#Cricket Ball for Day Match

[astridsports011]

Top Choices of Cricket Ball for Day & Night Matches

Cricket Balls are very important part of Cricket. There are basically white balls and red balls. Cricket is a game often played in different formats like ODIs, T-20, Test Match, and T-10 also cricket is played all day or it can be a day-night match.

White cricket balls are often used for day-night matches as they tend to increase visibility in daylight and night matches. White balls are designed using polyurethane coating, allowing early swinging.

So, if you are also looking for a white cricket ball you need for practicing, then I have listed some very good options for you. Buy these cricket balls in the USA.

The SF Test Special White Cricket Ball’s main features include the following: 1. This cricket ball is appropriate for players at the professional level.

[userblaney]

!!!!!

[lordofthetwistedflies]

Woke up listening to the Bittersweet sleep aid (aka: Hot boy sandwich) so,,, I guess it's time for sleep HCs with Seth, Sugarboo and Alphonse!!!

All three have nightmares to varying degrees. Seth is the only one who actually talks about his. Alphonse just shrugs them off and accepts them as part of life, and Sugarboo tries to hide the fact that they have them in the first place.

All three snore, Seth is just the only one who admits it

Seth talks in his sleep. Alphonse and Sugarboo both take full advantage of this.

Sugarboo is almost always in the middle of the hot boy sandwich, and they like it that way.

Alphonse has a whole skincare routine he does before bed, and he sleeps with an eye mask on.

Alphonse is sensitive to light. Sugarboo is sensitive to sound. Seth is sensitive to nothing and sleeps like a fucking rock.

Alphonse is a blanket hog.

Sugarboo has constantly cold feet and is constantly rubbing them together like a lil cricket

Seth keeps his hand under Sugarboo's shirt most of the time (in a totally nonsexual way). He keeps his hands on their stomach, hip, back, anywhere he can keep them that doesn't wake them up.

Sugarboo usually wakes up first. They either get to work on breakfast (because Alphonse and Seth can't be trusted in the kitchen) or stay for extra cuddles to start their day.

Sugarboo moves a lot in their sleep, and will sometimes accidentally smack one or both of their boys in the face. (Or kick 'em straight in the balls)

Before the purchase of a bigger bed, someone always ended up on the floor come morning.

They have matching yet different build-a-bear plushies. Sugarboo's is a white bear that smells like strawberries. Alphonse's is a purple axolotl that smells like lavender. Seth's is the mothman.

[lemmetreatya]

tennis player!nanami whos so fucking determined to win his local majors, but even more grateful that he has a friendly opponent who's always willing to allow themselves to be what he matches himself up to.

but one thing tennis player!nanami knows about himself was that he was a man of great will but one of little resistance. when he thinks about it, tennis player!nanami believes your only flaw is that you were always so willing to use a person's weakness to your advantage — even if it meant losing at the extent of yourself.

how you'd bend a certain way when picking up stray balls, or the way you'd lean over the tennis net to taunt him to do better, or even how you refuse to wear the usual skorts, and always opted for wearing shortless tennis skirts when playing doubles against him. tennis player!nanami knew it was all a ploy but he struggles to deny it.

but one day, tennis player!nanami realises that he's had enough.

dusk had long gone and the usual park audience had trickled home. it left only you and tennis player!nanami underneath the darkening evening sun — the court only seeable via the lamps that dotted the pathwalks. the two of you had been playing sets all day but tennis player!nanami just hasnt been able to win. lose after lose after lose, so much so that tennis player!nanami aggressively slams his tennis racket against the tarmac with a loud ‘fuck’, the blonde man instantly walking away from the pitch just so you knew that his outburst wasn’t directly aimed at you.

but with a sweaty yet excited grin, you try and catch your breath as you place one hand on your hips and spin your racket in the other.

"come on, ken! you giving up already?"

and tennis player!nanami groans into his hand because he knows you're taunting him. he knows you're trying to gauge an exemplary reaction out of him but he’s savvy, he’s cunning, he thinks he’s better.

“i’m not giving up.” he says before beckoning you to his position off court. and stupidly you follow through because you’re so unaware of the darkening cloud that grows over his face.

“well, it kinda looks like you are to me!” you gleam.

but the smirk is quickly wiped off your face once tennis player!nanami lightly wraps his hand around your neck and pins you to the court cage as he hungrily captures your lips between his.

and its all so hot, very hot, because you can feel tennis player!nanami’s dick print press against your thigh and hiked skirt whilst his other hand fondles its way up your tennis vest. but as he subjects you to a lack of his resistance, all you can think to yourself is ‘finally’.

tennis player!nanami ends up viciously fucking you against the court cage, the unoiled cricketing against the pressure of the high fence no match for the loud slaps and moans that the two of you shared during sex. his core strength allowed him to hold you up against the cage as he pistoned his cock in and out of your easy-access cunt.

and it’s animalistic how tennis player!nanami almost growls upwards at the appearing moon, his stamina keeping him going way longer for someone who’s just been playing tennis for the past hour or two. the both of you moan into the others mouth, spit slicked lips and wet sexes — you’re sure you’ve never felt this full whilst this moist.

"i'll walk you home." tennis player!nanami says as he pulls his tennis shorts over his cock. you were well spent, still out of breath, but definitely in the mood to keep going — you’re not even sure where your knickers went.

"you don't even know where i live."

tennis player!nanami only huffs as he goes to pick up his, and your duffel bags, by the racket net. he slings them both over his shoulders with little to no care of your objection.

"don't need to, you're coming to mine." tennis player!nanami makes an effort to turn round and give you a look that signalled to hurry up. "we've still to finish what we've started."

[fishermanshook]

GANJI GUPTA HEADCANONS.

( batter ) aka GANJI GUPTA.

TW: MY H/C’s 😨 , this layout is giving cheese , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

Who is Ganji Gupta? And how do you know him? As a friend, a loved one, or as a nobody?

*manor au where they are trapped inside.

꒰wc꒱ 641

GANJI GUPTA, also known as the manor's one and only Batter, acts as a lone wolf. He most likely won’t start conversations and will keep his answers short. Though, it’s just another barrier he puts up out of the need for protection. He doesn’t know who he can confide in here and, in his eyes, everyone seems to be another untrustworthy person out for their wants and needs. That’s all that they are sized down to at the beginning.

GANJI GUPTA struggles with being alone, at least, less than most others. He has experience with the feeling, but everyone caves eventually. He, on the other hand, can withstand it for quite some time.

GANJI GUPTA who, after quite some time, starts to warm up a bit more to the manor inhabitants. Realizing that it’s better not to hold any grudges if you’re going to be stuck here for all eternity.

GANJI GUPTA enjoys the company of others most when they play cricket with him. It doesn’t even matter if they’re good or not, he finds the act endearing and appreciates it more than anyone could imagine.

GANJI GUPTA would need a partner who takes things slow with him. Someone who understands that he (sometimes) has his moments, and will give him the time and space to sort through them. That might mean leaving your side for a while or hitting some cricket balls as far as he possibly can, imagining that all his anger flies away with it.

               ↳ However, there are moments where neither of these things can help him and he needs you instead. Help him to breathe again, and talk him through it instead. Distract his mind from thinking about why he was so upset in the first place. Just, don’t treat him like a child.

GANJI GUPTA who can’t help but feel jealous as you laugh and joke around with the others. There’s a part of him that sometimes wishes he too could enjoy the company of the rest but is too shy to say it. Although, if you happen to pick up on it, grab his hand and pull him into the conversation. He’ll find the flow, eventually.

GANJI GUPTA also hates the pit of spitefulness that pools in the bottom of his stomach when he notices someone else flirting with you. He goes red in the face with his arms crossed and looks furious. The Batter can’t seem to grasp how other people aren’t yet aware of your relationship and is quick to wrap an arm around your waist and come up with some lossy excuse to pull you away elsewhere.

↳ You can't help but whine a bit as the Batter pulls you away. You had a friendly conversation going on with the “Prisoner”, what’s the matter? As you continue your complaining, it dawns on Ganji that, you hadn’t realized he’d been trying to court you the entire time.

GANJI GUPTA will always use his last cricket ball to benefit you in a match. Whether it’s to save you from your third chair or to help prolong your kite, he never hesitates to use it for your sake. He’s gotten some rather harsh comments on it before, but he just ignores them and carries on with his day.

GANJI GUPTA deals with frequent night terrors that wake the both of you up. He’s quick to apologize, brushing it off as if it were nothing. Unfortunately, the tears in his eyes give him away. You don’t ask what they were about, and you probably shouldn’t for now. All he wants is to fall asleep in your embrace with the reminder that you’re here. That you are alive.

note: you thought I was gonna post that painter fic? erm whattttt? why would you ever think that???? that’s so weird what….

fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

[vicsy]

Daniel Ricciardo and tennis – a masterpost (of sorts).

To start things off, here is a video of Daniel playing tennis that I think about way too often, especially lately, with the recent paddle mania that took over the paddock.

A few things I could note here, apart from the fact that Daniel himself said that if it wasn't racing, he'd go pro in tennis:

old school-ish (european) one handed backhand which is actually rather solid! Daniel said many times that he is a big fan of Federer (a true goat) and Daniel's technique here is pretty much imitating Roger's smooth and satisfying backhand strokes.

it is just a couple of hits but ball placement court wise in not bad - all past the half court mark, down the line, then cross court and close to the baseline.

his movement on the court itself comes off a bit wonky in comparison to regular players but I do like how he attacks the short ball (even if he swings a bit too wide but it still works).

Some assortment of interesting facts:

Apart from his love for Roger Federer, Daniel was a big Andre Agassi fan.

In 2021 Daniel and Lando stayed up to watch British teenage tennis player Emma Raducanu (who is an avid F1 fan and her fave driver is Daniel) win the US Open, her maiden grand slam tournament. This was right before the win in Monza and McLaren 1-2.

In 2020, Daniel took inspiration for his "Equality" face mask from the four time grand slam winner Naomi Osaka and called her a "strong voice" (which she rightfully was). Lewis Hamilton also considered Naomi a great inspiration in raising awareness of several social issues.

When Daniel was a kid, he would smash his racquet if he lost (that's so real of him and i do that too):

Ricciardo is widely regarded as motorsport’s nice guy. But when does the mongrel come out? "I’m a born competitor. As a kid I was a sore loser. If it was a tennis match, I’d smash a racquet or something," he said, laughing. (source)

Once Daniel was playing with his cousin and apparent he got a little outplayed, so in retaliation Daniel hit his cousin point blank with a tennis ball (which hurts A LOT). His cousin cried and then Daniel's dad gave him "a clip across the ear". Daniel also talks about it in one of the Grill the Grid videos. (big thanks to @go-daniel for finding the article and the video to back this story up!)

Daniel is childhood friends with Marcus Stoinis (an Aussie cricketer) and they grew up together playing tennis, driving to Dunsborough south of Perth and they would play tennis together for the whole day, practically hogging the court. (via this post)

Now, to the photos!

Carlos and Daniel playing a tennis match in 2013. Daniel won 6-3 2-6 7-6. It's from Daniel's old twitter post.

Daniel and Jannik Sinner in Piatti Tennis Center in 2020. Jannik is an Italian darling and current world number 3 on the steady rise to the top (i love my carrot boy so much).

Daniel on court.

Daniel attending semifinals of Wimbledon 2021.

Daniel with Juan Martín del Potro during Miami 2023 Grand Prix. Del Potro, now retired, was a prominent tennis player from Argentina, a "gentle giant" and he is also a fan of Fernando Alonso.

Daniel with Matteo Berrettini (and Francesco Carrozzini in the middle), Italian tennis player, current world number 142, during Met Gala 2023 (the way i yelled when this photo dropped omg).

It is all I have managed to gather for now but I will update if I stumble upon something new.

[acey-wacey]

Can you do headcanons on what if Yuu/Reader just bursts into their room/office and just say "I'M VERY GAY FOR YOU", as like a confession, and just leaves by running away?

By their, I mean Riddle, Azul, and Idia (And another character if you want to add)

(Ps. Your working is amazing and I admit, I confessed to my current partner like this, it worked so)

Fr?? I need to try that, maybe I'd get a girlfriend 😔

...

🌹 Riddle Rosehearts 🌹

It was a completely peaceful day for Riddle.

He'd just aced his exams, ADeuce hadn't caused too much trouble, the dorm members were all doing homework or reading quietly in the common rooms.

But as he enjoyed the tranquility, he heard stomping down the hall before you kicked open the door and pointed at him with determination on your face.

"I AM VERY GAY FOR YOU!"

All eyes turn to you as Riddle stared with utter shock.

"GOODBYE!"

Riddle hadn't even process what you said before you stormed back down the hallway.

He just sat there, completely frozen, as the freshman looked at him expectantly.

Everyone thought he was about to run after you and tell you you had broken a rule or something but he just stared blankly at the floor.

The silence was broken by Trey who bursted out laughing.

Cater lamented about how he didn't get it on camera.

Riddle stood up in his chair, possibly about to go after you, but he sat back down.

He repeated this process about four times before he put his head in his hands, the breakdown setting in.

"What in the Queen's name just happened?"

...

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

It just happened one day after class.

You weren't planning on saying anything but you passed the Mostro Lounge and Azul was right there so you just...

"Hey, bich! I'm gay for you!"

You left right after, not wanting to give yourself enough time to regret it.

Azul just freezes.

Floyd and Jade try to get him to move but he is still staring at the door where you yelled your confession at him.

You broke him.

About ten minutes later, he relocates to his office, staring at his wall, trying to process what you said.

Maybe it was the aggression of the statement or the confession itself but he really cannot get it through his head that you are gay for him.

Eventually Floyd has to kidnap you and bring you to the Mostro Lounge to fix Azul since he's hasn't left his office in a week.

You have the conversation and he tries to make you sign a contract stating that your confession is legally binding and you cannot revoke your words.

It's very silly but you agree on the condition that he goes on a date with you.

He's broken again.

...

🎮 Idia Shroud 🎮

To be honest, you thought it would be kinda funny to see his reaction.

One part of your brain says that it's a bad idea but the impulse control is not strong.

When the two of you win a Valorant round together, you scream it into the mic while celebrating.

"I AM SO GAY FOR YOU RIGHT NOW."

You are a little concerned about the crickets on the other side of the voice chat.

Before you could say anything, he logged off of the game and left the vc.

A few minutes later, a frantic Ortho almost broke your door down and dragged you to the Ignihyde dorm.

Idia was curled up in a ball on his bed, rocking back and forth with a dazed expression on his face.

His hair is a dusty pink and it's glowing brighter than you've ever seen it before, matching the splotchy blush on his face.

When he notices that Ortho brought you, he screeches and tries to scoot back but he has already backed himself into the corner.

You giggled and sit down on his bed, comfortably far from him but close enough that he could touch you if he wanted.

"I meant it, Idia. I am gay for you."

Idia.exe has stopped working.

Ortho is in a panic once more.

[zixinwonderland]

Posting Black Butler facts once a day until season 4 is released!

Yana Toboso went to the Japan Cricket Association before writing the cricket match. Her and her team were supervised by the CEO who helped them understand the rules of cricket and the loopholes Ciel could/couldn’t exploit (especially in the victorian era). A few of his tricks were based on real moves that were legal back then! Afterwards, her and her team were all gifted cricket balls, which she actually used for the decoration on the chapter index of volume 16!

6 more days!

[turbulentscrawl]

Ganji Gupta General HCs

I'm unable to make a header for Ganji at the moment, but I'll add one to the post later when I can get on my good desktop.

Edit: Added!

-First of all, in case it isn’t clear, Ganji started the fire. However, it’s important to note that Ganji chose arson for a few specific reasons. Plausible deniability was one. The second was that a fire gave people a chance to escape. Ganji believes in something along the lines of karma (I’m not especially religious or philosophical myself so I don’t feel inclined to pick one in particular for him), and a fire better allowed that to step in and save his targets. If the universe or whatever higher power, decided they deserved to live then they would, and Ganji could rest assured that they weren’t a wholly bad person. All but that child perished in the smoke and flames, though, so that settles that doesn’t it?

-Ganji is a man suffering from disillusionment. This is the result of him being taken advantage of. He left everything behind, came to another county just for the sport he loved, for his passion, only to find out that he was seen as nothing more than a novelty item. Something—not even a someone—kept around because his very existence was “amusing.” Disgusting.

-And it all happened because he’s naïve. He knows this, and just about everyone that’s around him for more than a day knows it, so now he’s incredibly protective of that aspect of himself. He’s not self-conscious of it or anything, he knows that naivety is just as aspect of someone being kind and trusting, but he’ll be damned if he lets someone else use him to their benefit again.

-Like Andrew, he’s developed a tendency to be sharp and reclusive as a defense mechanism. However, his emotional walls aren’t as thick, as dense. In a way, his hurt runs less deep because he doesn’t have self-hatred to factor into the cocktail of his pain. He warms to people faster and has a sweeter disposition under his cover…but you’ll have to be persistent if you want to get to that point. Ganji will shrug off offerings of kindness several times before giving someone a chance.

-In-line with his kindheartedness, but counter to the façade he puts up, Ganji can’t ignore someone else in real need. His mask falls as soon as someone’s peace or safety are threatened. He’s either the greatest hero or the biggest liability to have in a match because he can and will charge head-long into a hunter if it means saving another survivor. Even the ones he doesn’t like all that much. Additionally, he’s generally willing to argue on behalf of someone not willing to speak up for themselves.

-This boy is hard-headed. Stubborn! There are so many stupid hills he’s willing to die on. But he’s also not very good at arguments (which is unfortunate, considering the above hc), he stumbles over his words a lot, jumbles his points up. He sounds a lot more put-together in writing than in person, but his handwriting is atrocious so honestly good luck reading it. Poor guy is at a communication crossroads and both roads lead to embarrassment.

-As one might guess, this all makes Ganji very one-track minded in matches…and with most of his problems in life. Something wrong, anything? Swing the bat. At a ball, at a head. You know, whatever the situation calls for.

-His nativity also means that he doesn’t pick up on flirtation well. Someone either has to be very direct or very patient for Ganji to pick up on their interest. When he does catch on, he’s hesitant to reciprocate. He can’t deny the appeal of relationships, but he hasn’t had one since before he left home. Things are different. Really different, considering the manor…but it’s not hard to convince the guy to give love a chance as long as you’re not overly pushy.

-He spends a lot of free time at the manor trying to get people to play cricket with him. It doesn’t matter that no one else is really good at it, he just misses playing. William and Mike are the only ones who agree regularly, and that’s certainly not enough people. Most others only play along for Ganji’s birthday.

[ronika-writes-stuff]

Thoughts on Ishan :

(and ict in general)

1. When he opted out of India's test squad before our series with S. Africa....I knew... I KNEW it will be a long time before we'll get to see him playing for India again.

And then few weeks later Rahul Dravid said in a press conference... He can come back... Just play domestic.... My heart sank.

Here's the thing, I don't blame him at all for taking a break due to mental fatigue.

I fully support his decision as well. He prioritised himself and that's good.

But my dude... If I was your friend, if I was there with you... I wouldn't have let you go.

I would have grabbed his trousers and refused to let go. This is team India. You take one step back and 10 other people are standing right behind you ready to take your place.

Shubhman gill was hyped up so much... Remember his 126 in 63 balls against New Zealand?

But he faltered.

And Today he's in reserve.

Jaiswal is going to be our new opener in all 3 formats very soon. And there's nothing wrong with that. The guy earned it.

Ishan left the South Africa Series and a month later during the india Vs England test Series Jurel was picked and he did an excellent job.

Now imagine... Imagine if Ishan was there instead... If ishan had scored those 90 runs.....he would have made his place permanent.

I'll repeat myself.... I don't blame him for leaving... But he should have thought this through. Especially when a guy like Rahul Dravid is your coach.

(he's the same guy who gave declaration during a test match when Sachin Tendulkar was about to score a century. He's not as innocent as he looks.)

Another thing which really hurts me is how so many people complain about him being benched and then dropped but Yaar....there are tons of players who have gone through this.

Even Ashwin was benched. He said in an interview that when his team would win he wouldn't even feel like going in the ground to congratulate them coz of how hurt he felt.

It happens.

.

.

.

Anyways My overall opinion on this drama is :

1. I support him for leaving.

2. But I hate that he left.

3. A block of ice would be a better coach than Rahul Dravid.

Anyways... Jo hogaya so hogaya.

What I want now is for him to focus on his future.

And He can start by leaving Mumbai Indians.

MI was the team who would pick young players, groom and invest in them and make them capable enough for team India.

The MI we have seen this year is no longer that team. It doesn't matter how many reels their insta page puts out, the atmosphere of that team is tense, awkward and a hot mess.

If Mumbai really cared about a future captain as they claimed.... They should have made Ishan their new captain...like how csk and gt did with ruturaj and gill.

But oh well.

Right now... The best he can do is keep himself fit, play domestic and leave MI at THE EARLIEST.

That team, it's atmosphere, the mismanagement and inner conflicts (believe me, they exist) will not help him at all.

Imo, he doesn't need a team to grow. He has developed a good skill set. What he needs now is a stage.

A team like Kkr, RR or Gt will be great for that because these teams don't drop Their players after 1 or 2 matches... Have good coaches, stable environment and a good atmosphere overall.

Ishan is an excellent wicket keeper + batsman and the type of cricket he plays is best suited for t20 format (one day and test also but especially t20).

Whether we win or lose this t20 world cup... This one is the last one for our senior players.

After that, our youngsters will take charge (at least they should).

Yashasvi and Abhishek should be our openers.

Gill, rutu and Riyan would perfect be for middle order.

Ishan, with his explosive batting style, would be the perfect finisher.

Also... This dumb culture of batters not learning bowling (encouraged by this stupid impact rule) that has developed in the Indian team needs to STOP.

Look at Australia and New Zealand's t20 squad. Look at how many all rounders they have.

Look at ours. We won the 2007 cup because of all rounders as well.

Also... We cage our players. We hold them back. A player like Travis head is playing with such ferocity because his style and mindset is supported by his captain, his team and his media.

Meanwhile... If an Indian player attempts to do the same and doesn't make a big score in 2 -3 matches... He'll be benched instantly.

Another thing... If we look up the stats of our players in this year's t20 wc squad...

Except virat, Bumrah and maybe kuldeep ...everyone else is on ram bharose.

When players like n. reddy, ishan, rutu, gill, Riyan, natrajan... will be groomed and given enough opportunities....their aggressive style will be supported instead of criticized.... that's when we will win trophies.

@fangirlingintellectual @roseromeroredranger @snowcloudsss

@ishuess @bimesskaira

[phxntomhives]

My Kuroshitsuji AU

This started because I wanted to write something else. All this was supposed to be the introduction. But it is too long, so take this for now.

Spoiler for well, all kuroshitsuji manga.

Important premise: the fire didn't happen/it happened but the Phantomhive survived (sorry servants). R!Ciel is not a sociopath as he may be now as a bizzare doll, what we saw when he was a child was a slightly obsessive brother that wanted to stay with his twin, for this AU he just grew up and maintained a couple of those traits. Sebastian also isn't here.

The twins life at Weston!

Since it's a happy AU (mostly), the twins just get enrolled to Weston, where they both go to Sapphire Owl.

Lawrence takes a like on both of them, tho he is more comfortable with O!Ciel since he is less mischievious.

R!Ciel may affectionally bully O!Ciel and Lawrence would defend him, projecting on him a little.

R!Ciel then actively starts a fight against Lawrence when he sees them bonding a little too much.

"Leave my brother alone, if you want a younger brother ask your parents. This is mine" and proceed to stalk them both.

Edward has to come and stop him as the older cousin. It didn't work, but R!Ciel did decide to slow his obsession down a little.

R!Ciel also absolutely despises McMillan, at first. But since he is always with O!Ciel, he can't do anything about it but suffer in silence. After a while McMillan shows that he is extremely good at getting information so he starts to warm up to him a little.

O!Ciel is better at fags/drudges activities so he is noticed by the P4, and R!Ciel is extremely pleased and runs around showing off his little brother.

Then Maurice tricks O!Ciel and R!Ciel gets furious at him. He tried to defend him with the other students but since they are twins they don't trust him.

When he overhears the night conversation between O!Ciel and McMillan, McMillan finally earned his seal of approval. From the next day R!Ciel treats him almost like he treats O!Ciel and he doesn't know why but accepts gladly the change of pace.

Later, thanks to Soma, the twins discover about Maurice plan and together bring it down with the same plan as in the manga (tho they had to do the work instead of just using Sebastian, so it took a little longer).

When Maurice tried to harm O!Ciel, R!Ciel joined Herman and Edward in running to the rescue. He checked his brother, ignoring Maurice completely.

The day after they exposed the truth, R!Ciel went home for the day for "personal business". Some days after Maurice was "so embarrassed that his real look's was reveal that decided to quit school and went to hide at home". No one ever saw him again.

O!Ciel tried to ask about the sudden disappearance to R!Ciel but he just smiled and said he had no idea what he was talking about. They are both very good actors.

No one mention it again, but all the students are now slightly scared of R!Ciel. McMillan thanks God that he somehow ended up on his good side.

After this, they both get to join the cricket team because they showed how to be smart and quick-witted.

They also both train very hard, R!Ciel has an easier life adapting and improving on the physical aspect, while O!Ciel relies more on strategy and mental play.

When the tournament comes, it happens with the same strategies. Vincent is in the spectators seats and he is trying his best not to laugh too loudly from his seat. He is very proud.

Diederik is also present and he is fuming while watching the matches. He will scold them both later.

Rachel is loudly cheering them both and encouraging them.

R!Ciel can actually make a couple of points in a fair way! It's more luck than anything but he talks about it like they were decisive.

The final strategy of switching the ball was O!Ciel's idea, but he didn't share the part about being hit on purpose by Greenhill with his twin.

When he got hit, R!Ciel froze on the spot, but O!Ciel was focused on the game and went on with the plan.

After he recover from the shock, R!Ciel doesn't let anyone get close to him, almost growling, and somehow brings him to the nurse. Vincent and Rachel follow soon after.

While O!Ciel is being visited, R!Ciel is outside picking a fight with Greenhill who doesn't fight back bevause he feels guilty. Diederik has to stop him.

O!Ciel gets invited to the midnight tea party, he feels guilty about going because R!Ciel can't go. R!Ciel doesn't stop him but follows him until he can because he is worried something may happen.

Nothing happens tho! We are happy here!

No one shuts up about the blue miracle part 2. Vincent can't stop bragging, especially to Diederik. Rachel talks about it to anyone that has ears.

Every year after that, the twins made it a personal goal to win especially to flex about it to Vincent and because they need more material to annoy uncle Diederik. So they spend their free time at school coming up with more complex and wild strategies.

The manual with the rules for cricket became twice its size by the time they graduated, because they had to keep add rules to not make the twins cheat. But they still won for all the years they frequented. After the second year they win, both the twins just annoy Vincent with "What would you know about sport? You only won once"

Do you want more? I have so much more, this arc is my will to live.

Edit: I made part 2 here

[sergeifyodorov]

Bitter Brit here, cricket and baseball are not comparable at all.

The batting style would have to be unlearned and relearned. Baseball seems to be the same swinging motion every time, cricket has a much greater variety of ways to hit the ball (see cut, ramp, pull, hook, drive - each in forwards, defensive or reverse).

Same with bowling which is totally different to pitching. Cricket bowlers are not allowed to throw the ball, it’s a very specific action.

For batters, the bounce of the cricket ball is inconsistent & varies at every venue. Cloud cover and sun placement apparently affects the ball movement. (am not joking, cricket is bizarre).

There’s also the strategy. Playing for a draw was/is a valid target. Especially in Bradmans era. The kind of cricket he played lasted 5 days per match and for a lot of that he would have been fielding. So in addition to being good at his thing, he had to be a decent fielder (not an all rounder tho that’s different). Fielders don’t wear gloves either. Only helmets if they stand at the sillies.

Long story short, Gretzky might be able to pick up cricket before bradman learned to skate, but baseball experience is unlikely to help. (And it would take far longer to understand cricket rules than hockey rules).

FASCINATING

-> going to call it a draw in the "who would be better at the other's sport" game then. like you could philosophize about the amount of exercise/training a canadian from the 80s and an australian from the 30s are getting but im not that deep in sports medicine discourse for that to be happening

-> the only rebuttal i'll make to this because you obviously know what you're talking about and i do not think about cricket at all is that skating is Difficult As All Fuck; learning to so much as stop effectively can take days. that being said unlearning a baseball swing to have to re-learn 30 different cricket swings also sounds like mental and physical torture so fair enough

-> table tennis agenda STILL ON THOUGH!

[goroaix]

In the leftover image of you that I cannot erase, you are my vivid dream

Sohn Hyunwoo x fem reader

Lumberjack/historical sort of au

16k

Graphic depictions of injuries. Very slight hint of an ED/controlling parents. Also it's a little bit of traditional gender roles but nothing egregious, I promise.

『 To know that the generations before him had tilled these lands, planted each seed, tended to each crop - it was enough for Hyunwoo. The simple life of a lumberjack was all he needed to feel fulfilled. Yet, he, alone, could not eat every fruit from his ancestor's trees. 』

Today was a night like any other. The outside was quiet, only the sounds of crickets and nocturnal animals disturbing the tranquil blanket of the moon and stars. The air was still and Hyunwoo had tucked everything away in preparation for the morning - where he would spend a good majority of his day chopping up wood of trees that he had felled.

He had just managed to close his eyes, about to relax into the softness of his bed and newly bought pillow, when he heard something odd.

It was unlike anything else he had ever heard from the forest. It sounded like weeping, wailing of some sort that picked up and died down within seconds of the other. Normally, he would have thought of it as something that the wind carried as it blew through a hollow but it was too… alive for that.

Hyunwoo frowned, his eyebrows knitting together as he got up on one elbow, scratching his ear with his free hand. For a moment, there was silence.

Then it started again and he thought to ignore it and continue with his plans for an early night - chopping wood did take lots of energy after all and he needed every last wink. Yet he He couldn’t shake this nagging feeling that it wasn’t something to let fade into the background. Hyunwoo wasn’t the kind of man to have things that irked him be left unattended.

So, with a half sigh and half grunt, he swung his legs out from his bed and sat up, his lips pursed before he pulled on his slippers and left his bedroom. This was where the sound became louder, no longer hindered by the wooden door and instead it wafted in through the slightly ajar windows, pausing again before picking up.

He wouldn’t say that he was someone that was easily spooked, and he wasn’t really scared but he did feel a little uneasy. This was worth investigating; he’d sleep well knowing it was nothing in the end.

Grabbing an oil lantern, he lit a match and turned it on, stepping out of the back door that was situated directly on a path to the forest. During the day it was beautiful, a vast expanse of greenery that spoke volumes on the wonder of nature and its intricacies. It stood tall against the azure of the sky, dwarfing his cottage that stood alone on the outskirts, and that difference was only more stark at night where the trees turned to gnarled limbs that swayed in tune with the wind, the shadows twisting into something more evil than delicate.

But Hyunwoo paid no mind to that. Honestly, it hardly bothered him anymore. Everything in the forest was easily recognised and he knew it inside out from his years of exploring both with his parents and unaccompanied.

Rubbing his eyes, he closed the door behind him and began making his way down the path, entering the forest’s domain. Here, the sound was the loudest and it seemed to echo around him, bouncing off the barks of various trees and travelling around him. The lamp’s light was bright, having recently been filled with more oil, and he was able to use it to efficiently navigate the darker routes.

With every step he took he got closer to the source and the sounds seemed more alive, like something was weeping from pain. A pang of concern rushed through him and he went closer, pushing throughthe bushes before he reached the area where it was coming from.

It was hard to see from this distance but it seemed to be something white that had curled up into a ball.

Hyunwoo held out the lamp, letting it illuminate the creature - only to have the shock of his life.

For it was no animal, but a human woman that was crying, her face hidden by her hands before she looked up upon the shine of his lamp, confusion clear in her eyes.

Oh. This was… definitely not normal.

"Are you okay?" He asked, not knowing what else to say in this situation. Animals were more his area of expertise. "Are you hurt?"

Her lips pursed and she looked down at her feet, the fabric of her rather intricate dress covering them up. Then, with great care and trembling hands, she moved the material to reveal the true cause of her pain.

A wolf trap.

"Oh no," he uttered to himself, eyebrows furrowed. Who had left this inhumane device behind? It certainly wasn't him! He never hunted the predator animals that passed by.

Blood seeped from the puncture marks, the sharp, metal teeth buried in the soft flesh of her ankle and rendering her immobile. Purple inflamed skin surrounded the broken tissue, bruising forming around the fresh wound and he spied the cuts on her crimson coated fingers - likely from trying to pry it open.

No wonder she was crying, he thought, these traps were made to capture large, wild animals. She would be lucky if she didn't have any sort of permanent scar.

"I'll get you out," he reassured, setting the lamp down and inspecting the trap. It was an older model that was triggered by the slightest touch, the spring recoil made to be harsh and powerful to stop the animal there and then. Such a thing would only spell disaster for a delicate human ankle. Had it been a bear trap then the only mode of removal would have been to sever her foot from her leg.

Hyunwoo kneeled beside her, mindful of the fact that she was likely scared and exhausted. His hands, while calloused and hardened from manual labour, were gentle as they touched swollen skin. It was tilted to the left to allow him a clearer view of the mechanism but she hissed in pain despite clearly trying her hardest to contain her exclamations. "Oh, I'm sorry," he mumbled, thumb rubbing the uninjured skin in apology.

The lamp was pulled closer, eyes narrowed to get a better view and he saw that there was a small button within. It had a faded symbol that had rusted over, making it illegible.

His left hand pushed into the small gap, fingers patting around the confined space to reach it when his index finger brushed over it. The placement was purposefully inconvenient, not intended to be undone by the animal or until the owner was sure that their kill had parted ways with this world. He wasn’t an advocate for these types of traps simply because of how inhumane they were, making the animal suffer until its last moments or it was desperate enough to bite off its own leg in order to escape.

He pursed his lips in concentration, pressing down harder on the button despite the awkward angle and the way the edge of the metal dug into his skin. Then, a few seconds later, it popped open and she sighed in relief. The damage was done and it was worse than he had initially thought, the teeth of it having torn almost all the way through the meat and into the muscle with blood dribbling from the now exposed wounds. Honestly, he wondered how she hadn’t passed out from shock.

“Thank you,” she murmured, voice shaking and thick with congestion. Hyunwoo simply nodded, trying to give her a comforting smile despite wondering what on earth he could do now. There was no feasible way for her to walk on that ankle and he would never leave anyone to die in the woods.

“Is it okay if I take you home? It’s down there, the cottage by the road.” He pointed in the general direction but it was dark and the only light was that of his lamp. This woman had no choice but to trust him and he wouldn’t dare to betray it.

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Lifting her wouldn’t be a problem for him; Hyunwoo would easily lift upwards of 200kg with the work he did. No, it was the fact that he had to be incredibly mindful of her ankle and any other injuries that she might have sustained.

“Please tell me if this is uncomfortable.” With his voice barely above a murmur, he reached around her back and under her knees, lifting her as though she were a doll. The lamp was cradled in her arms, held for them both and her leg dangled uselessly. “I’ll walk us back now.”

She nodded and said nothing else, body tense in his hold though he couldn’t blame her. It was with great care that he made his way to his cottage again, feeling guilt ebb through him when her leg grazed against his side and she tried her hardest to contain the gasps of agony.

It did confuse him in the moments that he could think about something other than this woman’s safety and injury, that someone wearing such expensive and silken clothing would be out in the middle of the forest. The fabric intertwined with his fingers was made with care and quality - the kind of thing that he would only buy after saving for years upon years.

But Hyunwoo had more important things to worry about than this, and he continued on the path home.

Read the rest on AO3

[tsarisfanfiction]

Leaving Home

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Jerry, Yan, Jerry's Mum It's a long way from London to New York, and an even longer way when it means leaving behind your family. At least Jerry still had Yan, though. TOApril day 4 - Facing the Unknown, and I continue to write about the youngest canon Apollo kids, apparently. Given how little we know about them, this is of course completely full of headcanons. I have spent entirely too much time thinking about the logistics of a London kid and a Hong Kong kid ending up at Camp, whoops... And am I relishing writing a canonically British kid and not having to overthink whether or not an American kid would say that? Of course not, why would you ever think that? (Yes, yes I am)

Heathrow Airport was huge.  Jerry was a born and bred Londoner; crowds didn’t bother him, and while he knew to keep his few valuables – wallet, passport – hidden away beneath layers of clothing where it wasn’t going to get lost or stolen, he had no fear of bodies pressing against him as they rushed past on their way to wherever they were trying to get to.

Jerry wasn’t rushing.  He didn’t want to rush, because this was scary.

Not the crowds at the airport.  That wasn’t scary.  Jerry was used to crowds, grew up with them, knew how to dart through bodies to get where he needed to be.

He gripped his mum’s hand more tightly as he watched his suitcase – it was huge and heavy and also far, far, too small – trundle down the conveyor belt to get eaten by the thick dangling plastic strips and disappear from sight.  It started to feel real, now, and Jerry’s stomach was churning because he didn’t want it to be real.

It had been scary when the thing had attacked him, all claws and teeth and dangerous, and he laughed about the old janitor with a limp battering the thing away with a sopping wet mop when he thought about it, because that was funny.  A monster wanting to kill him and only not killing him because the janitor was actually a satyr like Mr Tumnus from that book his junior school had forced him to read, except this Mr Tumnus was a good fighter and something about his mop had made the monster explode into dust, was scary.

Even if the satyr thing was sort of cool.

No amount of satyr Mr Tumnus coolness (except Mr Tumnus was not cool, Jerry hadn’t really liked him, but then he hadn’t really liked the book, anyway.  Peter with his sword was pretty cool, and some of the creatures were, but Lucy was annoying and Edmund was stupid and he didn’t even remember the name of the other girl) could make up for this, though.  One too-big but also too-small suitcase full of all his favourite clothes and cricket bat and mum’s ball and crowds in an airport, and holding his mum’s hand tightly as though he was a baby.

Jerry didn’t want to leave.  He didn’t want to go to America, or New York, or whatever the name of the camp he was being sent to was.  He wanted to stay in London, watch Middlesex’s next match at Lords because he knew Grandma had promised Mum to buy him tickets, play with his friends, and keep training to be the England captain when he was grown up.

He couldn’t be England’s captain if he wasn’t even in England!

Stupid monsters attacking him.  Stupid camp in America he had to go to.  Mum wasn’t happy about it, either, but she’d been firm when he’d tried to tell her he wasn’t going.  He’d eavesdropped on her Skype calls with some bearded guy that apparently ran the camp, and she’d had a lot to say that didn’t sound happy, but she was still sending him away.

Jerry had tried every trick he could think of to not go, but now all his favourite stuff was going on the plane – all his favourite stuff except his mum – it was all real and big boys don’t cry but Jerry wanted to so badly.

The stupid airport had barely anything to do.  It had crowds everywhere but they were all queues, either for the Costa Coffee that Mum had taken him to earlier, letting him have a triple chocolate muffin for breakfast, or for the big metal arches that everyone had to go through one at a time.

Everyone who was going on a plane, anyway.

Those metal arches were where Jerry was going to have to say goodbye.

They were where Mum was guiding him now, looking at her watch and then the departure boards.  Jerry didn’t get what the rush was – it was still hours until that stupid plane to New York took off – but she was acting like they were running out of time and he needed time to stop, go backwards, make it so that this didn’t happen at all.

Yan appeared next to him, with just their backback slung over one shoulder carelessly now their own big case had also been munched by the heavy plastic strips.  Mum didn’t let Jerry wear his like that, and Jerry knew better, anyway.  Yan had lived in London for a year but they still hadn’t worked out that being careless with bags was stupid.

Jerry liked the older kid.  They didn’t make fun of him for not being able to spell, or for caring more about cricket than school (who cared about school more than cricket, anyway?).  He hadn’t known them very long, because they were in the year above him and the older years didn’t mix with the younger years, but he’d met them a few times in the gym, and on the playing ground at lunch time.  They were good with throwing a ball, and good at batting, too, even if they still refused to admit cricket was the best sport in the world.

They’d also been there when he was attacked.

When they were attacked, because Jerry wasn’t the only one being forced on a plane to stupid America-New-York-Camp-Stupid, but Yan didn’t seem to care much.

But Yan’s mum was back in Hong Kong and Jerry didn’t think they’d spoken to her much since they’d arrived in England.  They hadn’t said much about why they were in London without their mum, why they called the adults they lived with Mr and Mrs with manners and nothing else, but Jerry thought this wasn’t the first time they’d been told they had to go move elsewhere.

Yan didn’t say stupid things like “you’ll enjoy it” or “you won’t even miss England once you’re there” or any of the other things Mum had tried to say, and not-Mr-Tumnus had tried to say.  Yan didn’t say anything at all on the topic, agreeing with him that America was full of heathens that didn’t understand how to play a perfectly good game instead.

At least he was going with Yan, if he had to go with anyone, Jerry supposed.  Yan was pretty cool.

The man that met them near the metal gates had a big smile and sharp cheekbones.  His ears were kinda pointy, which was weird but also cool.  Jerry hadn’t known people could have pointy ears like that.  He wore a smart dark blue suit and a colourful red, dark blue and white tie, which looked a lot like the sorts of things the flight attendants wore on the billboards.

“Hey there, kids,” he said, and he had a weird accent, mostly British but with a little bit of a twang when he said hey.  “My name’s Geoff and I’ll be looking after you guys until we meet with your escort Stateside.”

Jerry didn’t want to go with him.  Going with him meant saying goodbye to Mum and he didn’t know when he would see her again, because she wouldn’t say when he asked!  All he knew was that this was because he got attacked, because his Dad had ways to keep him safe if he went to America that apparently couldn’t happen here, in London.

No-one had told him how Yan fit into this, exactly.  The older kid was looking at the flight attendant intently, before nodding.

“Yan,” they said.  “They/them.”

Jerry prepared to punch the guy if he said anything mean.  Almost everyone at school, including the teachers, and insisted on calling Yan he for stupid reasons like “you’re a boy,” when Yan wasn’t, and not-Mr-Tumnus had been one of the few cool adults that didn’t.

The guy didn’t say anything stupid, though.  “Neat!” he said instead, “thanks for telling me.  You okay with ‘guys’ or do you want me to drop that?”  He didn’t even sound sarcastic, and Jerry saw Yan relax a little.

“Guys is fine,” they said, and Jerry saw them grin, a little bit.  They liked this guy, he realised, and that meant he couldn’t be mean to him, because Yan didn’t like many people.

“I’m Jerry,” he said, and because Yan had, he added, “he/him.”

They got another grin from Geoff.  “He/him for me, too,” he said, a bit late but it was better than pretty much everyone else.  “We’ve got to tackle security soon,” he added, and Jerry frowned, because that meant leaving.  Geoff put a hand on his shoulder and he wanted to snap at him to mind his space, but there was a look in his eyes that made Jerry falter.

“I-” he started, and to his horror he started crying after all.

Mum grabbed him in a tight hug.  “Oh Jerry,” she said, and her voice was shaky.  “You’re so brave.  Get Chiron to call me when you arrive, and screw the timezones.  I expect you to Skype me regularly, okay?”

She’d said all of that before, back before Jerry had had to say goodbye to his bedroom and its weirdly bare walls.  His posters were carefully rolled up in his too-big-too-small suitcase, too.  Jerry had already promised all of that, but he promised it again, sobbing and trying not to feel like a baby.

Yan and Geoff had walked away a few steps, he discovered when Mum finally pulled back, but not after leaving a disgustingly wet kiss on his forehead.  “I love you, Jerry,” she told him firmly.  “Never doubt that.”

“Love you too, Mummy,” he admitted, wiping his eyes with his sleeve because he was not a crybaby.  Yan’s host family had left them at the entrance as soon as they’d seen him and Mum, and Yan had simply shook their hands and thanked them for letting them live under their roof for the past year.  They hadn’t cried.

He didn’t know if they had when they’d left their mum, though.  Maybe they had.

Maybe Jerry would be brave enough to ask, one day.

“Ready to go on your adventure?” Geoff asked him, and Jerry wasn’t but Yan was waiting for him and he was done being a crybaby.

“I’m coming,” he said, and gave Mum one last, tight squeeze around the middle, before he straightened his back and walked away.

Yan slipped their hand into his and squeezed it lightly.  Boys didn’t hold hands, but Yan wasn’t a boy so that was fine.  Jerry squeezed it back, tighter.

He was still terrified, but he could be brave.  He wiped his eyes furiously as Yan and Geoff led him towards the metal arch and once he was certain they were dry he turned around.

Mum was crying, but she was smiling, too, and he waved at her, not stopping until Yan led him around a corner and he lost sight of her.

“It’s rough,” Geoff said as he directed them into putting their backpacks and coats into deep plastic trays, and made them take their shoes off.  He did the same thing.  “I was about your age when I had to move to the States without my Mum, too.  Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not brave for doing it, because it’s hard and by the gods we deserve medals for that.”

Yan snorted.  “I want two medals, then,” they said.

Geoff grinned.  “I’ll see what I can manage,” he promised.  “Now, through the box you go, then we’ll go watch the planes come in from the VIP lounge until ours gets here.  How does that sound, guys?”

VIP lounge.  Jerry supposed he liked the sound of that, at least.

[handeaux]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[a-goose-in-a-trenchcoat]

wow this place is fancy

He'd been awaiting this day for a while now, and now it had finally arrived. The time had come for Goose to don his fancy clothes, straighten his tie and grab his (temporary) cane, the Blue Moon Ball had arrived.

He had recently decided to forgo his typical brown fedora in place of a top hat, for a touch more class. After changing his grey turtleneck, cargo pants and trenchcoat for a white polo, beige flannel blazer and matching trousers (with a little trouble, as he was still getting used to his new limbs), he emptied his trenchcoat pockets into a convenient "purse of holding" and opened his front door.

Having securely locked the door, and activated the necessary security measures to ensure that no ill-meaning individuals could trash his tower (the fae had recently employed a Warg.), he stumbled slightly out the door, spread his wings and took a leap.

Ah, the feeling of the fresh wind on his face. It was somehow familiar and yet always new, which felt refreshing after the general... weirdness of the last few weeks. Up here, there was no awkward stumbles, no trips or tumbles. Up here, he was in control. He could do whatever he pleased, move how he wanted, and he relished it.

As he scanned the ground below him, occasionally pushing up his glasses, for fear of them falling. Ah, there it was, the address he saw on the invite. It was a grandiose building, very elegant. It reminded him of cathedrals and churches from centuries past, but it was also a very recent island addition. He swooped downwards, slowly descending to the soft earth.

He stumbled a little on the landing, but remained on his feet. That cane he had acquired from Artemis was really coming in handy. As he slowly meandered towards the entrance, he took another inspection of the buildings exterior. It was a large, cylindrical dome, with stained glass windows depicting the moon and its various phases. As Goose looked around him, he saw various other wizards arrive in different methods, ranging from bland, predictable teleportation to people ripping rifts through space-time with their claws, or dimensional faults that accidentally dropped them at the door of the ball. Goose was one of the earlier arrivals, but he was beaten by Ash, Corvius and Zorus. Goose had met them before, Ash had told him that he was dead, and was apparently the god of death now. Corvius was who invited into Wizard Island in the first place, and Zorus, whose tower he had thrown rocks at when searching for Applez.

There was a garden to the left, and it was full of vegetables, herbs and flowers. There was a patch of purple flowers, glowing faintly in the dark; some yellow fruits on a vine; and a blue herb that seemed to emit a spicy nectar. To the right of the dome, there was a pond, crystalline and blue, with a vibrant array of fish swimming merrily. The moss was a pastel pink, and the crickets chirped in what seemed to be an orchestra.

After checking out the exterior of the building, Goose decided to make his way inside. However, before he could take any steps forwards, he was stopped. The individual in question who halted his progress had caramel skin, with golden imprints on his shoulders and hands, with baby blue nails. The fingers were covered in golden dust with more patterning at the base. He wore a golden hair tie with a crescent moon clip. The hair was long-ish, with a single curl by the left ear. The truly peculiar thing about the hair, however, was that it seemed to be reflective of the sky, with it starting in the pitch black of midnight, before going to the inky blue of twighlight and finally ending in the yellow of the sun. It twinkled with stars, and was adorned with golden decorations.

He was wearing a white sleeveless dress, with a golden star pendant. The dress had golden embroidery around the edges, and slowly transitioned to a nice pale blue. The long gloves he was wearing followed the same patten. Around his waist, he wore a dark blue fabric slip, with musical notes adorned around the seams. Dangling from it was a ring of keys.

He wore a pair of bell bottom trousers, again following the trend the previous items of clothing had set. He was wearing a pair of dark blue stilettos with a gold sole. There were golden charms on the sides. He also had six slim wings, going from pastel blue to yellow. They were almost like a dragonflies, but without the patterning.

As Goose stood back in surprise, nearly tripping over his cane, he heard what the strange man said:

"Greetings esteemed guests, I am Lurien, your host for this evening. May the festivities be many and the spirits be high. Please deposit any weapons in the designated bins, and Welcome to the Blue Moon Ball.

Goose unslung his purse from his shoulder, and rooted through for all his weapons. A few daggers, one poisoned, 3 swords, a war axe, 3 bottles of soup, a gun, a scythe, pocket sand, improvised explosives, improved explosives and a butterfly knife. He felt a bit... vulnerable without any means of self defence except for his magic, which was slightly unreliable as of right now, but he supposed with everyone else similarly disarmed, it wasn't too bad.