#World cup 1982

[littlestampcollection]

[l0n4t1csfan65]

my ships opinion

[maradonaarchive]

Argentina 4 vs Hungary 1, World Cup Spain (1982)

Photo by: Masahide Tomikoshi / TOMIKOSHI PHOTOGRAPHY

[vintagepromotions]

Poster for the 1982 FIFA World Cup in Spain. Artwork by Monory.

[abubblingcandle]

Today's fun in the Candle household

Went on a nice walk to brunch with my dad.

Topic of conversation - who my Dad thinks was the favourite and who actually won each men's football world cup since 1966

The things about football this man remembers truly astounds me on a regular basis. In an hour long walk he ran through every world cup since 1966, who hosted, who was the favourite, who won, his opinion on the tournament and any major controversies

Did I need to know that Brazil and France should have been the final in the 1982 World Cup? No. But I do know now.

[swiftpascal]

Italy, show the football you all have to make Paolo Rossi proud

[millervrse]

❝ BY THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞ javier peña x reader

summary: Javier Peña doesn’t like you. You’re too nice, too bubbly, and you get on his last nerve. He didn’t get how anybody in this line of work could be so goddamn cheery all the time. Though aside from your, in his eyes, forced and fake kindness, you had no bad features, and perhaps that, added to your beauty, is what ticked him off so much. Could he learn to like you the more time passes, or would you do this dance of hatred forever?

pairing: javier peña x afab!reader

warnings, notes: EVENTUAL 18+ smut, r! has a bit of an established backstory, a few uses of y/n but only when necessary, r! has a dog, references to narcos and thus real life people and occurrences (pablo escobar, the cartel, dea, etc), ENEMIES TO LOVERS but it’s one sided because javier hates r!, r! has an established personality, grumpy x sunshine, workplace setting, javier and r! are coworkers, use of cigarettes

word count: 2.6k+

LYN SPEAKING! so this is the first chapter of, again, a finished piece that was written nearly a year ago. you can read the prologue here! and again, this is all from javier’s pov, but i’m going to throw in some nsfw chapters using second person for the economy so, yeah! enjoy! lyn out!

DO YOU WANNA KNOW? @bishtrouille @axshadows @troubledsoul-black let me know if you’d like to be added!

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion. “What?” she asks. ❝ YOU'RE BLOCKING THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞

CHAPTER 1: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

COLUMBIA, SEPTEMBER 1982

For once in our lives of chaos, the madness had died down, and there was no new news regarding the man who had been the focus of our missions for months now.

Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria: A drug dealer, and a major pain in my ass.

In the years that I’ve worked Escobar’s case, the man has put the DEA, and the whole of Columbia, for that matter, through hell and back. A war of drugs has been going on under our noses, and the man behind it is an evasive ghost.

We haven’t found him because he doesn't want to be found.

Days in the office have been passing by slowly. With no new leads, and little for us to do, we’re at a loss here. Can’t tell you how much time I’ve used clicking my pens or looking through the same case files over and over again, just to see if something appears that wasn’t there before.

It hasn’t happened yet.

For the third time that morning, I got up from my seat to get a cup of coffee, since having drained mine. Murphy’s eyes snapped to mine from where he sat across from me, and he raised an eyebrow.

Murphy was the guy I’d been working with on the drug cases for a few months, and we’ve come to be pretty friendly with each other during that time. Thus, his first words when he sees me get out of my seat.

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at me. “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack with all that damn caffeine,” he remarked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

I shrugged, throwing away the paper coffee cup that I’d been drinking out of. “Murphy,” I scoffed, crossing my arms to mirror him. “If there’s a damn thing in this world that’s going to give me a heart attack, it’s going to be Escobar, not coffee.”

Murphy sighed in response. I could tell the guy was just as done with Escobar’s shit as me, even if he was better at not discussing it than me. He shrugged and rubbed his forehead before responding, “Yeah, fair enough. Drink away.”

I nodded at him, then made my way to the door.

As I made my third journey that day down to the coffee machine, I passed by the hallway where the ambassador’s office was. What was already a shitty day only worsened by the feeling I got in my gut only by looking at her door.

It was hard at the DEA, Murphy and I being the main people assigned to this case, the only two men in the world who knew as much about Escobar and his cartel as the man himself.

And regardless of that, what we knew was minimal.

While the ambassador wasn’t really our boss, just walking by her office was enough to remind me of the drug cases: And that we weren’t getting a damn thing out of them.

I shook off the feelings that crossed over me then and there, and just went on walking.

I was veering the corner to go to our break room, where the coffee machine was, when I heard and saw a view I surely hadn’t when I clocked in this morning.

“Where can I put my things?” a feminine voice rang out from down the hallway, the voice filled with a sort of cheer that wasn’t very common from those who worked here in the DEA building.

My eyes snapped to the speaker before my brain could even process it.

There was a woman at the very end of the hallway I was in, holding a brown box, presumably the “things” she had been referring to mere seconds ago. My eyebrows raised fairly quickly: I had never seen her in the office.

Because I’m sure I’d remember a face like that.

It was impossible to miss her. Her eyes seemed to mesmerize the man she was speaking to, because he was looking at her with an expression usually saved for old, married couples.

He wasn’t the only one.

I couldn’t take my damn eyes off of her: I was drawn to her appearance, and she wasn’t releasing her hold. There was a serious and assured, yet honeyed way about her. Her eyes and smile spoke volumes to what I assumed was a kind persona, but her attire, a white collared shirt, black slacks, belt, and tie, vouched for her professionalism.

It made me uneasy to get so much from her based on her appearance alone. So that was when I whirled on my heel, all but jogging back to where Murphy was.

I loped back to the room with a concerning pace, closing the door quickly behind me. Murphy’s head snapped up, and he looked at me with a concerned expression.

“Hey, hey, hey, Murphy,” I said in a hoarse voice, a little out of breath from getting here so quickly. I took a second to relax, then asked, “Who’s that girl?”

Murphy��s eyebrows raised up, and he looked at me like I’d just asked him to marry me. “What girl?” he asked as his face scrunched up in cluelessness.

I let out a huff and opened the door again to see where the woman had gone. Then, I came back in the room and waved to the window. “That girl there. All the way down the hallway,” I clarified.

Murphy got up and looked through the window that showed the hallway outside of it. His eyes landed on the woman’s, and a look of realization crossed over his face. “Oh. Oh, yeah. That’s the new girl. I think her name is Y/N,” said Murphy.

I looked at Murphy with a furrowed brow when he said that. “You knew?”

Murphy shrugged and nodded, walking back to his chair and sitting down. “I heard some folks whispering about her. She was pretty popular in her old job, I think, skilled in her field. That’s why everyone’s talking about her,” he shrugged, like the fact was common knowledge.

“And no one was gonna tell me?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Uh, no, I guess not. Why would it matter, anyways? She won’t be working with us that much,” he responded.

“She won’t? Why not?” I asked curiously. Why was she up here, then?

“No, she’ll be working with the coaches, training the dogs for drug sniffing. She’ll be around, but—” Murphy explained, but then he suddenly cut himself off. He cocked an eyebrow. “Wait a second, why does this even matter to you, Peña?”

That got me to shut up real quick.

For one of the first times in my life, I was at a loss for words. I licked my lips as I tried to pick my brains for a response that would make sense.

But my mind was abandoned, way too preoccupied to give him a reason. Sooner or later, I just shook my head, giving myself a way out of this conversation.

“It doesn’t,” I shrugged, walking over to my desk. I ruffled through the drawers for a second, before grabbing the final cigarette from the box that I always had with me.

I took a deep breath as I made a note to myself to get more, before saying, “I just wanna know who I’m working with.”

Murphy nodded, though he didn’t really look convinced.

But the good thing was, if there was one thing Murphy knew about me, it was to never push my words. He picked up the case file that he’d been working on when I walked in the room and simply mumbled, “Yeah, okay.”

I sighed in relief, glad that he had just dropped the issue; I seriously didn’t want to talk about this right then and there. Talk about a woman.

I left the room without so much as another word, perching the cigarette in my mouth before I had even made it out of it. I usually smoked in the office, not giving much of a shit to our boss’ wish for me not to. 

But today, I obliged, making my way down the lift to go outside.

When I walked through the lobby and through the doors to exit the building, I mulled over the morning that I’d just had. Escobar’s doings may not be in plain view now, but a new sense of chaos was clearly ready to take the podium.

I lit the cigarette as I leaned on a pillar in front of the building, rubbing my forehead as a migraine began to form there. I exhaled puffs of smoke from my nose and lips, praying that it’d ease all the tension in my figure.

Fuck, what was even going on with me? Who was this girl, and why the hell was one glance her way driving me crazy?

She was just a woman. That’s all she was. And I’ve had countless experiences with women, an art that I knew like the back of my hand. I knew my way around them, and I wasn’t looking to get wrapped up in one at any point, at any time.

I’d just have to pray that this wouldn’t cause any problems in the workplace for me.

I’d have to have hope, and a hell of a goddamn lot of it.

I was walking back up to the breakroom after I’d got back to the building half an hour later. After all, I hadn’t even gotten that cup of coffee I’d been craving before leaving to have a smoke.

But when I walked in the room, I didn’t envision the first person I’d see inside of it.

The new girl.

There she was in front of me again, the same vibe that had emitted from her earlier in my presence once more: Only, it was closer to me now. She was conversing with a male coworker of mine, and they seemed to be engaged in some happy go lucky discussion, because the woman was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, I figured, why not? My dog is my best friend, and I don’t want to leave her home all of the time while I’m working, you know?” she giggled as coffee poured from the coffee machine she was next to.

The man, whose name I didn’t even know, chuckled in response. “That’s crazy. So they just let you bring her, huh? And you’re gonna train her up with the other dogs?” the man asked her.

She nodded, flashing him a smile that seemed to glare off the walls. “Yeah! Pretty cool, isn’t it? I’m glad they let me. I wasn’t really sure they would,” the woman laughed, picking up her cup and taking a long sip out of it.

The man was about to answer, when his eyes finally met mine, acknowledging my presence for the first time since I’d walked in the damn room. This caused the woman to look at me too, only smiling at me.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure your dog will do well. Shepherds are pretty big, and the ones we already have do a good job,” he murmured, looking down at the ground. “Anyway, I should get back to work. You have yourself a good day, Y/N. And good luck.”

So that was her name. Guess Murphy didn’t lie.

“Peña,” he said with a professional nod and awkward smile. Then, he left the room.

When it was just her and I in there, we looked at each other for several long seconds. My eyes glazed over her, fully analyzing her appearance now that she was so much closer to me.

I furrowed my eyebrows. 

I don’t know what it was about this girl that was seriously getting to me.

She was just different. 

And I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” she smiled widely at me, putting her coffee cup down to offer her hand to me before giving me her last name. “I’m new to the DEA, if you couldn’t tell. It’s my first day. What’s your name?” she asked.

Her kindly demeanor unsettled me, being both refreshing and alarming. Most of the men and women on this job worked with somber faces. No feelings, small talk, laughs or smiles. Just work, work, work. It was bizarre to see someone in the DEA building beaming, like we worked in some candy shop.

Didn’t she have any idea what this job encompassed?

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“What?” she asks.

“You're blocking the coffee machine,” I clarified for her. Sure enough, she looked to her side to see that I wasn’t lying about that. She murmured a quick, “Sorry,” then moved out of the way.

“Yeah,” I groaned in response. I grabbed one of the paper coffee cups near the machine, then got to fixing myself a cup.

To my surprise, she didn’t leave the room. She crossed her arms behind me, and I could see her looking over me out of the corner of my eye. I could tell she had the urge to speak, but didn’t know how to do so.

Black coffee poured from the maker when she finally opened her mouth. “I haven’t gotten your name yet,” she murmured.

I let out a sigh, wondering why she even needed to know it. “What does it matter?” I replied without a care in the world, looking for creamer in the drawers below the machine.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t, I suppose. I just want to know,” she answered. Then, she perked up, looking at me with a new sense of hope in her eyes. I craned my head towards her for only a second, just to see that same pearly white smile she’d been wearing across her face earlier. “Do you work on this floor, too?”

I closed the paper cup with a lid as she spoke, not even realizing that I’d forgotten to add creamer to it. “Name’s Peña. Javier Peña. And I don’t do small talk,” I replied composedly, turning my body to face her. Clearly, I had yet to get used to her appearance. I’m pretty sure my heart dropped down to my ass when I laid my eyes on her again.

However much I didn’t want to talk to her, there was a fact that remained true, regardless of how it was I was feeling.

She was fucking gorgeous.

Even with my semi rude remark, she smiled at me nevertheless, giving me a little shrug. “Fair enough. It’s not everyone’s thing, especially early in the morning. I get it, Peña—”

“Agent Peña. And no, it’s not,” I said back to her. I was just about ready to leave the room, when she grabbed me by the arm, causing me to pause in my tracks.

“Wait,” she said, clearly doing her best to cling to this conversation for as long as she could.

“What?” I snapped. Though, I didn’t move her hand away.

“Do you know an Agent Murphy? I’ve been looking for him,” she asked very quickly, tilting her head. I raised an eyebrow: She had my attention with that one.

“Murphy? Yeah, he’s my partner. Why, what do you want with him?” I asked curiously, facing my body back towards hers.

“He was supposed to give me some case files on drugs, mainly cocaine. I’m going to be working with the dogs, training them on sniffing out drugs and things like that, so I kind of need them.”

I sighed, trying not to roll my eyes at her. “He’s in the office down the hall. I’ll take you there,” I annoyedly offered. That’s where I was going, anyways, so I didn’t have much of a choice.

“Great! Thank you so much. Lead the way,” she grinned in a brilliant smile, signaling to the door. I grumbled and nodded, before making my way down the hall to Murphy and I’s shared office.

What was it I was saying earlier about hope?

if you made it to the end of this, i really hope you liked it! please consider leaving a reblog, as they help my work immensely <3 kisses!

[neverthatsirius-jo]

1982, JAPAN'S QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP.

summary — in which james' biggest safety hazard on the quidditch field is not the bludgers but being in love with you.

content — james potter x fem!reader, fluff

word count — ~800

a/n — me posting five days after i said i would never write again and privated all my works: 🤡. thank you @foodiegoogie for reading this before i post <3 (go read her fics, i recommend). no pun in the title this time folks. terrible.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

“You’re so stupid.”

You drag the piece of cotton lathered in rubbing alcohol across the considerable gash that covered the length of his left cheek almost entirely. He winces and you have to bite your lip to try and not laugh.

“I think you mean romantic.” He grabs your hips, getting you closer to where he is, sitting on the counter of the hotel room’s bathroom you were in. It was the fifth hotel room you had been in the past month, while you were following him around Japan, where the Quidditch world cup was being hosted that year.

“No, I mean stupid.”

He sticks out his tongue in response.

The grand final, Japan vs. England—the team James had worked his arse off to get into for years—and he’d managed to get injured in the last couple of minutes of the game, rendering him useless for the rest of it and part of the celebrations. He’d had no time to sulk about it; they’d won anyways, and his performance across the several other matches had been nothing short of phenomenal. The media unanimously agreed on that end. The whole of England too, save for a few pretentious gits that desperately needed to set themselves apart from the rest.

“People are allowed to have an opinion, love,” he’d said when you’d finished your rant against them, red in the face.

“Well, not that one.”

The incident plays in your mind again, and now that you’re not worried about his safety you can laugh about it. You don’t, though, instead biting your lip to prevent it. Excited and proud of your boyfriend for scoring—for the who-knows-th time, you’d honestly lost count—, you had yelled his name and waved your arms to get his attention. And gotten his attention you had; he let go of his broom to form a heart with his hands, letting you know he had dedicated the play to you.

You tried warning him about the goalpost he was dangerously approaching but it had been too late and the crowds cheering drowned out your voice. Not that you were close enough for him to hear anyway. He crashed, hitting the side of his head, and fell off his broom. Merlin knows it could have been much worse if one of his teammates hadn’t grabbed him before he hit the ground.

You’d run to take care of a very disoriented James, who kept trying to joke with the mediwizards—keyword being trying; you are still pretty sure nothing that came out of his mouth made sense—, in one of the medical tents they had for such cases.

‘The culprits that make you end up here are usually bludgers, not pretty girls’ James told you, laying on a makeshift bed, slurring his words but seemingly in a moment of lucidity. You grabbed his hand that was poking around your face and caressed it with your thumb.

That was precisely why you now found yourself at five a.m. cleaning his wounds and changing the plasters on his face after the bar celebrations.

You felt guilty, no matter how much he assured you there was no reason for you to feel that way. You were glad he didn’t seem to care one bit that he had been totally out of it—product of whatever potion they gave him to keep him going for the time being and dispatch him quickly—the moment England raised the cup, celebrating their victory.

“You didn’t like my heart?” He pouts exaggeratedly, lowering his face to find your gaze, now completely focused on the placement of the plaster.

“I’m more fond of your head staying in one piece.” You get his face back to its previous position, acting annoyed. “And in place, please and thank you.”

Once finished with the plaster, you grab his head with both hands and plant a kiss on top of it.

“It’ll heal faster,” you mutter before placing another peck, this time on his lips.

“Oh, yeah?” He quirks an eyebrow, his smile widens. “You should be a mediwitch.”

You pretend to think about it for a second and nod in agreement. You stand there staring at the other for a few seconds—you mainly checking if you have missed any wounds—before he throws his head back and groans.

“What is it?”

“Sirius will never let me hear the end of it,” he lifts himself off the counter, and kneels to pick up the wrappers and pieces of cotton he’d dragged with him.

“He should try hitting his head every once in a while, maybe then he will break a scoring record like the ‘promising rising star James Potter’,” you quote the article he’d run to show you last week, the day after the first match.

He laughs as you get out of the bathroom, both of your arms around each other’s waist, and you leaning on him. England, fans and journalists alike, could try to claim him for themselves all they wanted but he was, at the end of the day, unequivocally and solely yours.

thank you for reading, reblogs and replies are always appreciated <3

back to masterlist

[fruitcoops]

A Princely Gift

Fic O'Ween Day 3: time period? what time period? Character credit goes to @lumosinlove, header is from @noots-fic-fests who is compiling all the fic o'ween submissions from all the fantastic writers! Always a delightful breakfast feed.

Yesterday's Halloween movie: The Thing (1982). Feel free to guess today's if you catch it!

“It won’t last.”

“Shh.

Leo craned his neck up. The fabric of Finn’s trousers scratched pleasantly at his nape, but it was coarse sand compared to the drift of his fingers across Leo’s jaw. “I mean it,” Leo said. “It can’t.”

“You said won’t.”

“Can’t, won’t.” Leo looked back down to his hands. A blade of grass twirled between his index finger and thumb; he discarded it. “Same thing.”

“Not so.”

Leo’s lips pursed in silent disagreement, but Finn’s thumb soothed that, too. “Three days’ ride, if the weather permits. A handful of days here, if no crisis demands your presence.”

By myself, even if this goes through and I’m not tied to anyone else for eternity. Finn’s careful touches came to a halt. The full span of his palm came down to cup the side of Leo’s cheek, and despite the sun (and himself), a tremor rippled through him. “Leo.”

“Hmm?”

By the look on his face, Finn didn’t buy a moment of Leo’s faux innocence. Yet beneath it laid something less playful—too honest for that, too raw, too much spilling over in his curious brown eyes. “Do you want me to stay for the remainder?”

Answering was as easy as breathing. “Yes.”

“And when I go back, to visit when I can?”

“Always.”

“To love and cherish you ‘til—”

Leo hushed him with a hand over his mouth. A smile peered around his pinky finger; a kiss gave bird-wing pressure to the heel of his hand. Leo let himself linger there, the pad of his thumb running the shape of a fawn-colored freckle. “Wait for the altar.”

“Is it to do with your station?” Finn kissed his hand again. “A crown prince, marrying one entire step down. How unbecoming.”

“Hush.”

Pink lips settled on his wrist. “I’m sure we could work something out. Alex has only been courting that princess for…what, eight months? Hardly anything. I’ll overthrow him in a heartbeat, steal the crown. He’s severely neglecting his princely duties to go chasing after her and Lord Winterington-Whatever.”

“Winter.”

“Oh, you know him?” A mischievous grin had Leo biting back a smile. “Is that your preference? Blond and dashing? Shall I grow my hair out and bleach it pale?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “I’d have your head if you did.”

“Poison in my cup is much kinder.”

“Earn my kindness, then.”

“Oh, Leo,” Finn sighed, stretching out alongside him. His auburn head came to rest on Leo’s shoulder. They were too close for propriety. A scandal and an outrage, tenuous betrothal aside, and Leo adored him. He wove a loose lock around his finger. Finn smiled. “When have you ever made me earn it?”

The breeze ran past, fluttering the flags atop the castle and the laces of Leo’s tunic alike. Finn was in blue today. He loved Finn in blue. The sky above flickered with new clouds on every breath.

Leo sighed, long and longing. “I don’t want you to go.”

A pointed nose nudged forward in sympathy. “We have to. Just for a little while.”

“I’m lonely here.”

“It’s not forever.”

“I’ll miss you.” He shouldn’t be saying these things. His golden circlet demanded it; emotion was nothing in the face of a kingdom’s needs. He wanted to stay in this garden forever, where nobody could find them and nothing could hurt them. He didn’t care whether Finn was a prince or a duke or a serf or nothing at all. He wanted him here, he wanted him always, he wanted his knight to come back. “I don’t want to wake up.”

“I know.”

“I’m tired. What have you done to Logan?” The world was going syrup-slow and hazy, and Leo knew his smile looked the same. He felt lazy and warm and heavy on the silken grass.

“Nothing.” Finn’s eyes glittered. “Why, do you think I should?”

Leo tried to glance to the far edge of the garden, but his eyelids refused to budge open. “What was that noise?”

He needed no answer. It was steady footfalls and the clink of a baldric, just around the corner. A polished sword—silver in the light, like his armor—and green eyes, growing closer by the moment.

--

Leo’s lungs filled on a sharp inhale. He was hot and a little sweaty, but not so unbearable he needed to move beds. The castle…the castle? The house. Their bed, Finn’s arm over his waist. Logan shuffled closer with a sleepy noise and pinned Leo’s calf to the bed with one concrete ankle. Their pillow (now shared) dipped beneath new weight. His necklace was body-warm where it fell over Leo’s forearm.

He wanted the castle back. And his crown. Most of all, Finn in a flowy shirt. Leo closed his eyes and drifted away.

[copaline]

WIP Wednesday is here!

It's that time again! WIP Wednesday is upon us!

@man--eater (Yeah I know you don't go here but you did it to me!)

@i-prefer-base-twelve (I NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THAT KIDS AU)

@punedrr (Girl I know you got something!)

@ancharan (Loved your fic and your art!)

Besties, you have been tagged!

No pressure to share but I'd love to see what you have! And as always, if you see this and want to join in, please do! Consider yourself tagged by me! The banner is free to use!

Anyway! As you may or may not know, @punedrr and @mask-knife-is-scarecrows-girl straight up failed as my impulse control and I started a little one-shot spinoff of Horror Vacui called The Dealer and the Oracle!

It's a fix it fic that answers the question "what if someone had rescued a young 1982 Model Ford as he was being tortured by Bill"! Here's a little snippet of the upcoming Final Chapter:

It was surprisingly easy to get into a daily rhythm.  Fiddleford took to Jheselbraum just as Leaf knew he would.  Peace, calm, stability, that was the gift of the Axolotl. The Oracle was an extension of his will, a universal constant, a healer, a seeker of order, in a word: Unswerving. If Bill was a raging inferno, Jheselbraum was the ancient forest sheltering the lost and watching the centuries drift by. Her very presence was soothing, and the longer Fiddleford remained in the cabin, the more his mind healed and his real personality shone through. He was brilliant in his own right, but also thoughtful and given to manic creative bursts. Leaf often came back from her excursions to a new robot or mechanical creation built in the spur of the moment. Leaf now understood why he and Ford were friends. If someone could fix the toaster by making a tiny clockwork welder, and smile at you while presenting his creation like a little piece of sunshine, how could anyone resist?  Leaf had fully expected Fiddleford to hate Ford, or at the very least resent him. However, all the anger he had melted away when he saw the bruises under the bandages. Although Leaf did her best to keep to herself, she saw the worried looks and the softness with which he held Ford’s bandaged hand. There was something in those moments that felt familiar. It was the ache of a person mourning an echo of what could have been.  She was sure he was blind to it and didn’t have the words to describe it, but Leaf knew what it was. He was mourning a dead path, a possible future that no longer existed and would never come to pass. Leaf paused for a moment to observe them from the doorway, before walking away.  Possibility beckoned and they all had their part to play. Leaf had, of course, introduced herself to Ford during one of the few times he had been awake. He had looked at her blankly, without a hint of recognition in his blue eyes. Their effervescent dreams were truly forgotten. Moreover, he stared straight through her and locked eyes with Jheselbraum. His paths shimmered in the Oracle’s presence and Leaf had merely smiled before excusing herself without him noticing.  His attention was elsewhere. His muse now had a rounder face and seven eyes. Good.  It made it easier to fade into the background. And so every morning, Leaf woke up, walked by Ford’s doorway without disturbing him and fled down the hallway as though there were still a Neverwere snapping at her heels. The world was far more bearable once she put some distance between herself and that bedroom. The promise of a fresh cup of coffee certainly didn’t hurt. She poured herself a mug and breathed in the scent.

[maraudersinparadise]

Jily Week 2024 - Continuation Station - @kay-elle-cee

Not really a continuation - but this is a translation from an old fanfiction of mine!

(AU) Lily Evans is a topliner Auror who simply hates working on cases involving celebritities and press. James Potter is England's major star and hope for the 1982 Quidditch World Cup - but he also ends up being the major suspect in a murder investigation, and the Auror in charge is his old colleague Lily Evans.

Fanfiction net

Wattpad

AO3

[fxdltc88]

Happy Anniversary Little Caesars!

Little Caesars was established at 32594 Cherry Hill Rd.

May 8th 1959, in Garden City, Mi.

Mike Ilitch played second base for the Tigers and a couple of other teams beginning in 1952.....thanks to a knee injury, he had to retire in 1955.

Little Caesars' history says it all began as a love story in 1954, when Ilitch and Marian Bayoff were thrown together on a blind date by Mike's dad. Fortunately, they hit it off, and it was just a few months later when they married. The two of them pooled their life savings in order to open their own business: a pizza restaurant.

1962 Little Caesars first franchise opened in Warren, called “Little Caesars Pizza Treat”. This featured the “Little Caesar guy eating a slice of pizza” logo. From there, Little Caesars really began to branch out and became the fastest-growing pizza chain in America.

That single mom-and-pop pizza shop grew into the third largest pizza chain in the world with stores in more than 27 countries and territories worldwide, including in each of the 50 U.S. states.

The growth of Little Caesars helped Mike and Marian create other leading brands in the food, sports and entertainment industries.

The couple purchased the Detroit Red Wings in 1982. While the team was known as the Dead Wings at the time, Mike and Marian believed they were a sleeping giant and immediately took charge to turn the team around. By 1997, the Red Wings won their first Stanley Cup in 42 years, and they went on to win three more.

Mike encouraged the Ford family to bring the Detroit Lions back to Detroit from the suburbs and build a new stadium right next door to the ballpark by relinquishing a portion of land to make way for the new stadium. The new football venue allowed Detroit to host the Super Bowl in 2006.

Today - true to Mike and Marian's vision for a bustling downtown area - the Ilitch organization is developing The District Detroit, a dynamic urban destination that provides a dense neighborhood experience featuring a variety of developments alongside Detroit's premier sports and entertainment venues. This includes the new highly innovative and state-of-the-art Little Caesars Arena, home of the Detroit Red Wings and Detroit Pistons, and the recipient of the 2018 Sports Facility of the Year award, presented by Sports Business Journal.

Throughout Mike’s life, he remained true to his hometown and was a zealous supporter of Detroit, working tirelessly to help it prosper and to bring pride to the city. In 1988, Mike and Marian purchased the neglected Fox Theatre and carefully restored it to its original 1928 splendor.

One year later, they moved the Little Caesars world headquarters from the suburbs into the newly renovated Fox Office Center adjacent to the restored theatre. This was during a time when many businesses were fleeing the city.

Mike displayed further commitment to the city he loved when he purchased the Detroit Tigers in 1992 and built a new state-of-the-art ballpark for the team. Remembering his early years as a minor league baseball player with the Tigers, he did everything in his power to make the fan experience at Comerica Park a memorable one.

Mike and Marian believed passionately in giving back to the community. As the parents of children who played hockey, the couple wanted to provide other children the opportunity to play the sport as well. So, they established the Little Caesars Amateur Hockey Program in 1968, and it has provided opportunities for tens of thousands of youngsters to play the great game of hockey over the years. Hundreds have gone on to play at colleges, universities and in the National Hockey League.

Inspired by the story of a veteran returning to civilian life, Mike founded the Little Caesars Veterans Program in 2006. The program provides honorably discharged veterans with financial incentives and other support to help them open a Little Caesars franchise.

Since 2000, grants and giving from Marian and Mike, the Ilitch companies and its charitable affiliates have totaled $220 million. This includes Marian and Mike's personal gifts of nearly $50 million to Detroit's Wayne State University - $8 million to the Department of Surgery and $40 million to build a new home for the Mike Ilitch School of Business, prominently located on Woodward Avenue.

[guidedbyamara]

“Where are the children born in captivity?”, one Abuela famously shouted at a TV camera during the 1978 World Cup held in Buenos Aires.

How would the Abuelas ever find their grandchildren, who probably never knew who they were, and were scattered all over the country? How could they feasibly identify them if their parents disappeared?

In 1982, Abuelas Estela de Carlotto and María Isabel “Chicha” Mariani traveled to New York and met with Argentine geneticist Victor Penchaszadeh. Penchaszadeh had left Argentina in 1975 after the Argentine Anti-Communist Alliance (AAA), a right-wing terrorist group that operated during the Peronist government, kidnapped him for five days and threatened to kill him.

The Abuelas asked Penchaszadeh a simple question, albeit one that no scientist had ever asked and one that would revolutionize genetics forever. “Can we identify our grandchildren through our blood?” Back then, what they were saying was not even conceivable: parentage was determined not by DNA sequencing, but by a byproduct of DNA – protein variation. The blood of the person believed to be the parent was necessary to conduct the test.

Penchaszadeh couldn’t resist the challenge. “I received it as a mandate,” he told the Herald. “It meant a lot to me – I was doing science, but in the United States, where health is defined by commercial values.”

He put together a team, which was ultimately led by American geneticist Mary-Claire King. In addition to geneticists, the group was also made up of mathematicians such as Pierre Darlu.

[korshrimpski]

DRIVERS THAT REMIND ME OF ICE HOCKEY PLAYERS

Hope you enjoy <3

1. Oscar Piastri—Connor Bedard

Reasoning:

Generational talents

An awkward guy but there’s nothing wrong with that

They are both so addicted to the sports they play (e.g. connor rushing his recovery plan after he fractured his jaw and oscar driving with a fractured rib)

They have both been described as cats before

Blonde (yes this is an actual reason)

2. Josef Newgarden—Nathan MacKinnon

Reasoning:

They are both *VERY* intense about the sports they play

They may be *VERY* intense about their sports but they can have fun (e.g. Nathan had a twitch channel and Josef had bus bros (bus bros 🥲))

Josef has (2) indy500 wins and the hockey equivalent is a Stanley Cup which Nathan has

3. Michèle Mounton—Sarah Nurse

Reasoning:

Trailblazers

Inspirations

Icons

Legends

VERY good at what they do/did ((no shit) but what I mean is that Sarah Nurse is an Olympic gold medalist (2022) and Michèle finished runner up in the world rally championship (1982) and helped Audi to their first constructors championship)

4. Lando Norris—Jack Hughes

Reasoning:

Literally the only reasoning is because J.Hughes fans remind me of LN4 fans. Like is we draw a venn diagram the two would 100% overlap (no disrespect to the fans most of you are chill)

5. Abbi Pulling—Aerin Frankel

Reasoning:

Carrying their teams on their back (e.g. Aerin being an amazing goalie and being a big reason for keeping Boston in the playoffs and Abbi having 190 out of Robin Carlins 225 points)

Also Abbi emanates goalie vibes (this is a complement)

6. Mick Schumacher—Dylan Strome

Reasoning:

Promising junior career

Wasn’t really given a chance to succeed (mick at haas and dylan with the coyotes)

But they have now found their footing (mick in WEC and dylan with the caps)

[swiftpascal]

In Europe, I'm a fan of the Italian national team, nothing more.