#Also I do in fact own a pocket watch (it was my great granddad's) but I don't use it often because it's a pain to wind up.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Chapter 3

Summary: After being removed from his own time, Agent Daniel Sousa finds himself in 2020 lost, alone and vulnerable. You, an Avenger, find yourself face to face with Director Coulson and Agent May begging you to help another man out of time. This time however, instead of a super soldier, you meet an average man haunted by war and a time he once knew.    Pairings: Daniel Sousa x Reader.

“I think he’s spiralling. He’s been obsessively reading those files you gave him; he barely eats, I usually have to force him out of his room to interact with me. I gave him a book on world history but apart from that he knows the basics, but he doesn’t really want to throw himself into it.” You told Phil as you slowly walked up the stairs to your apartment building, “We’re having a few hiccups, but nothing I can’t handle,” You slightly grimaced at the memory of Daniel placing a tin can in the microwave, “Just like teaching a baby,” You thought about it for a moment, “A baby who can use a gun and possibly beat the ever living hell out of me. Anyway, how are you going about this bracelet removal thing?” “I currently have the absolute best I have to offer working on it for you. She says she should have something to try within the week,” A pause, “Are you sure you wanna go down this path? If Ross finds out what’s happening, there’s only so much I can do to keep you out of the Raft. And that’s if he’s feeling nice,” You paused out the front of your apartment door, silence falling between the pair of you for a moment, “I can’t help Daniel the same way I helped Steve if I don’t have it off. And I’m scared that he’ll be swallowed by this darkness if I don’t help him, he’s not a super soldier, he’s not enhanced in any way. He’s just a normal guy who was struggling with the aftermath of the war and now pulled out of time. I’m not scared of the Raft Phil. And I’m absolutely not scared of General Ross,” “I’ll see what I can do,”. You gave him a soft thanks as you placed your phone back into your pocket, giving a small smile to Audrey who walked past you clutching the gem necklace that hung around her neck tightly in her hand. She paused for a moment, “How’s having a new roommate?” “He’s very quiet,” You laughed as you shifted your bags from one hand to another. Audrey shrugged her shoulders, “He’ll come around. New York is a big change if you’re not used to it,” You laughed, “Anyway I should get going. I need to pick up some flowers on the way to see my grandparent’s graves,” “Awh,” You gave her a sad smile, “What type?” “Lilies, my grandma loved lilies. Granddad not so much, but he’d fill the house with them to make her happy,” You grinned, “They’re my favourite as well. He sounds wonderful,” “He was. He was my best friend,”. Audrey gave a small wave to you as she made her way down the path you had just come from. You watched as the brunette walked away before turning back to the door and pushing it open. You could smell the familiar aroma of coffee mixed in with your floral air freshener. You walked into the kitchen, dumping the bags on the counter and pulling out several packets of meat, sauces and pastas, “I’ve decided,” You began as Daniel walked into the kitchen to see what you were doing, “To cook tonight. Phil introduced me to this amazing pasta recipe back when I first started with the Avengers Initiative. And I figured since I haven’t really had the chance to introduce you to my cooking since arriving, now would be a great opportunity. Whatdya say?” You gave him a large grin as you held up the mince packet and the large jar of sauce Daniel gave a soft smile and shook his head, “I’ve love too, but uh,” He pointed back to his bedroom, “I have some things I need to finish first,” “I swear I’m not an awful cook,” You bargained, placing the items down on the bench and leaning forward, “In fact I used to regularly be the chef at the compound. Along with Wanda of course,” “Wanda?” “Maximoff. She’s another enhanced. I hope you both get to meet one day,” You smiled gently at him as he came and sat down at the breakfast bench, leaving his walking stick hanging off the bench by it’s handles. “Okay. I’ll give your cooking a try. On the condition that I cook tomorrow night,” A larger smile crossed your face. This was good. This was him coming out of his shell, a sense of normalcy, “I supervise,” “You supervise,” You couldn’t help the smile that grew across your face as a smile crossed his own. You could still see the haunted look in his deep brown eyes as he smiled back, but you couldn’t help but to count this as a victory. Here he was, with you, away from his bedroom and his case files, a cup of coffee in his hands that he made himself; and you figured that perhaps you didn’t need your bracelet to know what was happening with Daniel Sousa, maybe all you needed was to use your brain.

<> 

You couldn't help but to play with the silver glistening bracelet, even though it was an item that took away your identity, something that you should hate more than anything on this planet, but you loved the way it shone in the sun. You loved how sometimes, when the light from the streetlights hit the right angle, it could illuminate in the night. Like a glowing beacon in a storm.

The night air was cool around your body, the silky pyjamas Tony had brought you a year earlier for your birthday didn't do much to keep out the bitter chill that the Winter nights were bringing in. Your fingers traced the silver band, small dents from the many times you had tried to remove it littered the polished surface. A small yawn escaped your lips as your arm fell limply by your side and you resumed staring up at the darkened ceiling. Sleep wasn't coming easy for you; the worry you held for Daniel was almost suffocating.

With Steve, he would at the very least sit with you on the couch while blankly watching whatever show was on the television. But with Daniel he would hole himself away where you couldn’t see his emotions. You knew that he was trying so hard to be strong, but even the strongest rocks crumble.

You knew he was in his room, because you could hear him occasionally shuffling around. A part of you wanted to go into him, to sit with him so you could reassure him that he had someone to talk too; however you knew that this was something that he had to experience for himself, something he had to deal with by himself.

There was no going back to the past for him, there was only moving forward, and if this was the way he could do that, then you would support him every step of the way.

With a groan, you pushed your blankets back and moved out of your large bed, wrapping your dressing gown around your body and making your way into the kitchen. You didn't put the kettle on like you normally would have, instead you reached into the pantry and pulled out a small pocket of chocolate biscuits before climbing on to the bench, the packet of open biscuits sitting beside you as you watched the shining lights of the New York skyline from your window.

And that was how Daniel found you moments later when he limped out and looked at you in shock, as if he hadn't been expecting anyone else to be awake at this time of night.

"Sup?" You offered; a mouth still filled with a half-chewed biscuit. You reached down and picked up the packet, holding the open end to him, "Biscuit. You bailed pretty quick after dinner," You gave a small shrug when he shook his head, placing the packet back down, "Which is a shame because there was a great movie on tonight you would have enjoyed,"

"Would’ve I? 4 weeks I've been living here, and I can't say our ideas of a good movie match yet," Daniel replied. stepping further into the kitchen, reaching into a cupboard and pulling out a glass, "Dinner was good though. Thank you," He poured some water in the glass as you ate another biscuit.

"Yeah of course it was, I cooked it," You joked, remembering how he hate barely half what he had on his plate. You noticed the dark grey circles under his eyes, how pale his skin was looking, the slight shake in his hand, "You should eat something though,"

He rinsed the empty glass under the running tap as he rose an eyebrow, "Like chocolate biscuits?"

"I never said I was the healthiest person in the world" Your smile faltered as you saw the somewhat distressed look on the agent’s face, “Are you okay? It’s 2am,”

Daniel shook his head and leaned against the granite countertop, his eyes downcast as if he were searching for the strength to actually open up to you. You knew it was going to be difficult for him to do so, especially coming out of the time period he did where men showing any sort of emotion was a sign of weakness. You stopped chewing and watched him closely, watching as his jaw clenched, his fingers grabbing on to the edge of the counter as if he were using it to physically hold himself up.

You decided to take the initiative in this conversation. He barely even knew anything about you, perhaps he wouldn’t open to you until you opened to him.

“I’m an empath,” You started.

Daniel’s eyes shot up to meet yours, his eyebrows furrowing as to ask why you were talking about it. Instead of acknowledging it, you just held up your wrist, once again showing him your band and gave a small smile, “I can feel other people’s emotions with just a touch. I can also manipulate them to feel what I want them to feel. Both a blessing and a curse that one,” You gave a self-depreciating smile, “Ever since I’ve had this band on it’s like I’m missing a piece of myself. I can touch things; I can touch people and I feel nothing. There’s just this emptiness inside me that I can’t find anything to fill it with. It’s the reason why I need it off,”

“Do you feel everything? Or are you able to control it?” Daniel asked, his posture somewhat more relaxed now that you were talking about yourself instead of whatever was going on in his head.

A short nod, “Yeah. I lived in a compound with an egotistical genius who never slept, a super soldier from 1945, a genius with awful anger issues, and two assassins. You don’t live with those type of people and not learn how to control it. Although, when someone’s feeling something and it’s overpowering, I can feel that no matter how hard I try to stop it,”

You remember putting your hand on Tony’s shoulder after he watched that video of his parents dying, the pure rage and betrayal spread through his body and into your mind. Tears welled in your eyes as your body almost crumbled under the weight of grief your friend was feeling. Swallowing deeply, you shook away the memory and turned back to Daniel who was watching you with curious eyes.

“You look tired, you should get to bed,” He gave a lopsided smile, watching as a small smile crossed your own face.

“I’m worried about you,” You admitted, catching Daniel’s brown eyes with your own and holding them.

He shook his head, “Don’t be. I’m okay,”

“Liar,”

A small smile crossed his face as he reached over and grabbed a biscuit out of the packet, holding it up to show you that he had it. You watched as he took a bite of it and leaned on the counter.

“I’ve just sort of realised that no matter what, I’m not going back. I can’t walk around my neighbourhood again, see friends, family. I miss them,”

“Would you go back? If you had a chance?”

“In a heartbeat” There was zero hesitation in his voice, his eyes showing the desperation, the sadness he felt missing his loved ones.

“I’m sorry” You stated quietly.

“Me Too”

Tags:

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[timeagainreviews]

Those are excellent nose hairs

Hello friends! It's been a long weekend for yours truly, as I was in Nottingham for a convention. My hooves are very tired. This review is going up a bit later than I would like as the hotel I was staying at's TV's volume only went up to fifteen, which made it hard for me to watch the episode properly. Now that I'm home and have watched the episode with the sound full blast, I can give it a proper review.

When we last left the Doctor and her crew, they were suspended in space. Of course, none of us were actually worried, after all, they showed the shot of them being picked up in the series trailer! Also, come on, they're not gonna kill our friends. In true Doctor Who fashion, the cliffhanger was resolved in seconds. Graham and Ryan find themselves aboard a spaceship with a standoffish captain named Angstrom. She doesn't trust them, despite saving their lives. Yaz awakens aboard a different ship in a sort of stasis capsule to the sound of the Doctor and the ship's captain Epzo bickering. Neither one of them can agree on the best way to crash-land Epzo's ship- "Cerebos."

Upon landing on the planet, Ryan, Graham, and Angstrom begin walking toward a still unknown destination. From above comes Cerebos, like a comet falling from the sky, directly at them. Having never seen a science fiction movie, the three of them run in the direction of the ship's trajectory, as opposed to, you know, left or right. The ship skids through a ravine and it's not until the Doctor yells "Brakes!" does the ship stop, due to previously unseen wheels.

Happy to see each other alive, the Doctor and her new friends take a moment to appreciate the fact that they're on their first alien planet. They also learn that Epzo and Angstrom are familiar with one another as competitors. Suddenly, an alarm sounds, beckoning them toward a mysterious destination, which turns out to be a tent in the middle of a desert where the hologram of a callous wealthy man named Ilin sits like a king. Opulence drips from him despite his shabby digs.

We learn that Ilin is the facilitator of the last "Rally of the 12 Galaxies," or as the Doctor put it, "Paris-Dakar in space.” The prize is an exorbitant amount of money, enough to set the winner for life. Out of 4,000 entrants, Epzo and Angstrom are the only two left. The name of the planet on which everyone has found themselves is most closely translated to "Desolation," and it's the final leg of the race.

The racers final task is to navigate Desolation, a planet "made cruel," toward the titular "Ghost Monument." The Doctor being who she is, asks to know the appearance of the Ghost Monument. Ilin, annoyed by the request, reluctantly presents a holographic image of the monument. The Ghost Monument, much to the Doctor's delight, is none other than her TARDIS, which has been phasing into existence every 1000 cycles. Due to the nature of the time machine, it appears to have been doing so for a very long time. It's a moment in the episode that feels genuinely gratifying, as the pieces for our new Doctor are beginning to fall into place.

Ilin and his tent disappear instantly, leaving everyone at the mercy of this cruel planet. Strewn about are what looks like the remnants of a society. Structures are tangled with strange gauzy strips of fabric. Buildings are in ruin. The Doctor can't make heads or tails what happened to this civilisation. The water is full of carnivorous bacteria, the air is poison, and there are sniper robots. In a scene that evoked strong "Keys of Marinus," vibes, they must travel across a deadly body of water, aboard an abandoned boat.

In these moments, we're given a further glimpse into the motivations of both Epzo and Angstrom. Angstrom wants to win the race so she can save what's left of her family from tyranny, while Epzo is simply a very lonely man with a painful past ripped straight out of the movie Wetlands (of all places). On the other hand, we don't get much more of a glimpse into the Doctor's new companions. We learn that Yaz's family is a bit irritating, and incomplete, as she doesn't mention a mother. Ryan and Graham are still basically where we left off- Ryan won't call Graham granddad, and Graham still doesn't know how to reach him. Ryan still struggles with ladder-related dyspraxia, but it seems to disappear when he takes out a group of sniper bots with one of their own weapons. There seems to be a sort of fluctuation in characterisation present in this, and last week's scripts.

The Doctor is presented in a way that is meant to illustrate not only her competence but also her philosophy. This is where Chris Chibnall's writing has continually stuck in my craw. As with last week, where the Doctor denounced knives, despite having travelled with two knife-wielding companions in the past, she goes on about guns once more. We all know the Doctor is against guns, but why is it not okay to kill lifeless sniper robots with a gun, but okay to kill all of them with an electromagnetic pulse? The Doctor does these kinds of things all the time, but Chibnall has brought our attention to it.

The Doctor helps the racers and her friends through what looks like a dilapidated parking garage filled with sniper bots into an underground network of tunnels and chambers. While underground, the Doctor learns that our baddies from last week, the Stenza, had forced the scientists of the world above to create weapons of death to the point that it killed their planet. We also learn that both Graham in Angstrom lost their wives to the Stenza.

After the race is over, only the Doctor and her new friends remain, stuck on the surface of Desolation. The Doctor is at one of her lowest points, as even she is beginning to doubt herself. In a very sweet show of camaraderie, Yaz, Ryan, and Graham reinforce their belief in the Doctor. It is at this moment when a glimmer of hope is heard in a familiar sound. Last week I voiced my concern that the Doctor might have to "earn," her TARDIS back. Much to my relief, this was not the case. Evidently, it was a case that the TARDIS saw the Doctor was now a woman, and her whole “bachelor pad,” with candle wax dribble and books on the stairs was suddenly unsuitable. “Out you go, while I spruce up!” And I’m glad for it. Not only would a Doctor without her TARDIS story have been tedious, it would have also been a rather incomplete feeling series. With a new Doctor, it's good to have a bit of the familiar around, even if it looks a bit different!

In a line that is probably now my new sexuality, the Doctor pleads with the TARDIS and says "Come to daddy... er mummy." Our trusty blue box finally manages to materialise, and like something out of a Lassie movie, or even a love story, the Doctor runs to it. It's a truly beautiful moment that left me in tears. In my review for "An Unearthly Child," I talked about the first TARDIS reveal. It's seldom, however, that we get to see the Doctor have the same reaction to seeing the inside of her TARDIS, which is why this one is so great. Having been apart from what is possibly her oldest friend, she gets to rediscover her new interior alongside her companions. And like that, the show feels like it can truly move forward.

Now then, let’s talk about what worked, and what didn't. First of all, how about that introduction? Yet another one of my fears was that Doctor Who had gone the way of many modern television series, and dumped the intro, which would have been a crime! Thankfully, this was not an issue. I mentioned earlier the "Keys to Marinus vibe," I got from this episode. That intro is pure Hartnell era, through and through. After getting a better listen to Segun Akinola's theme tune, I must say I like it. Though I feel that some of the effects placed upon the sound seem to cancel out certain notes. While it lacks the high energy of some of the previous themes of the "new Who" era, it gains a level of creepiness and danger we've not seen since the 70's.

The story itself is pretty simple, but that's not any kind of judgement on my behalf. Simple can be a welcome break after Moffat's long-winded, and often unfulfilling story arcs. Though the bit about "The Timeless Child," was so Easter eggy, that I thought Moffat may have snuck into the writing room with a Chris Chibnall mask and monkeyed with the script. I'll be honest, I have zero interest in that storyline. It's called Doctor Who, not Doctor Who was Once a Little Kid Known as the Timeless Child. IDGAF.

One of the interesting elements of these past two episodes has been Chibnall's characterisation of the Doctor. In some ways, it's evident how well he knows the character. Simply in the manner by which the Doctor uses the sonic screwdriver, do we see her character come out. The sonic is often criticised as a plot-convenient deus ex machina, but in many ways, it is the Doctor condensed into an object. It fixes things and opens the doors to new possibilities. The Doctor tries to teach her companions her philosophy, not with weapons, but with hope.

I said earlier how Chibnall has also, a somewhat muddied philosophy of the Doctor. His sophisticated ideas, don't really stand up to their own scrutiny. When the Doctor and her companions have their backs against the wall, it's suddenly ok to destroy the Remnants (killer strips of fabric now animated under the night sky), with a blaze of fire. What was different between these and the sniper robots? The Remnants could actually speak, yet it's less ok to shoot the mindless robots because...guns? These aren't massive sins, but they are worrisome. As I've said, Chris Chibnall is the one element of the new series that has worried me. Even his one-off jokes can serve as tiny red flags.

In the previous episode, we learn that the Doctor has empty pockets, something that had come up more than once in "The Woman Who Fell to Earth." However, in this episode, it turns out that she has filled her pockets. It would make sense if the object she pulls out of her coat were merely a simple pair of sunglasses. But these weren't just any sunglasses, these once belonged to either Pythagoras or Audrey Hepburn. Which is fine, it's cute, right? But where did they come from? Her coat from her days as a white haired Scotsman was empty, and her new coat came from a charity shop. With no TARDIS, how does she get a pair of sunglasses from one of two dead people? Perhaps it's as River says- the Doctor lies. Or perhaps Chibnall just wanted a cute joke. Either way, Graham looks fabulous in those shades.

Evidently, Chris Chibnall's true talent lies in being able to recognise talent. He's found a wonderful group of actors and directors. Jodie Whittaker is a genius pick for the Doctor. Segun Akinola is brilliant in his musical direction. Even his vision for what the series should look like is inspired. The retro vibe suits not only the Thirteenth Doctor but also the concept of the first female Doctor. Something I had hoped they wouldn't ignore. While some of the cinematography has been frustrating, with close-ups cropping off 20% of actor's faces, and points of focus not always being properly framed, it's also kinetic and gorgeous. The new TARDIS control room is beautiful. I'm hoping the little spinning crystal TARDIS serves a function of some sort, as well as the hourglass, which was perplexing in its function (as well the TARDIS should be). My favourite bit was the little custard cream biscuit dispenser. Pure cuteness, that.

This episode has been particularly hard to review, as I didn't hate it, not by far. But it was also disjointed and frustrating at points as well. I'm still giving a lot of leeway to everyone involved, as it's early days. Neither Stephen Moffat or Russell T. Davies wrote a homerun within their first two episodes. Chris Chibnall has managed to breathe new life into the series again, which is a feat unto itself. The TARDIS has done herself up, and so has the show. And as the Doctor said, "I really like it."

[thelittlestkitsune]

Ad-Listed. [smut]

A;N: So, hello! This is kind of different for me, I’m well aware of that, but I had the idea in my head and I couldn’t let it go! This is an AU as Stiles is not in BH, he’s in his senior year of college! Please let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy xo Lau

Pairing: StilesxReader

Author: thelittlestkitsune

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Explicit Content.

Word count: .10, 810

Listen to me.      part two. 

One week to Kirstie’s wedding.  

You groaned as you slid into the pleather booth at the local diner, glancing at your phone. Ten till two and he said he’d be here at two. Guess I better get a coffee then. You flagged the waitress, ordering a latte as you sat and scrolled through your phone, looking at the date your bridesmaid dress was supposed to arrive. Why did you leave getting your dress until so late, you always leave everything until it’s so late. You sighed to yourself as the waitress brought your coffee, a wide grin on her face. You smiled back as you looked out the window, watching as Mike walked past the window.

 He gave you a small wave as he stalked by, his long legs reaching the door of the diner before you could even blink. He leant over you, kissing your cheek before sliding into the booth opposite you. “Hey Gwen!” His voice was chipper, a light reflecting in his grey eyes. “Hey Mike, what’s up? I thought we weren’t supposed to be meeting till tonight? Is everything okay?” You asked, your hands wrapping around the cup in front of you as he flagged the waitress. “Funny you should ask that, cause everything’s great actually-” He paused, turning to the pretty brunette. “Hey love, can I have a large iced coffee please?” She shook her head as you looked out the window “Sorry but we only have hot coffee here.” She shrugged apologetically. “Ah that’s okay then! Can I have a slice of that cheesecake and a large cappuccino please?” He asked, a wink following suit. “Sure, be with you in minute.” He grinned as he returned back to you. What is it with this guy?

You asked yourself that every time you met with him, sure he made you laugh, but there was something about him that put you on edge. You brushed away the feeling as he turned to you, his eyes still sparkling. “Anyway, what were we talking about?” He continued as you sipped on your coffee. “Everything’s gr-” He cut you off as he reached across the table, his hands finding yours. “There’s no really easy way to say this, but-” He fumbled for a moment, his brows knitting above his eyes. “- I really don’t want to jinx it but there’s this girl.” Your heart leapt in your chest as panic flooded your system. Please don’t confess your love to me, please no, I don’t think I can handle that. You swallowed nervously as he stuttered. “And I think that she might be the one, so i’m going to ask her to marry me.” You felt bile rise in your throat, your heart hammering in your chest. You tapped your fingers nervously. “So I wanted to ask you-” You cut him off, the words spilling from your mouth as you shook your head. “No. I don-” He pulled back, reaching into his pocket as you felt your head spin. Is he deaf? I said no? “Is this ring okay?” He asked, showing the princess cut diamond nestled in the padding of the box.  

Shit, that’s a fancy ring. You breathed in, the air tasting thick as it swirled in your lungs. “Do you think she’ll like it?” He asked as you looked at him with a confused look on your face. “It’s a beautiful ring but-” You exhaled shakily, your eyes avoiding his as you reached for the coffee on the table. “I can’t wait to ask her, I’m going to do it in front of the Lincoln memorial tomorrow.” He gushed as you wracked your brain for something to say. “Wait, I think we’re getting our wires crossed. Who’s the ring for?” He looked taken aback as he snapped the box shut. “It’s for-” He paused, looking out the window as he drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s for this girl I’ve been seeing. We’ve not been seeing each other for very long, but she makes me laugh and I saw the ring and I thought she’d love it.” You looked at him in confusion, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of your mug. “I’m sure she does, but if you’ve not been seeing her for very long then shouldn’t you wait?” You questioned as your heart slammed against your rib cage. “She seems super into me and I think I’m in it for the long haul if she is. Which is why I’m here today-” You interrupted him before he could go any further. “I don’t think I’m in it for the long haul Mike, like you’re a great guy but I don’t see myself with you.” You rushed the words, refusing to look at him as you did so, your fingers tightening more as you white knuckled.  

“Well as flattered as I am Gwen, the ring isn’t for you.” He deadpanned, his eyes serious as you looked at him finally. “I came here to break it off with you.” He admitted as you felt the air get sucked from your lungs. Any panic that had been in your system evaporated as anger flooded your body. “So the ring is for some other girl? Another girl you’ve been seeing?!” You could feel yourself getting hysterical, your voice raising in the small diner. He nodded as he took a sip of his drink, wincing as he burnt his tongue, recoiling against the back of his seat. “Yeah, I thought you were seeing other guys, we were never exclusive.” He rolled his eyes as he looked over you. “Yeah, we talked about it at length obviously. I never said we were exclusive but you never said we weren’t.” You responded, your words like venom as they left your mouth. “I mean it’s not like I don’t like you Gwen, but I knew there were other girls out there. I was just playing the field.” He tried to justify his actions as you sat there, your head almost ready to explode with anger.

“Well it’s nice to finally know this Mike. Here’s something you should know, you’re an ass. You at least had the decency to not cheat on her, but I hope she knows that you were sleeping with the both of us. Doing us both a disservice.” You smiled as you stood up. “But  you know what? I’m glad you found her and I wish you both the best. Saves me the grief of breaking up with you after the wedding.” He rolled his eyes, his lips curled up in a smile. “I wasn’t even going to turn up, I never wanted to go to the stupid wedding.” You seethed as you grabbed your bag, chucking it over your shoulder. “I’m glad you didn’t. Have a nice life. Hopefully this girl can look past the fact that you’re a one pump chump that couldn’t get me to orgasm even if I gave you a manual on how to do it.” You spat, grabbing the last of your drink as half the diner turned to look at your outburst. “Fuck you Gwen.” He stammered, his face flushed red. “No Mike. Fuck you.” You drank the last of your drink before heading for the door, pushing it open as you flipped Mike the finger. Wanker.  

3 days till Kirstie’s wedding.

You flopped down onto the bed, cursing as your headphones ripped out your ears. “Fuck, just gimme a minute, I’m crushing myself.” You spoke, moving so you were supported in the middle of your bed. “Nope, not good enough. Fuck your comfort bitch!” You heard your best friend swear as you put your headphone back in your ear. “Screw you asshole. Now are you going to stop being rude and fucking help me?” You sighed, rubbing your fingers over your temples. “Chill out, god damn woman, you’re stressing out about nothing!” She laughed as you felt your cheeks get hot. “I’m not stressing about nothing! I’m stressing about the fact that I’m a bridesmaid at my sister’s wedding in 3 days and I don’t even have a date.” You sighed, your eyes closing as you took a shaky breath. “Why don’t you just go stag? You know it’s not a societal thing that you have to have a date you know?” You shook your head, knowing she couldn’t see you. “You don’t understand my family Nik, my grandma is going to be so far up my ass about not having a man at my age. She wants grandkids even though she already has like 4. She’s ridiculous and old fashioned and if I turn up stag then she’s just going to harp at me that I’ll die alone.” You tried to play it off but the reality of that was cripplingly realistic. “You’re not going to die alone, you’re the one who doesn’t want to date so you’re not even on your own side right now G.” You grunted in agreement. “It’s not like there’s much option here. Washington is good if you like brainy guys that look like they ran into a wall. Not so great if you want a good looking guy that also has a brain.” You heard Nikki chuckle down the line. “Beauty over brains huh? You’re so shallow!” You rolled your eyes as you cursed her out.  

“Oh yeah cause you’re going to go for Hawking over Hardy. Obviously.” you collapsed into a fit of giggles as you returned back to your dilemma. “Nikki, what the fuck am I going to do?” She hummed for a moment before almost shouting. “TINDER” Your heart almost plummeted into your stomach as she suggested it. “Oh yeah good one, just put my bio as just looking for a wedding escort.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm as she sighed. “You’re so picky. Maybe you should just get a hooker.” You laughed at the thought, genuinely mulling it over for a moment too long. Nikki pulled you from your thoughts of half-naked Adonis types as she thought aloud. “I wonder if people did that girlfriend experience thing?” She trailed off as you interjected. “I think my granddad would have an actual heart attack if I turned up with a girl.” You laughed, imagining the shock on his face. “- No like legit, what if there were people that you could pay to go on a date with you?” She continued, her tone questioning. “You mean like a hooker?” You asked, sitting up on your bed as you pulled your laptop up from its resting place on the floor. “I mean, in a sense, like you’re not hiring them to fuck, it’s sort of a last-minute option? You know, like the experience of a boyfriend without having to court a guy” She chuckled as she muttered under her breath. “You sound like my grandma when you say court a guy, but doesn’t this seem super skeez? Like you could literally be paying anybody to be your date.” You questioned, your fingers flying over the keys of your keyboard as you typed. Boyfriend experience, Washington dc.  

Your eyes scanned through the pages as you clicked through, your heart in your stomach. “It’s prostitution Nikki!” You exclaimed after you had seen enough to put you off the idea. “Well then maybe don’t search for the boyfriend experience then asshat. Honestly, you’re about as dumb as a pile of bricks. Why don’t you try craigslist?” Nikki suggested as you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they would get lodged in the back of your head forever. “Yeah, sure cause getting murdered at a wedding was the way I want to die. Plus it’s just full of creeps. But fine, I’ll have a look.” You typed in the search bar, 133 entries popped up most of which didn’t contain an attached picture. “Nikki, what have you got me into, most of these people are looking for casual freaky sex usually something illegal looking. This is sleazy, what if they try to offer me drugs?” You laughed as she snorted on the other end of the line. “If they offer you drugs take them they are expensive, not like you need the money though!” She ended. “Fine, but you know if I die this is going to weigh on your conscience forever-” You started before collapsing into a fit of giggles. “-shame you don’t have one” Nikki agreed wholeheartedly. “You know it, I’m only coming to the funeral if you have nachos but I’ll settle for truffle mac and cheese.” You sighed, knowing that she always made you laugh when you needed it most. “You’re such a bitch, you aren’t getting more than ice cream and jelly” The line went silent as you heard her voice boom suddenly. “Deal.”  

You concentrated on the screen for a moment, one ad in particular catching your eye. “Nik, do you think this sounds murderous or pervy or genuinely quite sweet.” You paused as you enlarged the ad. “It says he’s a college student across town, he just needs to make some extra cash for classes and books-” Nikki cut you off before you could finish. “He sounds like a stripper. He sounds perfect. He’s a stripper that supplies his own pole.” You burst into laughter, snorts coming from your mouth as you sucked in a giant breath of air. “I hate you so much for doing this to me. I refuse to talk to you right now, so I’m going to hang up on you and I’ll message you about the emails. I can’t take you seriously right now and I can’t believe you’ve dragged me into this.” You heard a commotion on the other end as Nikki got really close to the receiver. “Kicking and screaming bitch, kicking and screaming.” She gave you no time to respond before kicking you off the call leaving you to stare at the screen blankly. You sighed as you clicked contact ad lister, your heart hammering in your chest as you sent an email. I hope he isn’t a murderer.  

Two days to the wedding.  

You groaned as you slid into the pleather booth at the local diner, glancing at your phone. Ten to twelve and he said he’d be here around twelve ish. Guess I better get a coffee then. You flagged the waitress, ordering a latte as you sat and scrolled through your phone, your leg jittering under the table. The last time I was here for a date type thing it didn’t end too well, maybe I should of told him to meet me somewhere else? You swallowed your nerves as the waitress smiled, watching as several men passed by the window. You didn’t dare look as the bell jangled above the entry to the diner, deep voices filling the space around you. Did he bring a friend? Am I going to die? You buried your head in your phone, texting Nikki as you waited for Stiles to arrive. Stiles is such a weird name. You thought to yourself as the bell jangled again. This time though you braved turning around, your eyes following the noise as you saw the middle aged balding man in the doorway. He looked around the room, his eyes falling on you as he gave you a smile. Stiles said he was a college student, but there was nothing to say that he couldn’t be a mature student. You turned back to look at the man in the doorway, grateful in the fact that he had disappeared. You turned to the waitress as she gave you a smile, grabbing your latte in her hands as she made her way over to you.

“Are you waiting for someone love? Hopefully not that guy you were with the other day.” She spoke softly, her eyes darting out the window as she placed the coffee on the table in front of you. “Yeah, I’m meeting a blind date, but I don’t know what he looks like and I’m just praying that I’m not meeting Shrek.” You laughed nervously, your fingers drumming on the table in front of you. “Well I’m here all day, if your date turns up and is a complete creep then I can sneak you out the back through the staff entrance.” She winked as she stood back up, smoothing over her apron. “Just ask for an iced coffee, I’ll know what you need!” She finished with a smile as she turned tail and headed back towards the service hatch. You smiled to yourself as you pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to Nikki, telling her that you were feeling a little bit safer at least. The door went again as you whipped your head around, almost smashing your face into the backrest of your seat. Your eyes fell on an elderly couple, their hands entangled as they looked on at you in horror, their feet shuffling on the vinyl flooring as they squeaked off away from your judgemental stare. You whipped back around, wanting nothing more than the ground to swallow you whole and take you to hell where you belonged.  

You rested your arms on the table, your head nestled in the crook of your arm, your cheeks flushing red. Just let me die of embarrassment, they probably think I’m possessed. You sighed as you lifted your head, your peripherals catching a glimpse of flannel and dark hair as you returned upwards. Looks kind of young? You thought to yourself as the dark-haired guy walked past your booth. Everything in you wanted to say his name, on the off chance it was Stiles but you kept your mouth shut. Ultimately you were glad you did as he walked to the only other girl sat in the diner, her laptop obscuring her face. He hovered by her table for a moment before finally settling into the booth opposite her. You watched him for a second, hoping he was Stiles just in the wrong booth but when she closed her laptop screen she gave him a smile and you felt your heart drop. Guess it’s back to looking out the window I guess. You took a sip of your coffee, swirling the liquid over your tongue as you sighed. You glanced nervously at the clock on the wall as you saw the flannel clad boy stand from the booth. “Sorry I bothered you, I’m looking for someone else.” He spoke as you heard his voice resonate through the small diner.  

Maybe it was him after all. He paced away from the booth the girl inside of it wishing him luck as he scanned the diner. It took him a while before his eyes fell on you, your cheeks flushing red as you finally took a proper look at his face. He was not what you were expecting at all. Tall, well-built but a boyish charm in his face. You watched as he dug in his pockets, long fingers wrapping around his phone as he text. Your phone buzzed on the table, the vibration almost deafening. His eyes found your phone, a smile forming on his mole speckled face. He reached your booth quickly, his long legs crossing the diner. “You must be Gwen.” He smiled, as you nodded, your heart in your throat. “You must be Stiles” You replied as he sat down in the booth, his knees knocking against your own as he jittered his legs. “That would be me, sorry if I’m a bit weird right now, I stupidly decided that I needed to drink an espresso on the way here cause I was trashed from late night studying, but now the caffeine that has replaced my blood stream is making me all weird.” He gave you a half smile, one corner of his lips staying static as his eyes narrowed. “I feel you there about the late night studying, I once decided to make my morning coffee with red bull instead of water and I swear to fucking god I could taste music.” You laughed, lifting your mug to your lips, taking another sip of the liquid. “Let me know what trap music tastes like, I can imagine it tastes like an amalgamation of cocaine and tequila with gummy bears.” He cracked a joke, your nerves dissipating in his easy company.  

“So Stiles, what brings you to Washington? You said you’re a college student and nobody really goes in state here.” He reached for the back of his neck, his fingers trailing over the skin and hair there as you watched him mesmerised. “I’m in the FBI programme, senior year. I got family in law enforcement and I wanted to be like my pops.” He admitted, a flush flooding his pale cheeks. Hot and smart. “What about you?” He asked as the waitress came over. You half expected him to ignore you as you spoke now that she was here but he was rapt as you told him about your course. “I study law, it’s nothing spectacular. I want to go further I’m a senior and hopefully I can pass this year and get my masters by like 23.” He looked at you in awe, his caramel brown eyes wide. “You’re hella smart, reminds me of a girl I used to know back home. She was smart too, too smart for her own good.” He smirked, giving you a small wink. Something within you twinged at the innocent gesture as he turned to the waitress, ordering a coffee for himself. “Brains over beauty I guess!” You chuckled, downing the last of your latte before settling it back down. “Seems like both to me” He admitted, a smile almost constantly etched onto his face.

“Cheeky aren’t you?” You joked as he looked panicked all of a sudden. “Honestly? This is my first time doing something like this so I don’t know what’s expected of me and I almost didn’t come because-” His words were speeding up as he started to hyperventilate, his eyes darting around the room. “-Stiles, calm down. I don’t know either, I don’t know how this works so how about we just work it out together?” You reached for his hands, your smaller ones cradling one of his as his breathing slowed. “Thanks, I don’t know why I was so nervous, you seem really nice already.” He admitted, looking up at you through thick lashes. “You seem nice too Stiles, now how about you tell me how you got into this mess.”

“I have my best friend to blame for this, I rang him up a couple of days ago, saying that I was super strapped for cash and I couldn’t ask my dad for much more money-” You nodded, your fingers lacing together underneath your chin. “- and he said to me about how he made a bit of extra cash in his first year. You know, dating people for money. I told him that I didn’t think that anybody here would go for something like this, or someone like me but he basically told me I’d be stupid not to at least go for it. I thought it sounded a bit like a hooker and I’m no hooker. ” He shrugged, looking down at his coffee as the waitress placed it in front of him. “Can I get you anything love?” She asked as you pulled your attention away from him, looking in her eyes with a smile on your face. “Just another latte, and maybe a slice of that cake?” You nodded as she gave you a wink before returning to her station. “Why did you think no one would go for you? Is that why you didn’t put a picture up? Plus, I said that it sounded like a hooker but it’s a legit thing people do!” He nodded, shy all of a sudden. “Not only that but I haven’t really been in any photos for a long time” He chuckled nervously, lifting the mug to his lips. “Shame, you’re about to be in a lot of them at the wedding.” You laughed as he almost did a spit take, his caramel eyes blown wide in panic. “Stiles! Calm down! I’m a bridesmaid, I have to be in the photos and so does my date!” He calmed slightly as you talked. Finally, he swallowed the coffee he’d been holding in his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a deep breath. “Sorry about that! You know when your brain short circuits and it doesn’t process information correctly? My brain automatically thought it was our wedding.”  

His laugh echoed through the small space between you, his warmth and smile feeling like sunshine on your skin, even though the skies outside were rainy and grey. “That’d be a story wouldn’t it? We knew each other for two days before we decided to get married! Talk about a Disney romance! All I need is for you to break out into song!” You laughed, your smile stretching from ear to ear. He ducked his head, his fingers running over his neck again as you both laughed. “That’d be a sight, I’m tone deaf, it’s like a strangled cat when I sing sometimes! However, dancing-” He admitted, his smile mirroring yours. “-dancing is something I can do” You shook your head as he danced in the middle of the diner. “You’ll dance with me at the wedding then won’t you?” He stopped, his laugh coming in bursts as he stifled a laugh “Never in a million years. I refuse to share my golden dance moves with anyone!” You shrugged your shoulders as you thanked the waitress. “You never know Stiles! Anything could happen!” He shrugged in response, his head cocking to the side as he lifted the mug again. “So how did a girl like you find the ad? And why in the fresh fuck did you need the ad in the first place?” He asked as you readied yourself. “Stiles, are you comfortable? Cause this is a long story.” You warned as he shifted in his seat, leaning back against the backrest, his long legs still brushing against yours. “I’m ready, lay it on me.”  

Hours passed as you sat in the diner, eventually grabbing a meal together as you chatted, figuring out the perfect cover story as to how you two met. “A museum? Really? I was checking out the artwork and instead found you?” He laughed as he pushed his plate aside, the curly fries on it long gone cold from the flow of conversation. “What! I think it’s cute!” You defended your choice as you spooned ice cream into your mouth. “It is cute! If this were a movie! But you need this to be believable right?!” You nodded, agreeing with what he was saying but still holding onto the idea in case of an emergency. “We’ll figure it out, you have my number right?” Stiles asked as you nodded, your mouth still full of ice cream. “It’s getting late and I have some coursework to be doing so I should be heading back across town” He gathered his things as he beckoned the waitress over to pay for his coffee’s and the food he had bought. “Stiles let me, it’s the least I can do you know?” You asked as he shook his head. “My mom brought me up to be a gentleman, I’ll get it this time” He smiled as you sat back reaching into your bag to get your purse. “Fine but I’m paying for your cab fare. I know you didn’t drive here!” You winked, handing him the crumpled notes as he blushed. “Thanks Gwen!” he smiled, his eyes twinkling in the dimming light.  

“No need to thank me, you’re doing me a favour by going to the wedding with me. Speaking of, you need to pick your suit up from De Louice on Fessenden St tomorrow. It’s important! You can’t be showing up in a flannel!” You winked as he dropped his head. “How much should I take with me?” He asked in a small voice. “You don’t have to pay for it, it’s already paid for!” You smiled as he looked up, something in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Thanks again Gwen.” He leaned over, placing a kiss on your cheek as you felt shivers run down your spine. “Thank you Stiles and I’ll see you on Saturday!” He nodded, running his fingers through his hair as he left the diner. I’m actually kind of excited for the wedding now.  

The day of Kirsties Wedding.  

Your stomach was in knots as you stared at your phone screen.  

Gwen: So you got the plan right? Meet at the Watergate’s hotel bar at half past two, ceremony is supposed to start at half past three. Then the reception!  

Stiles: Sure thing chicken wing, you got it! See you at half past two. I’ll be the one in the suit.  

Gwen: It’s a wedding Stiles, all the guys will be in a suit.  

Stiles: Well I’ll be the dork in a suit.  

Gwen: I’ll see you at half past two Stiles xx

You glanced in the top corner of your screen, watching as the clock ticked over to 2:45. What if he changed his mind and decided not to come. You pushed the thought out of your mind as you took a swig of your drink, the alcohol calming your raging nerves as your brother came through the door of the bar. He rushed over to you, his face red as he loosened off his tie. “Gwen, we need you to start getting everything ready, Kirstie needs you up with her, she’s really nervous. You’re the head bridesmaid, you’re supposed to be by her side.” You sighed as you looked around the room, slightly panicked that you still had heard nothing from her. “Can you tell her I’ll be with her soon? I need to make sure my date finds the place okay?” You told your brother as he grimaced. “Okay, it’s your funeral if she kills you.” He warned with a chuckle, weaving through the crowded room. You glanced at your phone, your lips curled in a frown as you gripped your glass. 5 more minutes and then I’m going to have to go upstairs.  

Gwen: Stiles, where are you?  

Your fingers gripped onto your phone as if it was a life line, your drink emptying as you watched the hands on the clock tick down. Literally just a text is all I need. Your stomach somersaulted as you threw your head back, finally standing from the seat you’d been in at the bar.  

Gwen: You’re really late and I can’t wait any longer, I’ll be in the main atrium for 5 minutes, after that it’s too late.  

You walked through the crowded bar, lifting your dress as you weaved between wedding goers. The air was cloying but as soon as you stood in the atrium it was like a breath of fresh air. Your fingers clung to your dress, your clutch hanging loosely from your shoulders as you walked to the main atrium the click of your heels echoing in the large room. Come on Stiles where are you? You locked and unlocked your phone, your eyes scanning the room as you leant against a pillar your breath coming in short bursts as you worried about your sister. Chewing your lips, you text Stiles for what felt like the millionth time, your fingers trembling as you hit send.  

Gwen: Stiles, you’ve got 2 minutes or I have to go upstairs, if I’m not in the atrium when you get here then you don’t need to stay.  

You sighed as you pressed send, quickly leaving your messages as you flicked to your sisters chat. 15 unread messages. You quickly read the messages your heart plummeting at your sisters texts.  

Kirstie: Gwennie, where are you? I need you up here.  

Kirstie: Please Gwennie!  

You sighed, your head hitting back against the marbled pillar, pain radiating through your head. Great, at least in the photo’s I’ll look as bad as I feel. You closed your eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath. Looks like Stiles is out of time. You pushed away from the pillar, turning to head towards the elevator, mentally preparing yourself for the wrath of your sister when you heard footsteps running towards you. “Gwen!” You heard Stiles shout as you whipped your head around a small smile on your lips. “I thought you weren’t going to come!” You almost snapped, your tone slightly more biting than you were going for. He grimaced, his hands carding through his hair. “Roscoe broke down and I had to get a cab, then I realised that I put in the wrong place-” He babbled, a downcast look in his doe eyes. “Stiles it’s fine, you just about made it on time, no need to have a full-on breakdown! Plus, who the fuck is Roscoe?” You asked, your brows knitted over your eyes as he grinned. “Roscoe is my Jeep!” You rolled your eyes as you walked off, him following suit. “You named your jeep?” You joked as he gave you a surprised look. “Well if he turns into a transformer I at least want to make sure we’re on a first name basis.” You laughed as you jabbed the button for the elevator, climbing inside before turning to Stiles once again. “Stiles, don’t be daft, you know most cars are girls.” You winked as the doors closed, leading you up to the main balcony.  

“Now where do we line up again?” Stiles turned to you after the pictures, his tie slightly crooked as you led him down multiple hallways. “We line up at the door, you don’t get stage fright do you Stiles? You know we’re second down after my brother and his wife.” Stiles looked panicked as he looked at you, his lips set in a hard line. “Nope, totally calm and collected, I sure am co-ordinated and good at walking in a straight line.” He swallowed thickly as he nodded, his brown hair flopping over his forehead. “That’s a bald-faced lie isn’t it Stiles?” You gave him a knowing look as he grinned back at you, his smile faltering as he tripped, grabbing onto you as you both toppled to the floor. “Yeah, I’m vertically challenged and I like to inspect floors on almost a minutely basis.” He nodded, as you collapsed into a fit of giggles. “I can see that, maybe we should get out the way of people and sort ourselves before we have to do the walk for real.” You laughed as Stiles stood, his hand outstretching towards you. You took it gratefully, smoothing over your dress as Stiles led you to the edge of the hallway, his back pressed against the wall. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” You asked Stiles as you watched his eyes close, his lips parted as he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, just a little bit, i’m not usually good with large groups of people, especially people I don’t know.” He sounded strained, his voice cracking as he opened his eyes, looking at you as he gave you a half smile. “But, I’ll be okay. We going to do this thing?” He chuckled, pushing away from the wall as he reached his hand out for you to take. “Yeah, do I look okay?” You nervously pushed your hair behind your ears as he looked over you, his eyes trailing over every inch of your skin. “You look beautiful, now let’s go walk down that aisle.”  

The wedding flashed by in the blink of an eye as you took Stiles’ hand, tears streaming down your face as your sister married the love of her life, Stiles’ fingers intertwined with yours as you walked back down the aisle, leaving the ceremony behind. “So, what now?” Stiles asked as you milled towards the reception, the crowds of people moving around you. “We go to the reception and the true fun begins.” You winked, giving him a small smile. “Is this where I die?” His brows quirked, his eyes searching your face for answers. “This is the true torture, we weren’t planning on sacrificing you to the pagan gods until later.” He faked a sigh of relief, his hand wiping over his forehead. After all the nerves that had been running through your system, you finally felt like you could relax, even though you knew that the worst was only yet to come. You held your breath as you walked into the hall, your eyes falling over every decoration as lights sparkled in your peripherals. “Whoa, this is nice.” Stiles breathed as you gave him a small smile. “Yeah, it is. Kirstie’s been planning her wedding since she was a little girl, so what you’re seeing right now? This is her dream.” You looked around the room, waving at family members as they gave you small nods. “I’ve never walked in someone’s dream before. Someone’s walked in my mind before but that’s completely different-” He tailed off, his lips pressing shut as he walked with you to your table. “Someone walked in your mind?” You asked him questioningly, your fingers coming unlaced as you sat in the chair, his body filling the space next to you. “It felt like that at least.” He chuckled, his hands running over his neck, a trait you had learnt was his nervous tick.  

“What a strange thing to say young man” You heard your grandma say as she walked to the table. Her brunette hair was wound tight against her scalp, her tiny frame almost going unnoticed in the throng of people. “Stiles, meet Margaret, my grandmother. She has the hearing of a bat.” You smiled as you grandma walked to the table, her arms outstretched as she laced them around your neck. “Gwennie, you look absolutely heart breaking. You’re not so little anymore are you?” She cooed as you shot a smile at Stiles. He supressed a laugh as your grandma pulled away. “You’re growing up so fast. Soon it’ll be your wedding, perhaps to this fine young gentleman?” She nodded towards Stiles as you supressed a laugh as he looked panic stricken. “Grandma, this is Stiles-” Your grandma had already walked around to where he sat, her arms linking around his shoulders like she had just done to you. Stiles froze, his cheeks flushing almost neon pink as he relaxed after a moment. “So, you’re my Gwennies boyfriend?” Stiles shot you a look as you panicked, your throat closing up as you shrugged your shoulders. “I am indeed, lovely to meet you Mrs-” He struggled to think of your last name, your eyes wide as his eyes darted towards you. “No need to be so formal, call me Margaret or Margie.” She smiled, her weathered face lighting up as she straightened off striding towards her seat at your table. “So Gwennie, tell me more about Stiles”  

A few hours went by as you sat and talked with Stiles, your grandma shooting questions at you from right and left. Stiles took all the questions he could, grinning and being friendly all night, which is more than what you could’ve asked of him. “Stiles if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave to the restroom and leave you in my grandma’s very capable hands.” You announced as you stood from your seat, your head spinning after one too many glasses of wine. “Take your time, me and Margie have it covered here.” He winked, your grandma smiling at you as you walked across the dance floor. Well, this is going far better than I would have expected. Sounds strange but it feels like I’ve known Stiles for far longer than just a few days. You walked from the main hall, heading to the bathroom as you thought about the man you’d left at the table. He looks really good in a suit, maybe he’d also look good without the suit. You suppressed a smile as you pushed on the door to the ladies, giving yourself a quick once over in the mirror. Over the course of the night, your lipstick had smudged some, but other than that you still looked very much the same, your cheeks maybe a tad darker than before but you knew why. Reaching into your clutch, you dug for your lipstick, leaning closer to the mirror as you touched up the lines, cleaning the outsides with the tip of your finger.  

“You getting all dolled up for your date?” You heard your sister say, her head peeking around the corner as she walked in, her long dress trailing along the floor. You smiled at her as you wrapped your arms around her, your first hug since she tied the knot. “I’m not doing it for him, I’m doing it for me.” You grinned, returning to the mirror as you fixed a knot in your long hair. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were doing it for him. If I wasn’t a married woman-” She trailed off, a giggle escaping her lips. “Kirstie! You can’t say that! You’ve been married a grand total of about 3 hours now!” You shook your head as she shrugged. “I can appreciate a good looking guy can’t I?!” She wandered next to you, fixing her hair as she turned to you. “You two look good together, the photographer showed me some of the stills and you two look so happy.” You blushed, hiding your smile as she continued. “You look like me and David when we were early days. So unsure of things but happy, I can see it in your face and the way he looks at you. You two are in it for the long haul.” Yeah, that could be so, but we’d have to be dating first, and maybe actually know each other for more than a grand total of 2 minutes. You thought to yourself as she smiled at you. “I’m so happy for you Gwennie, you deserve a guy like him.” She finished as she gave herself once last look over, before hugging you goodbye. “You need to get him onto the dance floor, maybe give him a rest from Grandma.” You laughed as she left the bathroom, the door swinging shut as you were left to your own devices.  

Maybe it could be more than just this? You sighed to yourself as you smoothed over your dress, walking from the bathroom as you returned into the main hall. “Gwennie! Glad you could join us again! Stiles was just telling me about his father, he’s a sheriff!” Your grandma exclaimed as you sat back at your seat. “-And Margaret was just telling me that Gwen isn’t your full name!” Stiles turned to you, his lips pressed firmly in a line, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Grandma, you know I hate it when you call me that!” You sighed, watching as she shrugged. “Gwendolyn, it’s your name, a lot can be told about a name!” She spoke, your name making the hairs on the back of your neck stick up. “Please grandma, just call me Gwen?” You pleaded as she nodded her head. “Okay Gwennie, it’s your choice. I’m going to go dance with the bride, give you two love birds some alone time.” She smiled as she walked from the table, her curls bouncing as she found your sister. Stiles stared into the crowd as you were finally left alone for what felt like the first time in days. “So Gwendolyn?” He turned to you, his smile finally breaking as he let out a shaky laugh. “I’m guessing your going to hit me with all the lord of the rings esque jokes you got, or maybe ask how king arthur and merlin are doing? Just like everyone else?” You sighed, your hand propping your head up as you looked at him. “Nope, I was just going to say it’s a really pretty name. Suits you, but if you prefer being called Gwen then Gwen it is. Reminds me of Gwen Stacy.” He smiled as he looked at you, his eyes softening as his mole speckled skin shone in the light.  

“Thanks Stiles, usually people just make fun of my name.” You admitted, pushing your hair behind your ear as it fell in front of your eyes. “I feel you there, obviously Stiles isn’t my given name. It’s a family nickname because no one can pronounce my real name. Hell, until I was older even I couldn’t pronounce it.” You looked at him in confusion as he twiddled his thumbs, clearly mulling something over. “I used to say my name was Mischief, because it was as close as I could get. After a while I just kind of became Stiles and everyone’s called me it ever since.” You looked at him as he smiled. “So what is it? Or would you rather not say? I understand if you want to keep it a secret, I mean I’m pretty much a stranger.” You fumbled over your words, desperately wanting to know more about the man sat in front of you. “Mieczysław” He whispered, almost too low for you to hear over the din of the other guests. “What?” You shook your head leaning closer to him, your face only inches from his as he repeated it. “Mieczysław. Some kids when I was little used to call me my coleslaw, cause they didn’t know how to say it either.” He shrugged, a sad look in his eyes. Such a strange name, for such a strange guy. “I like it, Mieczysław.” You repeated, your tongue rolling over his name, the word sticking in your mind. “I like it more now, Gwendolyn.”

Hours passed as you danced with Stiles, his hands on your lower back as you swayed to slow songs, his arms waving in the air as they played heavier songs, the crowd of wedding goers packing onto the dance floor as the night progressed. Panting out of breath you pulled Stiles from the throng of people. “How about a drink?” You breathed, your hair clinging to your back. “I don’t think so Gwen, it’s pretty late and if I drink anymore then I may not make it home. As it is I’m going to have to get a cab and it’s late.” He pouted, looking at the time on his watch. “You don’t have to go?” You spoke, his brows quirking as he looked at you in confusion. “I live on the other side of town and I definitely don’t have enough money to stay at the hotel, I don’t think they even have anyone on the front desk at this time.” He fumbled over his words, his fingers adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “You can stay with me?” You suggested, your eyes searching for any sign that he didn’t want to. “You’re staying here?” He asked, looking towards the hallway. “Yeah, my dad got the bridal party rooms, it’s a suite so there is more than enough room for the both of us?” You spoke as he nodded. “Sure, I’ll stay with you, saves me getting a cab this late. They over charge.” He sighed, his hand pressing against your lower back once more. It didn’t feel the same as before, this time his hands were heavy, spreading warmth through your skin. “Well how about we call it a night anyway. It’s starting to get too much down here and I don’t know about you but I’m dying to eat some real food.” You nodded towards the buffet, barely touched as your stomach grumbled. “I never understood people’s love of fancy food, give me a burger over caviar any day.” He chuckled as you grabbed two flutes of champagne. “So one more drink and then we’ll order room service?” You asked as he nodded. “Yeah, room service sounds great.”  

———————————————————————————————————–

His lips were on yours before you had even hit the elevator, his hands pressing against your waist. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first met you, but I didn’t know-” He started to speak, his lips moving against yours. “Stiles, do you ever shut up?” You sighed as he pushed you back against the cool marble of the walls, the material of your dress shifting under the grip of his fingers. “Never.” He sighed as his lips founds yours, tongues rolling over lips as you melted against him, his body pressed against yours as you reached for the elevator button. His teeth caught the skin of your lips, pulling slightly as his hands slid down your body, long fingers leaving a trail of electric in your skin as you sighed, a moan trapped in your throat. “Stiles-” You breathed, your eyes fluttering closed as he kissed from your mouth, his lips trailing across the line of your jaw. Your fingers ensnared themselves in the tendrils of his hair, your nails raking across pale skin as you bucked towards him. You barely heard the click of the elevator as his lips moved across your neck, his tongue rolling over the skin as you pushed him from you. “How about we move from the hallway, don’t want to get in anyone’s way now do we?” You spoke, your words hazy as his touch left you. “Certainly not, I can’t let your family see what I’m about to do to you.” He whispered, his words blowing over you as you shivered, walking into the elevator.  

His hands coasted over the straps of your dress, nimble fingers pulling the material down your shoulders as you crashed into one another in the elevator. Your fingers found the buttons on his shirt, trembling as you undid them, his lips on your neck once more. You melted against the wall as his teeth grazed your skin, the bite of the cool metal on your bare skin. Your fingers splayed against his chest as his shirt came undone, the tie around his neck hanging loosely as you trailed your nails over his skin. Ragged moans left his mouth as you arched your back, a need pooling within you as he placed wet kisses along your collarbone. He pulled on the straps again, his grip rougher than before as he cradled you to him, his cock hard against you as you sighed. The elevator climbed higher, reaching the top floor before long. Pulling away from him, you staggered towards your door, his hands never leaving your skin as you fumbled for your key. He pressed himself against your back, fingertips kneading small circles into your hips as he pulled your hair from your neck. You bit back a moan as his tongue slid over your skin again, your hips bucking back against him as you slid the key into the lock.  

Your bodies were a flurry of movement the second the door clicked open, hands finding hands, items of clothing falling to the floor as you stumbled into the room. Your dress was almost ripped from your body as his fingers tugged at the zip on the back. “Just tear it, I won’t need it again.” You whispered as he tugged at the fabric, the scraps of it falling to the floor. A rush of cool air hit your skin as it was replaced with the warmth of his skin. You walked backwards, unsure on your footing as you stumbled in your heels. His eyes danced over your skin, his lips caught between his teeth. His usually bright eyes had darkened, his lips red as he pushed you to the bed. You lay on your back, barely propping yourself up as you looked at him. His chest was toned, scars littering his skin as he pulled the last of his shirt from his body. Years of FBI training had done wonders for his biceps, the muscles moving under the skin as he loosened of his tie, lifting it over his head as you watched on. His long fingers reached for his belt buckle, nimbly undoing the metal clasp as he kicked his trousers from his body.  

“Come here.” He demanded, his tone gravelly as it reverberated through you. You nodded, sitting up as he walked towards you, his tie wrapped around his fingers. “You trust me?” He asked, lifting your face to look at you properly. Your eyes connected as you nodded, something within you throbbing as he smiled. “Good. Now close your eyes.” You did as he asked, your lids shutting as you felt his hands on your face, the soft friction of his tie grazing your cheekbones as he tied it into your hair. It was heavy on your eyes, your vision completely obscured as you felt him push you to the bed, his fingers running over your ribs. “Can you hear me Gwen?” He asked as you nodded, a small yes leaving your lips. “Good.” He spoke as you felt his body move closer to yours, the warmth of his breath washing over your chest as he fingered at the lace of your bra. You arched off the bed as his hands wrapped around, his nimble fingers making quick work of the clasp as you collapsed again. A moan left your lips as he pulled it from you, his lips pressing against the valley of your breasts, the beginnings of stubble scratching at your sensitive skin.  

His fingers pressed against your skin, rough fingertips moving in circles as he cupped your breast in his hand, a thumb rolling over your nipple as he took the other between his lips. Your lips parted as his tongue lapped at your skin, your body arching towards him as you yearned for his touch somewhere else. Small moans left your lips as his hands snaked down your arms, pulling them towards him before he pressed your hands flush against the bed. “Can’t have you taking off that blindfold.” He smirked against your skin, his lips trailing over you as he moved down your stomach, his breath washing over every inch of you as you surged towards him. “Now I’m going to trust you, not to take that blindfold off as I take your panties off. Can I trust you?” you nodded weakly as his fingers hooked into the band of your panties, his breathing staggering as he peeled them down your legs, almost achingly slow. You bit your lip, your fingers gripping onto the duvet as you struggled not to take the blindfold off. All you wanted was to see him, to see that mop of hair between your thighs, the curve of his shoulders as he hoisted you further down the bed.  

“Good girl.” He cooed as his hands found yours again, his words reverberating through your skin. You smiled as you felt him shift beneath your legs, his hair tickling the insides of your thighs. “This is what you meant by room service right?” You stifled a laugh as he pressed his lips to your skin, his touch edging higher as you bit back a moan. You stilled as he pressed nearer to you, his breath setting fires within you as you held your breath. Neither of you moved as you anticipated his next move, your fingers carding the white sheets as his tongue ran over your clit. A moan escaped your lips as you surged, his tongue sliding through your folds as he teased your entrance. One of his hands escaped from your wrist, resting on your inner thigh as he pushed your legs up, his tongue moving expertly over your clit. Every nerve in your body was on edge as you moaned, your hips rolling against his mouth as his lips wrapped around your clit, his teeth carefully grazing the sensitive nub. Your eyes rolled behind closed lids, the thick material of the tie making it harder to move your eyes. Your head canted back against the duvet, your hair falling in your face as you shook, your legs stiffening as his hand moved from your leg.  

You could feel the edge of his nails rake across your skin, something delicious in the way he moved his fingers as he trailed over your hips. His lips moved over your pussy, his tongue spreading you as he flattened against you. Your back twinged as electric surged through your system sparks flying behind your eyes. You waited with baited breath as his hands replaced his mouth, his coarse fingertips raking over your clit as you rolled your hips against him. Fingers teased over your entrance as his lips pressed against your thigh, his fingers teasing mercilessly over you as mewls spilled from your lips. “Stiles-” You begged as he kissed higher, the muscles in your legs twitching as you struggled to anchor yourself to the bed. “Stiles-” You moaned again as you heard him chuckle, the throaty sound almost vibrating through your body. Your toes curled as he pressed his fingers into you, his long digits curling as your body sighed in relief, the fire within you climbing higher as his mouth returned. He made quick work of licking over your clit, almost dancing over you with the tip of his tongue as you gripped at the sheets, your knuckles turning white.  

You pressed against him as his fingers pistoned within you, fingers scissoring apart as he moved over you. The flames grew hotter as you pulsed, your body throbbing as air came harder to come by. Moans filled the room, his guttural and raw compared to yours of pure ecstasy as you wriggled beneath his touch. Fireworks roared in your head as you felt yourself push from the bed, your body a flurry of pleasure as you hurtled over the edge of your orgasm. Your breath hitched in your throat, a strangled cry barely making a sound as your body flooded with pleasure, the fire dampening briefly before surging again. You fell to the bed, your breath coming in short bursts as your heart slammed in your chest. Stiles’ fingers stilled briefly, his mouth leaving your pussy as he chuckled. “You sound like you want more.” His voice was honey smooth, his words falling over you as your muscles relaxed. You nodded meekly, your lips pressed together as his fingers curled once more. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.” You barely heard him as he pushed his fingers against a spot within you that made you see stars, your fingers loosening from the sheets. You reached out, your fingers tapping along things until you found him, his hair ensnaring in your fingers as you pulled him towards you, the embers of a flame that had not distinguished warming up as he circled your clit.  

You jerked, the area still over sensitive as his fingers sped up, pushing into you as you let moans fill the air, your heart slamming faster against your rib cage with every stroke. You didn’t take long, the combination of his lips against your clit as his fingers pushed into you had you a mess beneath him faster than you thought. Your chest heaved as you released his hair, pushing him from you as you came, your legs shutting as you cried out. Curses littered the air like a prayer as you mewled, your breaths staggered as you curled onto your side, your entire body a live wire, ready to be set off at the slightest touch. “Gwen, come here.” Stiles’ voice was soft as he pulled you up, his fingers brushing your hair back as you panted, your chest rising and falling quickly. “You don’t need the blindfold anymore, I want you to see how good I’m going to fuck you.” He loosened the ties, his fingers nimbly letting the material fall before he pulled you from the bed. Your eyes watered as they adjusted to the light, the dim room levelling off as you saw him rise from his knees. He reached out a hand to you as he spun around, pulling you so you were stood. Your legs shook at the pressure, your body weak as he sat on the edge of the bed.  

His boxers lay abandoned on the floor as he pulled you closer to him, your legs straddling his as his hands laced around your wrists, pushing your arms behind your back. Neither of you said a word as he lined himself up with your entrance, his lip caught in his teeth as he stared at the place the two of you met. You closed your eyes slowly as your hips sank down against his, his cock stretching your walls as you both fought for a breath. He paused, a shaky moan leaving his swollen lips as he bottomed out within you, his cock twitching as you wriggled against him. “Someone’s impatient.” He scolded, a lopsided smirk on his face as he lifted you slightly, your legs curling around his. “Stiles-” You whined as his lips pressed against yours, his tongue rolling over your bottom lip as he cantered upwards, his cock burying deeper within you. You caught your breath against him, your head falling to the crook of his neck, small kisses littering his mole speckled skin. His fingers danced over your arms as you clasped your hands together as he thrusted, your bodies moving in synchronicity. Choruses of moans meshed together as he groaned, pulling at the skin of your hips. You rolled against him, the coil inside you tightening with every slight brush of his hands on your body.  

You ran your tongue across the crook of his neck as he pulled and pushed you onto his cock, your walls clenching around him as you grazed your teeth against him. “You’re going to be the death of me” He whispered as he pulled you back to look at him, his hips speeding up as you locked eyes. Your eyes closed as you threw your head back, every cell in your body almost screaming as shivers ran down your spine. His dark eyes were clouded with lust, his lips pulled back in a look of concentration as he slammed into you, your body shaking as you screamed once more. You fell slack in his arms, your breathing stopped as your head spun. Stiles went quiet, his hips staggering against yours as he came, his breathing punctuated with moans as you fell against him once more. His hands pulled at your arms as he placed them around his shoulders, his hands shifting to your ass as he stood, his grip faltering slightly. He paused, taking a breath before walking to the top of the bed, placing you on the duvet, your head hitting the pillow graciously. “Well this is exactly what I meant by room service.” You chuckled, your voice cracking as you talked, his body slotting into the space next to you. “It’s exactly the room service I wanted.” He chuckled, his arm falling over your waist as you lay there in peace.  

You don’t know how long went by, the both of you just lying in peace, barely talking, the feeling of each other’s skin against your own. You were nearly asleep as you heard a slamming on the door, your reverie broken at the loud noise. You shook your head, burying deeper into Stiles’ arms as he snored, his grip tightening around your waist. You smiled as the door shook again, the knocks coming faster again. “Maybe it’s the hotel telling us we have a noise complaint.” Stiles joked, his voice thick with sleep as he moved your hair from his face. “I should really see what they want.” You sighed, leaving his warm grasp unwillingly. You stood, stretching out your limbs as you reached for Stiles’ shirt, haphazardly thrown into the corner of the room. The door rattled again as you fumbled with the buttons, your hair falling in your eyes. “One second!” You shouted, your words tinged with annoyance as you read the time on the clock. 4am. Why the fuck would they send someone up at 4am? You trudged through your suite, buttoning the last button on Stiles’ shirt that would mean you’re semi decent. You caught a glance of yourself in the mirror, purple marks on your neck, mascara smudged and your hair in knots around your face. This is going to be a bitch to cover tomorrow. You thought to yourself, a small smile forming on the corners of your lips. Worth it. The door hammered again as you swore. “I’m coming!” You reached for the door handle, pulling the door open as you blinked adjusting to the light of the hallway. “Can I help you?” You spoke dryly, your eyes coming into focus as you recognised the man in front of you.  

“Mike?”  

[letstotosite-blog]

Baseball, A Personal and Biased Perspective

"A wiener at the ballgame beats dish meat at the Ritz" - Humphrey Bogart

I don't know exactly when I turned into a fan. In truth, I don't think anybody ever does it. I don't think anybody at any point woke up on a Saturday morning and said to themselves, "Today is the day I pick up something about baseball." Baseball isn't that way. Baseball, it appears to me, picks you.

I know this: the greater part of what I found out about baseball is because of my father. Furthermore, I presume that most baseball-adoring individuals in the course of recent years would state something very similar. Baseball resembles your extraordinary granddad's pocket watch passed on to you with consideration. A sort of legacy, maybe, from your dad, granddad, uncle; frequently - however not generally - a male expert figure.

Baseball fans are a one of a kind breed. While your normal baseball fan can examine the better purposes of the game in extraordinary detail, the genuine love the game causes in the enthusiastic fan isn't anything but difficult to characterize. On the off chance that you invest any energy around baseball, it saturates you in a difficult to-clarify way. It's an associating string in a mind-blowing cloths. By one way or another, game by game, inning by inning, it gets in your blood, and once you have it there's no fix. Once truly presented to baseball, it will be, until further notice and consistently, a great contamination, profoundly instilled in your mind. In the event that the majority of this illustration talk about baseball sounds silly or excessively nostalgic, you are not a baseball fan. Be that as it may, don't stress, there's still trust in you.

My first introduction to baseball, as I referenced, was on account of my father. In particular, through the amusements we would go see played by Portland's small time group, the Beavers. I guess I was around eight or nine when I saw my first game. I don't review the score or who the rival group was. Perhaps shockingly, I don't much recall whether our adored Beavers won or lost. Being so new to the game, I didn't get strikes, balls, outs, takes, or whatever else that appeared to occur in some odd blend of peaceful, purposeful request counteracted unexpected, crazy confusion. There were cheers, boos, some running, some residue kicked up, some ball tossing, even some taking (when my dad said that a sprinter stole second base, I called attention to the self-evident: "No he didn't. It's still there.")

I didn't know any of the players, and couldn't tell the catcher from the mascot. I truly had no clue what was happening down there on that tremendous green and darker span. I was a baseball infant, seeing, hearing, smelling the bunch of tangible encounters interesting to this peculiar game for the absolute first time.

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I will always remember my first sight of the baseball outfield as we entered the arena, blindingly green. I recollect the remote mixed smell of lager. I recollect the free pop of nut shells on the ground. I recollect the musky smell of grass and saturated soil, and obviously, the tempting aroma of franks, and salty popcorn. There is a fragrance to a baseball arena, and it very well may be discovered no place else. I recollect the break of a 33 ounce bat against a five ounce rough circle that seemed like a discharge resounding in the arena while the players took batting practice before the game. The vast majority of all, I recollect the ever-present clamor of the fans, similar to a sea, once in a while a tranquil automaton, here and there a rambunctious tsunami of cheers or boos scattered with shouts of "Get your glasses on, ump!" or, "He's going to hit!" or, "Draw that pitcher, he's done!" None of this sounded good to me at all.

In spite of the fact that I was a little kid, encountering a hundred absolutely outsider and unusual things on that day more than 30 years back, I was overwhelmed with a startling inclination - not of being in an awkward and new spot, however of being at home.

I realize that this experience of mine isn't one of a kind. Actually it's just about a prosaism. Converse with any individual who cherishes the game and they will probably have a comparative story to tell. In any case, while baseball has not been my life's energy, my valuation for the Grand Old Game has achieved a point with me where I must choose the option to look somewhat more profound at this odd wonder and investigate the game in my own particular manner.

"I see extraordinary things in baseball. It's our game - the American game. It will remove our kin from entryways, fill them with oxygen, give them a bigger physical aloofness. Will in general calm us from being an anxious, dyspeptic set. Fix these misfortunes, and be a gift to us." ~Walt Whitman

In 1979, the Pittsburgh Pirates, driven by Dave Parker and Willie Stargell, won the National League flag. Whenever I hear their signature tune, "We Are Family," by Sister Sledge, I can't resist the urge to imagine Stargell adjusting the bases in his dark and yellow Pirate uniform, similar to some abundant honey bee, after one of his acclaimed mammoth homers.

As it occurred, our neighborhood small time group, the Portland Beavers, were the ranch group for the Pirates around then. This brought about father and me meeting both Stargell and Parker when they visited Portland during a Beavers display game. Whatever they resembled in their own lives, I recollect that Stargell and Parker showed every one of the signs of the courteous disposition the organization of baseball some way or another appears to impart in such a significant number of its stars. Also, I review that them two, while generous grinning and signing a relentless supply of balls, appeared to have hands and arms of superheroes, which, as it were, they truly were.

"When they begin the game, they don't holler, "Work ball." They state, "Make a move."' ~Willie Stargell

It was at that point - having met a portion of its legends - that I started to focus on baseball. In spite of the fact that I was at that point a fanatic of ball and football, I ended up continually hypnotized - if not out and out befuddled - by baseball and its complexities. That appearing inconsistency among effortlessness and multifaceted nature is nevertheless one of the mysteries of the game. Baseball is, all things considered, one of a kind. How about we recall a couple of things about baseball that, in my psyche at any rate, set it apart from different games.

To begin with, the game is set upon a field organized in a fairly bizarre geometric shape. As opposed to having an objective or something to that affect on each finish of an extended field (as most different games) there is no such objective. No bin, no objective, no net. There is no direct development from one endzone to the next.

While the particular measurements and setup of the lines and bases on the field are steady in major and small time baseball, the fields themselves can shift fit as a fiddle. The good ways from home plate to the inside field fence, for instance, can fluctuate as much as 35 feet from park to stop.

Second, baseball is certifiably not a game depending such a great amount on consistent activity all things considered on minutes that can unfurl in a brief instant fastball strike, or a solitary swing that sends a ball over the fence and carries a home group to its feet (or leaves them reviling despondently). When the pitcher fires the ball toward home plate - a voyage that takes the ball about a large portion of a second - essentially anything can occur. Anything.

Pundits of baseball state the game needs physicality and hard play. This is similar to whining that tennis needs enough pummel dunks, or that golf doesn't include enough handling. In any case, as any individual who has played or given close consideration to the game can validate, there's a lot of physicality in baseball. The power it takes to smack a ball over a fence 410 feet away may just be obscured by the sheer superhuman exertion it takes to dispatch a clench hand measured hardball into a space the size of a hubcap sixty feet away...at about 100 miles an hour...100 times a night...accurately.

In any case, say commentators, the game is moderate, insufficient activity to fulfill the limited capacity to focus of the cutting edge sports fan. While the analysis appears to be lost to us baseball fans, do the pundits have a point? During a normal game, what amount of time slips by during which "something's occurring?"

To get to the base of this inquiry, Wall Street Journal correspondent David Biderman as of late investigated the measure of time spent in real life during a normal significant group ball game. "Activity," incorporates the time it takes for a pitcher to toss the ball, just as the more clear time a ball is noticeable all around after a hit, or a player is taking base, and so on. Biderman confirmed that the normal game had around 14 minutes of activity in it.

Be that as it may, as substantiated by Biderman, the time not spent in real life during a game isn't actually time squandered. Between pitches, a horde of choices and vital choices might be weighed out. Administrators might be occupied with counseling the hitting diagram on a restricting player before he even strides up to the plate. Catchers and pitchers are having a consistent quiet exchange with respect to what sort of pitch to toss and where to put that pitch, contingent upon a scope of elements. Furthermore, defenders may move positions relying upon the player, or the game circumstance to build their odds of sparing runs. While the easygoing spectator may become disappointed by "all the remaining around," in baseball, the more included fan realizes that this time spent between pitches is the place the genuine round of baseball is played. To put it plainly, there is continually "something occurring" during a ball game.

In any case, the commentators who persevere in anxiously drumming their fingers on their knees and yawning over the "moderate pace" of baseball may think that its intriguing to discover that Biderman likewise decided the measure of play activity during a normal expert football match-up. Only 11 minutes.

While it's intriguing to consider these parts of time where baseball is concerned, most fans realize that baseball has unmistakably more to do with timing. To the tenderfoot fan, baseball resembles a game fixated on the pitcher attempting to strike out the player, and the hitter attempting to stay away from such a destiny. In any case, to the prepared eye, the fight among pitcher and hitter is one of sharp basic leadership and split-second planning, an