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unhingedhousehold · 2 years

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count the sheep

summary: you can't sleep and bradley passed his sweet mom's genius method to help you.

lol. omg. was scrolling through tumblr when i found this post and one of the reblogs said they used to go through alphabet and name a person they love whose name starts with each letter and... that's how i gave birth to my 2nd story lol who would've thought I'll have 2 babies!

this story is so funny in my head sffdgfgr i had so much fun writing this sfagafwfsgsgsgsgdg okay enough with the giggles

pairing: bradley bradshaw x reader (reader has hair)

warnings: mentions of bradley's parents, mentions of pineapples on pizza (lol), mentions of mint choco flavor (lol again), implied smut, a bit of marriage proposal thought (bradley is a simp), bradley saying fuck!!, my knowledge about natops and navy based on my 5 mins google research so apologize for any mistakes, english isnt my 1st language so you know the sorry for any inaccurate words and bad grammar drill!!

words: around 2k i think

i don't consent my work being translated or copied, please be respectful of someone's work!

Bradley felt like it's been hours since you've been turning and tossing on your side of bed when in fact, it's only been around 30 minutes. He already turned off the lamp, a playlist created to help both of you to sleep soundly still playing, yet you're still wide awake squirming trying to sleep. You were in his embrace earlier, but escaped because you simply just can't stop moving and shift your body a bit from Bradley's. He heard you grunt, and that's his cue to get you back to his embrace, his arms wrapped around your body and chin on your hair.

“I say this with so much love, please stop squirming or I'll have to tie you on the headboard.” He heard you chuckling and even though he can't see you but somehow, he's able to detect there would be a witty answer from your upcoming reply.

“Oh kinky, wouldn't be the first time though.”

See?! You and your smart mouth will be the death of him!

“Pervert. Seriously, what's up? You're usually the first one to go to the dreamland. Try to relax and stop thinking, okay? We had a long day; let's rest our tired body, yeah?”

You sighed, feeling guilty and trying to escape again from his embrace so he'll be able to have his sleep, “That's what I've been trying. Sorry. Maybe I should be sleeping on the cou–” he stops you with a kiss on your lips, “Nah, don't apologize,” and tightens his grip to prevent you from getting away again, "and not a chance."

You relented and hugged him back, with muffled voice, you reason, “This is why you shouldn't let Bob chose a movie. I don't do well with horror.”

“He won today's quiz from Cyclone. Phoenix would've killed me if I interfered with Bob's choice of movie. Besides, you have your eyes closed the entire time the movie is on! And you know it yourself you will never be able to say no to Bob.”

You smiled fondly at his statement, recalling the time when Bob offered you to try his mint choco flavored ice cream and you ended up liking it to normal amount (up to this day, Fanboy still convincing you you're basically having toothpaste as a dessert. Hangman as the Vice President of Mint Choco Ice Cream Lovers kicked his ass for that). “Bob is really the worst enabler in my life.”

You can feel Bradley's laughter from the way his chest grumbled. He then hummed along the song that's currently playing, usually his humming would help you sleep faster, yet it's not working.

You're tracing something on his back, from your initial to his, and mixed both of your initials when he started talking again, “You know, maybe I know a way. This is something my mom came up with when she was dealing with her insomnia.” He said it with so much ease, so different from years ago when he didn't even wanna talk about his mom. You started writing his Mom's name on his back.

“How?”

As he felt you writing the O letter, he answered, “Count the sheep.”

You stopped your movement from writing the I letter, “So I should literally counting them to thousands? I've made it past 300 only back then.”

(You remembered it because you had 3 coffees in one day thanks to back to back studying session you had to do during exam period.)

“No, you're not literally counting the sheep. It's more like you try to think of things that fit the topic you chose and count them, but don't google the answers. Just lay in bed and think of them.”

“Does it work for you?”

He answered when you just finished his Mom's name, and now you're going to write his Dad's, “Most of the times, yes.”

Bradley felt it when you're done writing NICHO, index finger about to start writing L when you quietly asked, “What kind of topic did you chose then?”

“Inactive United States Navy aircraft squadrons between 1980 to 2009. What's on NATOPS Pocket Checklist. NATOPS Emergency Procedure Basics–” before he can continue with more Navy related that you have no idea about, you looked up and kiss his lips tenderly to shut him up, “You're such a nerd.”

He laughed, kissing the top of your hair and defends himself. “Not always like that. Sometimes I think of ways to please you. My favorite topic to think about, honestly.”

You rolled your eyes, your hands that previously on his back smacked his ass lightly.

“Or you can use my mom's way, she told me to go through the alphabet and name a person I love whose name starts with each letter.” Bradley started writing something on your back, like you did earlier to his.

When you felt him writing your last name, that's when you found your voice back. “Hmm. Interesting.”

“Yeah, I used to do that a lot when I was a kid but I don't think I can do it now.”

“Why?”

“Because your letter is the only letter I can think of. I don't need to through from A to Z to think of someone I love.”

With your fist, you hit his chest lightly, “You're such a sap.”

“Only with you, sweets.”

His index finger started to write M, followed by R, S, continues with B, R, and then A. You had an idea what he was about to write, so you decide to try his Mom's method.

“Okay, I'll try.”

He just finished writing W with heart emoji in the end when he replied, “Go on. I'm listening.”

You wrote A on his chest, rocking your brain to come up with someone whose name starts with A.

“A.. I can't think of any A... Aaron?”

Bradley tensed up, the movement of his index finger trying to write the V letter suddenly stopped and shifted his body a bit to get a look at your face, “Who the hell is Aaron?”

“What? Urgh, I don't think this method will work. It's just one male name and you're already this worked up. How am I supposed to go through until Z?”

“The Aaron I know in your life was your ex-fling! You could've mentioned Ally!” Your brows furrowed, looking at him with confusion clouded your face, “She makes omelet you claimed is to die for at the diner we frequent to?”

You laughed at his goofy but correct answer, “You're unbelievable.”

You're back to his chest, writing B as the next letter. “Okay. B.. hmm...”

You both knew damn well who is the person going to be, but riling him up is your favorite thing to do so you made your voice to be the sweetest and full of hope voice that you'll certainly say one precise name.

“Oh I know, this is the easiest,” You practically can feel Bradley's anticipated eyes, smile at the ready and kisses that awaits you after you said one name, his fingers ready to write so much after he finished i love you on your back earlier.

(He's just that good with his timing, huh? You can't let him have his victory, though.)

“It's Bob! Next for C...”

Bradley released you from his embrace, fingers stilled in the air, and giving you that look when you told him you like your pizza with pineapples on it, “What the fuck?”

You showed him your innocent eyes, a kind of eyes that will let you get away with anything and everything, blinking them, “What? I'm doing it right! Bob starts with B!”

He huffed, hands covering his face dramatically, “You know there's someone else whose name starts with B.”

You taunt him, “Yeah? Who?”

Oh, he loves you so much for that.

He pouts, voice like a little kid whose mom rejected his idea to go biking with friends, “Oh come on, big elephant in the room?”

Your eyes lit up when he said that, as if you got what he meant by the elephant in the room.. because you should! How could you forget his name? A name that you're screaming to when he went down on you! A name you fervently vocalize when he's ball deep insi –

“Hmm.. Benjamin Penny?”

Shocked at your answer, his mouth goes wide open, formed a big O, “Are you kidding me?”

And what happened next was your laughter filled the room with Bradley hovering over you as he tickled you with so much force; from your waist to your sole, your stomach isn't lost on him as he blew so much raspberry on it. Not only that, he attacks you with kisses on your neck, biting the juncture between your shoulder and neck, the back of your ear tickles at how much force he puts to make you laugh that you can't say anything but laughing. When you got lost in the feeling, he's back on tickling your waist.

He's really good at memorizing your body, thanks to the amount of times he spent to explore on it. You decided you couldn't take another tease from him when you felt his right hand trying to make its way on between your closed legs, and as you tried to get away from his teasing by hitting his shoulder, an idea came up, “Stop it, Cradleeeey!” But it seems like he didn't hear you, looking at how his hands busy kneading the flesh of your thighs.

“Hey Dradley, stop it! Okay, I surrender!” He's now looking at you, confusion over his pretty face because he just registered what you just called him.

“What did you just call me?”

“Cradley. Dradley. Eradley? Bradley starts with E sounds so weird.” Both of his hands are now on your side, face inches away from yours, “Fradley is funny though. Oooh, Gradley?” You kissed his nose, and his cheeks as you said each name.

“Did you just change the first letter of my name?”

“Yeah. Now I know what you meant by elephant in the room! You said to go through the alphabet and name a person I love whose name started with each letter, right? Hradley sounds weirder than Eardley, don't you think?”

He laughed so hard at your expression and to muffle his chuckles, he hid his face on your neck. You can't help but to join him as you wrap your hands around his neck.

“Wait until we get to T.” He said after so much effort to stop his giggles.

“Oh my god! You're right. Hey, Tradley,” you giggled, amused by it and he kissed your forehead because he didn't want to interrupt your laughter and looked at you like you hung the moon (you did, according to him), “I don't think I'll be able to pronounce Xradley and Zradley well though.” You said the X and Z with struggles, and for your attempt to pronounce Yradley and Wradley next, he rewards you with a kiss to your lips, deepening it when he felt you opening your sweet lips to welcome him.

–––

And the next few weeks when Bradley was deployed and had a hard time sleeping, he chose his topic about ways on how to propose you. He woke up smiling as he vividly remembers what he came up with. He thanked his genius Mom for her count the sheep method; that's how he knows his Mom has always been, is always, and will always be with him, just like she promised.

the ending is a bit weird but whew 🥹🥲🫣 if you make it to the end, thank you for reading!

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick x reader #top gun rooster

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becauseimanicequeen · 12 days

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4 Minutes Theories (Ep. 1-8) Results

The finale was last night, so I thought I would do one last theories post where I gather all the theories I've had since the trailer and the teaser (which were kind of sweeping since the trailer and teaser didn't give me much to get super detailed about), including the theories from episode 1, episode 2, episode 3, episode 4, episode 5, episode 6, episode 7, and some wild-ass theories I posted in between these posts and episodes. Let's see how wrong I was throughout the show.

Pre-premiere theory: The moments Great sees ahead of time are moments that might help him redeem himself from a past mistake/transgression. (Confirmed)

I could argue that Great's do-overs were based on an obstinate need to "prove" to Tyme that he's not a coward, but I won't (lol).

Pre-premiere theory: The car accident is the trigger for Great’s visions. (Confirmed)

Pre-premiere theory: Title is involved with Korn. (Half-Confirmed)

I half-confirmed this since Title has a semi-connection to Korn through Great, Fasai, and Warit.

Pre-premiere theory: Win is battling some contrasting, opposing forces (internal and/or external). (Confirmed)

This theory was based on the background of the poster for JJay/Win. I solely based it on the red and green contrasting colors.

Ever since it was revealed in the 2nd episode that Win works for the police, I've had the feeling that the contrasting forces he's battling are his attachment/feelings for Tonkla and his duty to uphold the law.

Considering he went rogue to find out who killed Dome, practically gave Tonkla the knowledge of whom killed Dome, and yet tried to arrest him (not to mention shooting him when he got in the line of fire), just to name a few things, I would say that this idiot has been struggling the whole time.

Pre-premiere theory: Den is a neurologist and friends with Tyme. (Half-Confirmed)

I half-confirmed this because I don't think it was ever confirmed that Den was a neurologist, right? I mean, all the brain scans in his office might be evidence that he is. But I half-confirmed it anyway.

Pre-premiere theory: Den has a situationship with Korn. (Wrong)

I kept this theory only because I wanted to see Bas and Job together. It was a delulu wish, and I will keep being delulu about this.

(I'm still on my "Non is alive" agenda, so I can keep this wish alive forever, lmao.)

Pre-premiere theory: Dome is a mystery person operating under the radar without showing his true alliance until the end. (Scrapped)

I scrapped this theory a long time ago.

Pre-premiere theory: Great and Win are brothers who will butt heads from time to time. (Wrong)

Pre-premiere theory: Fasai is the other character with a condition similar to Great’s. (Wrong)

I knew quite quickly that this wouldn't happen, but I kept it unconfirmed all the way to the end because you never know...

Also, it gave me an excuse to add some Fasai/Natty to my post, which is a win in itself!

Pre-premiere theory: Great’s (Bible’s) tattoos have something to do with the story. (Wrong)

I was sure this wouldn't come true ever since someone told me before the premier that those were Bible's real tattoos. But I kept this theory anyway because that meant I could use this image in all my posts:

So, even though I didn't "win" this theory, I still won.

Pre-premiere theory: Great becomes Korn’s target because he can see ahead of time. (Scrapped)

I scrapped this weeks ago.

Pre-premiere theory: Great hit the person with his car at 11:01 (or they died at 11:01) and that’s why he sees clocks stopping at that time. (Wrong)

Pre-premiere theory: 11:01 is when Great can see 4 minutes into the future. (Wrong)

Pre-premiere theory: Someone will die/fake their death. (Confirmed)

As I've written in the previous posts in this series on my 4 Minutes theories, this theory was pretty obvious from the start. Sammon kills characters all the time, lol.

But, I also mentioned in one of the previous posts that I won't confirm this theory until one of the more important characters dies (excluding Great and Tyme). The ones I thought would die were Dome, Title, and perhaps Korn.

I was right about all three of them, so I'm marking this one as confirmed.

Revised/developed pre-premiere theory: Great is having an out-of-body experience. (Confirmed)

Revised/developed pre-premiere theory: Korn will do some shady shit to prove to his dad that he can take over the family business. (Confirmed)

Korn definitely did some shady shit. Especially in the real past timeline we saw in the 6th episode. You can't convince me he didn't beat up Nan in that warehouse when he came out a wiped the blood off his hands. So, I will confirm this even though I really wanted to see more of what shady shit he got involved in to please his dad.

Revised/developed pre-premiere theory: Tonkla is at the center of it all. (Half-Confirmed)

This theory was based on the background of the poster for Fuaiz/Tonkla. At first, I thought he had a target on his back (which became true as soon as he became the prime suspect in Title's murder), but at one point, it felt like it developed more into Tonkla being at the center of this whole thing (like he was the spider in the web).

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote that I would only confirm this if Tonkla's timeline was the real timeline (which it seemed to be, even though there were some anomalies in his timeline as well) and if he became the prime suspect in both Great's shooting and Title's death. Since he only became the prime suspect in Title's death, so I will only mark this as half-confirmed.

Revised/developed pre-premiere theory: Fasai has a connection with Korn. (Confirmed)

Pre-ep. 2 theory: Tonkla will betray Korn. (Confirmed)

I mentioned last week that I would only half-confirm this if shooting Great was the only betrayal we got. And I was totally fine with that. But then Tonkla said that he'd cheated on Korn when Korn was gone, which means that Tonkla himself thought of it as a betrayal. So I will confirm this.

Pre-ep. 2 theory: Great's visions of himself and Tyme are his present self's memories of their time together. (Confirmed)

Pre-ep. 2 theory: Great had a cardiac arrest/near-death experience at 11:00. (Confirmed)

Wild-ass pre-ep. 2 theory: Great will get Tyme's heart (after Tyme is shot). (Wrong)

I knew this wouldn't happen. (Besides, this wasn't the Transplant I wanted.)

Revised/developed wild-ass pre-ep. 2 theory: Tyme is having his own out-of-body experience. (Confirmed)

Pre-ep. 3 theory: Dome is Tonkla's brother. (Confirmed)

Pre-ep. 3 theory: Tyme has a precognitive ability similar to Great’s (or might develop one). (Wrong)

I was right that Tyme would also have an OOBE, and I was right that his heart also stopped at 11:00. But we never got to see any precognitive abilities from Tyme. So... Wrong.

Pre-ep. 3 theory: Fasai (and/or her father) is in league with someone within the police force. (Confirmed)

Well, Police Colonel Warit (who they called a general in the subs more than once, btw, but it said Pol.Col. Warit on him on MDL a couple of weeks ago when I needed to double-check on another character's name, so I'm going with Police Colonel) is one corrupt asshole. He's also a corrupt asshole that confirmed this theory for me. So, thank you? I guess?

Pre-ep. 3 theory: There are different timelines at play. (Confirmed)

Well, this one is pretty obvious, right? I've written a long ass post about my thoughts on the timelines and a post with the scenes in the first 6 episodes in chronological-ish order (including both the real past and the different timelines) and then one about Tonkla's timeline (ep. 1-7).

My theory included:

The real past/Tonkla's timeline

Great's OOBE

Tyme's OOBE

The present

A couple of weeks ago, I also wrote that I would only confirm this if I got the majority of these timelines confirmed, which I did.

Pre-ep. 3 theory: Great has 4 minutes to wake up/get his heart to start beating again. (Confirmed)

Pre-ep. 3 theory: Tyme is getting close to Great because of Great's family and their connection to the illegal gambling sites. (Confirmed)

Wild-ass pre-ep. 3 theory: The number 4 marks a character with death. (Confirmed)

The number 4 (which in Cantonese is pronounced very similarly to the word "death") marks characters with death.

The characters that came in contact with number 4:

Great, who was shot and flatlined at the hospital.

Tyme who was also shot.

Manee, who Great hit with his car and left to die.

Dome, who was killed by Title.

Title, who was murdered by Tonkla.

And the elderly lady in bed number 4 who, most likely, died because of her illness.

I previously wrote that I would confirm this if I got the majority correct. Also, I said that NDEs didn't count.

If I don't count Great and Tyme, I've got half right. But since I believe Great and Tyme didn't come back to life again, I have the majority correct. So, I'll confirm this theory.

Revised/developed pre-ep. 3 theory: Tyme is looking into the illegal gambling sites because his family fell victim to either them or Great's dad. (Confirmed)

Pre-ep. 4 theory: Great's actions during his OOBE won't change anything in the present. (Half-Confirmed)

I will half-confirm this because I'm still not sure whether Great's actions did help Tonkla hear his brother (or if Tonkla was in some weird ass timeline too). And I'm too tired of this show to keep thinking about it, lol.

Pre-ep. 4 theory: Tyme's choices in the real past are the reason Great is in the hospital having a cardiac arrest. (Scrapped)

I scrapped this weeks ago.

Pre-ep. 4 theory: The note saying "Can you forgive me, Great?" is written by the mystery woman in the gallery (Lukwa). (Wrong)

Too bad I didn't use my initial theory in these posts though, especially the part where I thought that particular note came from someone who talked to Great at the hospital in the present. It's just that the words were filtered through Great's mind, which is probably why the handwriting was different.

Anyway...

Pre-ep. 5 theory: The bodies the police find are the people who died in the real past. (Half-Confirmed)

I will only half-confirm this because I initially included the shareholder with the red umbrella in this theory as well (and that Nan's body would show up somewhere at some point). But I did get Dome and Title, so I'll half-confirm it.

Pre-ep. 7 theory: Tyme and Great met as kids (Confirmed)

I based this theory on how Tyme said "You're still afraid of dogs?" in ep. 6.

That was it. Now, let's look at the final results.

Final Results:

Total theories since the trailer: 36

Confirmed theories: 19

Half-Confirmed theories: 5

Wrong/scrapped theories: 12

(Btw, my stats should've included 37 theories, but I couldn't find the 37th in any of my posts, so I chose to omit it from this one.)

Well, that went a lot better than I expected from such an intricate story like this (with different timelines, questions, mysteries, etc.). I was not expecting to have more confirmed than wrong theories. Either way, I'm glad this is over because I need something else to fill my brainspace. (At least until the next Sammon show comes out in November, if I remember correctly.)

That's it for Ice Queen Holmes, at least for now. Over and out.

#ice queen holmes #4 minutes #4 minutes the series #thai ql #thai bl #thai series #my shit

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alianoralacanta · 22 days

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Paddock Magazine Analysis (13-12-2007)

Context: Following the McLaren/Ferrari spying controversy of 2007, where McLaren eventually lost its 2nd place in the World Constructor's Championship and got a $100 m fine, Max Mosley in his capacity as FIA President did two interviews. The first was for BBC Hardtalk. His performance there was very poor, making it look suspiciously like the FIA's case was weak. More telling was the second interview, with Paddock Magazine. Given that Paddock Magazine was a FIA publication, it was not exactly going to be the height of intentional journalism. However, it provided an excellent demonstration of the FIA's beliefs about the case. When combined with what had been learned in 2007 (from the Hardtalk interview and earlier proceedings of the case), it was incredibly destructive to the FIA's case against McLaren. In combination, it went to the degree of indicating the FIA had a case to answer itself… My understanding of legal issues has evolved since then but I do not believe the FIA's position has correspondingly improved. (The first parts of quotes are bolded, to help put structure to this essay. I've also had to delete the artificial double-spacing that ended up in there for some reason. For the record, if I wanted to double-space an entry, I'd use the double-space function).

Warning! Long entry alert! An annotated guide to the Paddock Magazine interview with Max Mosley. It is the December 2007 edition, and the FIA has given us a handy link.

It is, as the FIA probably hoped, a good guide to the state of Max Mosley's thinking. Let's probe into this resource to find out exactly what the implications are of the interaction between Max's thought processes and what can be ascertained from other sources.

"I think, in the end, the championship went to the right person"

Max has a good point here. Kimi did in fact do the best performance out of the challengers, so it was perfectly sensible for him to have won the prize. It's refreshing to see some sensible opinions from Max.

"Well, I don't think it [the off-track drama] has done any damage - in fact, it has raised public awareness".

Yes, Max - raised it and turned them right off again. Unfortunately, the good initial note didn't last long.

"The only harm would come if people started to believe it [the spying] was endemic and we couldn't stamp it out."

Most people that weren't deeply knowledgeable about F1 before the Ferrari/McLaren mess were not aware that F1 even had spying. Their impression would not have been that stopping spying was good, it would have been "What do you mean, F1 has spying?!?" The people who've been following F1 for a time know that spying at some level is both endemic and, to a certain extent, inevitable. Admittedly, it is not inevitable to the point alleged against either McLaren or Renault, but information transfer between teams is inherant in any industry whose primary value is in the contents of talented people's heads. Formula 1 is demonstrably such an industry.

"I found myself defending McLaren, rather than trying to explain why we'd done what we had to do!"

If the HardTalk interview constituted a defence of McLaren's behaviour, I'm glad the interviewer did not ask Max to attack McLaren, because it looked to me and a number of other people as if Mosley was launching a McLaren attack at the time.

"The whole thing [the Ferrari/McLaren mess] should have been stopped before it started".

Correct. One would have thought that Nigel Stepney and Mike Coughlan would have known their information-swapping behaviour was slightly dodgy before engaging in it. Apparently not (at least in Coughlan's case).

"Ron [Dennis] could have gone to Jean [Todt] immediately after Australia and said: "Look, we asked the FIA about your floor because there's somebody at Ferrari giving us information".

Two problems. One, this was not the FIA's line at the time. For example, Spyker submitted a protest at that very race concerning Super Aguri and Squadra Toro Rosso using a Toro Rosso drawing, which arrived at Spyker by an unknown route (or at least, unknown to people outside the paddock such as me). Nobody from the FIA openly asked Spyker to tell Franz Tost about the drawing (this may have happened quietly, or Colin Kolles may have done the courtesy call on his own initiative, but we don't know either way). The impression that this sort of thing gives is that if the FIA is contacted in such a way that it receives the offending document(s), the opposing team manager need not be (perhaps because the FIA contacts the opposing team manager as a matter of routine in these cases). So what Max is effectively saying is that the FIA's policy was wrong at the time, for if McLaren had known that the FIA policy wouldn't hold six months down the line, it is highly unlikely he would have taken the path of relying on the known FIA procedures to do the appeal. Instead, he would have either informed Jean Todt (if he had known about the Stepney/Coughlan flow and intended to get it stopped) or he would have simply said nothing, and probably not appealed the Ferrari car in Australia at all (if he thought there was only the one document and/or he wanted to attempt to evade notice).

Secondly, there is no particular reason to believe that Jean would have stopped the information flow on Dennis' say-so, especially as it has yet to be proved whether Dennis knew who in the team had received the drawings, let alone whether this person had received the drawing in a legal fashion. For that matter, it isn't even clear that Dennis knew there was a drawing involved - it is entirely conceivable that Coughlan would only have told people verbally about what he knew about the Ferrari floor, and not given away sources. Certainly if I was in Coughlan's position and intended to use this Ferrari information illegally, this is what I would have done. Simply because the drawing was eventually discovered due to Trudy Coughlan stupidly taking some Ferrari CDs to a photocopy shop does not mean that her husband was stupid in his dealings with the material. With hindsight, the truly smart thing to have done would be to take the moral high ground and denounce Stepney as openly and as immediately as possible, but none of us have foresight as good as our hindsight.

"You get the odd person saying that this has always gone on in F1, but that's nonsense".

Er... ...Shadow/Arrows in 1977, anyone? That was the entire (successful) theft of a team's entire intellectual property (IP), back before the term was even invented. Then there's the whole Ferrari/Toyota mess, involving a copious amount of data theft by more than one ex-Ferrari (and now ex-Toyota and presumably ex-F1) employee.

Admittedly, the general backdrop of espionage is on nowhere near as large a scale (the McLaren/Renault mess is probably a run-of-the-mill example among instances of dishonest information transfer). However, the alleged extent of the Ferrari/McLaren mess has precedents.

"There was a constant stream of information for months"

Interestingly enough, this wasn't proven at the WMSC court, though Max would like to pretend it was proven. Having reviewed the relevant portion of the Ferrari/McLaren September case transcript, I have spotted in the preliminaries that the documents that supposedly prove this statement were considered by the McLaren lawyer to be illegally obtained and illegally revealed to the WMSC court. The response from the WMSC was that it was not concerned about whether the documents were legal. Since it was illegal to use them in court, it was also illegal to base any part of the judgement on these documents. As a result, these documents cannot constitute evidence, let alone proof, of the exchange between Stepney and Coughlan - unless the Italian courts deem that the documents do in fact constitute such evidence.

This hasn't happened yet. Therefore, there is no actual proof that the "live" part occurred, since the WMSC Court appeared to have no other sources for this in its transcript. It thought the illegally-used and unproven documents were "impressive" enough.

"The second major mistake that McLaren made was when they held an inquiry... ...they didn't do it thoroughly enough"

Well, all it would have taken is for two people to have lied in a way that was undetected and McLaren wouldn't have been able to detect that connection. Even if Coughlan and de la Rosa had been somewhat truthful (by admitting that they talked to each other), how much would have been considered normal for two employees, and would it be possible to prove in the relatively short timeframe (the inquiry occurred in the run-up to the July meeting, giving McLaren about three weeks to get the inquiry completed) to go through 1000 people's e-mails to find a handful of dodgy e-mails? Even if only e-mails sent by Coughlan were considered (it is known that McLaren suspected him of something, as he got suspended pretty sharpish when the exchange was initially discovered), that would still have been dozens, and likely hundreds, of e-mails to check. In a company that size, it is fairly easy for a dodgy e-mail connection to go undetected. Usually, discovery occurs when one of the parties accidentally copies their e-mail to someone who has the power to stop or inform on the perpetrators, or else someone in power sees such an e-mail on the screen. For all the advances in e-mail monitoring software, breaches outside a limited range (porn, unnecessary attachments, swearing and personal e-mailing) remain very difficult to detect, especially if the intention is to do so without unduly impeding the free flow of legitimate information. It would take a very time-consuming and thorough, or a very lucky inquiry, to have found out that a rogue employee was transferring illegally-obtained information to another employee unless one of them confessed. That didn't happen until early September (and then it was not to McLaren but to the FIA) - rather late for the initial July trial!

"I think everyone felt that there was more to this than we'd heard [in the July case]".

No, most of us didn't; at least, not in the English-speaking sources I've seen. The Europeans generally write in languages other than English, which makes assessing the rest of Max's answer difficult (the only other language I know is Spanish, and the Spaniards would presumably be pro-Alonso...) The time of which Max speaks was before the time that the FIA started chucking out transcripts to the general public at the slightest opportunity. We, the general public, were not expecting anything else to come out of the case. If the WMSC was, why didn't they take the trouble to advise us in the decision? Oh, wait a minute, that would have made their decision to try the case so early look premature...

In case you're wondering, not every Spanish source was pro-FIA about the second trial. El Pais was concerned that the FIA decision was pro-Ferrari - but maybe its being in Spanish precluded Max from reading it. So the generalisation that the continentals were all pro-FIA in the end is false.

"I'd already been told that some e-mails existed, by Bernie [Ecclestone] [when Ron Dennis informed Max of the e-mails]"

Clive at F1 Insight has already tackled this matter; suffice to say that Max's pretence that he was hearing about the e-mails from Ron for the first time is unimpressive at best. More transparency is expected from people enforcing rules.

"I wasn't sure enough to write to the drivers, until the Italian police came up with the list of all the contacts"

Excuse me, but isn't this the same inadmissible list that has already supposedly proven a "live" link between Nigel Stepney and Mike Coughlan despite its inadmissibility? If this is so, then Max was not entitled to use it as a tool to compel anyone to comply with its wishes, particularly with the threat implied with it being an FIA instruction. Such behaviour demeans the validity of FIA instructions.

That said, the FIA could and perhaps should have asked every employee in McLaren to turn over all relevant evidence as soon as it opened the investigation of the case on a reasonably-scaled amnesty scheme. It had the power to analyse the e-mails (including Spanish translation!) that McLaren could not reasonably be capable of doing in such a short time-frame, and it would also have led to a considerably swifter route to the conclusion of this matter.

"they [the e-mails] either came from Alonso or de la Rosa. But presumably the Alonso camp"

That's a mighty big leap, given that Max does not give evidence that differentiates the two. This sort of thinking can be seen elsewhere in this interview, to sometimes dangerous effect to his own case.

By the way, reading personal e-mails is normally illegal under the Computer Misuse Act. However, the sense of Max's elaboration of this question indicates that Fernando chose to reveal these e-mails to Bernie (why remains a mystery, when it would have been simpler to forward the lot to Max), on this occasion the initial Alonso e-mail can be said to have been acquired legally. There is no question over whether the subsequent driver e-mails were obtained legally, only whether Max's justification for requesting them was based on legally-obtained documentation.

"I still think, from a legal point of view, we should have excluded everybody [relating to McLaren over the Ferrari/McLaren mess]."

I'll give him that - he has never deviated once from this point of view. He is consistent in at least some of his opinions. If you assume the conclusion that the WMSC wanted us to believe, then this also follows. The conclusion is therefore valid.

The trouble is that the conclusion is not sound, for the evidence has turned out to be some illegally-obtained Italian documents and a bunch of e-mails that only prove that three employees knew rather than one (and also suggesting that only those three knew - otherwise the e-mails would have been in English and had a wider circulation). This means that there were three rogue employees. The two discovered by the September trial had been granted full amnesty, so technically the FIA was not empowered to issue any punishment to the rest of the team following the evidence, due to its inadequete nature.

"In the end, arguably justice was done [in the McLaren/Ferrari mess]."

Try making that quote compatible with the previous quote. Note that they are spoken by the same person, in the same paragraph in relation, to the same question. Can you get "justice was done" to fit with "we should have excluded everyone"? Me neither.

"For a lot of it [the evidence], you had to draw the inference."

This is the most self-destructive sentence I have ever seen in a court case. Only a fool admits to having little hard evidence for a guilty judgement, let alone one involving such a large penalty and with a larger one threatened. If this were a real court under discussion, the police would be immediately pressing for a re-trial without the interested parties even having to ask first. It pretty much invalidates Max Mosley as a judge of fact in these sorts of cases.

The temptation for me to skip the assumptions that follow this sentence are therefore too strong to resist.

"If we'd done nothing, there would be the temptation to set out to acquire information from another team in any number of ways."

This probably seemed like a logical thing to say at the time (this interview appears to have taken place in late October or early November). However, since the McLaren/Renault mess has shown that only the impression of co-operation is necessary in order to evade a spying charge, then this statement suddenly looks a bit strange. If anything, events will encourage employees to spy, not discourage them. Just not necessarily as individuals.

"I think, and hope, they're paranoid about not doing anything"

How's that for a "Go back to being blobs. Blobs are easy" (Thief of Time by Terry Pratchett) mentality?

"If there are things of that kind... ...they've been quietly got rid of"

Proof that this interview was done before mid-November, when the McLaren/Renault case re-appeared (after a brief mention in the September court case).

"Just suppose the 2008 McLaren incorporates everything from the 2007 Ferrari... ...we've got to make sure... ...the 2008 McLaren doesn't incorporate and Ferrari intellectual property"

If (and after everything above, it's a big if) you still believe that McLaren's guilty judgement was legitimate, then this is a perfectly sensible inference. Max is completely right about the need to check that cars are not contaminated with other teams' IP. In fact, why don't they do this with every team at the appropriate moment in the season, to proactively check that this sort of stuff doesn't happen?

Would be a neat idea...

#f1 #lcmb #lcmb archive #max mosley #spygate #mclaren #fia #the then-fia president really does not come across very well in this one

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nellas-art · 2 years

Photo

A line up of my favourite followers and some headcanons. There were more favs but this drawing would never be finished if I tried to include them all.

The text under the readmore:

Lambert

They/Them

Cares for their spouses and followers deeply

Takes their spouses concerns very seriously

Bothers them that their followers view themselves as below them

Peaceful but won’t hesitate

Gremermer

They/Them

The first and eldest follower

Lambert’s 3rd spouse

Soft-spoken but firm

Keeps the peace at the camp and is in charge when Lambert’s away

Usually found farming or lumbering

Barbatos

She/Her

Quite opinionated and hot-headed

Isn’t afraid to but heads with other followers

Only listens to/can be calmed down by Lambert, Gremermer, and Fear to a degree

Lambert’s 4th spouse

Only soft around her spouse/friends

Fond of Fear

Works the stone mill

Fear

She/Her/They/Them

Lambert’s loyalest follower; willing to do anything

Very enthusiastic, eager, outgoing, affectionate, flirty, and mischievous; pushes their luck

Lambert’s 5th spouse

BFFs with Witness Agares and is in a competition with them to smooch/woo the most people

Fond of Barbatos

Saleos

He/Him

Lambert’s 1st and longest spouse

Very sweet and doting on Lambert

Worrywart; tries to hide what bothers him, fails

First to insist to tag along crusades as a demon

Likes cooking

Paar

She/Her

Lambert’s 2nd spouse

Selectively mute: speaks in whispers, sign language, gestures, or a pinch if needed

Was initially courted by Trena but fell in love with Lambert

Very sweet but a little shy

Close to Saleos

Works the refinery

Narinder

He/Him

Lambert’s 6th and last spouse

Grouchy, cold, irritable. cold, and snarky

Butts heads with Barbatos often

Gets along with Gremermer, Paar, the Witnesses, and Fear somewhat

Farms alongside Gremermer

Flusters easily despite trying to have an air of formality and superiority

Witness Agares

She/Her/They/Them

The most amicable of the Witnesses

BFFs with Fear and is tied with her in their smooching competition due to evening out the score by smooching each other

They and Fear are tooth-rottingly inseparable; partners in crime

Happy they’re not a Witness to Leshy

Honest, caring, smart, and flirty

Humer

He/Him/They/Them

A nervous soul

Afraid of Narinder

Hangs around Gremermer or Barbatos

A great farmer

Trena

She/Her

Initially was courting Paar until she fell in love with Lambert

Still cares for Paar but won’t pursue despite the open relationship Lambert has with their spouses

Baalzebub

He/Him

The most chill follower; keeps it real

Friends with Saleos when they worshiped Kallamar

Spars with and trains followers

Putymer

They/Them

Everyone loves Putymer

Likes a clean camp, so they’re often found cleaning

Helps with whatever tasks need to be done

Hangs with Baalzebub

Witness Astaroth

She/Her/They/Them

The most serious of the Witnesses

Knowledgeable about the Old Faith, the Bishops, history, etc

Keeper of the library within the Temple

Loves sharing the knowledge

Quiet, usually reading or deep in thought

Witness Bathin

He/Him/They/Them

Skeptical of new followers but is easily won over with food

Very skilled cook

Goes along with whatever Agares or Astaroth say/do

Witness Allocer

They/Them

A little spacey and clumsy but well meaning

Wasn’t a Witness as long as the other three, so they’re not as strong

Is great as and enjoys decorating

Hangs around Witness Astaroth

Amdusias

He/Him

Chatty, curious, and friendly

Helps new followers settle in alongside Gremermer

Works the healing bay

Likes music and is often heard humming (his theme)

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl follower #narinder #cotl narinder #the one who waits #lambert #saleos #paar #gremermer #barbatos #fear #witness agares

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grogumaximus · 1 month

Note

do u feel like its realistic for max to win the dutch gp? im nervous😖 the thing giving me hope is that he could’ve won spa if it wasnt for the grid penalty right I don’t wanna be delusional but I need it

redbull usually r good is spa n they only did good in the wet quali bc they opted for a more loaded wing for one lap pace (quali setup) . n based on my lvl1 wheel knowledge zandvoort is a high downforce track so the track suits mclaren n not to be pessimistic but I think the merc will be the 2nd best. also it seems like it's another wet quali so lool if max qualifies in the 3rd row/p4 or lower I don't see him winning bc so far it looks like its a dry race n the drs train/dirty air will be back there n it will be sooo difficult to overtake.

but if he does well in quali n hannah does her magic in the race n ofc max will be motivated so yeah there's hope he will fight for the win. but also there's the brake system rule change which could change some things idk

#qualifying is important here #but i might be wrong

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lemonluvgirl · 2 years

Text

New Everlark Fall Fic

*very lightly beta read*

The wind was kicking up as Katniss exited her modest home on Seam street.

Outside the whole world had been turned to muted gold. The trees were painted through with streaks of orange and red to herald the reign of autumn over all nature.

The breeze felt pleasant as the setting fall sun spread its final rays of warmth over the surrounding region, but Katniss knew that once the sun had set the air would turn thinner and chillier as the night wore on.

That was why she made sure to tell her little sister to button up her sweater.

“I’m thirteen, not three, Katniss,” Primrose Everdeen grumbled under her breath even as her delicate fingers moved to obey her older sister. They were only four years apart, but Katniss was as protective of Prim as any mother was of their own child. It was just in her nature.

“Anyone can catch a cold at any age, or don’t they teach you that in your fancy medical courses?” Katniss teased. In actuality she was extremely proud of her little sister, who had been chosen out of hundreds of other students in the district to be accepted into the Twelve’s very exclusive youth medical training program. They only took the very best kids, who showed the most potential. Katniss had been considered once, when she was thirteen, due to her practical knowledge of local plants and herbs, but her squeamishness around blood and patient nudity had ruled her out as a serious candidate.

Twelve was still one of the smallest districts in the country, and although things had improved in recent years after the 2nd war was fought and won to free the districts, it was still by and large a mining community. 75% of adults worked in mining or mining related jobs, and the other quarter were identified and trained from a young age to work essential jobs in medicine, teaching, and law enforcement. Katniss herself was apprenticed to the local tanner, and when she graduated in two years she would be able to help expand the dwindling business to meet the needs of their growing district. It wasn't a glamorous job, by far. It was often foul-smelling hard work, but Katniss felt she was lucky to not end up slated to work in the mines, like so many of her other classmates.

Her brilliant little sister Prim, she had always known, was meant for much bigger and better things.

“Courses on the human immune system don’t start until next semester,” Prim said with a small smirk, “but yes, I am aware that anyone can get sick, at any age.” She finished with a small laugh, and turned back to her big sister with blue eyes large with excitement, glad for any excuse to talk about her new studies, which of course her big sister knew, and worked into conversations readily just to see her little sister smile so freely.

“Did you know that catching a virus from being outside in cold weather for extended periods of time is a huge misconception, actually, it's the congregation of large groups of people in small spaces…” Prim prattled on and Katniss paid attention to the joyful gleam in her eyes, more than her actual words as they headed towards town and the reason for their late afternoon excursion.

The No-More-Reaping Festival.

***~***

A drop of sweat slipped from Peeta’s hairline and trailed precariously close to his eye as he transferred the freshly made batch of cinnamon twists from the third oven to the cooling rack. Peeta blinked repeatedly and tilted his head in order to encourage the sweat droplet to alter its course.

It worked.

The bead of perspiration trickled along his hairline, lodging itself finally in the slightly overgrown ashy blond curls that peaked over his ears.

With a sigh of relief, Peeta adjusted the tray’s placement on the cooling rack to make sure it was secured properly, before picking up the edge of his apron and mopping up the excess moisture that was dotting his forehead.

He was sweating like a roast pig.

But 12 hours working 4 ovens and baking for an entire district will do that to you, he thought with amusement.

“Peeta, how’re the twists coming?” a familiar deep voice called out from the kitchen entrance.

Sure enough, when Peeta looked over he saw the graying mop of ash blonde waves and bright blue eyes so much like his own, only a few decades older, staring back at him.

“All done, Dad,” he replied proudly, extending his arm in a sweeping motion as he gestured towards the cooling rack.

His father beamed in response.

“That’s great Peeta! Right on schedule, as always,” he praised.

Peeta gave his father a humble smile in return and wiped his palms on his aprons.

“Why don’t you go and wash up?” his father suggested, and Peeta looked back at him in surprise.

“Now? But it's only half past five! We’ve still got to transfer everything to the outdoor stand, and then set up and-” Peeta’s list was cut off by his father’s amused laugh.

“That’s what your brothers are for Peeta. They might not be my apprentices, so they don’t have to help bake for the festival, but they still live under this roof and have to pull their weight around here. You’ve done enough for today. Take the rest of the night off.”

Peeta stared back at his father in bewilderment. He had assumed he’d be working the entire festival since he was officially apprentice to the only baker in district 12.

“Go on!” His father ordered jovially, “Go meet up with your friends! You’ve been working too hard lately!” his father added with a laugh and a friendly slap to the back when Peeta couldn’t seem to shake off his surprise.

That got him going.

With a jolt he sped up the stairs and made a dash for the bathroom, speeding by and jostling his middle brother who had been heading for the bathroom as well.

“Hey! I was going to take a shower next!” Rye complained loudly from the other side of the door as Peeta anxiously stripped off his dirty work clothes.

“Dad said to tell you to head to the kitchen!” Peeta called back through the door, and turned on the water of the shower to help drown out the curse words and indignities his brother lobbed against the door before retreating downstairs to help their father pack up the sweets they’d be selling for the No-More-Reaping festival.

***~***

The festival didn’t officially start until 7pm.

Yet, Main Street was lit with strings of glowing bulbs strung between the trees and lampposts overhead. The town square itself had been transformed with quaint decorations of hay bales and baskets filled with fall harvest vegetables, like squash and pumpkins. At the front of the square a stage was set up, but stood empty at the moment.

The sides of the festival were lined with activity though, because even an hour and a half early many of the food and game booths were open. A handful of the vendors were handing out small free samples or free turns to play.

That’s why Katniss always made sure she and Prim came to the festival early each year.

It's not that they were hungry per say, but every little bit helped ever since they had lost their father in the last big mining accident to befall District 12 six years ago. They got by alright on their father’s accident payout checks that arrived every month, but their mother had never recovered from the loss of her husband, she was still despondent and unreachable most days, and consequently never got a regular job like many of the other miner’s widows had been forced to do in order to make ends meet for their large families.

Luckily, their family had been small enough that if they budgeted well and also subsisted with Katniss’ hunting, they were alright. In fact, it was her hunting that had helped her claim the coveted spot as the tanner’s apprentice. The fact that she shot her kills in the eye every time, wasting none of the hide, or meat, was widely known and respected. The tanner decided that it was more beneficial to choose an apprentice who had ready access to pelts on a consistent basis, even if she was kind of tiny, and a girl to boot.

Once Katniss graduated, she’d start earning a real wage and then things would be even better for her and Prim. Kantiss mused, as she sipped on a small cup of spiced apple cider.

“Mmm,” Prim intoned happily as she chewed on a cranberry she had plucked from her sister’s cup.

“Ok, where do you want to go next?” Prim asked after she had swallowed the tart little berry.

Katniss shrugged, she didn’t really care much for the games or contests at these things. They were just distractions from the food in her opinion. But she knew Prim loved the entire festival, from the stupid bobbing for apples contest to the late night historic recounting the mayor recited every year.

They’d probably end up walking the entire festival circuit twice before the night was over. So Katniss ambled in a random direction while Prim practically skipped at her side.

“Well, if you leave it up to me you know where we’ll end up!” Prim said with a mischievous glint in her eye, before turning in the direction where both sisters could hear short strains of melodies ringing out. The musicians were already tuning their instruments.

That stopped Katniss short, and she groaned.

In times past dancing in the square with Prim had been fun, a way to keep warm as the night grew progressively colder. But recently, in just the past couple of years, Kantiss had come to dread the dancing portion of their festival.

Every year there were more and more boys, who were determined to intrude on their sisterly fun. Always asking to cut in, or if they wanted some cider to drink, or if they wanted something stronger than cider.

Katniss had been tempted to break Corey Carwright’s nose last year when the little sneak kissed Prim’s cheek after she agreed to dance a reel with him. No good, presumptuous little weasel. But Prim had stayed her hand, and the Cartwright boy had given Prim a wide berth for the rest of the festival, and the rest of the year after Katniss had promised hellfire and retribution to any boy foolish enough to make designs on her precious little sister.

Katniss wasn’t anxious for a repeat of last year, and so she dragged her feet when Prim tried to usher her towards the dancing arena set up in the middle of the square.

“Come on, Kantiss!” Prim cajoled with a pleading look as she fixed her large blue eyes into two wide pools of beseechment.

Katniss huffed, and grumbled, and threatened bodily harm to any boy who tried to take liberties, but eventually she gave in and followed her sister. They claimed a coveted spot near to the stage just as Mayor Undersee began his opening speech.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen of District 12! Tonight we celebrate the end to years of tyranny and oppression, a hard fought end to years of hunger and grief. On the 25th anniversary of the last Hunger Games ever fought, we strive to keep the memory of The Last Victor alive. We, of District 12, are honored to have been the District that The Last Victor called home. We are honored and grateful to have been the start of the rebellion that sparked the war that freed all the Districts of Panem, even though it came at a great cost. That is why every year we gather together to make merry on a night that once brought countless families grief. 25 years ago, four families sent away four of their children to fight, and die in the Quarter Quell. That night was filled with tears and a bitter longing for the day when every family would be free of the fear of The Reaping. Then, many more families lost sons and daughters in the war against The Capitol. All of those lives lost, all that blood shed, to bring about one simple thing. It is a freedom every father and mother alive today can now enjoy, as we watch our children play and frolic as children should, without anxiety of a future filled with Reapings. With a future marred by the shadow of The Hunger Games. So tonight, I implore each and every person here, from the age of 2 years old to 92. Be happy! Be merry! Be free! Countless died so that you could see this come to pass. Honor them by making the most of it!”

A great cheer went up as the mayor concluded his speech and the band on the stage took up their instruments and started playing a lively fast tune right away. Prim grabbed her sister’s hand, and Katniss smiled a real smile, large and free, because she was glad she didn’t have to imagine living in a time when her little sister’s name might be called in a Reaping.

She laughed as she and Prim spun around, forgetting about the usual worries of meager finances and a coming winter. And just for a moment Katniss Everdeen was a girl of 17, happy and unburdened.

***~***

She looked radiant as the late fall sunset as she twirled around the square with her little sister. She was wearing a blue wrap dress that floated around her hips and billowed in the breeze underneath her usual too large leather jacket. She had brown colored stockings on, and plain flats on her dainty feet, but her beautiful dark hair was coiled around her head in a maze of intricate braids, with little pieces left to frame her delicate heart shaped face.

Peeta stole glimpses of her from the corner of his eye as she danced song after song with her sister, always turning down any offer she got from the boys her age.

It was a widely known fact that Katniss Everdeen didn’t fraternize with the opposite sex, or anyone for that matter. People had lots of theories as to why. Some speculated that she still held a candle for the miner’s son, Gale Hawthorne who had been recruited out of high school for a specialist engineering program and had relocated to District 2 a few years back. There had been talk that the two of them were an item when Katniss was still in middle school and Gale was in his first year of high school. They were hunting partners for a few years after the mining accident that claimed their father’s lives and forced the new government to revamp the entire mining infrastructure to make it more secure and sustainable. But Peeta always personally thought she didn’t have the look of a girl in love with a memory, or in a long distance relationship. When she came to trade her game at the back door of the bakery, or when he sat beside her in history at school, she had the look of a person who didn’t have the time or energy to waste on romance.

So, for a boy who’d been in love with the same girl since kindergarten, he resolved to bide his time. She might not be ready for romance right now, but maybe she would be one day, when her little sister was settled in her medical training program as the new District doctor, and Katniss herself took over for the tanner.

He could wait, Peeta told himself.

But then Katniss shrugged off her leather jacket and draped it over a nearby chair and suddenly he got to see her newly developed curves in motion. The swaying of her gently rounded hips tested Peeta’s resolve.

He wanted to throw caution to the wind to ask her to dance with him, no matter that she would probably turn him down like every other poor fool before him.

Instead Peeta beat down his more impulsive side and downed more of the spiked cider his friends were passing around, and he chewed on the corner of his bottom lip. He tried very hard to ignore the flush of her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes as she laughed and kicked out her feet in time to the music.

But he wasn’t sure he would ever be successful at ignoring Katniss Everdeen at all.

***~***

As the night wore on, Prim danced more and more with her friends, other girls her age and even a few boys, though Kantiss kept a sharp eye on those coed interactions.

Colin Cartwright steered clear of the Everdeen girls, and stuck mainly to his big sister and her friends, lucky for him. Prim and Katniss even took a few breaks from dancing to play the booth games and eat the cheaper snacks the vendors were selling. The cinnamon twists were especially delicious.

All in all the night was going splendidly. It wasn't until Kantiss was taking a water break from a particularly upbeat rendition of the old District favorite, ‘Still Comes a Crawling to You,’ that things started to go sideways.

Prim bounded up to her with a great big smile on her face, the one that meant she wanted something.

“Katniss, Marcee McAffey invited me to sleep over at her house tonight!” Prim squealed in delight.

Suddenly Katniss’ carefree attitude dissolved into the rapidly cooling air, and a familiar frown started to form on her young face.

“Please say I can go Katniss! It’ll be so much fun! Odette and Gia are going to come as well!” Prim argued preemptively. Katniss was much more comfortable with Odette and Gia, who were residents of Seam street like her and Prim. All three girls were in the medical youth training program as well, with Odette and Gia training to become midwives. But even with the reassurance of the other two girls, Katniss still wasn’t sold on the idea of her little sister staying over at a rich girl’s house in town.

Marcee McAffey was the daughter of the mine doctor. And although Prim came into contact with their family because of the medical training program, the position of mine doctor was still fairly new, having been created only five years before in response to the death of many miners after the last tunnel collapse. The collapse that Katniss and Prim’s father had died in. Officials who investigated the collapse after the fact had argued that if a trained medical professional had been on site at the time of the tragedy, many men could have been saved. So, the government sent Doctor McAffey to District 12 to ensure that if anything like the horrid collapse ever happened again, some of the miners would have a fighting chance.

Despite the fact that Dr. McAffey was well liked by the miners and Seam residents, Katniss still had never gotten over her wariness of him. He and his family were from District 14, or as many still called it, the old Capitol. Even though he was not a part of the generation that had enslaved and oppressed the people of the Districts during the time of the Hunger Games, his grandparents had no doubt grown up in that era.

She worried, however subconsciously, he might think that all District born people were beneath him in some way. Less educated, less cultured, less human.

Katniss had still been a child when her father first explained the concept of the Hunger Games to her, when she came home from school asking questions. She had been unable to understand people, many of them parents themselves, had been ok with sending off children to fight to the death in a horrid pageant of violence. Her father had explained, with some difficulty, that people in the Capitol back in those days had seen the citizens of the Districts as something less than human and therefore, thought almost nothing of sending scores of children to die year after year for their entertainment.

It was a lesson that had shaken her down to her bones, and still shook her to this day. However, her father had also told her that people could change their minds, and their hearts if they truly tried. That was why the districts gave the people of the Capitol another chance, and instead of wiping them all out they opted to vote them in as the 14th District of Panem.

Katniss did not want her little sister staying in the home of people who held to old beliefs of Capitol superiority, but she also didn’t want to judge them without proof. Therefore, she resolved to go meet the McAffees and ascertain what kind of people they were.

Without saying a word, Kantiss grabbed Prim’s hand and marched over to where the Doctor and his wife and daughter were sitting at the edges of the dance area, ignoring Prim’s questions along the way.

“Thank you for inviting Prim to the sleepover. But my mother is very strict about who Prim spends time with,” she stated flatly, without so much as an introduction.

At this statement, Marcee McAffey’s face fell, and Prim let out a shocked little squeak.

Mrs. McAffey looked confused and slightly affronted.

But Dr. McAffey remained remarkably unperturbed.

“Ah, well that’s understandable. Can I assume you’re Katniss, Primrose’s older sister?” At this Katniss nodded, and the doctor continued, “Is your mother here? So that we can meet her and discuss things?” Dr. McAffey asked amiably.

But Katniss simply shook her head.

“My mother wasn’t feeling well enough to come to the festival. But she left me in charge of Prim. I’d like to ask you some questions before I give permission for Prim to go to the sleepover,” Katniss said.

“Katniss!” Her little sister tried to admonish her. Prim was starting to feel embarrassed and annoyed, but Katniss wouldn’t budge.

“Oh, I see,” Dr. McAffey replied with an accepting nod of his head. “What would you like to know?”

“How are you liking it here in District 12?” Katniss asked, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Mrs. McAffey laughed at her question and Katniss frowned, she did not like being laughed at.

She was sure that the woman was amused by the simplicity of her question, and probably thought Katniss was a little dim witted. But Katniss wanted to see what kind of answers they would give. If they would admit to missing District 14 and all its modern conveniences, or if they would try to lie and save face by saying they loved it out here in backwater little District 12 where people still died of black lung and the flu every winter.

But then Dr. McAffey put his hand on his wife’s forearm, in a gentle but restraining manner. And murmured, “Jean,” with a hint of rebuke.

“Forgive my wife, we’ve lived here in 12 for over five years so it seems a little strange for someone to be asking how we like it, this late in the game,” Dr. McAffey explained.

Katniss only narrowed her eyes even further at his choice of words. Game. Was that what his assignment here in District 12 was to him? She wondered.

“But to answer your question, we have made District 12 our home and are happy here. Happier than we could have ever been in District 14.” The doctor elaborated in an even tone.

“Happier? Here in 12?” Katniss asked incredulously.

Dr. McAffey nodded, and seemed sincere. But Katniss wasn’t willing to let it go at that.

“How so?” she prodded, and the doctor smiled gently at her in response.

“If we would have stayed in District 14 we could have had quite a comfortable life. Doctors are needed in every District as you can imagine, but we chose to come here, to 12, so that we could make a difference. Once we heard about the need for medical professionals in the outer districts, we made up our minds to volunteer,” the man told her in a very matter of fact voice.

Katniss blinked back at him in surprise, trying to process what she had just heard. She had always believed that the position of mine doctor had been assigned. She had no idea why anyone from the inner and more affluent districts would volunteer to come out here to a place like 12 where some areas still struggled to get running hot water and reliable electricity.

“Why?” she asked again, posing the question more to herself than anything, but Dr. McAffey still answered her as if she had asked him directly.

“That answer is simple, to repay the Districts for freeing us from the tyranny of President Snow,” Dr. McAffey replied, daring to use the name of the most hated and reviled man who had lived in the past century.

Katniss’ eyes grew wide, at his frankness and his use of Snow’s name. In recent times most people used it in place of a curse.

“You can go with Snow for all I care!” or “Why don’t you keep Snow company in hell!” were common examples. So it was unusual for someone to mention the evil man in casual conversation.

Despite her speechlessness, Dr. McAffey went on.

“A lot of people from the Districts aren’t aware of just how oppressed people from the old Capitol really were under Snow’s regime. They were spied on constantly, in their own homes, watched by the secret police and their own neighbors. Anyone suspected of not conforming to the ideology of Capitol supremacy was turned into a mute slave, or summarily executed. My own grandfather helped treat the surviving Hunger Games’ victors while he was alive. His biggest regret was that he was unable to help the victor from your district, the Last Victor, Haymitch-”

“Don’t-” Katniss interrupted him, with a slight shake of her head. Hearing the Last Victor’s name always upset her for some reason. Maybe because her father always spoke of him with a respect that bordered on reverence, or maybe because his story was just too tragic to remember on a night when everyone was supposed to be celebrating their gains instead of lamenting their losses.

Dr. McAffey simply inclined his head in acquiescence, noting the sheen of her eyes, and the tightness of his lips. He supposed maybe Katniss might have been a distant relative of the man, the hero of 25 years ago who had stood up to the Capitol, to Snow, and all their combined fury and refused to back down.

“My grandfather’s name was Dr. Felix Aurelius and it's because of him I became a doctor. Though he specialized in the healing of the mind, whereas I was only smart enough to become a general practitioner, he implored me to continue working with and for the people of the Districts,” Dr. McAffey elaborated.

“He always said we owed you, especially in District 12, a debt we’d never be able to repay, for opening our eyes, and for giving us the courage to fight back despite the odds being against us,” Dr. McAffey finished his speech in the same quiet and even tone he began it in, but his eyes held a special spark that resonated with Katniss, through and through.

Katniss took a deep breath, and weighed the man’s words in her head with the impression she got from him. She had always been a good judge of character and she trusted her instincts in this case. That and she knew Prim wasn’t a little kid anymore. She was growing up and Katniss would have to start making allowances for her to interact with people her own age. She couldn’t keep her locked up in their little house forever or Prim would start to resent her, which was something Katniss never wanted to happen.

“Alright, Prim can go to the sleepover, as long as it's only girls, and they go straight from the festival to your home, and they are supervised properly the whole time,” Kantiss acknowledged with a small inclination of her head and Prim let out an excited squeal, which Marcee immediately echoed back as she jumped up and wrapped Prim in a girlish hug.

“But just so you know, I’m the best hunter in the district and my mother was apprenticed to the apothecary before she married my father. She knows all sorts of herbs and plants. You take good care of Prim, and all those girls, or you’ll be hearing from us,” Katniss said with as much dignity as a 17 year old could muster while threatening a full grown adult man.

Dr. McAffey did his best to keep his expression neutral even though Katniss thought some part of him might privately be amused at the idea. But Katniss was dead serious when it came to protecting Prim. She was the one person Katniss would give her life for in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

“We could arrange to have Prim call you before bed and also in the morning if that would make you and your mother feel more comfortable,” Dr. McAffey offered graciously, and Katniss felt better about the decision already.

“That would be good, yes,” Katniss accepted the offer with equal grace and Prim turned around and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you!” she whispered into her big sister’s ear. Katniss hugged her back with equal force and whispered instructions to follow should anything go ary.

Then Prim broke away to confer her excitement to Macee, and the two were soon joined by their other friends, Odette and Gia until the four of them resembled a giggling, squealing mass of high pitched anticipation.

Mrs. McAffey came up beside Katniss then and gave her their address and telephone number, with an ironic smile and a comment about how it wasn’t the girls Katniss needed to be worried for, if anything it was them as the adults who’d be outnumbered tonight.

Katniss hid a laugh behind her hand and waved to Prim as the group set off, followed closely by the McAffeys, who walked hand in hand while the girls discussed the sleepover activities they wanted to indulge in, in loud voices.

After their group had disappeared from sight Katniss looked around and found herself alone at the harvest festival for the first time in her life.

It was only nine o’clock and she suddenly had no idea what to do with herself.

***~***

It was nine o’clock and Peeta had no idea what to do with himself. He had danced a few clumsy reels at his friend Delly’s insistence, but none of the girls here tonight left any lasting impression on him.

Well, all except for one, and Peeta couldn’t seem to think up a way to approach her.

He scanned the crowd for her dark braided crown and blue dress, expecting to find her small blond sister by her side.

But no, she was alone, and more than that she seemed almost sad.

This would not do at all.

Peeta wasn’t sure if it was the slightly vulnerable and lost look on her face or the small buzz from the three cups of spiked cider he had consumed over the course of the night but suddenly he found himself walking over to where Katniss stood apart from the crowd, watching the festivities with a detached sort of expression.

When he was about three yards away her gaze suddenly snapped up in his direction as if she could feel him looking at her and gazes locked.

Katniss looked at the blond merchant boy coming towards her.

Well, nowadays Peeta Mellark looked more like a broad shouldered young man and less like the sweet-faced boy who was kind enough to bring over a basket of breads from the bakery when her father died when she was eleven years old.

She glanced around to see if she happened to be standing near one of his friends or something, but she was as alone as she had been when Prim left.

He gave her a small, friendly smile once he reached her. Katniss’ brow only furrowed in confusion.

“Nice night, huh?” Peeta asked casually, as if they chatted all the time. The truth was they had never really spoken before, at least not outside of school and the banal politeness that was expected there.

“It's alright I guess.” Katniss answered suspiciously. She wasn’t sure what he was doing here, approaching her and making small talk.

“You looked like you were having fun earlier, dancing.” Peeta commented and turned to face the area of the square where people were still dancing jovially.

“Uh, yeah. The music’s good this year.” Katniss replied without thinking, because she was still mostly caught off guard that Peeta Mellark was speaking to her. More than that, he had sought her out to have this strange quasi-conversation. He was known to be exceedingly friendly and popular, but he’d never extended that reputation to try and include the district’s solitary and taciturn huntress.

“Yeah. The band’s got a much better fiddler than last year.” Peeta added, still not looking at her but staring now fixedly at the musicians on the stage.

Katniss nodded in agreement, still shooting him confused looks.

“So why aren’t you dancing anymore?” Peeta asked after a moment.

“My sister’s my partner every year. She left.” Katniss replied matter of factly.

“Oh.” Peeta nodded understandingly and stole a sideways glance at her.

“And Prim’s the only one you’ll dance with.” He said it like a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” Katniss replied affirmatively, almost defensively.

“How about food?” Peeta mumbled.

“What?” Katniss asked, turning towards him sharply. His cheeks pinked at her sharp tone.

“Food? Do you like any of the food this year?” He said after he cleared his throat.

“Um…there were these cinnamon things-” Kantiss began,

“Cinnamon twists! Yeah, I made them with my dad this year.” Peeta interjected excitedly, shooting her a proud grin.

Katniss just blinked at his sudden enthusiasm.

“Oh, so I guess that means you were chosen for the apprenticeship to the bakery?” She asked after a moment of too long silence.

“Yes, to the great relief of my father. He was afraid that out of his three sons, none of us had inherited the baking gene.” Peeta replied with a wry chuckle, seemingly unperturbed by her dismal conversational skills. .

“How fortunate for him. And are you ok with that? Becoming a baker?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Oh, yes. I always wanted to keep the family tradition alive. It might not be glamorous but baking puts a smile on people’s faces. I think that’s gotta have some value in the scheme of things.”

Katniss privately thought simple jobs like feeding and clothing people had a lot of value, but she was afraid if she said that out loud it would sound ridiculous, so instead she nodded her head in agreement and studied Peeta out of the corner of her eye.

His cheeks looked windswept and the tip of his nose looked cold, but his blond eyelashes caught the light of the suspended bulbs overhead. They were so long, she wondered how they didn’t get tangled up together when he blinked.

“Would you-”

“Why are you-”

They both started speaking at the same time and shared a quick, awkward laugh.

“You go ahead.” Katniss recovered first and prompted Peeta to speak.

Peeta lifted his right arm and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously before he spoke.

“Do you want to take a turn around the festival together?” Peeta asked cautiously.

“Like, just walking?”

“Well, I thought maybe we could play some games and eat some more of those twists. I could probably get them for free since I know the baker.” Peeta finally said, and he added a playful smirk at the end that almost tugged a smile onto Katniss’ own lips.

Almost.

“Why?” She asked incredulously.

“Because it's a festival, and we should be having fun. I mean, this is all for us you know,” Peeta tipped his chin up toward the festivities, the people dancing and eating, and talking, “It's supposed to be a celebration of our unfettered youth. No more reapings, or hunger games. Just music and dancing and a good time.” He turned towards her then, and gave her a shrug that seemed like an invitation.

Katniss studied him for a moment, his ash blond hair curling over the tops of his ears and his blue eyes that seemed like a piece of the noon day sky broken off and captured in his open stare.

“Ok,” She said, surprising both him and herself.

“Yeah?” Peeta asked, blue eyes practically glowing with poorly contained excitement.

“As long there will be more of those cinnamon twist things.” Katniss said sternly.

“I’ll get you as many as you want, if you show me how you got the top score on the ball toss game.” Peeta promised with a sweet smile, that was just a tiny bit shy and compelling.

“Baked goods first.” Katniss ordered and Peeta laughed deeply and freely as he took her elbow and hurried towards the bakery stand.

Part 2 Coming Soon

#fall 2022 #everlark #thg #fanfiction #autumn #lemonluvwrites #my writing #romance #fall feels #no games au #no reaping

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audiobook-mike · 1 year

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HG who have the best chance of winning BB25 if they made F2: (IMO)

Matt > Jag = Corey > Felicia > America = Cirie > Blue = Mecole = Bowie

Matt - IMO he has the cleanest game, well liked, won comps, has been in multiple alliance, people are reluctant to target him. I have a hard time seeing him get evicted in the near future. He also has the most comp wins of the house (who haven't been evicted).

Jag - Although he has been evicted (which every opponent should say in a F2 speech), he has endured a lot - he's been blamed and scapegoated for a lot and he (along with Corey, Matt, America) were instrumental in flipping the house and changing the power structure of the house.

Corey - He was actually the most important player in flipping the house and taking out Izzy and putting the target on Jared and changing the power structure of the house. He's well liked by the remaining HG's and although he may be targeted alongside America - IMO he has enough of a support structure to survive being on the block next to her (assumed support Matt, Jag, Bowie).

Felicia - She is the only woman in the house with a comp win and she made a big move taking out Hisam (was it a good move though? He was loyal to them) but nonetheless she isn't afraid to make moves. IMO she deserves a bump up ahead of all the other women left solely for having the only win so far.

America - Similar to Jag, she has had a tough road - she has been scapegoated and blamed/targeted by so many people in the early game and survived it. She was also important in helping Cam take out Izzy by swaying Cory despite Cory having good relations to Izzy side and Izzy in particular. But she need some wins and big moves to justify a win over those ahead of her.

Cirie - Started the game with a huge advantage (secret son), used him and his knowledge of the other side to dismantle a week 1 huge alliance. But IMO that wasn't an earned play, that was BB giving her an advantage and playing it correctly. I do give her credit for being a big name and never being on the block. She has a good social game early but for her to win I need her to win an HoH/veto and make some big moves herself.

Blue / Mecole / Bowie - All 3 of these are IMO goat tier (dragged to the final because they are very easy to beat both comp-wise and F2-wise). I would need to see significant game moves being made in the 2nd half of the game for any of these women to even be considered a winner for BB25.

#bb25

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deke-rivers-1957 · 7 months

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Josh Morgan And Jodie Tatum's Rank

Disclaimer: For my tier list I’m basing this off of a one on one fight with no weapons and no outside interference. If a character has to rely on a weapon they’re ranked lower. If a character has to fight more than one person at a time, I’d look at it on a case by case basis. Age, size and general background are factors that will be taken into consideration. Since a lot of those details are going to be up to interpretation as these are characters and not real people, feel free to share your own thoughts.

Kissin Cousins takes place during the height of the Cold War in the 1960s. Based on the military wanting to build a missile base in the movie, we can assume this is a result of the recent Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962. Given how the US launched attacks against possible Cuban airfields throughout 1963-1964, it makes sense to assume that the plan described in the beginning is part of it. No one at the time knew if there would be a nuclear war so the 1960s was spent with the military significantly upgrading their defense systems.

Since Josh and Jodie only fought each other I have to combine their backgrounds and put their sole fight in one post. Neither Josh nor Jodie have a given age but we can assume they're the same age given how "identical" they are. We can get a general idea of age based on Josh being a 2nd LT. pilot in the Air Force. That's the lowest commissioned officer rank you can get. Anyone with knowledge on Air Force ranking can correct me but I would guess that Josh is anywhere between 25-30 years old. Therefore Jodie would also be in that age range. Jodie of course is the "champion wrestler" and still does a lot of physical labor as a mountaineer.

This is a wrestling match if you can call it that. It's mostly pushing, shoving and pawing. Neither one threw an actual punch and no one won. Azalea and Selena broke the two apart before an there was official winner. Therefore this fight ends in a draw.

At face value neither guy shown enough to even deserve a rank. However based on their general backgrounds I would put Jodie above Josh. While they were evenly matched Jodie is in a WAY more athletic condition than Josh. Jodie has to hunt and do a lot of manual labor just so him and his family can live up in the mountains. Without including his "champion wrestler" status, there's little to no room for Jodie to get fat and lazy. With Josh, being an Air Force pilot leaves a lot more room for him to be slightly out of shape. Since he's in the military physical fitness is still a requirement, but he doesn't have the same rigorous fitness routine that Jodie would have on a day to day basis.

Therefore I would put Josh in upper B tier and Jodie in low A tier. I think if we saw more altercations between the two, we would get a better idea. As it stands I would give Jodie the slight edge given that Josh is almost never in a position where he would have to fight someone without a weapon. If Jodie is a champion wrestler, then he would absolutely have an edge as he would in general have more experience.

Tagging: Thank you @xanatenshi, @grizelda71-blog, and @arrolyn1114 for your input.

#elvis fandom #kissin cousins #josh morgan #jodie tatum #kung fu elvis tidbit #elvis tier list

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tgrailwar · 2 years

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Tumblr Holy Grail War: Wave 1 - Day 3 (Team Caster)

Team Caster was defeated by Team Rider...

Dante was a poet first, and a fighter second, so being quickly overwhelmed by a Servant more trained in the art of combat seemed like a foregone conclusion, if not a frustrating one. After a particularly disastrous blow from Rider's club, Dante proferred up the idea of a temporary retreat, potentially absconding from the church and heading into the forest. Exhausted and a bit irritated, he sat down and began muttering to himself.

"Well, mistakes happen… not all battles are meant to be won. God offers us trials to test our resolve, after all, and in the end ultimate victory is brought upon the faithful. We'll return to the church in the morning. Still… one of you mentioned something about his armor. It did seem to resemble something one of the warriors of Troy wore, but I didn't particularly recognize the wearer. Perhaps a descendent…? I'll ponder over this during the night. Knowing that Rider's True Name may offer an advantage."

Dante sustained a wound from fighting! Dante can only take 2 more wounds before losing!

You're now in the 'preparation' phase. Due to the unique nature of your Command Spells, you'll need to agree and decide on their usage BEFORE the next combat scenario. This can either mean:

Spending one Command Spell to give your Servant a temporary (+5%) boost in strength.

Spending two Command Spells to have your Servant recover a wound.

Spending three Command Spells to utilize your Servant's NOBLE PHANTASM, a powerful technique that gives your Servant a grand boost in power, as well as possibly inflicting other secondary effects depending on the Servant.

If a Noble Phantasm is prepared, but the Servant does not engage in combat, the mana from the Command Spells is returned to the team and therefore isn't wasted. This ONLY applies to Noble Phantasms, so if you're using just one for the boost, be sure to fight next round!

As a Caster, Dante can manipulate mana easier than most Servants. His Noble Phantasm costs only 2 Command Spells to use, rather than 3.

While you've lost the battle, you've also gained experience fighting a Servant! With that newfound knowledge, you can gain more of an advantage against them. You can either ponder that information now, or the next time you have 'free time' playing defensively as long as you aren't attacked. Information in a Grail War is important, so the more time you take to learn about your opponents, the better of a chance you have!

Dante's Noble Phantasm:

La Divina Commedia (A) - Does not inflict wounds, but instead provides a 30% debuff to those caught within it for that current round, and the following combat round. Costs 2 Command Spells to use, rather than 3.

#team caster #prep phase poll #thgw story

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romanarose · 2 years

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November 2nd, 2016

Marc Spector x Layla El-Faouly

Summary: Marc and Layla watch the final few minutes of the World Series between Chicago and Cleveland.

A/N IDK timelines of Marc and Layla's relationship, or Marc's time as Moon Knight. But for the sack of this fic, Marc and Layla are married, Marc is Moon Knight, and they are living in Chicago. I know realistically Marc would never live in Chicago again, but I need this okay? Also! If you aren't from the Chicago area you simply would not understand. but my Chicago peeps will get it. It was an emotional day for all of us.

****************

November 2nd, 2016

“Marc, I think it’s happening” Layla was sitting on her knees on the couch, looking between the tv and her husband, nervously.

“SSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! You’ll jinx it!!!” Marc was on the edge of his couch, eyes glued to the TV as he waved off Layla, then muttered. “I’ll believe it when I see it…”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so goddamn superstitious.”

“I’m not superstitious!” He practically bounced as he watched the baseball game on the small TV in their tiny studio apartment. “I am… a little sticious…” He muttered once again, under his breath. It was close. So close. Too fucking close. He told himself he wasn’t getting his hopes up… and yet…

“Baby, if they don’t win…” Layla nervously started.

“I’ll be fine, I promise” Marc would not be fine.

Layla knew he’d go for a walk and freeze his ass off, working out his frustration and come home, pretending he was fine, and everything was okay, but he’d mope all week. She knew Marc was in a fragile emotional state, she didn’t want this to be the thing that set him spiraling. Layla knew how much this mattered to him. Baseball was Marc’s escape. Growing up, he didn’t have much after his brother died, but he had sports, especially baseball. His knowledge was damn near encyclopedic. She envisioned him alone in his room for hours on end, trying not to catch his mom's attention, quietly pouring over books and cards and stats.

This year, the rumblings of the league were of a possible world series win for the cups after over a hundred years. Marc had sworn he wasn’t getting his hopes up this time, but she knew. She knew he was banking on this.

And god, didn’t Marc deserve a win? Felt like he had been waiting on a win longer than the Cubs.

Marc was fucking bouncing in his shitty $20 couch. It had looked bad at the start, but the Cubs had caught up, soon enough taking the lead. Cleveland was up to bat with two strikes, Cubs only one point ahead. Cleveland fucking hits the ball.

“Layla… LAYLA!” Marc felt like he could throw up.

“Hold on!” Layla was on her feet on the couch, crouching. Marc’s excitement was palpable, she was feeding off his energy.

The ball was thrown.

“LAYLA?!?!?“ Marc shouted, as if Layla had any control over the outcome of the game.

Rizzo catched it.

The Cubs won the world series.

“MARC!!!!!!” Layla screamed, standing up on the couch.

Marc stood up so fast he amost knocked over their coffee table. Fuck were those tears? He was too stunned to speak, it didn’t feel real. “Layla? Did that just happen?” He was still staring at the TV in shock.

“Yes! We won baby! They did it”

Marc turned around to see his beautiful wife. She didn’t care about baseball, but she cared about him. A win for the Cubs was a win for him, which was a win for her. He threw up his arms and screamed, smiling wildly “WE DID IIIIIIT!!!”

Layla began cheering as she jumped on the couch. The piece of junk folded in onder her, and he immediately dove to Marc, knowing he’d catch her. He did, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him as he spun her around, whooping and cheering.

“Wait! Baby I broke the couch!” She tried to tell him.

He stopped, taking her in for a wet, passionate kiss. “You think I care about that? Right now, this” Marc waved at the celebration on the TV “Is all I care about!”

108 years. He thought it was over in 2008 when the course was supposed to be broken. Layla was right, he was superstitious. Marc Spector had been waiting for this moment his entire life, waiting to see the Cubs win. He had wanted it to be with Randell. The world series before his death, when the Cubs inevitably lost, Randell talked of his bg plans for ‘next year, when they win’ He said he wanted to going out in the street and shout and cheer like he’d seen the winning team’s cities do on TV. Randell, of course, never lived to see this. Marc did. Why him, he’d never know.

If you had told Marc in his teens, his 20’s or even most of his 30’s that he’d be alive in 2016, he would believe you. He always figured he’d die young. By his mom, marines, Khonshu’s biding or wrath, suicide a few times. He had long given up hope of seeing this moment. On seeing any semblance of happiness in his life. But here he was with his drop dead stunning wife and his favorite team winning the championship for the first time in his lifetime.

There was a lot else going on. Layla’s father, Steven, his mom still causing him problems, Khonshu always in his ear… but those were tomorrow's problems. Right now, his entire world seemed put together as he kissed the woman he loved.

He set Layla down, but held her hand as he dragged her out the door, only stopping to grab his keys and wallet.

“Marc!” She squealed “Where are we going?!”

“To celebrate with our city” the way Randall wanted… He felt giggy, the kind of unfiltered joy he rarely allowed himself to feel, rarely felt deserving of.

He pulled her down the stairwell and joined the mass of crowds in the street, buying shots for him and her and a few people that were standing nearby. Marc Spector was not one for crowds, not one for touching or shouting. And yet, he found himself cheering and hugging and drinking everyone in sight.

3 hours later, he and Layla giggled as they stumbled their ways back into the apartment, colpaping on the broken couch. Again, tomorrow's problems.

Layle laid on top of Marc, kissing him. “I’m so happy for you baby, you deserved this”

His hands found her hair, and he entangled his fingers in her as he felt Layla drag her body between his spread legs. She kissed down his neck, only to pop up, making eye contact as her lips quipped up in a cheeky smile. “Celebration blowjob?”

********************

I was working in McDonalds in South Dakota my sophmore year of college that night, slow day. I kept popping back into the kitchen to ask how the game was going. They were listening on the radio. I ever thought it would happen, I didn't pay much attention. Suddenly shouts came from the kitchen, they called me over and informed me that it happened. It finally fucking happened. I had an awful year. Like I can never 7 traumatic events that happened in the course of 18 months prior. I broke down crying in the middle of goddamn McDonalds.

I needed that win, and so did Marc.

@aduckinpain

#marc spector #layla el faouly #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector fluff #marc spector fanfic #chicago cubs #marc spector chicago

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