maybe, the Watchers pulled some strings to put Ren in the latest iteration of Blaseball so they don’t run the risk of him and Martyn III meeting each other and talking for too long. What happens to Ren in the Grand Unslam is just helping keep them apart even more.

However, what Ren is doing as the Microphone is bad for business. Very bad. So maybe they pull another few strings to send Ren very far away for, ideally, a very long time. And maybe they equally orchestrate some bad things happening to Martyn III and Martyn IIII so that they finally get the perfect puppet with Martyn IIIII.

But nothing ever works out the way they want. Because the game, the business, is falling apart at the seams. Because Martyn I is still in the Vault, dead set on getting out, and when Martyn IIIII finds out that he isn’t his own person? That he’s a clone of a man that’s still alive and still angry? That he’s missing memories most of his life because they were taken from him?

Yeah he doesn’t take it so well.

He finds himself asking the Microphone- Ren- for help. He doesn’t know why. But Ren can’t reach him where he is, so Martyn takes ahold of the Microphone himself, directs the new generation of Fans into taking down the old ones, the Watchers, who are now management and straight up ending the world. And he does take them down, but the world still ends, and inside that Black Hole, everting gets weird for Martyn.

It’s a side effect of taking up the Microphone- you don’t do that and not get weird.

Ren’s still not quite around, never really will be again, but now that Martyn’s taken up the Microphone, they can talk. And this Martyn is not the one that Ren knew and loved long before all of this, but he also kind of is? He used to be, even if he doesn’t remember it? But admittedly, Ren isn’t the Ren that Martyn knew either. They’ve both changed beyond belief, and maybe they can have something new together now. And maybe having something new means having it in the void at the end of the world but, well, at least they get to have it.

I care about them a lot in this AU they make me crazy.

Martyn’s Assigned Garages Song: firewalker with me

Literally what else did you expect

Ren’s Assigned Garages Song: ENCORE

I’ll be frank this one’s a bit of a cop out because Rain is a Garage and this is a Blaseball song but it wasn’t released under the Garages label. But look it’s just so good.

[weilongfu]

Chart it Out Universe - TinnGun & AkkAyan cousin double date

EDIT: Chart it Out Universe is actually part of the Rich Boys AU. The Chart it Out fic can be read here.

"So how do you feel now that you've met everyone," Ayan asked the pair sitting across from him at the cafe as Akk waited at the counter to put in their orders. "Was it as scary as N'Tinn thought?"

Tinn leveled a glare at Ayan over his glasses since Gun had "misplaced" his contacts. Ayan mentally asked himself if that glare was taught or genetic. "It was exactly as scary as I thought. Fortunately, I went in prepared."

"You should have seen it, phi," Gun said as he handed his phone to Tinn in an attempt to distract his boyfriend from killing his cousin. "It was the most in-depth thing I've ever seen Ai Tinn make. An entire chart of everyone invited."

"It still needed some edits afterwards... Why are you showing me this song? Are you doing a cover of this with Chinzhilla for the competition next month?"

"And if I am?"

Tin leaned towards Gun and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. "Can I come watch your practice sessions?"

Gun's smile grew a little wider and Ayan groaned. "God, young love. I almost miss it."

"We're still young, shortstop," Akk said as he tapped Ayan on the head with the menu he'd brought up to the counter with him. "Leave them alone."

"Bigfoot, you better watch them carefully," Ayan said while gesturing at the eyes Tinn and Gun were giving each other. "Or your aunt will be upset your cousin lost his virginity before marriage."

Akk slapped Ayan's mouth and gave him a look.

"Ok, no, seriously," Ayan asked as he tugged Akk down into his seat. "Do you all learn that glare from your parents or is that just a family trait passed on through blood?"

"Both," Tinn and Akk said at the same time without looking away from what they were doing.

"You both scare me sometimes," Ayan said decisively. "It's that drive to accomplish something. It's nigh unnatural."

"P'Aye, you also have a drive to accomplish something," Gun whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"You wanted to accomplish getting into P'Akk's pants."

Akk made a face and Ayan laughed. "Well shit, that wasn't even what I was expecting so I guess your boyfriend has rubbed off on you."

"In more ways than one," Tinn mumbled.

"Come again?"

"Eventually."

"AI TINN! Don't tell my cousin that!"

[hetalia-club]

H-ESPN Pregame Rundown: Tsunami Titans vs. Freedom Fighters

Stats Page

*Taps my papers on my desk*

1940's Radio Announcer Voice:

"Good evening, sports fans! Welcome to today's highlight of a highly anticipated matchup between the Tsunami Titans from Tokyo and the Freedom Fighters from New York City. This game promises to be a thrilling showdown, showcasing some of the finest talent in the Hetalia Baseball League.

I tell ya' Its looking like a fine day for baseball. It's supposed to be a nice over cast day tomorrow in Tokyo, a high of eighty four with a bit of rain in the morning. The humidity will be something the home team is used to dealing with, hopefully our visiting team get's a good nights rest in preparation for the big game on Sunday.

Sunday Night's game is set to be a clash of titans, quite literally! On one side, we have the disciplined and tactically astute Tsunami Titans, led by Japan. Known for their precision and strategic play, they excel in both offense and defense. The combination of Japan's pitching and Spain's power at the plate makes them a formidable force.

On the other side, the Freedom Fighters bring raw power and speed to the game. America's high-velocity pitching and Italy's finesse make for an interesting dynamic. With America's unmatched fastball and Italy's deceptive pitches, the Titans' batters will have their work cut out for them.

Without further ado, let's get into our player highlights for this evening.

Hitting it off with the Titans from Tokyo. Man I tell ya' this team has some skill. what they lack in power hitters they make up for in good fundamentals, and solid baseball. There's a couple players we want you to keep a close eye on in Sunday's game.

Certainly first we went to take a good look at Japan, The people of this city love Japan. When he steps up to the plate the crowd goes wild, with good reason to! Japan (#08) - The Tsunami: Leading the charge for the Titans is none other than Japan, also known as 'The Tsunami.' Don't let his stature fool you, folks; this guy is a tidal wave of power and speed. The fans have a special chant for him, and the energy in the stadium goes through the roof every time he steps up to the plate. His curveball is a thing of beauty, baffling batters left and right. He has the highest strikeouts in the league and it shows. Let’s just hope he’s well rested and on his A game because that arm will be crucial in warding off the heavy hitters on the opposing team.

Next up we think you should keep an eye on, Spain

Spain (#12) - Matador: Here comes the heavy hitter, Spain, affectionately known as 'Matador.' This guy hits like a bull, folks, and he's just as impatient. With nearing 30 home runs this season, he's a force to be reckoned with. Watch out, pitchers; he'll take you down a few pegs in a heartbeat. Let's just hope he can keep his cool out there!"

You know who's another fan favorite? Number 1, Prussia. Heh, you know funny story about this player, he actually gave himself his own nickname. Just started calling himself that and it stuck!

Prussia (#01) - Teutonic Titan: "Shortstop Prussia, or the 'Teutonic Titan' as he likes to call himself, brings a whole lot of swagger to the field. He's all about confidence and skill, making those tough plays look routine."

We'll round off our highlights of The Titans with, the first baseman and sub in pitcher, Canada.

Canada (#24): First baseman Canada is a dual-threat, stepping in to pitch when Japan needs a breather. Known for his fastball and pinpoint accuracy, he's the epitome of control on the mound. This guy is real quiet in team interviews but he makes waves on the field

Now let's take a more in depth look at our visiting team for tomorrow evening. The Freedom Fighters led by America. Speaking of America let's start off our highlights real with the Team Captain himself.

America (#01) - The Show: Leading the Freedom Fighters is America, aptly nicknamed 'The Show.' Always in the spotlight, regarded as the best player in the league, America is a power pitcher with a fastball that could scorch the batter's box, and I'm pretty sure I have seen that ball smoke a time or two! He loves the spotlight, and boy, the spot light sure does love him! If he makes contact with that ball it's going, going, GONE! Sayonara, Tokyo and on it's way back to the States with a first class ticket. You know it's a bit of a shame we won't get to see him in action in his home Stadium, tomorrow night. His walk on music always gets the fans on their feet. Whenever he hits a homer in his home Stadium they play an eagle scream over the oud speaker, The crowd goes wild!

Next we want to bring your attention over to the quickest player in the league.

Italy (#11) - Ferrari: Center fielder Italy, or 'Ferrari' as they call him, brings incredible speed to the game. I tell ya' folks watching this guy zip around the bases is something to see! His top speed was clocked at 30 mph, phew! It’s no wonder why he's earned his nickname with his quick feet. When he takes over pitching duties, his finesse and control make him a tough opponent. His slow ball and left hook are formidable.

You know his brother is on this team as well and instead of being hot footed this guy is a hot head if I've ever seen one!

Romano (#16) - Mouth: First baseman Romano, also known as 'Mouth,' just got back from a suspension for fighting a ref when he disagreed with a call at first base, the ref called out and well Romano, punched him out! Was insane to see! He turned the baseball diamond into the octagon. Provoking batters is his specialty, likes to get in their heads. You know this guy, you either love him or you hate him, and the fans of this team seem to love him! They put some of his insults onto t-shirts. I can't say what they say on a live broadcast, but you can check them out for yourself in the gift shop at the big game on Sunday.

Lastly let's take an up-close look at the not so Short-Shortstop

Denmark (#69): Shortstop Denmark brings a dynamic energy to the field. His quick reflexes and strong arm make him a key player in the infield. His long legs give him a good reach, I swear one time I witnessed this guy catch a ball 10 ft in the air, was an Air Bud type jump the world moved in slow motion. If they hit a ball his way it's bye-bye batter and back to the dug out. It will for sure be an area they want to avoid hitting to.

Man I tell ya' this team sure has some heavy hitters. It's going to be a hell of a match up for sure!

Now let's talk strategy for the game,

Pitching Duel: Expect a fascinating duel between Japan's curveball and America's fastball. Both pitchers are fan favorites and have the ability to control the game's pace. Key to Victory for the Tsunami Titans: Utilizing Japan's tactical pitching and leveraging Spain's power hitting. If Japan can keep the Freedom Fighters' batters off balance and Spain can capitalize on scoring opportunities, they have a strong chance. Key to Victory for the Freedom Fighters: America's dominance on the mound and Italy's speed. If America can overpower the Titans' lineup and Italy can create havoc on the bases, they might just edge out the Titans. The skills on both sides are so evenly matched, it's anyone's game!

Well that's all the pre-game analysis we have for you, we'll see you all tomorrow in Tokyo for the face off. This is Hetalia-Club, signing off!

[pizzaqueen]

Thank you so much for the enthusiasm for my Buckingham A League Of Their Own AU so far! Here’s part two :D It’s Robin’s POV and half platonic Steve & Robin and half Buckingham meeting/getting to know each other (it overlaps with part one)

1.4k / no warnings (but vague mentions of war)

Part one

Oh, and if you haven’t already seen it @yendts did some AMAZING art for this AU

Okay, now, the fic:

Sweat drips down Robin's forehead, stings her eyes, but she’s grinning when she pulls her mask off. They won. They won! And it was down to Robin.

"Nice catch, Buckley," Stan, the shortstop, says, slapping her on the back.

She grins wider. "Thanks." She looks around, the joy of victory slowly becoming tinged with concern. She can’t see Steve.

It's not like he can't look after himself, or anything, but he's their coach. And he's been different since he got back. God, Robin, of course he's different—his major league career was cut short and who knows what he saw, fighting out there—but he's been so down that sometimes (most of the time) she worries.

And then she sees him. He’s talking to a guy about a head shorter and twenty years older than him, more animated than she's seen him in a while.

With a bounce in her step, she goes over, punching him in the arm. "Hey, coach," she says, "see me win?"

Steve turns to her, smiling. A proper, actual smile. "Yep. And so did..." His brow furrows and he turns back to the guy he was talking to. "Sorry, I forgot your name."

“Ernie Capadino,” the guy says. "Look, I'm not going to beat around the bush, but do you want to play ball?"

He's looking at Robin; her brow furrows. "I already do?” She points back at the field.

"Proper ball. Professionally. Mr. Wrigley and some others are setting up a women’s league. I've been sent to find talent for the tryouts. I think you've got what it takes."

The world stops and everything seems distant. This must be a dream. She makes the winning catch and then there’s this guy here telling her there’s going to be a women’s league and she’s got what it takes. All she can manage to say is, “You're a scout?"

"I'm glad you're quicker at catching balls than catching on."

"Hey," Steve says, "you're kind of talking in riddles."

"Sorry." Mr. Capadino mops his brow. "It's been a long day." He turns to Robin. "Are you interested?"

She hesitates, biting her lip. ”This isn't a prank is it?" Some of the guys are prone to pranking, and she’s not sure they’re clever enough for this, but…a women’s league? An actual real women’s professional baseball league?

"Not a prank."

"Then, yes, I—" Robin looks at Steve, and he gives her an encouraging look and a thumbs up. She lets out a relieved breath. She would've still gone, but it would have been with a heavier heart. She smiles and says, "I'm definitely interested."

—

"I still can't believe this is happening," Robin says, curled up in the projection booth with Steve. "In less than a week, I could be a professional ball player."

"Could be?"

"I might not make a team."

"You will."

Robin smiles, then she bites her lip. The projector flickers away, whirring between her and Steve. The theatre gave him back his old job the moment he got back, and Robin's glad he has this, but she can't stand the thought of leaving him. "Come with me."

"Yeah, sure."

"I mean it."

"What as? Your batboy."

"No. Just to get out of Hawkins."

"Yeah, I got out of Hawkins, pretty recently, remember? Didn't work out too well for me."

Robin looks at Steve's knee, doesn't think about the other scars. She wants to say At least you're still alive, but she doesn't. It wouldn't be fair. But she spent months and months imagining Steve, dead in some ocean somewhere, blown to pieces in the Pacific, and she's still so relieved he's alive that some days it's hard to remember his life has been torn apart. But she decides to try a different tack, just like she did when she convinced Steve to coach the Tigers. "I don't want to go alone," she says softly.

"Robin."

"Please, Steve. I've never left Hawkins for longer than a week." She presses her hands together. "Please come with me."

And that does it. She sees Steve's resolve crumble.

"Just for the tryouts," Steve says. "And then I'm coming home."

"Of course. Wouldn't want to miss out on any of the incredibly interesting things that happen here."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he seems a little lighter as he changes the movie reels over, and Robin smiles easily. She's going to play ball. For real!

Holy shit.

—

"I'm standing outside Baker Field!" Robin bites her lip, bouncing on her toes. "Baker Field! Do you know how many games I listened to being played here?”

"Yeah." There's a strangeness in Steve's voice, but it's gone when he adds, "I'll meet you back here after." He pauses. "Or, should I say, I'll meet the new Robin Buckley, hotshot pro ball player." He nudges her shoulder.

"This is really happening, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Steve says, "it is."

Robin claps her hands to her face. "I think I might pee myself."

Steve snorts. He shoves her lightly in the direction of the gates. "Go on, go prove what I already know. And lay off the high ones."

"I like the high ones," she says.

Steve shakes his head and gives her a wave.

Robin steels herself and finally goes inside and then she stops dead. There are so many women here. So many women like her. She wants to cry but she's too excited. This is what she's been waiting for, her whole life, even if she never knew it.

A stray ball comes her way and she picks it up, throwing it back the way it came.

And that’s when she nearly hits the most beautiful woman she's seen in her life.

—

Robin has been babbling for the past ten minutes while she and Chrissy throw the ball back and forth to each other, unable to stop the nervous stream of words falling from her lips. Chrissy doesn't seem to mind, though. She's smiling and she laughs whenever Robin says something funny (not always on purpose). Her laugh is like cool water on a hot day or the sound of the crowd cheering when Robin makes the winning catch.

"Is Steve your fella?"

"Huh?"

"You've mentioned him a lot and you said he came with you, so I figured he's your guy."

"Oh. No. Definitely not. Steve is..." How to explain Steve? "Steve's my friend. My best friend. But just a friend." Was that too forceful? She doesn't want to seem too obvious. No, it was fine. "Do you... Do you have a...fella?"

A pained look flits over Chrissy's face, but it could just be the clouds moving across the sun, casting dancing shadows. "Yeah. Jason. He's overseas, right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's fine. He'll be home soon."

Robin throws the ball back. "You didn't want to wait for him at home?" God. Why is she still talking?"

The ball comes whizzing toward Robin and she catches it—of course she does—but she feels the force of Chrissy's pitch through her glove. She takes her glove off, shaking out her hand. "Wow. You've got... A great arm."

"Shoot, I'm sorry! I just—" Chrissy pauses a moment, and then she shrugs. "Got carried away."

"We're here to play our best," Robin says. "Right?"

"Right." Chrissy bites her lip. "So, you said you're from Indiana?"

"Yeah. Hawkins. You've probably never heard of it."

"No. I'm from Indiana, too, though," Chrissy says. "South Bend."

"Oh, one of the teams is going to be in South Bend, isn't it?"

“It is.” Chrissy shifts her weight, then mutters, “I hope I make one of the others."

Robin lets out a soft breath. “I know what you mean.” When Chrissy’s brow furrows, Robin adds, “I mean, I’m glad they don’t have a team in Hawkins.”

There’s a quiet moment and Robin isn’t sure what it means but then Chrissy nods, a smile growing on her face, and throws the ball back. She almost catches Robin off guard.

They play until someone calls out over a megaphone that tryouts will be starting in five minutes; Robin had almost forgotten about them. She goes to pick the ball up at the same time Chrissy does. Their hands touch over the stitching—well, no, their pinkie fingers touch—and Robin’s pulse leaps, but, even though Chrissy has paused, Robin’s sure she isn’t feeling what Robin is feeling.

And then Chrissy finally moves, saying, “We better go,” pushing herself to her feet and holding out a hand for Robin.

Robin takes it, letting Chrissy pull her to her feet, still too turned around to say anything, watching as Chrissy walks away.

God, she hopes they make the same team.

—

Tagging some people (please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged again or if you’d like to be added):

@stevethehairington @ladydorian05 @ravnlinn @eerielake @grey-edges @thebridgetonarnia

Sorry if I missed anyone

[opspro2005]

Ok...even if you don't like, or care about baseball, this story is worth a read, even if just for the absurdities involved. And yeah, Franco is a pedo, and never should be allowed in America, or even to walk free again, but check this quote from the article:

“The likelihood he would come into the U.S., even if he had a valid visa that wasn’t revoked, is minimal, Khazaeli also said. “If I was his immigration attorney, I would tell him not to even try. Then he would open himself up to being detained at the border (by U.S. Customs and Border Protection) and being put into custody here until an administrative adjudication of these claims.”

Seriously??? We've got an invading army pouring over undefended border 24/7 and he'd have to worry about being caught by the Border Patrol? What the hell Franco, just cross over at Eagle Pass, TX and you can be in the starting lineup the next day!

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: June 25, 2002

Lyrics:

I love you

And I need you

Nelly I love you

I do need you

No matter what I do

All I think about is you

Even when I'm with my boo

Boy, you know I'm crazy over you

No matter what I do

All I think about is you

Even when I'm with my boo

Boy, you know I'm crazy over you

I met this chick and she just moved right up the block from me

And uh, she got the hots for me

The finest thing my hood has seen

But oh no, oh no, she got a man and a son though

But that's okay, cause I

Wait for my cue and just listen, play my position

Like a shortstop, pick up e'rything mami hittin'

And in no time I plan to make this one here mine

And that's for sure, cause I

I never been the type to break up a happy home, but uh

There's something 'bout baby girl I just can't leave alone

So tell me, ma, what's it gonna be?

She said

(You don't know what you mean to me)

No matter what I do

All I think about is you

Even when I'm with my boo

Boy, you know I'm crazy over you

No matter what I do

All I think about is you

Even when I'm with my boo

Boy, you know I'm crazy over you

I see a lot, and you look, and I never say a word

I know how start actin' trippin' out here about they girls

And there's no way, Nelly gon' fight over no dame

As you can see, but I

I like your steez, your style, your whole demeanor

The way you come through and holla

And swoop me in his two-seater

Now that's gangst, and I got special ways to thank ya

Don't you forget it, but uh

It ain't that easy for you to pack and leave him

But uh, you and dirty got ties for different reasons

I respect that, and right before I turn to leave

She said, she said

(You don't know what you mean to me)

Sing it for me, K!

No matter what I do

All I think about is you

Even when I'm with my boo

Boy, you know I'm crazy over you

No matter what I do

All I think about is you

Even when I'm with my boo

You know I'm crazy over you

I love you (word?)

And I need you

Nelly I love you, I do (come on, girl)

And it's more than you'll ever know

Boy, it's for sure

You can always count on my love

Forever more, yeah, yeah

East Coast, I know you shaking right

Down South, I know you bouncing right

West Coast, I know you walking right, cause

Midwest, I see you swinging right

(You don't know what you mean to me)

No matter what I do

All I think about is you

Even when I'm with my boo

Boy, you know I'm crazy over you

No matter what I do

All I think about is you

Even when I'm with my boo

You know I'm crazy over you

East Coast, I know you shaking right

Down South, I know you bouncing right

West Coast, I know you walking right

Midwest, I see you swinging right

(You don't know what you mean to me)

East Coast, I see you shaking right

Down South, I see you bouncing right

West Coast, I know you walking right cause

Midwest, I see you swinging right

(You don't know what you mean to me)

No matter what I do

All I think about is you

Even when I'm with my boo

Boy, you know I'm crazy over you

No matter what I do

All I think about is you

Even when I'm with my boo

Boy, you know I'm crazy over you

No matter what I do

All I think about is you

Even when I'm with my boo

Boy, you know I'm crazy over you

Songwriter:

East Coast, I know you shaking right

Down South, I know you bouncing right

West Coast, I know you walking right

Midwest, I see you swinging right

(You don't know what you mean to me)

East Coast, you still shaking right

Down South, I see you bouncing right

West Coast, I know you walking right, cause

Midwest, I see you swinging right

(You don't know what you mean to me)

Cornell Haynes / Bunny Sigler / Kenneth Gamble / Antonie Macon

SongFacts:

👉📖

Homepage:

Nelly

Kelly Rowland

[ciaossu-imagines]

Varsity for Ray and Naughty for Fenrir. Is that okay? :D

That is perfectly fine, anon dear! Though over the character limit, I'm generally pretty easy-going about that and am happy to do these for you! I hope you'll enjoy and thanks for the request!

Varsity: Do you play/watch sports?

I think, during his school years, Ray would've played some sports. He's naturally very athletic and he's more than willing to work with other people, so he was always sought after by the school's sports teams. But as he grew, I don't see him really continuing to actively participate in any team sports, especially after becoming head of the Black Army.

Assuming Cradle has a version of baseball, I could actually see Ray really enjoying playing baseball. He'd even enjoy watching games, both before and after he started/stopped playing the sport. Shortstop is his go to position…he enjoys how demanding it can be. He's also pretty good at bat…not the best, but pretty good.

Other sports I could see Ray enjoying in terms of actively participating in playing them include fencing, target shooting (something him and Fenrir do together - while Fenrir is the real crack shot, Ray's not bad at it), boxing, and maybe mixed martial arts.

I don't see Ray enjoying watching sports, not really. Watching is normally boring and the only sport I could see him enjoying watching, other than the aforementioned baseball, would be racing. I could see him liking stockcar racing, having a favourite driver and such.

Naughty: Tell us three things your parents disapprove of?

Straight up, I'm going into this saying that I firmly do believe that overall, Fenrir and his parents get along well. He does come from a loving home and even if there are arguments or things that his parents disapprove of, overall they support their son and Fenrir does his best to love them as fiercely in return.

So, the first thing I do think his parents low-key disapprove of, and it's mostly because it was a huge disappointment for them, is that Fenrir chose not to inherit the family construction business but chose to go into the Black Army. His father had always dreamed of being able to pass the business along to his son, to keep it in the family, and it was hard for him to accept.

Their son's love of fighting, his penchant to jump into a fray without much thought, is another thing that his parent's do disapprove of. It's disapproval very much borne out of worry though. No parent wants to think of their child being in a dangerous situation and though they accept that their son is strong, they worry a lot that they'll someday get that visit that no parent wants, the one that tells them their son will never be coming back home.

The last thing? His mother cried when she saw his first ear piercing…she just threw up her hands and made it clear she thought her blessed boy was desecrating his beautiful body when he added additional piercings.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

SAMURAI BASEBALL! Now hopefully I don't have to tell you about the time a bunch of ragtag ronin beat back a team of hostile Americans at their own national pastime. A strong national athletics team is crucial to maintaining any kind of closed borders. I've been watching too much baseball lately (go Dodgers!) and it was fun to do this with basketball. I do still think the samurai are going to be a #1 seed basketball team, but the art of baseball is naturally a crucial skill for any proper retainer! There's also the right number of them...

Naturally, this means someone needs to put the Nine Red Bats together...seriously, please use the Akazaya if we ever do another sports filler/special.

Kin'emon and his golden retriever boyfriend ass is the classic All-Wano boy at first base. Second batter. Without fail, once per game he will make an amazing catch that was only possible because of a lucky blunder. Crumpled up on the field in strange contortions but he caught it with his foot or something. But shave those sideburns!

Denjiro is a pitcher and that's the only time you'll ever hear someone say that about him. Skillful & patient.

Kiku sits at second base getting right up to the line of heckling the batter as much as she can. First batter, not socking a lot of home runs but will get a hit. Sure can steal a base or figure out the catcher's signals if she gets a double. An absolute menace...but does throw like a girl.

Izo's at shortstop because this is a gang of good-natured assholes. Relief pitcher if Kanjuro decides not to be a higher magnitude of asshole. Fastball like a gunshot on top of maybe being a lefty.

Sad thing is Kanjuro would be a top batter due to his familiarity with blunt weapons. Very precise.

Raizo bats late but he's an all-star at centerfield. Man can leap high enough or use ninjutsu to stop a home run. Not a bad pitcher either.

Ashura's the mighty 4th batter and home run king. Outfield.

Inu Holds down 3rd base and gets into entertaining arguments with...

Neko the catcher because he will pounce on a dropped ball. Too easily distracted to be in the batting order.

Kawamatsu looks for grasshoppers in the outfield but he's such a good boy it's okay. I also have trouble imagining him holding a bat. Like, legitimately. Can you swing one with a backhand grip? I'm also now legit interested how webbed fingers could affect pitching. We're going to say he's charmingly bad at this but doing his best.

(Oden is a designated hitter, Otsuru manages them, Shinobu & Hyogoro are backup pitchers, Speed the pinch runner, and Toki gets drunk in the stands heckling the other team.)

[the-firebird69]

There's another anomaly that's developing because they're going after the matrix and Tron facilities is where a lot of prisoners are held probably about 10 trillion many clones are prepping them with special materials for entoming and they're going to put them in there as the facilities are going to be attacked and they're going to relocate them. There was a suggestion to remove the queen from the tomb to prevent her from being kidnapped and others and in the cathedral instead of their facilities

Thor Freya

Well that's not bad it came from someone else but we do see. And they had Brad come on in his NCIS format and to tell them to make him small and skinny we do understand that

Mac daddy

We're making you shortstop strong and fat yeah that's right he says he can't make me a big and strong or allow it even if you wanted to and I can't either so what's your point and he says that and I guess I don't have one.

Tommy f

What an ass you're the stuff this guy and become a lot we have the perfect plan and we're going to seek out the agent to see if he's available and our friend says he usually is and he needs the money that's very funny and we're looking for Johnny English to come into MI5 in the USA office please and as soon as you can

Mac

And they're already no but I'm moving out and I do see it I'd rather not do it that way but it sounds interesting and he has the clones roped into it and I do see what you're saying they want to use her as code to begin the process

Johnny English I'm asked if I have any recommendations and why I say is it for not involved it might happen if we are involved it won't but the max should know is that they have theirs as well so they're going to be involved and it's a great help without them we would be sunk for sure

We're on it and we're going to help ain't no match is not special thank you and you're calling on Johnny English no wondering why it's kind of like is this weird group guy and he is willing to do a strange things and I'm trying to follow it it's using your idea and it's ridiculous and we're going to follow the ball.

Don't do that sort of thing it's ridiculous and bothers me. It says it bothers me too it's kind of thing it does. And he wants to zoom in and who have that guy is well it's going on and gets a phone call that's terrific in a movie later to film the movie I just wanted to escort him in and we do understand that and we're going to get going on it and yeah we'll probably end up surrounding her and mac

Ben Arnold

And yeah you have secrets Mac daddy

Olympus

[mysteriouslytransparentwombat]

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