#1983 world cup final

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[zepskies]

Lost on You - Epilogue

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Here we go, the end of the ride. 💚

Song Inspo: “Lost on You” by Cubaneros

Word Count: 1.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, but mostly fluff, and an ending…

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Epilogue: As Good As It Gets

Arthur was still lying low in Belize, but he was able to do you one last favor. A wire of money allowed you, John, and Ben to travel across the Atlantic—to Medellin, Colombia. There Ben took you to one of his old vacation houses.

It was a large, beautiful Spanish style house. Best of all, it was in a remote location on the cusp of a mountainside, complete with a scenic waterfall. It was like something out of Vought Geographic. You needed to take a helicopter just to get to this place.

It was the best security Ben could think of.

He had plans to renovate and beef up the surveillance of the property itself. Then you would be able to have your brother Chris and his family visit. You hadn't been able to see him or your nephew before leaving the U.S. again, but you had called Chris from the airport to let him know you were alive and well, and that you would see him soon, when it was safe.

But before all of that, there was one very important item of business you and Ben were handling together in the living room, while John was outside swimming laps in the pool.

A phone dock rested on the coffee table. The call was on speaker.

“That child represents a multi-million-dollar investment,” said Stan Edgar.

“You should’ve thought about that before you shipped us off to motherfucking Siberia,” Ben snapped. “Hell, before you decided to steal my goddamn DNA. But guess fucking what. He’s my son. He belongs with me.”

You gave him a look of pride, resting a hand on his thigh in support. He glanced at you and grabbed your hand.

“You’re not leaving me with much recourse here, Soldier Boy,” Stan replied.

Ben leaned forward. He took that as a very real threat.

“If you come after me or my family, I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen,” he said. “First off, you’re going to lose. Fucking miserably. Next, I’m going to make my way back States’ side, and I’m coming for you, Stan. You and your whole fucking world, down to the family dog. Then I’ll burn Vought to the ground and piss on whatever’s left. And then the whole world can know that I’m alive, and just who lied to them for a damn decade.”

You were uneasy with that threat, but you knew he meant it.

The other line was silent.

“Or, you can unfreeze my bank accounts and put them back in my name,” said Ben. “I’ll do you the giant fucking favor of staying where I’m at, and I never have to hear from any of you cocksuckers again.”

After another long moment, an exhale of breath came from the speaker.

“You’ll have access to your accounts by end of business today,” Stan said.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” Ben said, his tone infused with both anger and sarcasm.

He hung up the phone with a mild slam, and he leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his mouth and beard. You smiled and managed to get up off the comfy couch, just to settle yourself into a more comfortable seat across his lap. Ben welcomed you with a supportive hand molding to your lower back, and another running up your thigh. You cupped his cheek.

“Look at my man, all protective and clever at negotiations,” you teased. You leaned in to kiss the other cheek. Ben smiled reluctantly.

“Yeah, well, I think he got the idea.”

“Mhmm,” you agreed. Your lips moved over his, and you treated him with progressively dirtier kisses. When you slowly pulled away to speak, your voice was husky, laden with sensuous teasing. “Now we can go on a proper honeymoon.”

Ben chuckled against your lips. “Already want to spend my money, huh?”

“It’s our money now,” you playfully retorted. (But you were serious.)

He scoffed, though he thumbed at the shining ring on your finger. You two got married the very night you set foot in Colombia.

“Besides, if you can’t spoil your pregnant wife, who can you spoil?” you said, with a sly smile.

Ben eyed you wryly. “So that’s why you said yes.”

You framed his face in your hands. Now you were serious.

“I would’ve married you even if you never had another dime to your name,” you said. “Even if we had to spend the rest of our lives in hiding.”

When he searched your eyes, he eventually found whatever he was looking for. He guided you down for a real kiss, hungry and claiming. His hands began to move down your body with purpose.

A whoosh of air preceded a pair of smallish feet landing in front of the couch. You and Ben parted, seeing John standing there all wet from the pool.

“Why’re there so many brown people here?” he asked. “I can see them in the town down there.”

You and Ben shared a perturbed look. You were the first to recover, turning to John.

“Well, we’re in South America. You’re going to see people of all shades and skin tones, and different races too.”

John seemed to process that information for a few seconds. Then he shrugged.

“Okay,” he said. “Hey, can we have hot dogs for dinner?”

“It might be hard to get that here, but uh, I’ll have someone look into it,” Ben said. “Hey, grab a towel before you get the rug all wet.”

The man was getting impatient at being interrupted, you sensed. You soothed a hand over his chest.

John zipped out in flight, and came back with a fuzzy towel to wrap himself in.

“This place is so big!” he said, bouncing on his feet. His excited smile was endearing. “And all the rooms are big. And all of them have a TV. Can we watch another movie tonight?”

You smiled indulgently. “Sure. Which one do you want to watch next?”

“Jurassic Park! The dinosaurs look so real, like they’re really eating people. Ooh, no, let’s watch Scarface. The cover looked cool.”

Ben was ready to agree to Scarface, but you vetoed.

“Uh, no, we’re not doing Scarface just yet. Jurassic Park is okay,” you said. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and we’ll have lunch.”

John nodded. He half ran, half flew up the stairs to his room. You shook your head with a sigh.

“That kid’s going to need all kinds of therapy,” you said.

Ben shot you a stern look. “My son doesn’t need a fucking shrink. He’s not crazy.”

“Well, he’s not normal either,” you argued. “Who knows how else they brainwashed him. For his whole life, ten years. It’s different even from what you and I went through…and I’m still not okay.”

Ben’s tight expression faded somewhat. He swept a thumb across your cheek.

“But are you happy here?” he said.

“What?” you asked. Not because you didn’t understand him, but because his question genuinely surprised you, and even more when he doubled down, staring into your eyes with a weight in his own.

“Are you?” he pressed. “Is this really what you want?”

You read the conflict in him, the flash of uncertainty behind his otherwise stoic face. It was something you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. You smiled, as tears welled up in your eyes.

“It’s exactly what I want,” you said.   

 He gradually smiled back, albeit more reserved. “All right.”

“And you?” you prodded. “Are you okay with…you know, early retirement?”

Ben let out a long breath. “Look, I started with Vought in 1944. That’s 50 years since. A goddamn lifetime,” he said. “I’ve made more money than the fucking Beatles. Drugs, booze, women, fame. Everyone in the world knew my name. I had everything…and a lotta jack squat.”

He moved his hand over yours, resting on your stomach. It took him a moment, but he dropped another confession.

“Before you, I would’ve always had nothing.”

Emotion tightened in your throat. Tears slipped down your cheeks, no matter how quickly you swept them away.

“So you’re saying thank you,” you said cheekily. He smirked.

“I suppose I am,” he said, staring into your eyes. “Thank you.”

Your emotions continued to bubble over as you read the sincerity in his. You leaned in to steal a kiss, but first, you whispered near his lips.

“You stole my line.”

AN: and there we have it! Another rocky road to a happy ending. 🥹

I hope you enjoyed the 80s and 90s vibes, the canon divergences, the character development, and all the twists! I'd love to know what you think. 💚

I'm also working on another shorter Soldier Boy x POC!Reader series called Unravel Me, but I don't have a release date on that one yet. It's still in development. 😉 Until then, I hope you had fun with this series. In some ways, it was even more of a challenge than Break Me Down!

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[sccpmccabe]

"Women will not be allowed to practice sports that go against their nature, and for this purpose, the National Sports Council must issue the necessary instructions to the country's sporting entities”, said decree-law 3,199 of April 14, 1941. The article was created during the Vargas Era and was in force until 1983. During all this time, he banned, among the sports considered masculine, the practice of women's football in Brazil".

These were years of oppression. Years of struggle, losses, achievements, tears, sweat and lots and lots of blood. It has only been 41 years since the practice of football by women was allowed in Brazil and all the investment and visibility of this sport came in even more recent times, but still and as always, we overcame all adversities.

With just 41 years of freedom we managed to create a name and reputation for our women's team, we brought in important names that entered the history of the sport such as Sissi, Formiga and the most known of all, Marta. With all this history, we have two silver medals in Olympic games, third places in World Cups, several Copa América titles and football that enchants almost everyone.

Tonight, once again, we make history and exceed the world's expectations. After 16 years, the women's football team returns to compete in an Olympic final, beating France, the home team (and this being the first time in history that Brazil has won) and even more recently the current world champion, Spain, a team with countless strong and highly skilled players.

I can't express in words all the pride I feel for these women just for the fact that they exist, but even more so now that we're back to a time of glory even after a terrible group stage, but football is like that, at some point you're at the top of the world and in the next second you could be on your knees on the pitch, shedding tears over a lost game.

Minutes after the match, Jenni Hermoso gave the following statement to Spanish radio: "We conceded four goals from a team that, for me, doesn't play football. But in the end what matters are the goals. I believe these were our faults. We don't play our football. They study us, they know how to hurt us, for me it's not football. I don't like this type of football. Obviously, they gained minutes, they lost you time, and for them, that was worth it. They're in the final and we're going for bronze."

Even with everything we have achieved in such a short time and with immeasurable difficulty, they still try to diminish us, our achievements, our struggles. But the message at the end of all this is this: You may not like us, how we play, how we vibe, how we cheer on and off the field, our celebrations and seeing us at the top, but that doesn't matter because back in 1941, the majority didn't like it either, but still Here we are. In search of glory, once again.

[waynes-multiverse]

Don't Blame Me (3.01)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x FBI Agent!Reader

Season 3 Summary: The deeper you fall into the world of all things supernatural, the more the lines between right and wrong begin to blur. With a little help from some magical friends, can you finally change the Winchesters' fate and give them the happy ending they deserve?

Warnings: 18+, language, flashbacks with enemies to lovers vibes (SPN S2 & 3 are saying hi 👋), canon adjacent re-writes, same old S2 cliffhanger (I'm genuinely sorry lol)

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Welcome back, guys!!! It's seriously been way too long. I got distracted with life and a ton of other projects, but I'm so happy to share more of those two knuckleheads 🤍

This will not be updated regularly but as much as I can. Thank you for understanding 🫶

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1. Lemons

November, 2006

One by one, people rushed out of the elevator, all either busy on the phone, stuck in research papers or the casual morning conversation with a colleague, until the stuffy thing eventually reached the 27th floor of the Hoover building, the ding not coming soon enough as you impatiently tapped your heels on the dingy linoleum before hurrying to your desk with a heavy stack of files.

You’d been up all night, racking your brain till your skull almost broke. It certainly felt like it a few times last night, catching yourself reaching for the wine glass more often than you used to, sometimes even wishing it were something stronger, like whiskey or a goddamn shot of tequila.

Unfortunately, a comfortable level of alcohol made the gruesome pictures that lived rent-free in your head slightly more blurry, and was a cure-all for a goodnight’s sleep. Better than NyQuil, or anything else you could get over the counter at the pharmacy at least.

But that’s the thing about signing up as an FBI profiler and specializing in missing children – there would never be a peaceful night for you ever again, and you knew that. You were fine with that deal, though, because in the end, you always helped the ones that needed it the most, which was probably the best sleeping pill of all.

Halfway through a cup of the blackest coffee and a bowl of sugary cereal to keep the engine running, a shadow cast over your cubicle before a folder unceremoniously dropped down in front of you. Curious as you were, you ignored the messenger at first and immediately pried open the folder, skimming over its contents.

Dean and Samual Winchester. Brothers. Born in 1979 and 1983, respectively. No noteworthy jobs. No steady address since 1983 – the year their mother was killed in a house fire. The younger one went to Stanford, pre-law, but dropped out a year ago after his girlfriend passed – also in a fire. Huh. Their father then died a few months ago in a hospital, while the brothers still continue to aimlessly drive around the country in a black ‘67 Chevy Impala, committing crimes along the way. Certainly, a lot of death seemed to surround that strange family and accompany them wherever they went.

“Can you get a profile going for me?” The deep, gruff voice ripped you from your trance and caused you to blink up at the man before you for the first time.

“Uhm, and who are you?” FBI agents were typically rude, stand-off-ish, and generally unpleasant to deal with. Everyone essentially thought they were a big shot, and the guy’s giant ego in front of you seemed to be no different.

“Special Agent Viktor Henriksen,” he introduced himself, a crooked smile shaping his lips. “And you’re Y/N Heller, top of your class at Columbia. Your boss says you’re the best one he’s got, and I need the best for those two. They’re a special kind of fucked in the head.”

You smiled half-politely at him, biting back the sigh, and said through your teeth, “Well, let me be the judge of that, Dr. Phil.”

“Oh, trust me. You’ll come to the same conclusion, sweetheart,” Henriksen replied cockily, making you clench your jaw at his little nickname for you. Guys in the FBI were the fucking worst. All of them were a bunch of competitive, cocky, alpha assholes. “I need a profile ASAP. They’re on the road and already have a couple of murders under their nasty belt. I know they’ve only just begun.”

You frowned slightly at the armchair analysis. Everyone always thought they knew everything. Funny how all those experts still seemed to need you, though.

And well, your first instinct told you the brothers weren’t as twisted as Henriksen made them out to be as you studied the folder in front of you once more. All you saw so far was a lot of trauma and some misguided notions that surely required extensive therapy – maybe even a pill or two.

“I’ll get right on it.” You gave him a resolute nod and accepted the case. Your curiosity was piqued, but not for the reasons Henriksen probably hoped it was. Either way, you needed more information first before giving a final judgment.

January, 2007

Henriksen stormed into the little trailer with you in tow, several heads turning your direction and bodies ducking out of the way as a group of police officers scowled at the two of you. Your superior bickered with the lead detective for a good fifteen minutes about jurisdiction, a true dick measuring contest, while your head was still with the young woman you interviewed at the jewelry store an hour ago.

Sam and Dean Winchester had taken Milwaukee under besiege – or rather a bank. Which you, frankly, found quite the odd duck. You really hadn’t taken the criminal duo for bank robbers. Petty theft? Sure. A full-on, big bank robbery with hostages and witnesses and TV cameras? Not so much.

You knew they used fake credit cards to keep themselves afloat – you collected their receipts religiously like your mother cutting out coupons from the papers. But maybe the brothers finally got tired of filling out one stupid application form after the next and needed a quicker fix. So, why not rob a bank?

Crazy people usually do crazy things.

However, speaking with a few witnesses of a jewelry store the brothers frequented earlier that day only left you with more questions buzzing in your mind. The two of them seemingly became even bolder, pretending to be FBI agents this time to inquire about a recent robbery – another odd thing to do.

Were they checking out the competition? And on top of it all, the oldest Winchester also cheerily flirted his way into the store clerk’s goddamn panties.

Patriot my ass, you thought with a scoff, repeating the words of the young woman. Who would do such a thing? You didn’t know whether to be offended or appalled.

There was a little itch in your gut that told you something was definitely off about the brothers, and it bothered you that you still hadn’t figured out what it was. No matter what evidence landed on your desk, you could never quite put your finger on it.

Nevertheless, the facts remained the same: Dean Winchester committed at least one murder and was a main suspect in several others. And together with his little brother, like a co-dependent Bonnie and Clyde, they frolicked randomly throughout the country, committing crimes that ranged from petty theft to grave desecration and, in a recent development, murder. They were raised on the road by a grieving ex-marine and never knew a real home, aside from cheap motels and an old car. Talk about “screwed for life.”

Judging by the ruthlessness of the crimes, however, the profile of the perpetrator simply didn’t fit the Dean Winchester of the infamous stories, heard in whispers around the Hoover hallways.

Furthermore, chatting to a few alive victims and witnesses of past cases in your research journey only led to more question marks than closure points. Every single person, young to old, male to female, poor to rich, all described the older Winchester as kind, sweet, and utterly charming. Could it all just be an act? The seductive means to a bitter end? The Manson and Bundy of the 21st century?

But then you also had to consider the source of their supposed crimes, the reason they did what they did. And well, if you asked the Winchesters personally, they’d probably claim they’re saving the world from real-life, flesh-eating monsters and whatnot.

Monsters – the stupidest thing you’d ever fucking heard. Did these grown men really believe in vampires and ghosts like two little kids? Or was it just a clever ruse to scam people? Some long con like those paranormal investigators and psychics, which everyone knows is just bullshit served in a crystal ball.

On the other hand, you had treated patients with a shared psychosis before, a folie à deux, but the brothers certainly took the whole goddamn cake and ate it, too.

Still, there were too many other puzzle pieces in play that simply didn’t fit, finding yourself surrounded by loose ends. You’d always hated those.

“You know, if I come to more field adventures with you, maybe I should finally get a gun, huh?” You smirked at your grumpy superior.

The bank robbery marked your third time away from your boring desk. Henriksen asked you for help with a few of his other cases as well, seemingly having taken a liking to you – a rare thing indeed. The guy was usually a hardass, and it took you a few weeks of schmoozing to win him over. However, once Henriksen had taken you under his wing, he had promised that if you proved yourself, he’d put forward his recommendation for your special agent training at Quantico’s academy and mentor you.

That was all you’d ever wanted. Truthfully, when the FBI recruited you during your master’s at Columbia, you’d never thought once about taking a weapon into your own hands and storming a building. But you wanted to do more, help more than what you could achieve from your boring, gray cubicle.

“You’re not ready for a gun yet, rookie. I don’t want you to fucking shoot me.” Henriksen laughed tauntingly and picked up the phone, ready for his threatening call to the brothers after you thoroughly coached him on what to say to get them to crack. “I’ll teach you how to shoot when we get back to DC, alright? Then it’s just you and me and the gun range, rookie.”

“Just remember to stick to the script, alright?” you reminded him with a frown, which only earned you a dismissive eye roll.

Of course, your superior didn’t stick to your profile and invented his own little background story, which was only remotely along the lines of your analysis.

What surprised you, though, was how defensive the older Winchester became upon the mention of his dead father, hearing the inconsolable grief in his voice even over the strained phone line. He sounded lonely and lost, and it admittedly tore on your heartstrings a little. Losing a parent was never easy, and you couldn’t help but sympathize – even if he technically was a potential killer during an on-going bank robbery and threatening the lives of around ten hostages.

And then, poof.

Never did you think there was any way the Winchesters could possibly escape the crime scene. Henriksen had that bank building locked down, sealed, and surrounded. And yet, the brothers still fled the awaiting claws of law enforcement, escaping with a clever plan straight out of a movie.

In all honesty, you were impressed – and slightly more baffled.

April, 2007

April finally marked a big break in the Winchester case. The brothers were caught during a break-in at a museum in Arkansas, and while Henriksen and his partner Reidy celebrated their big win like Olympic gold, you weren’t entirely sure it was even a participation trophy, finding the whole situation oddly suspicious.

It seemed too easy, and even though your superior told you to just accept it and grab a beer, you obviously couldn’t. Henriksen was cocky and eager, and Reidy was a downright idiot, so it was up to you to convince them you were right – which never worked. The men always loved to tune you out. You’d learned a while ago you had to work twice as hard as any man ever would just to be seen and heard.

Standing in the little gray and bleak room of the Green River County Detention Center, you watched Henriksen and Reidy through the one-way mirror as they interrogated the oldest Winchester, who seemed to collect a few drops of sweat on his forehead once he realized the FBI was involved. While you wished you could be in the room with them, laying down the law, you always loved the advantage of watching a suspect’s interrogation. This was where you truly learned all about a person of interest.

On top of it, this was a special occasion as it marked your first real observation of the brothers. It was more than boring black letters on a simple white sheet of paper, stuffed in a folder with a bunch of crime scene photos. The brothers were finally in a cage without an escape, and you were gifted the joyous task of studying them like zoo animals. Every facial twitch, every nervous tap of a finger, every insecure lick of chapped lips was noted by your brain and added to your overall analysis.

“And after Milwaukee, your brother is now a suspect in a murder case himself. I’d say for you two, ‘screwed to hell’ is a major understatement,” Henriksen told the older brother in his usual cocky attitude, which caused your eyes to roll back into your head.

The Milwaukee murder case was the strangest thing as of yet. One of the bank hostages was killed, and yet, that same hostage emerged alive and swore she did not have a twin sister. Neither were there ever any hospital records of a twin, albeit there was a dead body that looked like an exact replica of that woman. How was this possible? And more importantly, what did it all mean?

“Well, where there’s life there’s hope, huh?” Dean smiled up at the two agents, and you assumed he really had to believe that, considering the prickly situation he found himself in.

“See? That’s what I kept thinking as I was searching for your asses all over hell and gone,” Henriksen smirked and leaned closer to Dean over the metal table, which was the usual FBI dick move of intimidation. “Your dad taught you well. The way you cover your tracks, and after Milwaukee, the way you vanished,” your superior whistled lowly, which coaxed a soft laugh out of the suspect. He seemed to be proud of his escape, which, frankly, you couldn’t blame him for. It was pretty awesome. “Near went nuts trying to find you. Ask him,” Henriksen nodded to Reidy.

“He near went nuts,” Reidy confirmed, and you tried not to puke into the closest trash bin.

Honestly, “near went nuts” was the understatement of the year. That idiot Reidy didn’t even go through half the shit you went through when Henriksen stormed into your apartment at 3am and woke you up by slamming a bunch of files on your mattress.

Incidents like that weren’t a rare occasion, either. They happened quite often, and it was safe to say that Henriksen was positively obsessed with the brothers, which in return, was pretty common for FBI agents. Most of you were like bloodhounds, and once someone caught a trail, they would start digging and never stop until they held a bone between their pointed teeth.

“Shit,” you muttered when the public defender stormed into the room to save your main suspect from his interrogation.

Quickly exiting the room, you went across the hall and snuck into Sam’s, knowing you only had a few minutes before the attorney would fetch him, too. As your colleagues only made little progress with the oldest Winchester, you decided to pursue your own course of action and look for answers, hoping the younger brother was more willing to talk than his counterpart.

“Sam Winchester? I’m, uh… Dr. Heller. I’m a profiler with the FBI.” Smooth. Technically, you’d never interrogated someone on your own before. Usually, you’d sit in while Henriksen asked the hard questions, whispering your suggestions into his ear as you observed the suspect’s demeanor.

“FBI? Great,” Sam murmured with a huff, clearly not amused. He seemed annoyed to be stuck here, which wasn’t unusual for any criminal in his shoes. Still, something seemed different about his irritation as if it was geared toward someone specific, most likely his own brother.

“Yep, you and your brother made quite the headlines in DC,” you noted as you carefully took a seat opposite him. “Look, uhm, can I ask you a couple of questions?”

The younger Winchester scoffed. “Do I have a choice?”

“Kinda? I mean, it’s not like I’m here for official business or anything. I don’t even know if it’s legal,” you spluttered.

Sam furrowed his brow at the waterfall of words. “What?”

“Uh, nothing.” Subtly clearing your throat, you folded your arms on the table and took a deep breath. “I just need a few answers, okay? Off the record. I’m just-, I’m curious,” you admitted.

Leaning back in his chair with narrowed hazel eyes, Sam placed his cuffed hands in his lap and studied you. “Okay…?”

“Listen, I’m not an agent, but my two colleagues are, and they want you and your brother behind bars, preferably with the death penalty hanging over your heads,” you told him truthfully and swallowed the lump in your throat. “But, uhm…”

“But what?” Sam now leaned forward, titling his head in intrigue.

“But if you really didn’t commit these murders… if your brother didn’t, then you need to tell me who did,” you said and caught his gaze.

“Why would you say that?”

“Isn’t it true?” You shrugged your shoulders and sent him a small smile, which he mirrored. That was when you knew for sure your gut was right about the brothers from the start, but you still didn’t feel any closer to the truth.

“So, you think my brother’s not a killer?”

You chuckled. “Didn’t say that. I just don’t see him as the cold-blooded type. Crime of passion? Maybe, but the victims were all strangers to you guys, right?” Sam nodded, and you felt confident enough to continue, “None of the crimes fit the supposed perpetrators, which doesn’t happen that often. So, who killed all those people if it wasn’t you or your brother?”

Sam broke a smile, shaking his head, the mop of hair moving with him. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

You cocked your eyebrow. “What? The monsters thing?”

The younger Winchester just stared you straight in the eye and wet his lips before there was a noticeable shrug of his broad shoulders.

Great, you were dealing with delusional loonies.

“Told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” he smiled triumphantly.

You squinted your eyes at him. “You got caught on purpose, didn’t you?”

Another shrug.

“Why? Is there a monster here, too?” you snorted your question in mock.

“Ghost, actually.”

“Huh.” You frowned and tapped your fingernails against the metal surface. “You know I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth, Sam.”

“You can’t help me either way,” he said simply as if he had already accepted his fate. “Wanna know what I think?”

“Please.”

“If you didn’t believe me even a little, you wouldn’t have come in here to talk to me in the first place,” Sam mused cleverly, earning him a scoff from you.

“Sorry, but I’m not crazy. If you don’t wanna talk to me, that’s fine. Have it your way then.” With that, you rose from your seat and walked to the exit, pronouncing it a hopeless case.

“It’s not crazy if it’s true, though,” Sam added before you closed the door behind him.

You were greeted by the defense attorney and your two colleagues, who accompanied a cuffed Dean Winchester into Sam’s room for their counseling before Henriksen shot you a raised look upon your break of protocol.

“Uh, I was just checking on Mr. Winchester’s mental health for his psych eval,” you excused your behavior with a clear of your throat.

“Hey, why didn’t I get the pretty agent?” Dean threw in and grinned tauntingly at your superior before flirtatiously wiggling his eyebrows at you, deliberately scanning your figure like any low-life criminal would.

And yet, here you were, not buying into whatever he was trying to sell you as you met his green eyes and recognized it was all just a façade. For a moment, it even felt like he realized you knew and saw right through him.

“What can I tell ya? We left her a choice, and she chose the handsome one,” Henriksen retorted, smirking broadly.

“Ouch. So hurtful today,” Dean muttered in jest as the agents shoved him inside the bare room and shut the door behind him, breaking his eye contact with you.

“Going rogue?” Henriksen raised an eyebrow as soon as his attention was back on you, ripping you from your momentary stupor. You offered him a sheepish shrug as a response. “Did you at least find something out we can use?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I think they’re planing to break out.”

Henriksen laughed loudly, the sound mocking in nature. “Oh, they can try all they want. They’re not gonna MacGyver outta this one.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you cut into his laughter, causing it to halt as he threw you an annoyed look. “I’m just saying… they’re highly delusional. They actually believe all the bullshit they’re selling. They live in their own world and play by their own rules.”

“Yeah, well, the real world is starting to catch up with them,” Henriksen retorted. “Don’t worry. They’re not getting out, and come Tuesday, we’ll have them locked up tight in a Super Max, preferably with a straitjacket, but I’ll leave the details up to you.”

“Great, thanks.” You scowled deeply.

But when Tuesday rolled around, you were able to deliver a big, fat ‘I told you so’ to your superior instead, as the Winchesters managed to escape once again. Gone with the wind.

February, 2008

The last ten months remained quiet as you went through your special agent training at Quantico and finished your Psy. D. thesis before going on your first few assignments as Henriksen’s new partner. Most days, he still called you rookie, although just to tease you.

Your twenty-third case then landed you in the hospital with a life-threatening stab wound. After two surgeries and a short-lived coma, you were in the green, according to the gazillion doctors and tests at least. You quickly found your old spirit again when a new lead about the Winchester case came in – the first one in goddamn months. Naturally, Henriksen rushed right to Colorado, where the brothers were supposedly held by police, while you annoyed your doctors for an early discharge. Without any luck, though.

Regardless, your partner swore to keep you updated and reserve the main interrogation until you were back on your feet, so every time your phone buzzed on the plastic bedside table, you hurried to answer it, awaiting any news.

“Would you slow down? You’re only gonna hurt yourself more,” Patrick reminded you with a chuckle as he handed you your vibrating phone before you could clumsily tumble out of the narrow bed.

“Don’t you wanna get them, too?” you smiled at the young prosecutor in the creaking chair next to you.

“Oh, I can’t wait to grill them on the stand,” he grinned in return.

“See? But not without my files you won’t,” you smirked and joyfully picked up, recognizing the Colorado area code on your display. “Special Agent Heller, hello?”

“We got ‘em,” your partner’s voice chimed cheerfully through the phone. “Live and in flesh. Just talked to them.”

“You didn’t threaten them, did you? If you come in with a wrecking ball, they’re gonna block me when I’m trying to talk to them. I’ve told you this,” you reminded him sternly but were unable to hide the grin fully.

“Relax,” Henriksen brushed you off, and you were sure there was an eye roll involved. “I promise I had a very cordial chit-chat with them.”

“Uh-huh.” You frowned and teased, “Why don’t I believe you?”

In response, a deep chuckle rumbled through the phone. “Get better and get that ass out of that hospital bed, rookie. I’ll call you as soon as I have those two on a plane to DC, alright?”

“I’ll be happily waiting by the airport bar.”

Needless to say, that call never came, and the Winchesters never made it to DC – neither did your partner. Everything changed after Henriksen’s death, but most of all, you.

September 2008

As the sun downed outside your office window after a long day that just added to an endless row of long days, another shadow crawled across your desk and disturbed your solitude as you pressed pause on the Wu-Tang Clan and removed your headphones.

“Special Agent Dr. Heller?”

This time, you even glanced up, considering they had at least managed to call you by your full title. “Brown-nosing straightaway. I like it,” you cast a grin on your lips and deadpanned, “If you leave your case file on the stack with the others, I’ll make sure to prioritize it, mm-kay?”

The young agent smacked his lips, bobbing his head. “Uhm, actually, I’m your new partner. Special Agent Owen Slater,” he introduced himself with a smile, holding out his hand.

However, when you coolly leaned back in your chair instead, he dejectedly dropped it. “So, Number Four, what do you have to offer?”

“Wow, they really didn’t lie to me when they told me you were hostile, huh?” He scratched his beard, obviously pondering his next move on how to break down your walls.

“Nope,” you confirmed without batting an eyelash. “I just have high standards.”

Warily, he lifted one eyebrow. “Which are?”

“Don’t be unorganized, don’t be lazy, and don’t be a dumbass,” you listed off, smiling complacently.

“Okay, and the three agents before me were…”

“All of the above, yes,” you confirmed, nodding. “When did you graduate Quantico?”

“Uhm, a month ago,” Owen replied, swallowing as his Adam’s apple bobbed with nervousness.

“Great, so they sent me a rookie,” you huffed and got out of your chair with an eye roll, packing up for the night.

“Well, I was a soldier before that. Army Ranger. Did three tours in Iraq. Also had medical training,” he informed you in an attempt to woo you. And granted, it worked.

“Military man, really?” You met his hopeful gaze, cocking an eyebrow.

He smirked widely, albeit cockily. “You like that, huh?”

“Well, it means you’re not completely useless. At least you know how to take orders without questioning my authority.” You grinned at him and watched his smile disappear.

“Yeah, they also told me you were bossy,” the young agent quipped and scratched the back of his neck. “And – I know you’re still working on the Winchester case, even though it’s officially closed.”

“It’s not closed. I don’t care what forensics says. I know they’re still alive,” you muttered bitterly like a reflex. “No one should make the mistake of underestimating them. Trust me. Two months ago, I even found surveillance footage of Sam Winchester. I mean, granted, it’s blurry and very pixelated, but I’d recognize that mob of hair anywhere. And if Sam is alive, then I know his older brother isn’t far. Dean Winchester did not just get swallowed by the Earth.”

“I believe you.” Owen shrugged simply and without any second-guessing, causing your brow to furrow.

“Why? No one else in the FBI does. They all think I’ve gone nuts,” you shared.

“I don’t think you’re nuts,” Owen replied. “Well, maybe a little after I met you.” He chuckled as you fixed him with a glare. “But… you have a 98.7% solve rate. I don’t think you’re wrong a lot. You have great instincts, so I’d be a… dumbass not to bet on those.” He smiled slyly.

Impressed, you approved. “Not bad.”

“So, you wanna go for a drink, get to know each other, discuss this blooming new friendship?” your new partner in question asked with a puppy dog look.

You smirked. “Are you buying?”

Hiding his smile behind pursed lips, he nodded. “Sure.”

“Alright,” you accepted and strolled with him to the elevators. “I know a great bar. They have the best and most expensive whiskey.”

Owen took your teasing in stride, though. “I had a feeling you’d say that. But when life gives you lemons, you’re actually supposed to ask for the tequila and salt. My mom always used to say that.”

You snorted as you pressed the button to the ground floor, laughing, “God, I knew you were a momma’s boy.”

His head snapped to you, eyebrows quirking together. “What, how?”

“Smelled it from a mile away. Call it another instinct,” you sassed.

Owen smacked his lips, shaking his head. “You’re creepy.”

“You know what’s creepy? You not even denying it, momma’s boy,” you teased him and cockily folded your arms over your blouse.

“If I pour alcohol in you, are you gonna get meaner or nicer?”

“The latter.” You laughed.

“Thank God,” he sighed dramatically and grinned, “But don’t worry. You’re gonna like me. I’m gonna wear you down until we’re tying friendship bracelets.”

“Oh good grief… We’ll see.”

2. Tequila – FEBRUARY 24

I've been wanting to write this chapter for ages and show the reader's side of the beginning years. Those flashbacks were so fun to execute. Sam's deliveries in prison still kill me 😂

But rest assured the next part will definitely pick up where we left off in Season 2 😉

For all you newbies to this series: You can catch up on Season 1 and 2 in this master post 🩵

Ko-Fi ☕️Tag List 🤍

SNEAK PEAK 3.02:

For a bullet wound that surely had grazed an organ or two, you strangely felt fine, noticing none of the machines were even connected to you, which caused you to raise your eyebrow. Something odd was going on, and as soon as you rose into a sitting position, you realized what it was as you glimpsed back down at your own physical body in a damn hospital bed.

“Shit,” you cursed and clenched your jaw.

All of a sudden, the afterlife became a very real concept to you, albeit you’d listened to a thousand stories about it from the Winchesters. Still, a small part of you hoped it wasn’t true, as naive as that might have sounded. Seeing was believing, after all, and now, you definitely considered yourself a believer. Better late than never, right?

TAGS:

Even though it's been a while, I've tagged those who asked me to whenever S3 finally posts, so here it is. Let me know in the comments if you're still interested to be tagged in future chapters 🩵

@questionableppls @charmed-asylum @djs8891 @idreamofdeanie @xlynnbbyx

@deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @lyarr24 @hobby27 @never-here1992

[loveinhawkins]

For the made up fic title game "1983 is Calling" bc 1983 by Neon Trees randomly came up on my Spotify lol

god i love this title so much. i think 1983 is calling has a Steve Harrington character study written all over it.

-

In the November of 1983, Steve Harrington’s world falls out from underneath him. When his feet finally find solid ground again, everything looks a little different, like he’s an Alice who’s grown just slightly too tall for his surroundings.

And maybe most people in his shoes would chalk that up to finding out that monsters are real, that a kid can come back from the dead. But Steve knows that’s not the whole truth.

What’s really tripping him up is the dangerously quiet anger he didn’t really know he was capable of; he spends many sleepless nights staring up at the ceiling, hearing his father’s words come out in his voice, slipping through clenched teeth, finish the sentence.

It’d be easy to brush it off after the quite frankly insane series of events he’s lived through, to claim that wasn’t me.

But it was. It was.

It’s not a dramatic transformation. If anyone was really looking out for it, maybe they’d notice him being just a touch more reserved in school. Slower to react, more careful with his words.

He doesn’t sit with Tommy and Carol in the cafeteria—and while there’s an ache in that decision which he steadfastly ignores, he finds that he doesn’t really mind sitting alone sometimes.

In the quiet, he has more time to think. He tries to keep his assumptions in check, finds that he cares less and less about cliques—does his best to ensure that his first thought about someone isn’t a judgement.

He remembers the casual indifference he had when watching Jonathan Byers put up a poster for his missing brother. His unbothered drawl, God, that’s depressing.

Never again, he decides.

Above all, he doesn’t want to be cruel.

One lunch, he sits with Jonathan, and they swap pudding cups, Steve trading chocolate for butterscotch.

“I… listen, Jonathan, I shouldn’t… shouldn’t have said what—what I said,” he starts, awkwardly, inadequately. “About. About your mom, and your family, and…”

It horrifies him still, the words that came out so easily, never mind if they were echoes of things he heard.

Joyce Byers is one of the strongest people he knows.

“Thanks,” Jonathan says, delayed. He smiles tightly, but Steve knows it’s not personal, that the guy’s still on edge from… everything.

Steve smiles back.

But there’s still a thorn that he hasn’t quite prised out.

“And I…” He lowers his voice. “I shouldn’t have called you that. Y’know.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows go up. “No,” he says mildly. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I…” Steve rubs a hand over his mouth. “I hate that… there’s nothing bad about…”

Jesus, what’s wrong with him?

Jonathan’s expression softens. He blinks, and he has that pensive look on his face, like he’s seeing the world through a camera lens—like the flash has lit up something unknown.

“I agree,” he says quietly, and then he digs into his pudding and asks genuinely about Steve’s holiday plans, talks about getting Will an Atari for Christmas.

At New Year, Steve is abruptly conscious of the fact that he really, really needs to look like he’s having a good time. He doesn’t want to analyse who the performance is for. If it’s for himself, he’s not convinced.

But drink dulls the anxiety; he laughs a lot, sways with Nancy in his arms because that’s what he’s supposed to do.

Even in the euphoria of the midnight countdown, he can see Nancy smiling too brightly, like her face might crack with the strain.

Do you feel it, too? he almost asks. Are we always gonna be back there? Are we always gonna be running from it?

The semester after winter break starts off reluctantly.

There’s a few classes with mixed year groups: they get an absolute horror of a substitute teacher in second period, one who insists on them copying things word for word from the blackboard. She makes her funeral march down the desks and shouts at a student for mis-spelling ‘January.’

“Psst,” comes a voice, before she reaches Steve.

He looks over to see Eddie Munson in the seat next to him, handing over an eraser.

“Wrong year, Harrington,” he whispers.

Steve glances down at his paper. Sure enough, 1983 stares back at him from the top margin.

Steve scoffs. “Figures.” He uses the eraser and passes it back to Eddie. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I wish we were still on vacation, too.”

“Eddie Munson.” The teacher slams a ruler down on Eddie’s desk so hard that Steve flinches. “Shall I send you outside for talking?”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” Eddie says, without missing a beat, “I’ll surely cry. Profusely.”

As other students stifle giggles, Steve manages to write the date down correctly before the teacher peers over his shoulder.

He can’t help noticing that even with the eraser, there’s still an imprint: 1983 faintly engraved on the page.

Well, Steve thinks wryly, so it goes.

[adidasshorts67]

Netherlands before the quarter-finals of the U20 World Cup held in Mexico in 1983:

John van ‘t Schip, Rene Roord, Tjapko Teuben, Addick Koot, Rick Laurs;

Sonny Silooy, Mario Been,Henk Duut, Mike Snoei, Marco van Basten, Gerald Vanenburg.

[robinfrinjs]

The 70th running of the Macau GP (+ Google calendar of schedule)

For the first time in 10 years the Macau GP is run over two weekends again, with the first races taking place this weekend. And the important FIA F3 World Cup and the FIA GT World Cup will race next weekend and also the Motorcycle Grand Prix.

I have made a Google calendar with the complete schedule, which you can find down below.

The Macau GP is one of the only two current national Grand Prix events that are not part of the Formula One World Championship, the New Zealand GP being the other one.

History

The first running of the race was held in 1954 as a club race for local motor enthusiasts. It initially started off as an endurance race where 15 entrants competed in a four hour race over 51 laps.

In 1960 the race was first entered on the international racing calendar, and was subject for the first time to the regulations published by the FIA for sports and grand touring cars.

In 1978 to celebrate the race's 25th anniversary, a "Race of Giants" was organised. Where drivers like Jacky Ickx, Sir Stirling Moss, Bobby Unser, Phil Hill and Sir Jack Brabham participated.

In 1983 the race was first run as the FIA Formula 3 World Cup. Which was won by a young Ayrton Senna.

In 1998 Peter Dumbreck won the closest ever Macau Grand Prix - and the closest motor race in history at that time - when he beat Ricardo Mauricio by just 0.003 seconds.

More history can be found here

Format

As mentioned, the event will be run over two weekends. This is not the usual format but done for its 70th anniversary.

The past years the GT World Cup and The F3 World Cup weren't run because of Covid, this meant the main race was run with F4 cars. And mainly local drivers participated. This year F3 returns with an international field but Formula 4 stays.

FIA F3 World Cup

In 1983 the race was first run as the FIA Formula 3 World Cup. The Formula 3 race used to be more of an all-star race for drivers from several Formula 3 championships or even from other high profile championships.

But recently the FIA has reduced the Formula 3 championships so FIA F3 is the only major one to exist. This means it can now basically been seen as a non championship round for the FIA F3 championships.

This year however, still several drivers have stepped down again to F3 to participate. Formula E Driver Dan Ticktum, is a two-time winner of the event and has returned. Richard Verschoor, Formula 2 driver and the last winner of the event back in 2019 returns. But also IndyCar driver Marcus Armstrong joins the field.

Sophia Floersch also returns to the race to be there for the third time, during her debut she suffered a massive crash where she suffered a spinal fracture.

Formula 4

The Formula 4 SEA Championship runs from 11-12 November and will feature three female drivers. Vivian Siu, Miki Koyama and Bianca Bustamante. Vivian Siu is the only one of these to drive the complete F4 Sea championship this year. The Macau round however, is a non-championship round.

Formula 4 runs qualifying from 08:45 - 09:15 (CEST) on Saturday 11 November and their qualifying race from 01:00 - 01:25 (CEST). And they close the weekend with their main race from 08:40 - 09:20 (CEST)

TCR & GT

Several regional TCR and GT series race on the streets of Macau during the two Macau weekends. The first TCR race at Macau was held in 1972, and this was rare as TCR cars rarely raced at street circuits. Currently it's the final round of the China TCR Championship.

Motorcycle GP

Macau is a special event for motorcycle riders and has been since 1967. Their main race is on Saturday 18 November.

GT World Cup

The Macau GT Cup was added in 2008, and has been one of the most important supporting races of the Grand Prix since then.

The FIA GT World Cup is a race for GT3-spec cars organised by the SRO. This year it will be the sixth edition of the FIA GT World Cup.

Entry Lists

All entry lists can be found here.

The Track

Length: 3.8 miles (6.2 km)

Minimum width: 22.8 feet (7 m)

Formula 3 Macau Grand Prix Lap Record: 2:06.317 (Jüri Vips, 2019, FIA Formula 3)

Macau GT Cup Lap Record: 2:17.182 (Earl Bamber, 2019, Porsche 911 GT3 R)

Macau Guia Race Lap Record: 2:27.009 (Rob Huff, 2014, Lada Granta 1.6T)

Macau Motorcycle Grand Prix Lap Record: 2:23.616 (Stuart Easton, 2010, Kawasaki)

Where to Watch?

Every day is streamed on motorsport.tv, on the Macau GP Facebook page and their website.

Schedule

The schedule can be found right here in local time

I have added all sessions to my Google Calendar

Link to the Calendar

For any questions, my ask box is always open!

[littlemuoi]

My 30 years protecting the Queen: dry humour, heartfelt gifts and travelling the world by Hugo Daniel (September 17th 2022)

Taking in the beauty of a misty Scottish moor amid the bustle of a Balmoral grouse shoot, the royal protection officer Dick Griffin turned to check on his charge, the Queen, only to get the shock of his life.

It was September 1995 and, at first glance, the then 69-year-old monarch had disappeared. As he searched anxiously through the thick fog, he finally caught sight of her — lying flat on the ground, a dead grouse beside her.

“Because it was so foggy we couldn’t see [that the grouse had] hit her in the chest,” Griffin said. “You can imagine the velocity of something like that falling down to the ground — it just flattened her completely. So I had to get her up and discreetly brush all the feathers and plumes away from her. She was shaken up and badly bruised.”

The equerry who had shot the bird was understandably embarrassed. “But then [they] saw the funny side of it, because the Queen saw the funny side of it. She said, ‘What an odd thing to happen’.”

Griffin, 71, shared his memories of more than 30 years as a protection officer for the royal family over a cup of coffee in a Pret a Manger near Buckingham Palace. His son, Gareth, 42, is a uniformed firearms officer and was on duty at the palace when the Queen’s coffin arrived there on Tuesday evening.

Since her death, a news clip from the Platinum Jubilee has re-emerged in which Griffin revealed how, during a walk on the Balmoral estate, the Queen posed for a photo with two American tourists who did not recognise her.

He said he was glad the story had been a “comfort” to people, with many reposting it and calling it their “favourite Queen story”. He described her as a “remarkable, caring, wonderful person”.

Griffin, who had been due to have lunch with the Queen next month, will attend the smaller, more personal committal service at Windsor Castle’s St George’s Chapel tomorrow after the funeral at Westminster Abbey. He says all seven police officers who worked for the monarch have been invited.

Griffin now gives talks about his career to raise money for the Kent, Surrey and Sussex air ambulance.

His three decades with the royals began in 1982 as part of a team that reorganised palace security after Michael Fagan broke into the Queen’s bedroom. After that, he was assigned to act as Prince Edward’s protection officer at Cambridge University from 1983 to 1986. He worked on assignment for Prince Philip for 13 years until 1999 and then for the Queen until he retired in 2013.

He travelled with the Queen and Prince Philip to 161 countries. “Often you were in the car with them, just chatting away. She would ask about my family and all my marathon running. Once I went to South Africa to do the Comrades marathon, which is 55 miles, and you had a chip on your shoe so people could follow you at home. She got one of her footmen in front of a computer for ten hours to follow me, to see how I was getting on. The footman wasn’t too impressed.”

When Griffin’s running club in Bromley, southeast London, held a party to celebrate his 100th marathon, the Queen marked the occasion with a letter, showing her wry sense of humour. In it, she jokes: “We are delighted that your employers allow you sufficient time to train for, and take part in, such events.”

At his first meeting with the Queen and Prince Philip in 1983 at Windsor Castle, a week before he went to Cambridge with Edward, the couple were keen to learn about the background of the man who would be guarding their youngest child.

“We were sitting on lovely chairs and the staff were giving us coffee and the Queen said to me, ‘Can you tell Philip and me what you used to do before you came to royalty protection?’

“It was probably a question I’d prefer they’d not asked, because my job for the past six years had been [at Scotland Yard’s obscene publications branch policing] prostitution, the brothels, the sex shops and pornographic cinemas.

“The Queen said, ‘Good gracious, Mr Griffin. What on earth does Edward need a police officer with your qualifications for?’ and, before I could answer, Prince Philip said, ‘I don’t know. But they can have some wonderful parties at Cambridge.’

“That was my first experience of Prince Philip and his one-liners.”

The next time Griffin met the Queen, he remembers her sitting on the floor of the Waterloo Chamber at Windsor Castle to watch a private performance of a play that Edward and friends had originally performed at Cambridge, in which Griffin had a cameo role.

The roof was leaking. “Water was landing on top of the Queen’s head. She was all dressed up, having just come from dinner. Several members of the household offered her a seat, but she said ‘that’s not necessary’ and sat on the floor in the aisle and put a programme over her head to keep dry.

“That was one of my first impressions of the Queen, and I just thought, ‘What an amazing lady.’”

Griffin’s three-decade career as protection officer spanned security threats ranging from the IRA to Isis.

“Of course with Islamic terrorism and suicide bombers, we had to really ramp things up,” he said. “But nothing fazed the Queen and Prince Philip. We’d try to encourage them sometimes not to be so open on walkabouts, but nothing would change her.”

He was in the car with the Queen on the day two months after 9/11 when an American Airlines flight crashed in Queens, New York. It would turn out to be an accident, but there were fears at first that it was terrorism-related.

“I was bringing the Queen back from Windsor Castle and my mobile phone rang and it was my son. I spoke to Gareth and he said there might be another terrorist attack.

“I told the Queen, and then, five minutes later, Tony Blair rings up to brief the Queen, and I always remember her saying, ‘Yes, prime minister, I know. My policeman’s son has just phoned to tell me.’”

In 2005 Griffin’s first grandchild, Joshua, was born and the Queen insisted on meeting him.

“She said to me in the car one day, ‘For the last nine months, all you’ve talked about is how excited you are about being a grandfather, and now your grandson has been born, you haven’t even bothered to introduce me.’ So I had to arrange a date and time so the Queen could have a cuddle. She was thrilled.”

He saw her love for her own grandchildren, too. For Christmas in 2010, Griffin and the other protection officers decided to give the Queen a wind-up clockwork duck that played music and laid an egg every 30 seconds, something they had found at a flea market on a recent state visit to the United Arab Emirates.

“My wife wrapped it up all beautifully with ribbons and gave it to the equerry to present it to the Queen on Christmas Day. We got this beautiful letter from the Queen saying how much she enjoyed it and Edward’s son, James, had so much fun playing with it.”

In the letter, the Queen wrote: “To the PPOs, many thanks for the unusual Christmas present from you all. It certainly livened things up and little James’s face was a picture when the duck laid her eggs! Thanks for making us laugh.”

When Griffin retired, in 2013, the Queen gave him the best gift of all. She had paid for him to have a retirement party in the state department at the palace, with 200 guests, and at eight o’clock she joined the party, with Prince Philip and the Earl of Wessex.

“That was the biggest present she could give me,” he said.

[film-classics]

Katharine Hepburn - The Greatest Female Star

Katharine Houghton Hepburn (born in Hartford, Connecticut on May 12, 1907) was an iconic American actress who holds the record for the most wins for an actor in Oscar history and is considered to be "The Greatest Female Star" of classic Hollywood.

Raised in Connecticut by wealthy, progressive parents of English and Scottish heritage, Hepburn began to act while at Bryn Mawr College, where she graduated with a degree in history and philosophy. Favorable reviews of her on Broadway got the attention of Hollywood, where director George Cukor pushed for her to sign a contract with RKO at 1932.

Her early films brought her fame, but this was followed by commercial failures. She masterminded her comeback, buying out her contract and acquiring rights to The Philadelphia Story, which she sold on the condition that she be the star. The film was a success and landed her a 3rd Oscar nomination in 1940.

She continued to have acclaimed films, including her last Oscar for On Golden Pond (1981). In the 1970s, she began appearing on TV alongside her film and stage roles. She made her final screen appearance at 87. After a period of inactivity and ill health, she died from cardiac arrest at 96 at the Hepburn family home in Fenwick, Connecticut.

Legacy:

Won four Academy Awards for Best Actress: Morning Glory (1933), Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967), The Lion in Winter (1968), On Golden Pond (1982) - and nominated for eight (1936, 1941, 1943, 1952, 1956, 1957, 1960, 1963), holding the record for the longest time span between first and last nominations, at 48 years

Won the 1975 Primetime Emmy Award for Outstanding Actress in a Special - Drama or Comedy and nominated for six (1974, 1979, 1986, 1993)

Nominated for 11 Golden Globe Awards (1952, 1956, 1959, 1962, 1967, 1968, 1981, 1992); two Tony Awards (1970, 1982); the 1994 Screen Actors Guild Award; and the 1988, 1992 Grammy Best Spoken Word Album

Received two BAFTA Best Actress awards (1969, 1983) and five nominations (1953, 1956, 1958)

Won the Volpi Cup for Best Actress at the 1934 Venice Film Festival; Best Actress at 1962 Cannes Film Festival; and the Special Prize of the Jury at 1984 Montréal World Film Festival

Won the 1940 New York Film Critics Circle Best Actress, the 1965 Mexican Cinema Journalists Best Foreign Actress, and the 1973 Kansas City Film Critics Circle Best Actress

Won three Golden Laurel Awards for Top Female Dramatic Performance in 1960, 1963, and 1970, and nominated as Top Female Star in 1970 and 1971

Received the David di Donatello Award for Best Foreign Actress for  Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967)

Won Golden Apple Awards for Female Star of the Year in 1975 and 1982; and Favorite Motion Picture Actress at the People's Choice Awards in 1976 and 1983, and nominated in 1975, 1977

Received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Screen Actors Guild in 1979

Purchased war bonds worth #30K to support the Hartford Red Cross in 1941 and donated $10K to Hartford Hospital in 1947

Selected by Harvard University as 1958 Hasty Pudding Woman of the Year

Featured in exhibits, such as The Career of an Actress: Katharine Hepburn at the MoMA in 1969, One Life: Kate, A Centennial Celebration at the National Portrait Gallery in 2007, Katharine Hepburn: In Her Own Files at the NYPL in 2009, and Katharine Hepburn: Dressed for Stage and Screen at Kent State University in 2010

Supported Planned Parenthood since 1981 with the Katharine Houghton Hepburn Fund and received the Margaret Sanger Award in 1983

Inducted into the American Theater Hall of Fame in 1979, the Connecticut Women's Hall of Fame in 1994, and the Online Film and Television Association Hall of Fame in 1999

Received the 1985 Humanist Arts Award from the American Humanist Association and the Lifetime Achievement Awards from the Council of Fashion Designers of America in 1985, the American Comedy Awards in 1985 and the  Kennedy Center Honors in 1990

Released her 1991 autobiography, Me: Stories of My Life

Awarded an honorary doctorate by Columbia University in 1992

Has had a garden in her name since 1997 and an intersection, Katharine Hepburn Place, since 2003 in New York

Named the greatest female star of classic Hollywood cinema in 1999 by the American Film Institute

Named in Ladies Home Journal's 1998 book 100 Most Important Women of the 20th century; Encyclopædia Britannica's 300 Women Who Changed the World in 2006; the 2007 book Women Who Changed The World; and Variety's 100 Icons of the Century in 2005

Ranked #68 in in Empire’s Top 100 Movie Stars in 1997; #2 in Entertainment Weekly’s 100 Greatest Movie Stars of All Time in 1998; #84 in VH1's "200 Greatest Pop Culture Icons of All Time" in 2003; #14 in Premiere's 50 Greatest Movie Stars of All Time in 2005 and #13 and #54 in 100 Greatest Performances of All Time in 2006 for The Lion in Winter (1968) and The Philadelphia Story (1940)

Featured in the 2002 play, Tea at Five, and a two-month retrospective by the British Film Institute in 2015

Has personal collections at The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences library, the New York Public Library, and the University of Hartford since 2003

Became the namesake of Bryn Mawr College's Katharine Houghton Hepburn Center, which manages the Hepburn Fellows Program, Hepburn Scholarships, and the Katharine Hepburn Medal, since 2006

Inspired the The Katharine Hepburn Cultural Arts Center, which opened in 2009 in Old Saybrook and runs the Katharine Hepburn Museum and the Spirit of Katharine Hepburn Award

Became the 16th star honored by US Postal Service's Legends of Hollywood stamp series in 2010

Honored as Turner Classic Movies Star of the Month for January 2004 and June 2023

Has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 6294 Hollywood Blvd for motion picture

[pareiwheeler]

these are my byler fic recs because no one asked but i love them!!!!! all of these are on ao3

fall where i stand by delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy)

In terms of plans, this might not be the worst one Mike's ever had. In terms of execution, well- there might be room for improvement.

rated T, no archive warnings apply, one shot

i LOVE this fic so much its so good and its like the perfect fake dating fic. this author is probably my favorite on ao3!

2. The Secret To Being Unlucky by lovetriangled

The end of the world is daunting and Will's not entirely sure he can handle it. Everybody else seems to think he can—sometimes, they think he's their fighting chance.

It wouldn't be so laughable if Will hadn't been born with rotten luck.

rated T, no archive warnings apply, one shot

one of my fav established byler fics! such an underrated author and features the amazing party dynamic and lucas being the best boy

3. oh can't you see you belong to me? by andiwriteordie

“The end is near, Michael,” One says again, but his voice sounds like Will’s this time. “You have already lost.”

“Get out, get out, get out!” Mike screams, sobbing roughly. His throat feels completely raw, and he covers his ears, desperate to block out the sound of Will’s screams mixed in with One’s distorted, maniacal laughter. “Get out of my head!”

Or: Two years after One's initial defeat, Mike has an encounter with the greatest evil of the Upside Down and learns far more about his plans for Hawkins, for the party, and for Will than he ever expected.

rated T, no archive warnings apply, one shot

so angsty!!! but one of my favorite s5 spec fics and will and mike are so cute

4. emotional motion sickness by delusional together (Whyyyyy)

And anyway, it's too late to back out now, with him lying on the single bed of their hotel room, Jonathan and Argyle sleeping on the other side of the wall. There's a tin cup on the floor that still holds half a joint in it and the whole room is hazy with smoke, and Mike's head is hanging off the end of the bed, upside-down and pink-cheeked, and Will can feel the slow rush of the drug flooding his system. Will's fault, Will's idea. His brother's stolen stash on the floor between them, Will's eyes already unfocused, Will's guilty, guilty love hanging in the air around him, refusing to fade away along with the smoke like he secretly hoped it might.

Oh, he thinks dimly, as his senses glitch, and his eyes lock on Mike's: this was a bad idea.

rated T, no archive warnings apply, oneshot

the byler getting high scene that we never got, also pretty angsty. they love each other so much.

5. i'll find a new place to be from by andiwriteordie

In the direct aftermath of his return to Hawkins, Mike and the Party find themselves in the midst of a war against One and the forces of the Upside Down. As life as he knows it changes, Mike must find a way to navigate his friendships, his relationship with Will, and most importantly, his understanding of himself.

rated T, creator chose not to use archive warnings, multi-chaptered

i will always be amazed by this authors writing and talent. its such an amazing fic with will having superpowers, mike and will pining and flirting terribly, and amazing s5 spec. SO GOOD!!!!!! gives me goosebumps

6. til' kingdom come by andiwriteordie

Will Byers' life has always been a little bit strange—at least since he was first kidnapped in 1983. But as it turns out, there's a little bit more to his life than meets the eye.

Namely... this isn't his first life.

rated T, creator chose not to use archive warnings, oneshot

BYLER MERLIN AU EVERYONE CHEERED also i may have an obsession with andiwriteordie's writing

7. make a move by astrobi

“You’re thinking,” Will says, skating a finger down the line of Mike’s nose, under his eye, over his cheekbone, then resting, finally, just at the corner of his lips– “about me.”

Oh, Jesus. Mike’s throat is very, very dry. “What?”

Will opens his eyes – slow, a little hesitant – and smiles. “You are,” he says, way, way too smug for Mike’s liking. “You’re turning red!”

“Shut up,” Mike mutters, and Will’s smile grows. “You– I’m just nervous!”

It should be illegal for someone to look this pleased with themselves.

“Yeah?” Will says quietly, index finger still hovering at the corner of Mike’s mouth, thumb pressed gently under his chin. “I make you nervous?”

Or: Mike thinks Will might be psychic. (Kind of.) Will is being very irritatingly vague about the whole thing.

rated T, no archive warnings apply, oneshot

SO FLUFFY AND CUTE!!!! byler flirting and mike overthinking = amazing fic. I LOVE ASTROBI!!!!

8. i'll find myself in the moonlight by beansie

He looks up at him, eyebrows drawn together. “Do you not love her?”

Mike shrinks back. “What?”

He hadn’t meant to say it. He wouldn’t have, if he’d stopped to think about it for half a second. But it’s too late to take it back, and he can’t breathe until he knows the answer, and he looks at him resolutely and says, “Do you only love her because of what I said?”

Something darkens on Mike’s face, twisting it into a shape Will’s never seen. “Get out.”

It’s not a no.

rated T, no archive warnings apply, oneshot

i love this sm!!!! angsty painting talks, nightmares, mutual pining, the works. very realistic and mike needs to get his act together 😭 def made me cry

9. irresistible by perexcri

Will knows what having a crush looks like. He’s known it for years. And lately, he's been seeing the signs on the face of one Mike Wheeler every time he looks at him. Maybe it’s always been there, but not to this degree.

In the last six months, though, the planets had aligned in some strange pattern, or the earth had been tilted on its axis by the hand of God, or something, because Will noticed it pretty quickly.

So, Will's finally decided to start testing the waters. For example: he has been flirting.

Well, okay…

rated T, creator chose not to use archive warnings, multi-chaptered

flirty byler and confident will yes please!!! also some very cute and funny hopper-will dynamic

10. we'd be great together by makeit_pink

"What are you thinking about?"

Will blinks himself back into the present, screeching his thoughts to a halt before they’re able to go any farther into dangerous territory. “Honestly?” Mike’s eyebrows tick up just a bit at Will’s tone, and he nods slowly. Will answers before he’s even allowed to think about it.

“You.”

And- great. That’s great. What the fuck?

rated T, creator chose not to use archive warnings, oneshot

all i can say about this is CUTIESSSSSSS the mutual pining is MUAH CHEFS KISS

thats all and i hope you enjoy!!!!!

[benjaminftw]

Journeyman Appreciation: Bobby Dotter

Following the theme of my last post in this series, I wanted to spotlight somebody else who found another niche in racing after the end of his driving career: Bobby Dotter. 

Born in Chicago, Bobby Dotter was the son of a midwestern legend, Bob Dotter who despite having just one arm won three ARCA championships in the 1980s. While dominating Illinois short tracks in late models, Bobby spent much of the 1980s making sporadic starts in the ARCA series in which his father had had so much success, with a best finish of 5th at Pocono 1983 and a handful of top 10s but never running more than 4 races in a season. 

In 1988, Bobby began racing in the Busch Grand National Series which would be his home for a number of years going forward, driving a car owned by his father in a limited schedule focused on the short tracks, showing real flashes of promise with a pole at the tricky Louisville and top 10s at the legendary Hickory and IRP tracks. In 1989 Bobby made just one start, but it was a top 10 finish at Martinsville and the first start for the car owner he’d spend a bulk of his career with, Ed Reizen in his number 08 car. 

In 1990 Dotter and Reizen would run their first full season together. Although they DNQ’d at two of the biggest events on the schedule, the Daytona 500 and World 600 support races, Bobby proved very good on the short tracks picking up 8 finishes inside the top 10 over the course of the year and best finish of 4th at Myrtle Beach Speedway, ending the year 14th in points. Still under sponsored, Dotter backslid in terms of average start, average finish, and had half the top 10s in 1991 but tied his career best finish of 4th at South Boston and once again came home 14th in the final standings. 

In 1992 Bobby had his crowning achievement in NASCAR, winning a race at the New River Valley Speedway in Southwest VA (later better known as “Motor Mile Speedway”, and the hometrack of this writer where he has been multiple times to catch local racing) in convincing fashion but putting up identical top 5 and top 10 numbers as the year before and seeing his average finish drop a bit, placing 16th in points. 

In 1993 Reizen and Dotter finally picked up substantial sponsorship from DeWalt tools which led to a dramatic turnaround for that team, matching career highs in top 10s (8) and a best ever top 5 count (3) and placing solidly in the 7th place in points, a feat that would be replicated with one less top 5 in 1994, in both years managing to outpoint numerous better known drivers with wins to their credit. In 1995 DeWalt was replaced by Hyde Tools, and while the team still managed 6 top 10s they had a dramatic increase in DNFs including a number of engine failures and a DNQ at Richmond and slid back to 14th in points. Reizen’s team shut down at the end of the year.

Thus began the true journeyman portion of his career, having consistently driven for the same owner for most of his time. While Bobby started 1996 with Dennis Shoemaker’s number 64 Dura Lube car, he failed to qualify for two out of the first three races and they soon parted ways. Bobby then hooked up with Ray DeWitt whom you might remember from the Tim Fedewa entry, replacing Johnny Chapman in the 55 car for 15 events in ‘96 with a best finish coming in his first race with the team at Nashville where he placed 10th. Bobby also made a start at Hickory driving a 08 car he owned himself to a 13th place finish and made two starts for Cup legend Kenny Schrader with a best finish of 12th at Dover. 

The rest of the 90s were pretty lean for Bobby. Through 1999 he made just 3 Busch Series starts, all coming in an 08 car he owned himself with a best finish of 15th, one lap down, at Milwaukee in 1998. He made 9 Truck Series starts, 8 of which coming for Carl Wegner, with his best finish being a pair of 16ths. He also scored a couple of top 10 finishes in the ARCA series in 4 starts and ran a partial schedule in the NASCAR Winston West series in 1999 with 3 top 10s in 6 starts. Presumably it was this last stint that led to what would be the third stage of his career. 

In the 2000 season Bobby Dotter finally returned to full-time racing with a second car fielded by owner-driver Gene Christensen in the Winston West Series, sponsored by Christensen’s People Against Drugs organization. The combo proved potent, with Dotter winning four times: at the legendary Laguna Seca road course, twice at Irwindale and one at the Rocky Mountain Raceway in Utah. He also finished in the top 10 in 9 out of 12 events on the schedule, and finished runner up in points to the young off-road hotshot Brendan Gaughan. Dotter and Christensen also ran a couple of Truck series races together with a best finish of 17th at Bobby’s “home track” (Chicagoland Speedway and Chicago Motor Speedway weren’t built until the early 00s) of Milwaukee. 

This led to the entire organization moving into the Truck series full-time with Bobby’s iconic 08, once again primarily sponsored by People Against Drugs, in 2001. The team had a number of mechanical failures and just one top 10 finish, a 10th at IRP, but still likely exceeded expectations by proving a regular fixture within the top 20 and coming home 15th in points, with Bobby also scoring a 27th for Fred Bickford in his first Busch Series start in several years at Phoenix. In 2002, the team scored more consistent outside sponsorship and generally improved their pace in most areas, scoring Bobby and the team’s first top 5 finish at Martinsville and collecting 3 more top 10s en route to 14th place points finish and much higher average finish. 

In 2003, Bobby stepped back from full-time driving while in his early 40s to focus on his role as the General Manager of Christensen’s Green Light Racing. Between ‘03 and ‘04, he ran 13 races for the team, primarily when they lacked sponsorship on one of their two entries. In 2004 Bobby also made his final Busch Grand National start, coming home 26th, 6 laps down for Rick Ware at his beloved Milwaukee Mile. Bobby’s final Truck starts would primarily be field filler start-and-park entries for the team in ‘07-08. 

Sometime around the 2008 season, Gene Christensen sold his interest in Green Light Racing which had merged with SS Racing to Bobby Dotter, who dedicated himself full-time to being a truck and car owner. In 2014 the team moved into Xfinity series racing where they would later get their first win at any level in 2002 with Cole Custer driving for the team in a partnership with Stewart-Haas Racing, and having provided a home for many young and veteran drivers both in the midpack of the series for nearly a decade. 

[zepskies]

✍🏽 Writing Update: "Lost on You" - Coming Sooner!

Hey, friends! Happy Wednesday. I'm almost ready to post Part 1 of Lost on You, and it's coming at ya earlier than I said! Until then, here's a sneak peek...

Coming on Friday, 8/02:

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

👀 Sneak Peek:

You eventually noticed him with a smile.

“Good morning, sir.”

Ben gave you a charming grin, blatantly eying you from breast to toe before he noted that the coffee had finished percolating. 

"Hey there, sweetheart,” he said. “Pour me a cup, would ya?" 

You did so, and he admired the graceful movements of your hands, and the sweet sound of your voice as you continue to hum to yourself. 

"You're a little crooner, aren't you?" he asked, taking the plain white coffee mug from you. 

When your hand brushed his, he felt it.

Your power.

It threatened to overtake him, drawing you into him like the crash and current of a tidal wave, where he couldn’t help but be pulled undertow.

▶️ Part 1 is out now!

[mupanews]

World news from The MUPA News: The Stars of The 1983 World Cup

View full details here:

[oftatteredwings]

⸻  CHRIS EVANS. HE/HIM / have you ever heard of RUNNING AWAY FROM LOVE by taylor locke, well, it describes RHYS TAYLOR to a tee! the forty year old, and PAEDIATRICIAN was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say HE is more cocky or more INTELLIGENT instead? anyway, they remind me of being awoken to the sound a rooster, early morning rugby matches, a cold pint of beer, dirt under his finger nails and a cheeky grin he hopes will solve any dilemma, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! 

time in notting hill ; 12 years.

tw: injury

ABOUT.

Name: Rhys Taylor Nicknames: None Age: Forty Date of Birth: 2nd February 1983 Birthplace: Llanbedrog, Wales, UK Occupation: Paediatrician Romantic/Sexual Orientation: Biromantic/bisexual

Was born and raised in the little village of Llanbedrog in North Wales to two loving parents, Helena and David. Rhys has three brothers, one older and two younger.

He spent most of his childhood years causing chaos and getting muddy on the family farm or the beach.

When he hit high school he became kind of obsessed with rugby and decided early on he wanted to play for Wales, to take them to the World Cup in his twenties. Unfortunately an accident in his final year of high school that left him with several broken bones and unconscious meant that he had to rethink his whole plan.

It didn’t take long for a thirst to escape to take over and he started applying for colleges overseas. Finally he was accepted to New York Medical College and he made the move without a second thought. That’s where his life really began.

He drank his way through his first year. Hangovers became part of the daily routine, as did waking up next to people he barely recognised.

By 3/4 of the way through his second year he finally began to focus and chose to specialise in paediatrics.

Relationships really didn’t happen for him, but he was extremely good at lapping up any attention he got. Man-whore really is a very kind way of putting it.

At twenty-five he found himself with a job at Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital in Manhattan. He loved it, seemed to thrive there and for over three years, too. But then he grew restless and after a years debate, decided that perhaps a move somewhere else was on the cards. He made the decision to head back to the UK again, picking up a job at a private hospital in London.

Only days after moving, he received a phone call out of nowhere telling him that he was a dad. No other explanation, that was it, that’s all he got. She was already five, the product of a long standing friends with benefits arrangement with a woman in his forth year. It didn’t take much for him to fall in love with Elena once he hopped a flight back to the States, spending several days with her.

As soon as he was back in London, he set about doing his home up. Her existence really gave him something to focus on.

It was always going to be difficult, him living back home in the UK again, but they have somehow made it work these past twelve years. She visited over the holidays and now she’s a lot older things just work.

His life in London has come on leaps and bounds, being the paediatric lead now. Although there’s one thing he still can’t quite work out... and that’s his love life. Maybe one day, but mostly he spends his days running from anything serious. For some reason the words ‘I love you’ have always terrified him.

HEADCANONS.

Rhys is a major “lad”. He’ll spend night after night at the bar drinking beer, playing pool, watching sports on the big screen tv.

Upon moving to Notting Hill and having more space he started to create a bit of a backyard farm —- his city farm as he likes to call it. His rooster, Buddy, frequently wakes up the neighbours and he has a kind of love/hate relationship with them because of it. He also has three hens, a pig and a goat. Oh, then there’s the cat, Storm, who moved over from NYC with him. He loves him, even though he’s a very old man now.

Absolutely loves to garden. When he’s not in the back tending to the animals, you can usually find him elbow deep in dirt in his tiny front garden instead.

He’s still a major man-whore and it probably won’t change any time soon. He just doesn’t seem to be able to turn it off.

Despite his casualness with romantic relationships, etc. he’s a very fierce friend and cares deeply for everyone he’s close to. He’d do absolutely anything for them.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

- siblings; one slightly older brother & two younger brothers. - mother of elena/ex-fwb from nyc. - exes he’s run out on in nyc & london. - old nyc housemate. - past hook-ups, fwb, ons. - current fwb. - close friends. - guys he plays rugby with. - drinking buddies. - work connections. - running buddies.

[chebmimo]

15.02.2023 - Tribute to Rachid Baba Ahmed - Radio Show notes

On the 15th of February, it was the 28th anniversary of the passing of Rachid Baba Ahmed. He was tragically assassinated by Islamic fundamentalists in front of his record store during the Algerian civil war. Rachid was a highly influential record producer from Algeria who modernised Rai music, elevating it to an international level. He owned a studio in Tlemcen that was modeled after Chris Blackwell's London Island Records studio (the same studio that Bob Marley recorded at), and he was always welcoming to up-and-coming Rai singers such as Cheb Khaled, Cheb Hamid, Sahraoui, and Fadela, among others.

Born in 1946 in the western Algerian city of Tlemcen, Rachid grew up in an artistic family with a musician for a father. He quickly learned and mastered the Oud and joined a band playing Andalusian music since his teenage years. He later ventured into pop rock and disco, forming a duo with his brother Fethi and releasing some of the best North African Disco 45s, including "Mnami Twil" and "Ana Gharib." Eventually, Rachid transitioned to more electronic music before finally focusing on Rai in the late 80s.

Rachid's eclectic and sophisticated catalogue earned him the nickname of the Algerian "Jean Michel Jarre," and he was undoubtedly a pioneer that left an incredible musical legacy for Algeria.

1 - The Essential Hamid by Rachid & Fethi - Intro & Instrumental - 1985

A call from a fan to the studio “Editions Rally”, asking for the new music produced for Cheb Hamid - first to answer the phone was Fethi before passing it to Rachid who asks the fan to stay tuned in to listen to the latest release. After the instrumental portion, Rachid follows up with the fan to ask for feedback on the track. The name of their label "Editions Rally" is related to the fact that both brothers are Rally Racing amateurs, and Rachid even won competitions on multiple ocasions.

2 - Rachid & Fethi - Mnami Twil - 1974

Rachid & Fethi's debut single introduced Algeria to the vibrant sounds of psychedelic funky soul music and marked a significant milestone as one of the first video clips ever produced by an Algerian band.

3 - Rachid & Fethi - Ana Ghrib - 1976

4 - Rachid & Fethi - Sidi El Maalam - 1975 This particular track exudes a surf pop rock vibe and could have been part of a Californian music documentary. It's evident that the artists draw inspiration from the western music culture, and this song perfectly showcases their eclectic style in their productions.

5 & 6 - Rachid Baba Ahmed - Album : Altitude 800 - O.D.B. + Asteroide V.2. - 1984

In my opinion, the top tracks by Rachid Baba come from what is likely my favorite album of theirs. This cassette stands out as a pivotal moment in their career, marking the shift towards producing more electronic disco music. Each track is named after a music recording element, , such as "Multitrack," "Line-out," "Limiters," and so on.

This album is a marker of the transition to the phase of their career where they started producing some more disco electronic stuff - in this album every track is called after a music recording feature - Multitrack / Line-out / Limiters / …

7 - Rachid Baba Ahmed - Racine - 1990

Recently reissued by Maghreb K7 Club, on the disco singles collaboration between the labels Sofa Records and Les disques Bongo Joe.

8 - Rachid & Fethi - Mexico - 1986

The legend says that Rachid composed this music in just 24 hours following Algeria's 3-0 victory over Tunisia in Tunis, which secured their spot in the Football World Cup in Mexico. The track is a testament to Rachid's Andalusian influences from his teenage years, with trumpets, guitarron, and mariachi sounds, combined with football chants vocals, to capture the excitement and anticipation surrounding the Algerian national team's journey to Mexico.

9 - Cheb Sahraoui - Aachki Aouel - 1983 A classic, nothing to say here apart from that I love the fact that Awesome Tapes From Africa started his Boiler Room set in Viva! Festival with this track!

10 - Chaba Zahouania - Goulou Lima (Tell my Mom) - 1988

Ryuichi Sakamoto, the pioneering Japanese producer, composed the music for the movie "The Sheltering Sky" and selected this track from Zahouania's album "Nights without Sleeping" produced by Rachid baba Ahmed to be included in the film.

11 - Cheb Sahraoui & Fadela - N’sel Fik - 1987

One of the most renowned Rai music tracks, this song has achieved global success and has been played in various corners of the world: from its origin in Tlemcen to Santa Monica, and throughout Europe. During the recording session of this track at Rachid's studio, Sahraoui introduced his wife Fadela and suggested to record the song as a duo. After the first take, Rachid declared it perfect, without the need for additional recordings.

Below a video of Fadela & Sahraoui live concert in Santa Monica, California playing N'sel Fik.

12 - Rachid Baba Ahmed - House Rai Music - 1988

"House Rai Music" appears to be strongly influenced by the dance music scene of its time, incorporating elements of acid house and electro with the distinct vocals of Fadela and Sahraoui. This fusion provides a rare glimpse into the early house music influences in the MENA region, and serves as a testament to raï's ascent to become a prominent 'world music' genre.

[oneturfnews]

Top 5 Indian fast bowlers who took the most international wickets

India was considered a country of spin bowlers from the very beginning. Indian batsmen had trouble playing fast bowling abroad. But with the rise of Kapil Dev, India also started scaring the opposition teams with their fast bowling prowess. After this, great fast bowlers like Chetan Sharma, Javagal Srinath, Zaheer Khan, Ashish Nehra, Mohammad Shami, Jasprit Bumrah came in the team but do you know who took the most wickets for India?

5) Jasprit Bumrah (443 wickets)

In this era, if we say that Jasprit Bumrah is the best bowler in the world. Then don’t go wrong, because he is a great bowler. He has taken 443 wickets so far. He has taken 205 Test wickets, 149 ODI wickets and 89 T20I wickets. All Indian fans know the magic of Bumrah, which he showed in the 2024 T20 World Cup final. The batsman does not even try to save his yorker.

4) Mohammed Shami (448 wickets)

The hero of the 2023 World Cup of the Indian cricket team was Mohammed Shami who took 24 wickets in a single World Cup edition. He has 448 international wickets to his name — 229 Test wickets, 195 ODI wickets and 24 T20I wickets. He also took 11 5-wicket hauls in his career. He made his debut for India in 2013 against Pakistan as a right-arm pacer. Till date, he has remained the best bowler for India in every World Cup.

3) Javagal Srinath (551 wickets)

Former right-arm pacer Javagal Srinath took 551 wickets — 236 wickets in Tests and 315 wickets in ODIs. He took 13 wicket hauls during his career. He made his international debut for the Indian cricket team in 1991 against Pakistan. He played his international match in the 2003 world cup. In 2002, he had announced his retirement but on the captain’s request, he agreed to play in the 2003 World Cup.

Also read: ICC Champions Trophy 2025: Strongest India playing 11

2) Zaheer Khan (610 wickets)

Former India left-arm pacer Zaheer Khan is the biggest match-winner for India. He single-handedly won the 2011 World Cup, taking 21 wickets. Zaheer has 610 international wickets to his name — 311 Test wickets, 282 ODI wickets and 17 T20I wickets.

1) Kapil Dev 687 (wickets)

Former India captain Kapil Dev has taken the most wickets as a fast bowler for his country. He took 687 international wickets in 448 innings, including 24 5-wicket hauls. India won the 1983 World Cup under his captaincy. He took 434 Test and 253 ODI wickets.