#built in indiana baby

[colin-86sc]

1999 Subaru Legacy Postal i rarely take good pictures so i wanted to share :)

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Anywhere Else Is Hollow - No Love Love Halloween Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: There are so many pop-culture references in here, I'm so sorry. Title from willow by Taylor Swift.

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary/Warnings: A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, pre-established relationship

“It’s the middle of fucking June.” Ben grumbles, adjusting his suspenders and glaring at his reflection. “And I still don’t see why I can’t just wear my damn supe suit-“

You grab his shoulders, turning him to face you and moving his hands off the straps for you to fix. “So you admit,” you grin up at him. “Your supe suit is a costume.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, people dress as me all the goddamn time-“

“But you are you. The whole point of this is that you’re not you.”

“Well, I don’t want to be this fucking pussy-“

“Rick O’Connell is not a pussy, he was my very first crush and an excellent treasure hunter. He’s like Indiana Jones, but with no commitment to academics.” 

“Well then why the fuck can’t I be Indiana Jones-“

“Because you don’t have any commitment to academics, and you’re built more like late 90s Brendan Fraser.” You run your hand through Ben’s hair, holding his glower with a fake pout. “I think you look very handsome.”

“I always look fucking handsome,” he mutters, catching your hand and kissing your knuckles. “This is still goddamn stupid.”

“If you want to go tell Ryan that-“

Your hum is cut off with a squeak as Ben tugs you forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you until you’re a little dizzy, swaying against him.

“Brat.” He presses another, lighter kiss on the corner of your lips, smirking as you chase his mouth back fully onto yours. “I’m going to do this shit, for you-“

“For me?” You raise your brows, pulling back enough to give Ben a pointed look. “Or for the blowjob and ice cream you’re going to earn for not being a massive fucking baby about this.”

He shrugs. “It’s a blowjob from you, beautiful. And if you’re going to wear this-“ He cuts himself off, scanning over you with a frown. “What the fuck is this.”

“A costume-“

The lines of Ben’s face deepen, and he rolls his eyes. “No, smartass. Who are you.”

“Evelyn Carnahan.”

“Who-“

“She’s your,” you poke Ben’s chest, and keep your face bright as you push through the description. You’d really been hoping he wouldn’t ask who you were, because you know he loves you, but it still might make you cry if he gets pissed off or freaked out by this. “Wife.”

He just blinks at you. “I’m not married yet-“

“No, dummy.” You sigh. “In the movies. Your costume is married to my costume.”

There’s a moment of silence, and it’s the longest fucking moment of your life. Ben is staring at you, looking slightly dumb-struck, and everything inside him is glowing and burning and made of ardor, but if he doesn’t fucking say something-

“If you give me a blowjob in this costume,” he mutters, scanning over your body as an insufferably attractive, cocky grin crosses his face. “I’ll jump off a fucking bridge for you.”

You flush, all of Ben’s hunger making you feel warm and high, but still manage to wrinkle your nose at him. “I don’t need you to jump off a bridge for me, Benjamin. Just don’t bitch and moan, and pretend you’re having a little fun.”

“We can stay here, and have plenty of fun in these stupid fucking outfits-“ 

“Nope.” You push off his chest, and stick out your tongue. “Earn it, Pretty Boy.” 

Ben's face falls into an almost adorable pout, but he lets you tangle his hand in yours, pulling him out of your room and apartment, down to the dining hall. 

You will admit, this whole thing is a little ridiculous. It is in fact the middle of June, but Ryan’s never had a Halloween before, and who knows what the fuck your life will look like come October. Best case scenario, two Halloweens in one year. Worst case- 

You don’t even want to think about the worst case. The worst case is world-ending, heartbreaking, and keeps you up in the dark with nightmares of cold, blue eyes and red hands that might be yours and might be Homelander’s wrapping around your throat. 

So this might be a little stupid, but you don’t care. It’s a distraction, it’s not like you have anything better to do while everyone is benched. You might as well entertain this request from Ryan, and pretend it’s October, and just have simple fun for one night, like the world isn’t ending around you. 

Bonus, Ben does look really fucking good. He’s right, he always looks good—it’s one of the most annoying things about him—but it’s a little insane right now. If it wasn’t for Ryan, and the promise you’d made to attend the party, you’d have taken him up on that stay here and have fun idea. But for now, you’re still allowed to look. Scan over his broad shoulders, his muscles rippling in his shirt, and you want to pull him down by his suspenders to kiss him all over his stupid, handsome face, and he’d trimmed his beard last night so it’s soft and fuck you love him and it’s driving you out of your mind- 

You almost trip as Ben stops outside the dining hall—you hadn’t even realized you’d arrived—and his arm shoots out, wrapping around you and steadying your body. 

“Careful, Sunshine.” He grumbles, not moving away as you regain your balance. “You said no blood, and that fucking counts you.” 

You wrinkle your nose at him. “It does not-“ 

“Yes, it does.” Ben’s snap is firm, his big, warm hand squeezing your waist. “You get hurt, we leave. Got it?” 

“Fine.” 

His eyes narrow, and he bends down to your eye level. Try again. 

I’ve got it, Ben draws back up, and you lower your voice between your heads to a mumble. You massive fucking cunt- 

He snorts, scooping you up into his arms, swallowing your small yelp with a kiss. Brat. Ready? 

Put me down, you whack Ben’s chest, and he knows you don’t mean it—the asshole is big and warm and this is the safest place in the world so you never want to be anywhere but here— because his glower doesn’t waver. 

If you’re going to fucking hurt yourself- 

I’m not going to hurt myself, Benjamin. You drop your head onto his shoulder, giving him your sweetest smile. You won’t let me. 

Damn right I won’t, he scans over your face, and slowly lowers you back down, keeping his hand in yours. Let’s get this shit over with. 

The decorating of the dining hall is abysmal. Frenchie had spray painted some bats on the walls—which had to be some kind of health hazard, but you were all way past that—and Annie had covered exactly three tables in spooky-themed cloth, but that was the extent of the efforts. Everyone seemed to be trying to make up for it with costumes, though. Even Butcher was dressed up. Granted, he did mostly just look like himself with no shirt, but it only took one assessing scan of his black trench coat, sunglasses, and gun to figure out what he was going for. 

“Terminator?” You ask as you and Ben approach the drink table—two bottles of sprite someone put red food-coloring in and a bowl of punch that you really hope Frenchie didn’t spike—and Butcher nods. 

“Right on the money, Love.” He scans you over with a frown. “Fuckin hell are you supposed to be.” 

“Evie, from the Mummy.” 

Butcher's eyes turn to Ben. “And that makes this cunt-“ 

“Rick.” Ben grunts, tugging you a little closer to his side, his glare on Butcher a very obvious, violent challenge. 

No blood, Benjamin. 

I haven’t done a fucking thing- 

It’s a preemptive no blood. If Butcher’s a dick, no killing him. 

Butcher opens his mouth, a mocking grin covering his face and Ben tenses at your side, but with either the best or worst timing in the world, MM walks thoughtlessly between them to the table. 

MM glances over to you and Ben as he pours a drink. “The Mummy?” 

“Yeah, and you’re-“ 

“Dread Pirate Roberts.” Ben’s voice is so confident that the look of exasperation on MM’s face almost makes you snort. 

“I’m Zorro, motherfucker.” 

Butcher takes in MM’s mask and black cloth outfit, and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m with Soldier Boy on this one, Mate. You’re a fuckin pirate.” 

“Lucky it’s not up to you assholes, it’s my costume-“

Ben squeezes your hand as Butcher and MM devolve in further argument, and when you glance up at him his attention is fixed on the food table. I’m fucking starving- 

Go eat, then. 

You’d meant for him to go get food and come back, but Ben pulls you with him as he stomps over to the food, only dropping your hand when he realizes he needs both to fill up his plate. 

Why are these hot dogs so fucking small. 

You follow his glare to the table, and bite your tongue to stifle your giggle. They’re pigs in a blanket. And you’ve definitely had them before 

Ben ignores the second half of your sentence. Are they good. 

I think you’d like them- 

That’s all it takes, and Ben’s plate becomes half covered pigs in a blanket. He drops down onto one of the empty tables—watching you carefully until you sit at his side—and then begins to stuff them into his face until his cheeks are puffed out. 

You can’t look at him or you’ll snort—which means he’ll probably glare at you, which will make you laugh more, and it will somehow end with Ben fucking you on the table, in front of everyone—so you scoot closer to his side and wave to Kimiko as she walks into the dining hall, wearing large yellow skirt and blue top, a large red bow in her hair. 

Snow White? You sign, and she nods with a wide smile.  

Frenchie sewed it for me. She spins around before sitting across from you. He’s coming, he wants to fix his cape. 

His cape? 

He’s something called a Frodo. Kimiko glances at Ben, still chewing, and back to you. Is he okay, he looks angry… Kimiko’s hands pause for a second. Angrier. Than usual. 

He’s grumpy. You shrug. And that’s just his face whenever he eats. He’s like a mean old dog. 

You love him so much. 

“What are you talking about,” Ben grumbles, crumbs falling onto his beard. You sigh, reaching up to wipe them off. 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full-“ 

“Answer my fucking question-“ 

“We were talking about you, Benjamin.” You hum. “And how grumpy you are.” 

“I’m not fucking grumpy-“ 

“You’re so grumpy.” You kiss his cheek, and feel rough affection spark in his chest, his scowl wavering. “And I still love you.” 

“I love you too,” Ben mutters, pressing his leg to yours and returning his attention his food, eating slightly slower. 

You resume your conversation with Kimiko, and give up on explaining what a Frodo is when Frenchie drops at Her side, giving a proud, sweeping gesture to his costume. 

“Good, non? Certainly much better than Butcher only taking off his shirt-“ 

“The fuck are you, an elf?” 

Frenchie frowns at Ben, “I am Frodo fucking Baggins. See,” he raises his bare foot up for you and Ben to see. “No shoes. A hobbit.” 

Ben makes a sour face, opening his mouth to say something that’s likely not very nice, so you punch him in the stomach. 

He doesn’t flinch, but shoots you a glare. I didn’t fucking do anything- 

You were going to call Frenchie’s costume stupid.  

It is fucking stupid. He’s wearing a cape, Sunshine, that’s dumb- 

I know, but it’s the costume. Let’s move, Pretty Boy, before you yell at Kimiko for wearing a dress when she’s Snow White. 

Ben paused. Why the fuck is she Snow White. I’ve seen her bash peoples brain in- 

She says because she wants to take a nap and likes animals and music.  

Ben seems to accept that answer, his glare turning to his empty plate, and tugs you up with him as he stands. “You promised me burgers-“ 

“I did not.” You let him loop his arm through yours, but hold him at the table. “I said Benjamin, if you want to grill burgers, I’m still banned from using the grill but I’ll sit with you.” 

He pauses, looking back to the half empty food table before grunting, “Do you want a burger.” 

You give him an amused look. “Do you want a burger?” 

“Of course I want a fucking burger-“ 

“Then sure, I’ll have one-“ 

You’re cut off with a slight squeak as Ben starts to move, yanking you to his side without breaking pace, but slinging his arm over your shoulders and half holding you against him until you’re on steady feet. 

When you reach the grill Ben helps you up onto the counter—keeping one hand steady on your thigh until you’re settled—and begins to move around, prepping the grill with an almost violent focus.  

He’s barely started when you see Ryan—bright eyes and dressed in a droopy white tunic and loose pants—bouncing over to you, a very sheepish Hughie-Mario and smiling Annie-Samus behind him. 

Ryan says your name, and Ben glances up, movements slowing as he very obviously eavesdrops. “Look!” Ryan gestures to his outfit. “I’m Luke Skywalker!” 

“Yeah, you are.” You nod, returning Ryan’s smile and glancing over him to Hughie. “No lightsaber, dude?” 

Hughie raises his hand that isn’t holding Annie’s to display a blue plastic lightsaber, and frowns at it. “It’s the wrong color, but it lights up, and blue is still a Jedi color. Actually, blue was originally supposed to be Luke’s lightsaber color, but green tested better-“ 

“Fuck yeah it did,” Ben mutters, returning to your side with his arms full of frozen packaged hamburgers.  “Blue’s a fucking dogshit, pussy color-“ 

You kick his thigh, keeping your eyes on Ryan. “But a good color for a lightsaber, right Benjamin?” 

Ben rolls his eyes, but grumbles an agreement. 

“Are you making burgers?” Ryan shuffles to Ben’s side, looking over the grill with wide eyes. 

“Grilling.” Ben grunts. “I don’t make the paddies, kid, I fucking grill them.” 

“Can you, um, can you show me how?” 

You watch them carefully as Ben freezes, his whole body tensing and his grip on the spatula growing white-knuckled for only a second before the whole thing passes, and he nods. “Pay attention, because I’m not repeating anything. And no fucking lightsabers near my grill.” 

You don’t bother teasing him with the fact that it’s not Ben’s grill, it’s everyone’s grill, because Ryan’s eyes light up and that’s what this was about. Ryan feeling cared about, and watching Ben move around and nodding along with his instructions before tentatively flipping a burger, all with an eager face. It was about how when they finished Ryan shuffled up to you with the burger Ben had let him grill himself, nervously asking if you wanted it.  

You’d never taken a plate so fast. But when you start to scoot off the counter Ben’s hand lands on your thigh, holding you in place.

Benjamin- 

He ignores your voice in his head, his attention focused purely on Ryan. “Where do you want to eat, kid?” 

“Um,” Ryan swallowed, his face a little red. “Here? It’s quiet-“ 

Ben’s hand slid up your leg, moving you a little further back onto the counter as he leaned against it himself, looping his arm around your waist as he places his plate down, holding the burger with his free hand as he examines Ryan with a drawn brow. “You need a chair.” 

Ryan blinked. “No, thank you. It’s okay to eat here?” 

“I don’t give a fuck-“ 

“Yes, we can.” You lean yourself against Ben’s back, smiling at Ryan as you kicking Ben’s leg in a subtle movement to shut him up. “Are you liking fake-Halloween?” 

Ryan nods, face eager once more. “Yeah! The costumes are, um, really fun, and Butcher said I can have extra dessert-“ 

Ben freezes mid bite of his burger, roughly swallowing the food in his mouth before grunting, “do you not get fucking candy.” 

“No, Aunt Grace says it’s not good for my teeth-“ 

“Fuck that, your teeth with be fine.” Ben glares around the kitchen before jerking his head to a cabinet. “There’s a damn year’s worth of chocolate in there. Take some.” 

“I, um-“ 

“Ryan.” Ben snaps, holding Ryan’s nervous gaze. “You want chocolate, eat some fucking chocolate. You can’t get cavities, and if Mallory and Butcher get fucking whiny about it, I’ll deal with it.” 

“Okay.” Ryan mumbles, glancing over at the cabinet. “Will anyone notice-“ 

“It’s Kimiko’s,” Ben mutters, tugging you a little closer. “She told me, and we’re the only ones that know about it. You’re good, kid, don’t lose your fucking mind over something so stupid.” 

As Ryan shuffles over to the cabinet—looking back to you and Ben with a bright, shocked face at the truly abominable amount of chocolate in the cabinet—you bump Ben’s shoulder with yours. 

What did you threaten Kimiko with to know about her secret chocolate stash? 

Ben rolls his eyes. She fucking told me, Sunshine. For you.  

Oh. You blink, titling your head at him. Why didn’t she tell me? 

I don’t fucking know, maybe she knew you’d fold and tell whoever looked sad- 

I would not fold-

Ben scoffs. You’d fold in a fucking second. Those pussies would have a bad day and you’d start handing chocolate like goddamn candy. 

It is candy, Benjamin. You wrinkle your nose at him, nodding over to Ryan. And you just folded pretty fucking fast yourself-

Shut up. 

Nope, you caved without Ryan even asking- 

Ben’s arm around you tugs you forward into a slow, gentle kiss. Brat. 

Cunt. You pull back, smiling at him. I love you, you massive fucking idiot-

You love my massive fucking something, darling. Ben winks at you, and you only get to flush as Ryan returns, his pockets stuffed and overflowing with chocolate. 

You’re here for another few hours. You think you could spend a lifetime here, listening to Ryan tell you about how Hughie had helped him get his Luke Skywalker costume right—the key is the shoes, and you have no idea what that means but Ryan sounds certain, so you nod—and watching Ben swallow his grumbles about how Star Wars is fucking dumb as cock for Ryan’s sake. You really hope you make it to this October, and the one after that, and the one after that. You want to spend a lifetime like this, with Ryan’s face full of joy and his words coming out easy instead of unsure. With Ben half wrapped around you, his outfit and face and everything making your brain go a little haywire. If October comes without pain, Ben will be wearing that again. And you’ll have more time to have fun with him—and his mouth, and his tongue, and his rough hands on your body and his hard cock wherever he wants it—before doing this again. Next time, you’ll get Ryan more candy, and a properly colored lightsaber.  

And if another year passes, this could be your whole life. A hundred more Halloweens—probably more, given the whole immortality thing—with Ben looking stupidly handsome at your side and everything being about easy, simple joy. And when you look at Ben’s stoic face and feel his love—hot and zealous and focused in your chest—you don’t think he’d argue with you. He’d be just as happy as you are to do this forever, together, maybe joined by more bright-eyed children he can teach to grill and give too much chocolate. Countless costumes for him to grumble are stupid, but wear nonetheless.  

It would be really nice to have a life like this. 

End Note: I spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing everyone's costumes, but I think I nailed it. Jensen Ackles playing Soldier Boy dressed as Rick O'Connell from the Mummy save me. Save me Jensen Ackles playing Soldier Boy dressed as Rick O'Connell from the Mummy.

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[xoxorealitygalore]

Plan B

Jey Uso x Afro-Brazilian OC

Summary: In her thirties and single after a breakup, Hamisa decides she wants to become a mother, despite her friends' and family's objections. Unable to wait any longer, she chooses to have a baby on her own. However, she unknowingly ends up using her ex-boyfriend sperm after he drunkenly swapped her donor’s sample for his own. As Hamisa raises her child, she starts noticing striking similarities between her ex-boyfriend and her baby, leading to questions about the true origins of her child's conception.

Plan B Masterlist

Taglist: @xbriexx @christinabae @blackchickinthedesert

Fifteen long months had passed since Hamisa had last set foot inside the world of WWE, a world that once enveloped her with its chaos, its lights, and its fierce energy. It was a place where she had not only built a career but had woven deep connections, both personal and professional.

The memories flooded back as she walked through the backstage area of the Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis, Indiana, where the 2025 Royal Rumble was about to unfold. But this time, there was something more, something that made this night different from all the others.

In her arms, bundled up in a soft pastel pink blanket, was her eight-month-old daughter, Jhream. The little girl had become the light of Hamisa’s life, filling her world with joy, laughter, and an unspoken bond that only a mother and child could understand.

After a year and a half of embracing motherhood, it was time for Hamisa to return, not just for herself, but for her daughter as well. It was a moment she had longed for, a chance to share the world she had once known with the little girl who had changed her life forever.

Backstage, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. The air was filled with the unmistakable hum of a WWE event, voices rising and falling, people hurrying to and fro, and the ever-present buzz of activity. The familiar faces around her were older and changed over time, but they were still the same people who had once been a part of her world. Some smiled warmly when they saw her, others gave brief nods, but all seemed to pause for a moment to take in the sight of her, standing there with Jhream in her arms. The baby’s curious eyes scanned the faces, wide and unblinking, soaking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

Hamisa walked through the bustling corridors with an eagerness that only a return to the familiar could provoke. Her heart fluttered as she introduced Jhream to anyone who would listen, proudly showing off the little girl who had become the center of her universe. Her excitement was palpable, and the love she felt for her daughter radiated from her, a beam of warmth in the otherwise cold, fast-paced backstage area.

Before long, Pamela, a longtime friend, and WWE veteran, made her way over, having heard that Hamisa was back. Pamela's eyes sparkled with recognition and excitement as she bent down to meet Jhream's gaze. "Look at you, sweet thing," she cooed, her voice soft and affectionate. "You’re so pretty."

Hamisa’s smile deepened as she watched Pamela gently scoop Jhream into her arms. The moment felt almost surreal, Pamela cradled her daughter, offering her a moment of comfort amid the madness that was WWE. The soft cooing sounds Jhream made as she nestled in Pamela’s embrace became like a lullaby, a tender contrast to the chaos around them.

Pamela looked up at Hamisa, her voice filled with a soft awe. "I can’t believe I’m your Godmommy," she said, her tone filled with genuine warmth. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Jhream’s cheek, and the baby, caught in the whirl of affection, responded with a goofy grin, one so exaggerated and mischievous that it took Hamisa by surprise. That grin, was one she had seen before, a flash of pure, unfiltered joy that reminded her so vividly of someone she once knew.

Before she could say anything more, a familiar voice interrupted the moment. "Pamela, Hamisa..." The voice was deep, almost hesitant, and unmistakable.

Hamisa’s breath caught in her throat as she turned. The man who appeared at the corner of the room was none other than Joshua, her ex-boyfriend. The world seemed to pause around her as he stepped into the space where she and her daughter stood. The last time she had seen Joshua had been under far more uncomfortable circumstances when they had parted ways after a disagreement over her decision to use a sperm donor. The tension between them had been thick, the air heavy with words unsaid. Now, more than a year later, their encounter felt awkward, almost strained, though the weight of their past still lingered between them.

Joshua’s eyes scanned the room, and his nervous smile faltered as he made his way over to where Hamisa stood, cradling her daughter. There was a hesitation in his movements, an unspoken uncertainty as he approached, unsure of how to navigate the space between them. His family, including his ex-wife and their sons, had built relationships with Hamisa over the years, and they had adored her. But after the break-up, and after his admission that he couldn’t fully commit to their relationship, things changed. The knot in Joshua’s chest, the memory of their time together, had never quite loosened, and he found himself standing in front of her now, unsure of what to say.

Pamela handed Jhream to Joshua without a second thought. Joshua accepted the baby gently, cradling her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. His eyes softened as he looked down at her, and for a brief moment, the world around them seemed to slow down. The baby was light in his arms, a small, delicate presence that seemed to bring a sense of peace amid everything.

"So, are you visiting or returning?" Joshua asked, his voice soft, but there was an underlying tension that hinted at the weight of their past.

"Returning," Hamisa answered, the word slipping from her lips with a sense of finality as if the decision had been made long ago. She took off her coat, revealing a pair of embellished tights and a curve-skimming pink bodysuit with cutouts that accentuated her form. The transformation was striking, she had returned to the world of WWE not just as a mother, but as a woman ready to reclaim her place in the ring.

Pamela squealed with excitement. "We’re going to be on the road together again," she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious.

Joshua smiled, though it was a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was then that Hamisa noticed the small but significant detail, Joshua and her were both wearing the same color for their wrestling gear. It was an odd coincidence, and for a brief moment, Hamisa felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify.

As the conversation continued, Jhream, who had been tugging at Joshua’s beard, caught the attention of Jeyce, Joshua’s twelve-year-old son. Jeyce approached with excitement, his eyes wide with curiosity. "You’re back!" he exclaimed, pulling Hamisa into a warm hug.

"Hi, Jeyce," Hamisa said, smiling as she hugged him back. Jeyce’s gaze shifted to the baby in Joshua’s arms, and his face lit up with wonder.

"Is this Jhream?" Jeyce asked, his voice full of awe.

Hamisa nodded. "Yes."

Joshua handed the baby to Jeyce, who cradled her gently, as though holding a precious treasure. Jhream, for her part, seemed perfectly at ease, a content smile stretching across her face as she gazed up at the young boy. "Wow, she’s so pretty," Jeyce remarked, his voice filled with admiration.

A strange thought flickered through Hamisa’s mind, Jhream’s features, her expressions, the way she moved, it all seemed so familiar. It was as though she had seen them before, in someone else. But she pushed the thought aside, not allowing herself to linger on it too long.

As the backstage conversations continued, Pamela asked the question that Hamisa hadn’t even thought to consider. "Who’s going to watch Jhream while you’re out there for the Women's Royal Rumble match?" she asked, her tone light but laced with concern.

Hamisa hadn’t planned for that. In her excitement to return to the WWE, she hadn’t considered the practicalities of having a baby with her. The Women's Royal Rumble match was about to begin, and she had been focused solely on stepping back into the ring after months away. The last thing she had expected was to be caught up in logistical concerns.

Joshua, sensing her moment of indecision, stepped in. "I’ll watch her," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Good luck out there." He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Jhream’s forehead, lingering for a moment longer than he had intended. The gesture, simple as it was, carried with it a weight of unspoken feelings.

Hamisa nodded, her heart filled with gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered, knowing that at this moment, Joshua was offering more than just a simple favor. He was offering a sense of connection, a thread that tied them together despite the distance between them.

As the show began, Hamisa made her way to the gorilla position, her mind racing with anticipation. She was about to step back into the ring for the first time since her daughter’s birth, and everything felt surreal. The roar of the crowd outside was deafening, and the excitement in the air was almost tangible.

Meanwhile, Joshua took Jhream to the sitting area, where his relatives, including his sister-in-law Trinity, immediately noticed the baby in his arms.

"Is that Hamisa’s baby girl?" Trinity asked, her voice filled with curiosity. "Why do you have her?"

Joshua smiled, his eyes softening as he looked down at the baby in his arms. "I’m watching her for her."

"Is Hamisa in the Rumble?" Joshua’s cousin Jacob asked, his voice full of surprise.

Joshua nodded, a faint but proud smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, she is."

The Women's Royal Rumble match was underway, and Hamisa entered the match at #4, her entrance earning a thunderous pop from the crowd. Her theme song blared through the arena, and the audience sang along, welcoming her back with open arms. She lasted twenty-five minutes in the match, showcasing her skills and holding her own against the fierce competition.

The final four in the match were Charlotte, Nicole, Carla, and Savelina, with Carla being eliminated by Charlotte and Charlotte ultimately winning the match, earning a title shot at WrestleMania 41. As the match came to a close, Hamisa made her way backstage, eager to find her daughter.

When she did, she was taken aback by how natural Joshua looked holding Jhream, as though he had been a part of her life all along. Hamisa took Jhream into her arms, thanking Joshua for watching her, but before she could say anything more, Jonathan, Joshua’s twin brother, took the baby, grinning as he held her up.

"Jhream, tell your mama you’re hanging out with us tonight. She can’t just grab you from us like that," Jonathan teased.

Jhream, ever the charmer, blew raspberries at Hamisa, causing Jonathan to chuckle. "She’s a feisty one," he remarked, as Jhream smiled, showing off her two bottom teeth.

As Hamisa took pictures with her friends and fellow wrestlers, she couldn’t shake the thought that Jhream looked more and more like Joshua with every passing moment. The baby’s facial expressions, especially the way she scrunched her nose, reminded her so much of him, a fact that made Hamisa’s heart flutter in ways she didn’t understand.

She tried to brush it off, telling herself that it was just her emotions playing tricks on her. After all, she had used a sperm donor to conceive Jhream. Joshua wasn’t the father. Yet, every time she looked at her daughter, those similarities felt more and more undeniable.

As the night wore on and the main event approached, Hamisa found herself standing with Jackie, talking about her hybrid role as a backstage interviewer and wrestler. But as Joshua passed by, Hamisa couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling that stirred within her. The baby reached out for Joshua once again, and he gladly took her in his arms.

"She is so cute," Jackie commented, raising an eyebrow. "She looks just like him."

Hamisa’s heart skipped a beat as she struggled to keep her composure. How could a child conceived from a sperm donor look so much like her ex-boyfriend?

The questions swirled in her mind, and with them, a deep sense of unease. What did it mean that Jhream looked so much like Joshua? And why did it make her feel like the past was resurfacing in ways she wasn’t prepared for?

But the answer eluded her, hidden beneath layers of complicated emotions that she wasn’t ready to confront.

The morning sun poured through the hotel window as Hamisa sat on the edge of her bed, the phone pressed to her ear. She could hear Hermione’s voice on the other end, sharp and teasing, but with an undercurrent of concern.

“Hamisa, you’re overthinking this,” Hermione’s voice echoed from the speaker, confident in the way only a younger sister could be. “You used a sperm donor, Hamisa. That man isn’t the father. There’s no way Jhream looks like Joshua. Unless—unless, subconsciously, you want him to be.”

Hamisa stared out the window, trying to collect her thoughts. The gentle hum of the hotel’s early morning stillness contrasted with the whirlwind inside her mind. She exhaled sharply, her fingers brushing through her dark hair as she tried to shake off the nagging doubts.

"I’m not crazy, Hermione," she muttered, rolling her eyes, though she knew her sister wouldn’t see it. "I used a sperm donor because he didn’t want more kids, and we broke up, remember?" The words were stiff as if she were trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

"Yeah, yeah, I remember," Hermione replied, a mixture of sympathy and exasperation in her voice. "But, Hamisa... you’ve been through a lot in the past year, and now you're back in the WWE, reconnecting with all those familiar faces. It's normal for emotions to get mixed up."

Hamisa’s gaze dropped to the floor, her mind replaying yesterday’s encounter with Joshua and the way Jhream had reacted to him. The way she reached for him so effortlessly, as if there were a connection they shared, one that Hamisa couldn't explain. She didn’t want to admit it, but Hermione was right. The feelings were tangled, nostalgia, longing, and a bit of regret, all wrapped up in the rush of seeing Joshua again.

"But why does she look like him?" Hamisa asked softly, her voice barely audible as if the question itself was too vulnerable to speak aloud. "It’s like... she’s got his nose, his little expressions. Even the way she smiles, Hermione, it’s like I’m seeing him all over again, and it’s messing with my head."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, the line crackling slightly. “Hamisa,” she finally said, her voice steady. "You’re being too hard on yourself. You’re looking for patterns and connections where there might not even be any. Babies pick up so many things, like facial expressions and mannerisms from those around them. It could just be a coincidence. And honestly, you’re seeing things through the lens of everything that happened with Joshua. It’s bringing up old feelings, and that’s what’s clouding your judgment."

Hamisa leaned back against the headboard, still holding the phone to her ear, but her thoughts were miles away. "Maybe you're right," she muttered, her voice faint. "I just don’t know why it feels like I’m being hit by this all at once. It’s not just the way she looks. It’s everything, the way she reacts around him, the way she clings to him like she recognizes him. It’s confusing."

“Hamisa,” Hermione said gently, her tone softening. “You’ve always had a way of overthinking things. You have a beautiful little girl, and you’re back doing something you love. You can’t let all these doubts get in the way of what’s in front of you.”

Hamisa paused, glancing down at the space beside her on the bed. She had told herself time and again that Joshua wasn’t part of her life anymore, that he wasn’t the father of her child. And yet, in those fleeting moments when Jhream smiled just like him, or when she clung to him as though she had always known him, Hamisa couldn’t help but wonder. It was as if life had a way of throwing the most unexpected reminders of the past when she least expected them.

“I know,” Hamisa sighed, her voice filled with a weariness that was too deep for someone so young. "I just don’t know how to make sense of it all. It feels like... everything is happening so fast, and I can’t keep up with it."

Hermione’s voice softened again, a smile audible in her words. “It’s okay to feel that way. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now, but you’re strong. You always have been.” She paused for a moment before adding, “And when it comes to Joshua, don’t let your heart go wandering where it doesn’t need to. You’re doing this for you, for Jhream. And that’s what matters.”

Hamisa’s lips curved into a faint smile as she leaned back against the pillows, her shoulders relaxing for the first time that morning. Hermione’s voice, though miles away, always had a way of soothing her, of grounding her when she felt like she was slipping away.

“Thanks, Hermione. I needed that,” Hamisa whispered, her eyes closing as she allowed herself to breathe.

“No problem,” Hermione replied. “Now go enjoy the rest of your day. I know you’ve got a big schedule ahead of you.”

Hamisa nodded even though she knew her sister couldn’t see it. “I will,” she said, the words feeling more like a promise to herself than anything else.

As she ended the call, Hamisa set the phone down beside her and stood up, walking to the window where the sunlight poured into the room. She took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the day wash over her. The doubts still lingered, but for now, she would try to silence them. For Jhream. For herself.

And maybe, just maybe, for the part of her that still wondered what could have been with Joshua.

Hamisa walked over to the window, her fingers grazing the cool glass as she gazed out at the early morning bustle of Indianapolis. The city was waking up, the streets filled with cars, and the air was crisp. It was hard to ignore how much had changed since she last found herself in the WWE’s orbit.

She had come back, not just to revisit the world she had once called home, but to forge a new path, one that included her daughter, Jhream. The realization of how much had shifted in her life, how quickly everything had changed, made her head spin. The excitement of returning to the ring had been undeniable, but it also triggered memories and emotions she wasn’t ready to confront.

The connection between Joshua and Jhream lingered in the back of her mind, a whisper she couldn’t quite ignore. Each time she saw her daughter’s smile or the way she scrunched her nose, it felt like a fragment of the past was staring back at her. She had told herself it was just coincidence, but there was something too real about it. And deep down, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought: Could there have been a mistake?

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Hamisa straightened up, wiping away the pensive look on her face and replacing it with her usual, confident demeanor. She opened the door to find Pamela standing in the hallway, a smile on her face and an eager energy radiating from her.

“Morning, girl!” Pamela greeted, practically bouncing with excitement. “You ready for the day? It’s gonna be a crazy one, but we’re back, baby! Back on the road again!”

Hamisa’s lips curved into a smile at Pamela’s enthusiasm, even though she felt a little detached. The bubbly energy that Pamela exuded was like a welcome ray of sunshine. But Hamisa couldn’t shake the unease still fluttering in her chest.

“I’m ready, I guess,” Hamisa said, her voice betraying her uncertainty despite her attempt at a confident tone. She stepped aside, allowing Pamela to enter.

Pamela looked her up and down with a raised eyebrow. “You guess? Honey, I can see it in your eyes. What’s going on? You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Hamisa sighed, her gaze falling to the floor. She hadn’t realized how much her emotions were written all over her face until Pamela’s observant eyes caught it.

“I’m just... trying to figure things out,” Hamisa said quietly, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s nothing really. I just—there are a lot of things I didn’t expect when I came back. It’s... harder than I thought.”

Pamela’s expression softened, her usual teasing demeanor giving way to concern. “What’s harder?” she asked, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “What’s going on with you, really?”

Hamisa took a deep breath and walked over to the window again, staring at the city outside as if the answers might be hiding there. She didn’t know why it felt so difficult to admit her feelings, but she realized then how much she had kept bottled up since the moment she had returned to WWE.

“It’s just... everything,” Hamisa began, her voice low and introspective. “Yesterday, when I saw Joshua holding Jhream, it was like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to see. I know it’s not his baby. I used a sperm donor. I know that. But every time I look at Jhream, I keep seeing little things that remind me of him.” Her voice faltered as she added, “It’s driving me crazy, Pamela. I don’t know if I’m just missing him, or if this is... something else.”

Pamela was quiet for a moment, letting Hamisa's words settle. She knew how deep Hamisa’s feelings ran, even if Hamisa herself didn’t fully understand them.

“You know, girl,” Pamela said slowly, her tone more thoughtful now, “sometimes when you’ve got a history with someone, it doesn’t just go away. No matter how much time passes. But you’ve got to remember—you made that choice for a reason, and it’s not just about Joshua. It’s about you. About what you needed, what you wanted for your life.”

Hamisa turned to face Pamela, feeling a knot tighten in her chest. “I know that, but... sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing, you know? Joshua never wanted more kids. He didn’t even want to be a part of my life when I made that decision. And now I’m here, seeing him with her, and it’s like... everything is messy. I thought it would be simple, but it’s not.”

Pamela stood up and walked over to Hamisa, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Nothing about life is simple, baby. But you’ve got this. I know you do. And as for Joshua... he’s not a part of your life in the way he once was, but that doesn’t mean you’re supposed to carry the weight of everything that happened between you two. You’ve got a little girl who loves you, who needs you, and you’ve got a life to live. Let Joshua figure out his place in all of this.”

Hamisa closed her eyes, letting the weight of Pamela’s words sink in. It wasn’t easy to let go of the past, especially when it seemed to follow her like an invisible shadow. But Pamela was right. Hamisa couldn’t keep holding onto old wounds that didn’t belong to her anymore. Her life now revolved around Jhream, and that’s where her focus needed to be.

“Thanks, Pamela,” Hamisa said, her voice quieter now, but with a sense of clarity she hadn’t had moments before. “You’re right. I need to stop second-guessing everything. I’ve got to let go of the past if I’m going to move forward with Jhream.”

Pamela smiled, her usual energy returning. “That’s the spirit! You’re back, and we’re not slowing down for anything.”

Hamisa laughed, feeling a sense of determination rising within her. The doubts weren’t gone, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like she was ready to face them head-on. With Pamela’s encouragement and her own resolve, she could start the next chapter of her life, one that was all about her and Jhream, and nothing else.

“I’m ready,” Hamisa said, her confidence returning with a vengeance. “Let’s do this.”

As she walked toward the door, the uncertainty that had plagued her earlier began to fade. Whatever happened with Joshua, with her past, it no longer mattered. She had her future to focus on now. And that future had a little girl who needed her.

Next

[thebowieconstricker]

Head Over Heels - Prolouge

(The Creature x Reader)

A Lisa Frankenstein (2024) fic

masterlist link

Alright, monster lovers, I’m gonna try something a little more ambitious: an actual fic. Constructive criticism welcome! Please be kind because I have no proof reader and I’m still learning how to write good stories lol. I’m also gonna be fleshing out some characters to better fit the narrative I have in mind for this story. I hope you enjoy the prologue!

Warnings: slight language, my best attempt at worldbuilding, and our gender neutral reader is an orphan, so discussion of that. Also, (N/N) stands for nickname!

~~~

1986, Brookview, Indiana

“Oh. My. GOODNESS, (Y/N)! You have to try a face mask! It’ll help you with those dark circles under your eyes!”

“But (Y/NNNN), pink is totally your color! Just give it a chance, your nails would look SO pretty!”

“You didn’t even jump! It’s like you’re built for these movies, (N/N)!”

Comments like these had already gotten old around- you checked your watch- two hours ago. You considered yourself a survivor of some ancient teenage girl ceremony. Saying polite “no thank you”s to Taffy and the rest of her much too perky friends was becoming quite the laborious task. Some may say you were being too stubborn, as they had treated you with nothing but kindness since you came to town, to which you’d argue that Tricia certainly seemed like she had a bone to pick with you. Along with her, you had unfortunately seen enough of the world to understand one of the most important rules of high school:

The popular girls were mean, and these girls were certainly popular.

You had no idea why Taffy had run up to you on your first day of school and excitedly introduced herself, her gaggle of friends confusedly following after her. You figured this was some kind of territorial power move, checking out the fresh meat before inevitably deciding to kill.

But then Taffy kept hanging out with you. And complementing you. And begging you to hang out with her group of gals.

You took it as some kind of elaborate bit, but hey, they were nice.

At least they didn’t look at you like you were a rotten corpse walking down the halls.

Your thoughts snapped back to your current situation at Taffy’s house. Her mother, Janet, had actually sneered at you when you walked in, but other than that, the night was shaping up to be your average “new girls first sleepover”. Grease had taught you well. That was, until the truth or dare game started.

Lori had brought it up, and it started pretty normal.

“Who’s your crush?”

“OMG, I’m not telling!”

“Come on, Misty! We won’t tell! Right, (Y/N)?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, no.” You mentally cursed yourself.

This is how it continued for a while before you finally perked up.

“I dare you to go to the Bachelors Cemetary Grove.”

“WHAT??? No way, Tricia! There’s no way in hell-“

Your eyes widened in intrigue and you blurted out without thinking, “There’s a bachelors cemetery?”

The girls turned to look at you.

Tricia raised one of her perfect eyebrows.

“You haven’t heard about it? It’s like- uber haunted.”

That piqued your interest. Life in the foster care system had caused you to grow accustomed to the darker sides of life, and you had always had a special interest in the dead. Your own parents had died in a mysterious fire when you were just a baby, leaving you with no real memories of them. You believed that everyone deserved to be remembered, especially the average, unremarkable person.

(Mainly because you knew that’s how you would turn out, and you’d like to be remembered.)

Enough of that, though, because everyone is still looking at you, so you cleared your throat.

“Would I have to go tonight? Or like, right now?”

Tricia rolled her eyes. “I mean, I didn’t ask you-“

“Oh, shush, Tricia! She’s participating!” Taffy smiled widely at you.

Tricia shot you a look.

“Fine. Yes, tonight. And you’d have to bring back a vine to show that you actually went there. The place is full of them, so it should be easy for you.”

You detected a hint of challenge in Tricia’s tone, but ignored it. You wanted to do this to quench the thirst of curiosity that was bubbling in your brain. This seemed like the first interesting thing you had heard about in this boring town.

You stood.

“I’ll do it.”

Taffy cheered and Lori looked at you in amazement. Misty immediately began to try to talk you out of it, worrying about your safety, while Tricia went silent.

Your mind was set, though. Time to see what all the hooplah was about.

~~~

The walk to the gravesite had been much more peaceful than you thought it would be.

Taffy’s house was constant noise, light, color, total overstimulation. However, the cool mist that danced across your skin along with the eerie silence of the woods soothed you. It helped you clear your head.

After walking through the woods for what seemed like hours, you finally came across the old rusted iron gate that sadly displayed the text, “Bachelors Cemetery Grove”. You frowned, finding the disrepair of the cite pitiful. This place should be filled with respect, not to be forgotten by vines and leaves.

Speaking of, holy shit, Tricia was right about the vines everywhere.

Thick, bright green foliage covered every inch of the area, graves poking out here and there to display faded names. It was enchanting to see so much life growing in a place of death. You could have snapped off a vine and booked it out of there, but you were drawn to this cemetery. Careful steps led you deeper and deeper into its heart as you swerved this way and that to try and make out the occasional name.

Then, through a beam of moonlight that shone through a break in the trees, your eyes caught on a specific grave.

You walked closer and came face to face with the stoic expression of a handsome young man, carved in the same stone his grave was made of. He had a strong nose, with beautifully curved lips and hair that flipped upwards on the ends. He was looking slightly downwards, his eyebrows painfully curved upwards, as if to express a dramatic feeling of grief. Resting beside his bust was an arm and a hand, attached to nothing and slightly curled. He looked like a man that would recite beautiful poetry, professing his deepest desires and most intimate thoughts.

Your mouth was slightly agape as you admired him. Despite your more logical thoughts, you brought a hand up to gently caress his cheek, finding a raised texture chiseled there that suggested sideburns. A sigh escaped your lips as you realized the romantic-ness of it all. A man who seemed perfect, a lover, full of life and emotion, condemned to a permanent fixture in a buried world.

You could say it was love at first sight.

[distortionbobble]

"do you ever shut up" no... and nobody asked for this but i'm thinking about situationship!anakin right now. minors dni. fic has no warnings rn . might expand this one. modern au.

see the thing is, if any of your friends had gotten into this, you would have done a whooole extraction mission to get them out of it. a situtaionship? with that fine-as-fuck man? pretty wavy brown hair and that stupid fucking smile... baby your eyes look like the ocean i'm not arguing with you...

you found him on hinge during one of your dry-spells. the first thing you noticed was how pretty this man is. his profile featured pictures of him hanging out of the window of his car, gravity pulling his hair down as he flashed the camera a prize winning smile. another picture inside a restaurant, just a hint of manicured nails in the corner of the photo.. taken by an ex-girlfriend, maybe? you hum, and scroll down to see the rest of his profile.

"anakin, 22... figuring out my dating goals," you murmur to yourself, munching on your popcorn. okay, figuring out dating goals, that means... means what? a situationship? fuck, do you even have that in you? you're ready to x him out but something makes you wanna look at that face just one more time. fuck, he's pretty.

before your better judgement can stop you you're typing out a quick response to his prompts. green flags i look for are... good at legos. okay, that's cute, right? maybe he doesn't know what his dating goals are because it's kind of intense to be like, i want a long term relationship. that is a lot of pressure. you respond by sending him the lego flowers bouquet that's sitting on your coffee table (yes, your ex gifted it to you. no, that doesn't matter to you. what he doesn't know won't kill him. besides, it was a good present).

does this count? you respond, tossing your phone to the side to focus on Love Island playing on the TV, not expecting a response from anakin for at least a couple days. which is why you're almost shocked when the screen lights up with a notification from hinge.

anakin: yeah, looks pretty good to me ahaha

anakin: sent an image

anakin: rate the set up?

you open it with curiosity and a little bubbly feeling in your chest-- a cute boy matched with you, you're pretty sure it's well within your rights to be a little excited. it's a rather impressive set up of a few different lego sets, all built meticulously. you spot a few that are difficult to get your hands on, and think for a second on how to respond to him.

you: do i spot the indiana jones temple escape set?

anakin: oh my god yes that's my favorite set lmao, took ages to get it

you: dude that's so lucky

you stare at the screen, biting your lip. fuck, this is such a dry-ass conversation, it'll probably die out anyways so you don't bother sending a follow-up

anakin: honestly pretty lucky in general w all my sets. i've got a coupe unopened ones if you wanted to hang out and do them w me sometime tho? might be fun.

oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. okay, be cool about this. wait, is this code for a hookup? okay, hang out and do them with him = y'all fuck after the legos? or before? you're confused. but like, legos sounds like a fun time.

you: sounds like a good time. does friday work? we could pick up some takeout from this place on jefferson ave, if you're down

anakin: down for friday. but i was thinkin i could make you somethin? i can make a mean miso soup, if you're down.

you: seeya friday, then :)

--

you brought chocolates. to his apartment. and after you knocked on the door, you're thinking maybe this wasnt such a good idea, after all. the chocolates, and the being here in the first place.

but anakin opens the door, and his apartment smells so good, and he's got a set of space post card lego sets already open with the accompanying instruction booklet next to him.

"hi," you smile up at him, a wave of shyness washing over you as you look at him. how are people allowed to be this pretty? it's like the camera didnt do him justice, because he's at least 20x more attractive in person.

"hey. it's nice to meet you," anakin responds with a grin of his own. "d'you wanna come on in? i've just put some of the veggies into the stock. got some tofu and stuff, bok choy, it'll be good," he says, shutting the door behind you as you enter his apartment.

"nice place," you say, looking around quickly before you take off your coat and shoes.

things flow easily between you too. he tells you about his day, his job, asks you about yours, asks you about your favorite movies. you ask him about his lego sets, his decorations, his favorite music, how he learned to get so good at cooking (the soup is fucking delicious). he puts on a grateful dead song on his speakers as you work on the sets, laughing when he asks you to separate two legos that are stuck together with the nails that you have ("don't you have one of those lego-separating tools?" "those. are for pussies.").

the sets come together what feels like too quickly. you almost wanna tear it apart so that you can have an excuse to just stay for a little longer, but it doesn't seem like anakin is eager to kick you out either.

but it's late, and you should go. as you head out for the door, you feel your eyes drifting to his lips-- his pretty bottom lip, plush and rosy and you wanna sink your teeth into it-- and you know he notices too. he doesn't say anything. is a first date too early to kiss?

"well," you say, lingering at the door. "i, uh, had a good time tonight."

"me too," anakin says, equally as awkward. he leans in just a little, so that his face isn't so far, so that you don't need to look up so much.

well, that's it. no invite to a next hangout. you try not to let your face fall as you wish him goodnight and thank him for the miso soup.

you've only made it out of his apartment complex when your phone lights up with a message.

anakin: d'you wanna do smthn next week?

you smile.

[malikat24601]

Errrbody out there with their cool title art and brilliant ideas for the BB... and then there's me <insert hehehe raccoon gif here> Presenting Team 043 with @ghostdeb bringing you: Glory Days A Steddie Alpha/Baseball/Omega fic for the Steddie Big Bang 24! Excerpt: The sun was high in the sky, blindingly bright, and Eddie shielded his eyes as he wandered through the stands, looking for his seat. Nancy’s expectations of him rang loud and clear in the excellent spot she had reserved for him, field level near the dugout, overlooking home plate. Money wasted, he thought saltily to himself, since he wouldn’t be able to see anything past the fucking glare. 

There was a gift bag waiting for him, a welcome package from the team — a bottle of water, a box of honest-to-god Cracker Jack, a little baseball bat keychain with Harrington’s jersey number on it, and a cap with the team logo embroidered across the center in bright reds and golds — the Indiana Mindflayers. Eddie pouted to himself, hemmed and hawed until finally, with a loud groan, he pulled the cap on over his frizzy curls and… damn. Even he had to admit that it brought instant relief to his eyes, shading them and bringing the field into perfect clarity. He sniffed, the smell of the turf bright and green in his nose. I’ll have to start doubling up on the Claritin, he thought, determined not to enjoy it one bit. 

Eddie pulled out his notepad and shuffled through his notes. Steve Harrington was the second baseman; smart, fast, with good reflexes and running speed. By all accounts, he was the favorite to break the base-stealing record last set in 1982, garnering respect for the up-and-coming new team. He was a powerful hitter, an even better baseman, a fan favorite, and, as far as Eddie could tell, a squeaky-clean, all-American golden boy. 

And while Eddie had done the requisite reading on the sport, more of his time had been spent delving into the lore that had built up around the man. The only son of a notorious business mogul, Steve Harrington had led a charmed life. Trust fund baby, sports phenom, the pinnacle of what a good son and alpha should be — right up until he had defied expectations and joined an unknown, fledgling team and been cut off by his family. 

Lucky for him, Steve was handsome, charming, and known almost as well for his prowess off the field as he was on it. He was never seen with the same woman more than twice, never tied down, never mated. Rumors swirled that he had almost been married once, but had his heart broken by some mysterious figure, the identity of whom he protected at all costs. Other than that, it would appear that all there was to know about Steve Harrington was how he played that day and who the new celebrity on his arm was that week. How boring, Eddie couldn’t think of anything worse.

Still, he was a reporter, and there was a lot of buzz around the guy. If there was a story there, he would find it, and then he would go back to Indy and beg on hands and knees for his old job back.

Eddie sat through the first half of the inning before the Mindflayers were up to bat. He waited with as much enthusiasm as he could muster to get his eyes on the man himself. Finally, the familiar sound of Andre 3000 started up, Harrington’s song of choice to play him in, as he jogged out onto the batting mound. 

Don’t want to meet your daddy, just want you in my caddy Don’t want to meet your momma, just want to make you come-a

Eddie rolled his eyes. A little on the nose, he thought, we get it, you’re a playboy who knots ‘em and walks ‘em. And I heard you were actually smooth…

Steve Harrington came up to bat with the bases loaded. It wouldn’t have been hard for anyone to look impressive after the lackluster performance of Tommy Hagan before him, but Steve sauntered out to home plate swinging his bat with the kind of easy confidence that made you just know he was about to do something special. His very first swing connected with the ball with a satisfying crack, sending it sailing deep into the stands.

Steve tossed his bat and ran, a home run. The crowd roared, jumping to their feet; the energy was infectious, and look, Eddie had eyes, he wasn’t immune to those tight little pants, or the sight of dirt on his knees as Steve pulled himself up with a bright, crooked grin and a little wave. The man was hot, he could admit it.

A faint scent of something wafted up from the field, spicy sweet and undeniable, calling to him so strongly that Eddie felt lightheaded. But almost as soon as he had locked onto it, it was gone; the wind changed and with it came the smell of incoming rain. He sank back in his seat, a little worse for wear, looking dubiously up at the sky and the gray clouds rolling in. A shiver ran through him and Eddie was forced to buy a hoodie to go with his new cap as light sprinkles fell over the stadium. He charged that shit on the company card.

The game played on, dauntless of the rain, and Eddie was cold, wet, way too sober, and bored. He tried to get into it, but catching the Cracker Jack he was tossing into the air with his mouth was just so much more interesting. 

After an eternity, finally they were in the last inning, and just as he was silently thanking the gods of sportsball that he’d soon be released from his purgatory, a palpable energy began to grow all around him. People were sitting up, watching a little closer. Eddie sat up, too, unceremoniously dropping the Cracker Jack to the ground.

The field was still wet from the earlier rain, grass glistening under the lights that had come up as the sun went down. It was the bottom of the 9th, the Mindflayers were down by one, and Steve was up to bat again. 

The first pitch was thrown wildly out of the strike zone, a ball. Steve let slip a flash of annoyance, which made Eddie smile to himself. Careful, big boy, that halo is slipping. On his second swing, he hit a double and made it to second base.

Then, before the next batter for the Mindflayers could take his place, the opposing team made a switch, bringing Jason Carver onto the field, their notoriously lethal left-handed pitcher. Steve seemed keenly interested in the goings on, so much so that Eddie found himself watching him more so than the player at bat. 

“Only one out left,” muttered the man sitting behind Eddie, so he wrote it down in his notepad. He could look up the exact rules of the game again later, after he had dried off, warmed up, and eaten something other than stale, too-sweet popcorn.

Lucas Sinclair stepped up to the plate, and while he and Carver sized each other up, Steve took the opportunity to run, racing to steal third base. The crowd cheered and Carver cursed, shouting something and… did Steve wink at him? Carver cursed again, but it didn’t matter, Steve was already safe. Sinclair was laughing; if he could get a good play, Steve would have a chance to run for home, tying the game. Carver spit and turned back to the plate, winding up. 

Sinclair was ready, but Carver’s signature fastball got past him. Eddie’s eyes were still on Harrington, who looked tense and twitchy as he and Sinclair made eye contact across the diamond. Carver smirked; another deadly pitch, another strike. Behind Carver’s shoulder, Steve had crouched low, watching things play out intently. The final swing connected, ball sent flying deep into the outfield and Steve ran. The crowd was on their feet, screaming as Steve slid home, his hat coming off and hair flying. He’d tied the game, standing up with a grin, clay caked down the front of his uniform as he shouted at Sinclair to run. The opposing team’s outfield threw the ball, but it went wide, missing their baseman. Sinclair kept running, past third, and when he touched home, he leapt onto Steve, the two of them laughing and shouting, because they’d done it. The Mindflayers had won by a single point in the final inning of the game.

Eddie found himself standing, too, his hands in the air and his jaw on the floor. He was absolutely helpless to the energy of the crowd. The team poured out onto the field, hoisting Steve and Lucas up onto their shoulders, and Steve threw his head back and laughed. Eddie laughed with him, couldn’t help it, overwhelmed by the magic of the moment. Somewhere on the breeze, he caught the smallest taste of that scent again, hot baked bread and spices, warmth and comfort, and then it was gone. When he looked back out to the field, Steve had disappeared into the dugout. That was Eddie’s cue to make his way down.

He wedged himself into the throng of reporters at the press conference, all trying to get the attention of Steve Harrington, who was clearly preoccupied with teasing his coach, renowned humorless hardass Jim Hopper, while managing to answer a slew of questions seemingly on autopilot without looking up once. “It’s all about teamwork, no one player wins the game,” rolled off his tongue, and then, “everything I learned, I learned from this man here,” as Hopper snorted gruffly. Eddie pushed through to the front and raised his voice. 

“That was a pretty neat trick you pulled there, but couldn’t you have done it sooner in the game so we could have had a bit more action in the middle bit? Or do they just trot you out at the very end to make it seem more interesting?”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the small space, save for a few awkward coughs as Harrington turned to stare directly at Eddie, his dark eyes narrowing. 

“Never seen this scrawny little guy before,” he quipped, leaning back lazily as though Eddie had bored him. “And who are you?” 

“Eddie Munson, with The P—”

“The Pace. I know you. You’re Wheeler’s new boy. Of course you are.” Steve said it like it left a bad taste in his mouth and Eddie gritted his teeth.

“If you could just answer the ques—”

“The reason, Mr. Munson,” Steve interrupted him again, “is that there’s more to the game than just hitting balls and running. Stealing bases requires thought, and it requires the right set of circumstances to pull it off. As soon as I realized they were bringing Carver out onto the field, I knew that I’d have a chance to take third, because as a left-handed pitcher, he’d have his back to me. It’s called game strategy. You may think I’m just a dumb jock, but I do actually have a brain. Next question.”

Eddie was dismissed, clearly. He frowned, staring down at his notepad. Strategy? You didn’t get to be the scariest dungeon master in Indy without knowing game strategy. Eddie twitched with annoyance.

He sulked through the rest of the questions, saying nothing, before making his way down to the locker rooms with the select few VIP reporters allowed in for the meet-n-greet. Eddie milled about, feeling every bit as uncomfortable as he had in high school gym, sweaty ball players shoving past him with towels thrown over their shoulders. Someone knocked into him from behind, and Eddie jumped aside, immediately apologizing.

It was Harrington, of course it was. Up close, Eddie could see that his brown eyes were more a warm hazel flecked with gold, downturned and sleepy-looking, but beautifully expressive. His lips were bowed and pink, far lovelier than a testosterone-ridden alpha male should possess, and cheeks kissed with tiny moles. He froze in place, apology dropping off, entirely unprepared for the reality of Steve. 

The man smirked at him, clearly amused. Steve reached forward and pinched the fabric of Eddie’s Mindflayers hoodie, rubbing it between his fingers. Then he ran his thumb along the bill of Eddie’s cap, almost teasingly. “Love the ‘fit,” he purred, in a wry, gravelly voice, and Eddie shivered. 

Steve was standing so close, sneering down at the gaping idiot that Eddie had become, and for a second he thought he caught that scent again, rising dough, nutmeg. His attention snapped elsewhere as he subconsciously lifted his nose to the air and sniffed. An omega was near, their scent curious and seeking, interested, sending a pulse of want all through him. Steve’s eyes shuttered off, and he looked uncomfortable, taking a step back and rubbing at his neck. Then, with an awkward smile that held none of the fire it possessed earlier, Steve whispered, “see ya around, Munson,” as he turned tail towards the showers, leaving Eddie staring after him. 

[handeaux]

Dorelle Heisel Plumbed Brain Mysteries And Psychedelicized Cincinnati’s Social Circles

Dorelle Markley Heisel called Cincinnati her home for several decades, but her mind was in another dimension. She was known as “Cincinnati’s Brain Lady” and held college faculty positions in literature, psychology and fine art. She pioneered biofeedback techniques to control mental and bodily functions while introducing Cincinnati’s strait-laced society to the psychedelic subculture of the Sixties.

Virginia Dorelle Markley was born in 1917 in Danville, Illinois but spent her childhood shuttling between her father’s Palm Beach restaurant and her mother’s St. Louis hotel. At DePauw University in Greencastle, Indiana, she was student royalty – literally – voted May Queen in her senior year.

It was at DePauw that she met and became engaged to W. Donald Heisel, a Cincinnati native and Western Hills High School alumnus. At the time of his 1940 marriage to Dorelle, Heisel was assistant secretary to Cincinnati’s Civil Service Commission and was, according to the Cincinnati Enquirer [21 May 1940] “one of the city’s youngest executives.” The Heisels built a new house on a quiet cul de sac in Westwood, where they raised two daughters.

Don Heisel earned a reputation as the “godfather of public administration in the Tristate” [Cincinnati Enquirer 6 March 1988] because of the many governmental officials he mentored at the University of Cincinnati and at Xavier University. Dorelle, who had earned a degree in English from DePauw, added a bachelor’s (1952) and master’s (1965) in education from UC while also taking classes at the Cincinnati Art Academy.

Dorelle taught English for several years in Cincinnati high schools and at the Ohio Mechanics Institute. During the summers she was a fixture at Pogue’s Department Store. Hundreds of Queen City baby boomers likely display pastel portraits of themselves, sketched by Dorelle at her stand in the Pogue’s children’s department. She hated the drab institutional brown walls in her husband’s office, so one day she hauled her pastels over to City Hall and executed a large mural of the Cincinnati skyline, drawn from memory.

UC’s University College recruited Dorelle in the mid-1960s and she flourished there, teaching literature, art appreciation and psychology. With assistance from the Procter & Gamble company, she brought innovative technology into her classrooms with a push-button feedback device that allowed students to register immediate opinions regarding class content. She told the Cincinnati Post [14 March 1968]:

“When students become frustrated with a lecture or feel lost or just plain bored, they can indicate their anxiety by signaling me on the monitor.”

Dorelle’s interest in media and their effects on human communication led her to Canadian theorist Marshall McLuhan, known for his books “Understanding Media” and “The Medium Is The Massage.” Among the earliest mentions of McLuhan in Cincinnati newspapers is a reference to a 1966 Evening College class taught by Dorelle to introduce the Canadian theorist’s ideas to Cincinnati.

Simultaneously with her investigations of media and biofeedback, Dorelle dove into what was then known as the human potential movement. She presided over a multi-week UC Evening College class titled “Actualizing Your Potential: A Group Happening.” Enquirer reporter Jo Thomas sat in on the course and reported [21 August 1969] a most unusual classroom experience.

“I will not lecture,” Heisel said. “You will live out experiences, and I will ask you questions. Answer them in your head without verbalizing them. Writing is so slow and the mind works at such speed.”

Dorelle invited the students to form themselves into trains of about nine “cars,” kindergarten-style and take turns being the “engine” or the “caboose.”

“Elderly women hung on to 20-year-olds. Bald men chugged in front of bearded men. Around and around the room the trains went, gathering momentum and enthusiasm. One train burst out of the classroom door into the bright hall, chugging with gusto.”

The explosion of new ideas generated by the psychedelic Sixties energized Dorelle and she launched a series of public lectures to share her excitement. One wonders how her Cincinnati audiences, among such mainline organizations such as the Federation of Jewish Organizations and the Kiwanis Club, reacted to her exposition titled “Turn On, Tune In, Find Out!”

An early adopter of technology, Dorelle acquired a variety of devices to assist her research into altering thought patterns via biofeedback. Among these contraptions were the electromyograph and the alphaphone that made brainwaves audible or visual. She claimed that biofeedback, in addition to curing a variety of conditions from depression to migraines, transported users into a new state of being that she called the Kairos Dimension.

"The Kairos Dimension is nature taking its electronic course through you by providing strategies for amplifying your sensory range,” she announced in her 1974 book, “The Kairos Dimension.”

The titles of Dorelle’s non-credit classes and community lectures indicate the paths her biofeedback research led her down: “Brainfun: Steering Minds In New Directions,” “The Holographic Mind,” “How Biofeedback Opens Social Spaces,” and “How Biofeedback Supports Excitement And Growth.” Here is the course catalog description for one of these classes:

“Feelings of stress, tension and pressure take place only in muscles, never in the chemical-electrical brain that sends out orders. New research gives us a more accurate model of how we guide and control our range of ‘body sculptures.’ Small group exploration of the latest technologies.”

As the Human Potential movement evolved into various New Age philosophies, Dorelle’s biofeedback strategies caught on among that crowd. When the Montreal Star compiled a list of 50 important New Age books in 1975, Dorelle’s “Biofeedback Exercise Book” was featured along with books on transcendental meditation, herbal remedies, gestalt therapy and “The Joy of Sex.”

The nationally syndicated television show, P.M. Magazine, hosted Dorelle in November 1983 as “Cincinnati’s Brain Lady who enables you to see your brain on a television screen.” For a brief period, UC’s radio station WGUC aired a show devoted to Dorelle’s “Kairos Dimension.”

The Heisels divorced in 1977 and throughout the 1980s Dorelle’s public appearances waned. A Body/Mind/Spirit Festival at Avondale’s Unitarian Church in 1988 found her discussing biofeedback along with proponents of shamanism, tarot cards, crystals, chelation therapy and psychic powers.

Dorelle retired from UC and relocated to Plano, Texas where one of her daughters lived. In retirement, she played bridge and painted portraits. She died, aged 79, in November 1996.

[porchlightfairy]

Shoot for the Moon part 1

part 1 | part 2

rockstar!eddie x reader

summary: Eddie returns home under particular circumstances.

warnings: major character death. cancer mention

wc: 1.4k+

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You and Eddie were high school sweethearts. The true definition of forever. Everyone thought you two were soulmates. You supported Eddie through his music and he was so happy to start a family with you. You guys had gotten married young and you were ready to settle down and start a family.

But at the same time Eddie’s music career was moving rather quickly. You had discussed that if anything major were to happen you would stick together through it all. But that changed once Eddie was given the chance to perform to music producers. It seemed like everything you built in your lives came crumbling down. It had been several weeks since you and Eddie had seen each other. It was like you were playing chase on the telephone not being able to get ahold of one another long enough.

Eddie sat at the payphone in the venue praying that you would pick up. He was in California while you were probably in bed in Indiana. After the second to last ring, he hears the line pick up, “Hello?” You mumble.

“Hey baby! I know it’s late but I let the week slip by and I forgot to call you earlier. There’s just been a lot going on—”

“Eddie, it’s 2 in the morning. You thought now was a good time to call?” You sigh

“I know, I know, I’m really sorry. A lot has been going on, I’m sorry.”

“It seems like you can’t answer the phone when you tell me when to call but now is a good time for you. Whatever it is, I am sure it can wait.” You grumble, “Eddie, I’m tired and I don’t want to deal with this, I’ve got errands to run in the morning. Call me at a reasonable hour?” 

“Wait, baby, let me just tell you—” The line goes dead. Eddie hangs up the phone. He wouldn’t be able to call you back. You never seemed to be around to answer his calls. And his uncle claimed to not see you around either. You had drifted too far apart for him to even talk to you.

Years had passed and Eddie was on the up and up with his band Corroded Coffin. They were on the cover of Rolling Stones, reached the top 100 of Billboard, and accumulated millions through album sales and concert ticket sales. 

Being the frontman of the group came with its perks as well. He was everyone’s favorite and had a tendency to be abrasive. Chicks on his arm every night, signing boobs, and just being all around vulgar. And even as the group got older they were still the same. However, as things start to slow down for their music careers, Eddie is going to get some terrible news.

He wakes up in a plush bed tangled in sheets and limbs, he slips out of bed and heads downstairs for some breakfast. When he reaches the bottom step he sees his manager and the rest of the band sitting in his living room with sullen faces. “Jesus, who crapped in your guys’ captain crunch.”

“Eddie,” His manager, Bobby, sighs.

He laughs at his own joke not hearing his manager speak before heading into the kitchen to get something to eat. “Well, since you guys are here, we should talk about the next album, sounds good?”

“Eddie.” He says again.

“Look, I know what you’re going to say. We should be keeping up appearances for right now but I was kinda hoping for a rebrand of some sort, like a new paint job or—”

“Eddie!” Bobby shouts. Eddie stops in his tracks, “Just stop for a minute okay. We need to talk.”

“About what?” He scoffs, “Why do you all look like someone died?”

“Because,” Bobby sighs again, “Your ex-wife, Eddie, she passed away.”

Eddie’s heart sinks into his stomach and his ears begin to burn red hot. He couldn’t be hearing that right. You were dead. Gone. No longer living, existing anymore? He swallows hard and blinks a few times, “What… uh… what happened? What happened to her?”

“Cervical cancer.” Bobby looks to the floor. “It was unexpected, her lawyer contacted me and it appeared unexpectedly….”

He can’t hear anymore. He recalls the last time he saw you, in the courthouse for your divorce. You both sat in silence as you negotiated with each other the circumstances, alimony and the like. You didn’t want any of his new money, you just wanted the marriage to be nullified.

He sits on a stool and lets out a shaky breath. “Eddie? Eddie? Did you hear me?”

“Huh?” His face had gone pale, “What… what’d you say?”

“You should take some time, go back home, and go to the burial.” Bobby says. “I know your head is probably swimming right now so we’re going to go but please Eddie, don’t stay here in darkness, okay?”

Each of his bandmates give him a pat on the shoulder and a hug for comfort before taking their leave. Eddie throws out the people in his bed and he slowly begins to pack. With a shaky hand he dials his uncle’s number. He holds his breath as he waits for an answer. He felt ashamed that this was the only time that he had actively sought out for his uncle. Now that you are dead.

“Hello?” He hears the familiar grovel of Wayne’s voice on the line.

“Hey, Wayne. It’s been, it’s been a long time huh?” Eddie hears the quiver in his own voice.

There’s silence on the other end, “So you heard.”

“Y-yeah,” He clears his throat, “I’m packing now to come home. I know, its fucked up of me but I just I need to.”

“I understand, son. I’ll be waiting for ya.” He says.

And with that, the call ends and Eddie sits in silence as he prepares himself to go back home. The musician gets a red eye flight to Indianapolis where he would take a greyhound all the way to his uncle’s house.

Eddie felt his heart sink as he got closer and closer to his destination. He hadn’t visited home since leaving it all behind. The divorce was the last time he set foot in Hawkins. Packing his stuff in a moving van and never seeing you again. His heart twangs as he thinks about it.

Soon he arrives at his uncle’s hand and sees the man waiting outside for him. “Eddie,” He stands up as Eddie approaches. They hug in a familiar embrace, then Wayne packs her back. “You look good.”

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle, “Heh, not like you don’t see me on the tv all the time.”

“Mmh, good to see you in person.” He holds the younger man’s face in his hands. His eyes were saddened. “Eddie, I’ve got to tell you something important.” He holds Eddie’s shoulder as he walks they walk into the house.

Instantly, Eddie is hit with a sudden warmth from the house. It felt lived in. He walks further into the house when he notices several frames in the living room. “Eddie, listen, a lot has happened since you’ve been gone. And she really didn’t want to say anything about it because…” Wayne watches as Eddie steps closer to the frames. He has trouble forming the words as Eddie looks at the pictures on the wall.

Eddie stares intensely at the images. There was you smiling with a black and white ultrasound photo in your hand. Next to that was a picture of you and Wayne, he had his hand on your stomach and you had little pink booties in yours. It’s a girl was spelled on a banner above your heads. 

Eddie’s ears grew hot as he continued to look at the photos. There was a picture of you in the hospital holding a baby in your arms, tears in your eyes. Then a first birthday, then a second, third and so on. This little girl is at the center of them all. She had a beautiful smile like her mom and large brown eyes. Eyes that stared back at him everytime he looked in the mirror.

“She didn’t want to tell you any of this. She thought it was for the best that you didn’t know her.”

Eddie’s lip quivers, his mouth is dry as he stares in disbelief. Just as he is about to speak he hears footsteps traveling down the stairs, “Grandpa have you seen mom’s…” Eddie turns around and sees a young girl standing on the steps. A spitting image of her mother except those eyes, the pools of primordial darkness that stared back at him.

“Are you… Are you my dad?”

[beardedmrbean]

Weird question what is the importance of Jerusalem for Christians and Jews? Was Jerusalem the capital of ancient Israel and why Christians like the Templars wanted to retake it?

I got long, I'm gonna TL:DR; at the end ____________________

Jerusalem was the capital of the united kingdom of Israel, well after Saul at least David moved it there and Solomon built the temple there on the piece of land that is called "the temple mount" in English at least which is the single holiest site in Judaism, which if you speak to the remaining Samaritans you will hear different since they claim to be the ones following the true way and their capital was Samaria and their temple was on Mount Gerizim that was after the split of united Israel after the death of Solomon got Judea and Samaria.

Babylonians came in and destroyed and looted the first temple Solomon's Temple in in 587 BC, Assyrians had gotten Samaria and scattered it's people to the wing the best they could getting us The Ten Lost Tribes.

Eventually the Persian empire, (guys from the battle of Thermopylae aka 300 Spartan thing) KO'd the Babylonian empire and they were a lot nicer and also understood the politics of not getting in the way of local faiths because that's one of those things people will die for.

So Cyrus the Great gave his cup-bearer Nehemiah permission to go home and rebuild his city and its temple, so construction on the Second Temple started in 516 BC. (there's lots of extrabiblical stuff to back this up btw, in case you wondered it's not all just stuff from the Torah, names may be different that's fine tho) Ezekiel came in and rededicated it and began teaching "The Law ™" and over time it was expanded and eventually Herod the Great (same one from the Christmas story that killed all the babies looking for Jesus) got it all done and if we look at the timeline and that little bit of info about Herod we can see why Christians are so attached to the place too.

The Temple held the Holy of Holies, which is where the Ark of the Covenant (from Indiana Jones, lol) was kept had the original 10 commandment tablets a jar of mana and Aaron's staff in it and the actual location was considered the conduit between this world and the other, inelegant way to put it but still. It's where the high priest could go once a year and offer a sacrifice for the people, on Yom Kippur the holiest day in both Judaism and Samaratinsim (they agree mazel tov) I remember something about a rope being tied to their leg and they had to wear bells just in case they were "smited" and needed to be "removed" not sure how real that is.

With all of that it should be fairly simple to figure out why Jewish people are so attached to it, and the Jesus connection what with the whole bit about the money changers and flipping tables taking place in the courtyard of that temple, the whole last bit of each of the gospels starting well before the triumphal entrance on what Christians call Palm Sunday all the way through the crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension that was all in and around Jerusalem.

Jews were ending their Passover Seder with L'Shana Haba'ah B'Yerushalayim (Next year in Jerusalem) starting somewhere in the 1400's from what I can see as a wish to be able to go home and worship and fellowship in their own homeland among other reasons.

So here we have the previously mentioned Temple Mount

That bit where it says "Western Wall" is a remnant from the 2nd temple, Jesus touched that and may have taught while using it to shade himself it's all happened there.

The city is in the DNA of every Jewish person and by extension Christians though not as deeply ingrained.

Then we get to Islam, as you see in the image up there they built a mosque on top of the location for the Jewish Temple, it's how history works may have been some middle finger flipping when it happened but as history goes that's how a invading conquering force does thing, always have.

Dome of the rock there on the inside looks like this

The exposed bit there is goes by several names, "Foundation Stone" is one, it's believed by (some) Jews that this is the location where the Holy of Holies was/is and for Muslims it's where Muhammad ascended went on his "night journey" spoke directly to both Moses and Allah to get the law for Muslims some of it at least.

Spot under that rock is the "well of souls" bet you can guess what significance that has.

So bringing it all together and hitting the TL:DR at the same time. _____________________________-

TL:DR; all 3 Abrahamic faiths are very attached to the city of Jerusalem and its surrounding area because it plays a central part in the stories of them.

Jews were there first so they get the strongest claim imho but as it sits it is a holy and revered site for all 3 faiths because it's deeply connected to them all both physically and spiritually.

Slightly less holy to Muslims since their temple mount buildings are just the third most sacred place in Islam, but still dreadfully sacred. ______________

Sorry this was really long, hope it was slightly interesting at least if you read it, it's as accurate as I could make it without spending a lot more time fact checking myself too.

[myhauntedsalem]

Whispers estate Indiana

Records for who built the Whispers estate seem to have been lost, with the earliest documented mention of the completed house being in 1894. Shortly after in either the year 1899 or 1901, depending on which source you are referencing, it was purchased by Dr John Gibbons and his wife Jessie.

Dr Gibbons was known as good man, with him even taking in orphaned or abandoned children to be raised in his own home. He also had his doctors practice on the first floor and remained treating the local townsfolk for 26 years.

After the ownership of the Gibbons the house went from owner to owner, with no one staying in the property for any substantial amount of time, with various periods of abandonment in between. A new owner who bought the property in 2006 allowed various paranormal investigation groups to conduct research through the property and it was today’s owner that was in one of these groups.

After coming back every weekend’s for 4 months they contacted the then owner about purchasing the property. Today they still own the Whispers estate and it is often open to the public as a rather famous local haunted attraction.

When the building was built it was just known as another house, and the name Whispers estate didn’t come into being until 2006 when many guests to the property reported hearing people whispering in empty areas of the house.

As for the activity that goes on here it would be faster to list the things which haven’t been reported. The house has all kinds of stories about it, including full bodied apparitions, Strange voice phenomena, the most common of which is the whispering, unexplained smells and violently shaking objects such as door knobs and furniture.

The house is also locally famous for the vortex which is supposed to be in the center of the house, though no one has seemed to have come up with a reason as to why one would be there.

As for why the ghosts are there the house certainly isn’t without its tragedies. The first loses started almost straight away when the Gibbons opened their doctors practice within the house and started to take in orphaned children. Dr Gibbons was known for being a caring man and a good doctor, but with medical knowledge being what it was in the day and with the lack of basic things such as antibiotics, many people would have undoubtedly died within the house, as everything from check ups to amputations were carried out here.

There is even a story which various psychics have come up with who visited the property, claiming they have sensed a burial pit on the grounds which contains amputated body parts and organs, a claim which would have a good chance of being true, since these operations would have taken place here, though it hasn’t been found yet.

As for the children who Dr Gibbons took in some of them unfortunately also met their end within the house. The first being a 10 year old girl named Rachel who somehow started a fire on the front porch and badly burned herself, only to die of her wounds 2 days later in an upstairs bedroom. People have claimed to have seen her apparition running along the upstairs landing and standing over people who lay on the bed in the room she died in.

A 10 month old baby was the next to die from the children he took in, she passed away from unknown causes in the master bedroom and people have reported the smell of baby powder and crying coming from inside the room when the door has been closed.

Dr Gibbons wife, Jessie also died in this same room from pneumonia, and many people who have slept in this room have claimed to have been awakened during the night to the sound of heavy breathing and wheezing.

The list of tragedies does not end here for the people who lived in this house, with a man in his 50’s suddenly dying from unknown causes in the upstairs bathroom, and a boy who died from falling down the main stair case.

As for the vortex it is thought to be spiraling up from the center of the house right into the attic, a room which anyone brave enough to sleep in has reported being woken up by a violently shaking door knob, or horrible nightmares.

There are also countless stories of orbs and shadowy figures captured roaming around, an EVP is frequently picked up by investigators.

The house has been featured on many documentaries, books, magazines, radio shows and pretty much anywhere you can share a good ghost story. This place has so many tales to it that its either one of the most haunted places in the county by far, or one of the best hoax’s. The only way to make sure would be to go and see it for yourself if you’re ever in the area, though personally there’s no way I’d be staying in that attic room.

[whipplefilter]

[In front of Paint 2!]

MY DREAM!!!!

AT LONG LAST and multiple thwarted attempts (pandemic and chip shortage) I have finally managed a successful field trip to Subaru of Indiana for their manufacturing tour!!!!

17 years ago, my baby car was born right there!!

We got to see—EVERYTHING, from the steel and aluminum coils to them being stamped into thin sheets to the tool and die process to the welding to the drivetrain, suspension assemblies, brakes, front consoles, trim and finish, paint, quality testing (various points), tires on conveyor belts like little doughnuts, cars on doing brake tests, cars on dynos, cars being pressure-tested for leaks… And also Subaru NICU, where all the cars that don’t pass their tests go for diagnosis and repair (ope).

You weren’t allowed to bring anything into the plant, so my highlights from memory:

One of the transfer presses that stamps out body pieces was, when the plant was constructed in the 1980s, the largest piece of industrial machinery ever imported into the United States. It came via the Panama Canal, up the Mississippi, up the Ohio River, and then they had to built an entire port in order to get it out of the water. It then took three days to drive all the pieces up to Lafayette, Indiana. We got to see it punching out interior door panels!

There are various buffer zones in line production so that if one part of the process gets slowed down it won’t automatically cause a slowdown in the entire plant. The place where extra engines are stored when they’re in buffer status is called an “engine hotel.”

The USDM 2.0 and 2.5L engines are built at SIA, though transmissions come from Japan fully-assembled.

There are different musical chimes for each part of the line, and it chimes when there’s a slowdown in a particular area so people can keep track of what’s going on and where the bottlenecks are.

SIA currently manufactures USDM Legacy, Outback, Ascent, and Crosstrek models. USDM Forester, Impreza, WRX, BRZ, and Solterra are built in Japan and shipped.

The SIA test tack is the second largest oval track in the state of Indiana, second only to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway—SIA also has an off-road test track.

The paint process interacts poorly with silicone-based products, so painters cannot use a long list of shampoos, soaps, chapsticks, lotions, etc. They also can’t eat popcorn, because the oils stay on human fingers for 2-3 days?!

They don’t batch paint—so instead of painting 20 red cars, say, you’ll see different colors coming out right after each other. All the Subarus they built are made to order, which means each already has a customer who triggered the construction of this vehicle.

[frankendykes-monster]

I've been eyeballing this set for 20 years:

Dino Research Compound (5987].

The Dino Research Compound is the pinnacle set for the third sub-theme of Adventurers, a pastiche of Indiana Jones. Adventurers is singled out fairly common now for being an example of how, had LEGO always had the opportunity to do licensed sets, they would have, and it gets worse with this sub-theme, Dino Island, getting Jurassic Park (1993) in on the mix.

Dino Island comes immediately after the Egypt and Jungle sub-themes of 1998 and 1999, coming to us in 2000, and sets itself apart by not taking place in a real world location nor concerning itself with the two factions, led by Johnny Thunder and Sam Sinister respectively, fighting over treasure hunting. I'm not sure how most Adventurers fans felt about this shift, but it's fine by me given how much it dials back on the colonialist concepts present at the forefront of the theme.

Dino Island sees the two parties trying to capture dinosaurs, but most of the sets in this sub-theme are stretched a bit thin to try and meet the new concept, as the majority of sets are vehicles with either no dinosaurs or a single Pteranodon or baby T-Rex present. The big multi-piece dinosaurs are saved for the most expensive sets, which is kind of a shame; you'd have to fork over a lot of money to get a T-Rex, but it's a practice that wouldn't stick around forever (see: LEGO Vikings presenting a smaller set with Fafnir so you could get a compromise if you couldn't afford the giant fort with Nidhogg).

This set specifically: we get the main compound, a bridge, a side build with a tree and some machinery, a plane, a jallopy, and a boat! Let's take these one at a time.

The research compound is three stories tall and uses what I'd call "dollhouse" LEGO construction, wherein instead of building up the structure in its entirety, you instead build each story individually and they connect with little clutch power. The bridge doesn't use any clutch power, as it's connected by loosely fitting anti-clip poles, on both sides. The side platform doesn't have a main feature to speak of.

There isn't a "cohesive" quality to the entire build, it's mostly just littered with play features:

There's a dinosaur pen on the first story of the compound that can open up to house the baby T-Rex.

There's a net tosser on the second story.

There's a fall-away floor trap on the second story.

The top of the compound can unfold to reveal a satellite dish (which, may be a historical anachronism given this takes place in the 1920's?)

There's a zip line connecting both main areas that can have some supplies run down.

The tree can be toppled over.

The boat can connect to the crane or a docking point.

The plane can drop a net.

There's a litany of tools lying around, on top of the three vehicles and four dinosaurs, and it didn't hit me until after I had finished assembling it; this is a play set designed for *multiple* children to ideally share. The sheer volume of stuff going on can't mean anything else, and given the original MSRP of $80 (which, regardless of all other economic factors, is a high call for a LEGO set) further leads me to this conclusion.

Talking about more specific features, this set coming out in 2000 isn't a huge shock to the senses after I've purchased and built many 2020's LEGO sets, but it is a strong sign of how much things are different. For one, despite its size, the set only has a little over 600 pieces. An equivalent sized set now would feature two to three times as much. Dino Island was released in the middle of The Lego Group's identity crisis as a company that spawned a huge volume of experimental ideas that mostly did nothing except make builds worse and spawn the most reviled LEGO themes (Znap, Scala, Galidor, Jack Stone, etc.). I was braced for this to be a "juniorized" set but was actually surprised at how satisfying the build was overall. It doesn't feature a raised base plate like the previous two largest Adventurers set, which I might add did suffer from rather homely looking builds.

The low piece count however does mean two things. For one, there is a lot of hollow space in this build. Most rooms in the compound don't have anything going on. The build also doesn't use much any advanced building techniques, it's very much of that classic LEGO design where you aren't doing much more novel than stacking bricks on top of each other. LEGO sets now are kind of insane; you connect bricks to the sides, tops, and bottoms of other bricks, they're there for really intense structural support that gives them the feeling of being impossible to meaningfully break if you dropped them. The Dino Research Compound, on the other hand, is coming apart given any amount of gravitational force. The two vehicles are decent enough, but special mention should go to the plane both for its color scheme and how it isn't built on an obnoxiously large plate, though I'm not sure if I've seen any actual planes have two completely separate pilot compartments.

Also of note is the inclusion of the "old" brown color which has since then become replaced by a shade of brown slightly lighter and more reddish. The roofing pieces with the rust prints, the green base plate with the rounded edge, and the Stegosaurus with dark orange legs (another discontinued color) are all set exclusives. I kept my eyes out for pieces from the experimental era, large and highly situational parts. Probably my favorite thing about LEGO now is how pieces can be repurposed for any number of designs, and seeing late 1990's sets like those from Rock Raiders make me cringe because of how highly specialized parts they include. The boat caught my eye, considering it's all one piece and not brickbuilt, but much to my surprise it's a piece still in use now. There's an oddball mix of what's brickbuilt and what's not however, such as the sextant being all one piece but the microscope is built from scratch.

You get the entire cast from Dino Island minus Sam Sinister's sister (name is eluding me right now). For dinosaurs, you get everything from this line sans the Triceratops. The baby T-Rex has a single connection on the bottom, and can be held by a minifigure comfortably. The Pteranodon is an odd one. It's feet are clamps but there's not much use for them, but it can be put onto any 2x2 stud surface, and it has two studs on top. The Tyrannosaurus and Stegosaurus both have four studs on top (perfectly for a minifigure to ride on) along with a 4x6 foot print. Though they're the titular characters, the dinosaurs are rather tiny compared to their actual size and should be considered accessories rather than the stars. The Stegosaurus reuses the tail from a LEGO crocodile, and the Tyrannosaurus reuses the arms from a LEGO dragon, firmly placing them into the LEGO animal family, which makes it a shame that none of these molds lived past 2001.

If there's anything else of note, for one, the front of the box opens up to give a peak at the pieces inside. The right side of the box includes a plastic insert to show off all the dinosaurs, and there's a cardboard divider as well. This and the set's construction make it easy to just disassemble the big chunks and comfortably put them back in for storage. The instructions also include some brief steps for alternate builds, at a very rare period when LEGO actually did that, though the alternative builds aren't anything special. The instructions also end on a brief summary of the species included, though since LEGO instructions are supposed to be language independent, there's not much they can do. Interesting to see lumbering tail-dragging dinosaurs in 2000 however. What seals the overall set for me is this set includes the same 2001 catalog I originally saw this in, it all comes around full circle...

[strangermoons]

The Beat Has Just Begun: chapter 5 extras

Happy birthday to this story! We've come a long way, baby. First fic I ever wrote that made it past the 5K mark, and only the second one I've finished.

I don't have anything research-related to say about this chapter so instead I'll ramble behind the cut about my general approach to the geography of Hawkins.

There is, to my knowledge, no official map of Hawkins. There are prop maps, but they differ from season to season. I found a reddit post that tried to place on-screen locations on a map based on various clues given in the show, and that generated a map unlike any of the prop maps I've found. What, then, is a literal-minded pedantic little nerd to do?

Well, I ended up taking the season 3 prop map that Hopper steals from the mayor's house in episode 4 (mostly because I found a nice scan of it early on when writing this story) and built my own version of Hawkins on top of it which I try to keep consistent. During my note-taking rewatch I made sure to note down every mentioned address and every legible street sign, and jotted down the name and approximate location of every business that appeared on-screen. I then reconciled this with the prop map, where possible.

I ran into issues pretty early on; for one thing, the route to Hopper's cabin goes from “take Denfield, then you’ll see a large oak tree. You’re gonna swing a right. That road is gonna dead-end. And it’s about a 5-minute walk from there.” in S2E9 to Hopper driving right up to the porch in S3E2. The Mayfield-Hargrove home mysteriously relocates from Old Cherry Road (S2E2) to 4819 Cherry Lane (S3E8). In S2E9 Hopper meets up with Sam Owens at a diner - or is it a bar? there are pool tables - called The Hideaway, but in S4E1 Eddie's extremely improbable* Corroded Coffin gigs are at a dive bar called The Hideout. Now, it's not impossible that two establishments in a small town would have such similar names, but it does seem a bit silly. If they're both supposed to be the same establishment it's kind of a sloppy mistake.

And then there are things like: Forest Hills trailer park is apparently seven miles away from the Wheelers' home on Maple Street. How big is Hawkins even supposed to be?

In the end I figured the most important thing was to have an internally consistent version of the town in my head that I could draw on when I'm writing, just so I don't end up making something a 10-minute walk in one scene and a 20-minute drive in another. I've tried to use street names from either the show or the prop map where possible, and supplemented by googling "Indiana native trees" and "Indiana historical figures" when necessary. When it comes to state-level geography I've plopped Hawkins more or less on top of Muncie because it's just easier to drop a pin in a real location and get google maps to spit out how long it would take to drive to Cincinnati, or whatever. Also, the S3 prop map has a little dot giving an approximate location in the state of Indiana that more or less lines up with where Muncie is and the throwaway WJRB 9 news report at the end of S4E9 where they say “the quaint town of Hawkins, 80 miles outside of Indianapolis.”

If this all seems like a lot of work: I don't know what to tell you. It feels necessary to my process? Like, you should see the spreadsheets. I have one that's just a list of all the tertiary characters that've appeared in my stories, with notes on whether they're canon (or canon-based) or full-on OCs, their approximate age, which stories they've appeared in, first or last names I've assigned canon characters that don't have them, relationships with other characters and any other relevant details. I have another one that's got a sheet with the timeline of TBHJB complete with which day of the week it is and notes on what happened when, and a separate sheet with a rough shift schedule for Family Video spanning several weeks. I honestly don't know that I could write anything at all without using these documents.

If you read this far: Wow, really? Thanks for reading 💀

*Corroded Coffin is a high school band, why on earth would they have a weekly standing gig? They don't even draw a crowd! The bar has zero incentive to let them keep playing!

[blujayonthewing]

OC asks: 🌂 for as many of your charactersas you're willing to do, but with a twist: what genre would they be in if they *weren't* already in a fantasy setting

OohoHO, getting interesting :3c

This is almost a gimme but Melliwyk is a zany but lovable inventor in a family-friendly light modern scifi adventure. She's tinkering a time machine into a weird car. She's shrinking the kids. She's probably not the protagonist but she IS the cause of all their problems (and at least some of their solutions). You KNOW she's got a rube-goldberg-ass breakfast contraption that's running under the opening credits while her leitmotif plays in the background

Juniper would definitely fit in some kind of historical romance BUT where she REALLY belongs is in an 80s/90s action adventure a la Indiana Jones or The Mummy or Romancing the Stone, getting in over her head with more adventure than she was prepared for and navigating lost temples full of puzzles and booby traps to discover ancient secrets in grunged up khakis and brown leather

Elyss is the young teen protagonist in the sort of middle grade wilderness survival chapter books that shaped me as a human being when I discovered that particular niche genre at age, like, 12 (pulling a My Side Of The Mountain at 15 is essentially her canon backstory already, surprise surprise)

I am a big weenie baby and I do not watch horror BUT!! Aubree is in a horror flick, specifically a zombie movie if we're being on the nose about it, and preferably like a thrillomedy where shit gets Pretty Dicey but it's also a fun watch and ultimately everyone who matters makes it out okay in the end. Either that or she's in one of those heartwarming coming-of-age movies that's nominally about a dog but is actually about growing up and figuring out who you are and working shit out with your family

Idri is absolutely in superhero comics, or superhero-y action adventure type cartoons. You KNOW she'd be right at home with Spiderman getting up to Spidermanlike Shenanigans. Alternatively: HEIST MOVIE

I could absolutely see Ambrose being at home in some sort of historical drama, or psychological thriller...oh man, he'd also be great in a proper ghost story

My boy Felix was built to nosy his way into discovering and then solving a new mystery every week (featuring a revolving cast of celebrity guest stars) while being charmingly quirky and peculiar in ways that get him into trouble as often as they get him out of it

Nyssa is in soft indulgent fantasy/mythology erotica ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Ask about my OCs?

[charmed-asylum]

Well it looks like it time to grab a chair and sit back as Roo mind recreates be our guess dark fic style. I mean he probably living his best life watching her cook , I’m away take care of his needs (his words not mine) “Thanks, you know,” he dares to inch closer. “You already put a roof over me, now you’re feeding me.”  And way he does his silence but deadly lurking. Or his misplace, “ step back look at him as he fills the doorway. The house was built in another time. People were smaller. Or maybe he’s just big”

Crazy in less then an hour or two he starting to do that men thing. And sometimes tell me he gonna like it just fine , meals like mom made it being taking care of all his missing is her with a baby on her hip or a sex live doll to take care of needs. Crazy with his lack of smoking you got beer and candy and moody teenager vibes from Bucky. . “He’s still in the doorway, watching. It must be strange.”

I mean yes she Canadian but But that don’t mean she a build In hi I’m Canadian wanna play type of shit. Roo someone help me I know all Canadians and Brit are not all perfectly nice. I mean making food catering to him. “ You go to the fridge and break off a tall can from the six-pack. You bring it to him and his lips clamp sheepishly, “thanks. Coulda waited til dinner... you need help?” 

The add in of personal details is cool ,. “Born in Indiana but I ended up in New York. Home to me. Or... was.” . She trying to talk to him be friendly Bucky starting to warm up and it’s quit with not many people around and not on the map ✔️ bit funny to see how he is how he opening up talk of past feelings things and the candy hahaha like that’s a lollipop not cigarettes hehe and he sniffing that food maybe her pus pus. I’m loving this

The House Guest 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Where can a man get a beer around here?” Bucky’s voice distracts you from watching the starchy boil of potatoes.  

You step back look at him as he fills the doorway. The house was built in another time. People were smaller. Or maybe he’s just big. 

“Oh, the beer stores about fifteen minutes away.” 

“Great,” he says. “Phone can’t find it. Map’s blank.” 

“Ah, yeah, up here, that happens,” you say. “Fifteen minutes driving. It’ll be at least an hour on foot.” 

“Right,” the disappointment is crisp in his voice. 

“I got a case of Molson in the fridge. Neighbour’s wife was sick and I helped out. Gesture of kindness... for anyone that drinks. You’re welcome to it.” You take a fork and poke at the potatoes. “It’ll end up in the sink anyway.” 

He inhales audibly, “you don’t mind?” 

“As long as you don’t. I don’t know if it’s any good. I’m not a beer person. Unfortunately, everyone else around here is,” you turn off the burner and lift the large pot. 

You carry it to the sink and dump the potatoes into the strainer. A cloud of steam puffs up and sets a sheen over your face. You grunt and put the hot pot aside. You lift the colander and shake out the excess water. 

You look over your shoulder and set it back down. He’s still in the doorway, watching. It must be strange. To be fair, you feel the same. You’re not used to company and he’s a far way from home. 

You go to the fridge and break off a tall can from the six-pack. You bring it to him and his lips clamp sheepishly, “thanks. Coulda waited til dinner... you need help?” 

“I got it,” you assure as you hold out the can.  

He takes it an examines the label. “More of a Heineken man.” 

“Like I said, I wouldn’t know the difference,” you shrug. 

You return to the sink and dump the potatoes back into the pot. He lingers at the door as he cracks the can. You cross to the fridge again as tension pinches the nape of your neck. You take out the butter and milk. The door sucks shut and you sniff as you back up. 

“I... never been to New York,” you say to fill the void. “I hear it smells.” 

“Stinks,” he agrees. “Born in Indiana but I ended up in New York. Home to me. Or... was.” 

“Right,” you nod as you add some milk and butter to the potatoes and grab the masher. “I grew up south of here. Small town but closer to the city. Compared to this it was a metropolis.” 

“It’s quiet up here.” 

“Sure it,” you agree. “It’s nice. Most of the time.” 

You put a lid on the pot to keep it warm and go to the stove. You turn off the steamer as the lid begins to tremble. The timer on the stove counts down. 

“I can take you to the beer store tomorrow. Sorry but I hate driving after dark. The moose don’t exactly abide by the rules of the road.” You explain. 

“It’s fine,” he takes a loud slurp. “It’s beer. It’s not...” he sucks his teeth loudly. “You know, I can’t even get drunk. The taste is just familiar.” 

“Fair enough,” you hit the cancel button before the time can yell at you. “Dinner’s ready.” 

You open the cupboard and take down two plates. You lay them out side by side and work at doling out the portions. His shadow hovers on the other side of the stove. 

“Thanks, you know,” he dares to inch closer. “You already put a roof over me, now you’re feeding me.” 

“No biggie. Just the way up here.” 

He sniffs and gets closer, peeking at the pan as you carve out a hunk of meatloaf, “hadn’t had good home cooking since... well, I been living off the microwave crap or take out.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you warn him. “It’s nothing special, I manage. As long as the meat’s cooked, I’m not complaining.” 

“Me either,” he agrees. You lift the plates but before you can bring them to the table, he stops you. He puts the beer on the counter and brings his hands to the edges of the plates. “I got it.” 

You let him take the food and he brings it to the table. You watch him then scoop up the can and follow him. It’s going to be an adjustment. For both of you. 

You put the Molson next to his plate as he’s reluctant to claim his seat, “dig in. It’ll get cold.” 

You go back to grab cutlery and come back. You sit and hand him a knife and fork. He reaches with his left hand and hesitates as you look at his metal digits.  

He clutches the cutlery and quickly retracts. You don’t mention it though you do wonder if he’s embarrassed. Why? Isn’t that what makes him special? A hero? Or whatever he is. 

“This place is old. My ma had the same lintels on her doors in 1934.” He points with his fork to the door frame. 

“Old on top of old. Those are actually from the twenties. No one was doing renos in the thirties, I’m sure you know that. Somewhere back there, one of my great great whatever’s put in a stove and fridge and wired the place up. Kept the fire stove though. Antique now.” 

“Antique, like me,” he scoffs. 

You nod, unsure how to respond. You hope you don’t think you were implying anything. You get a bit carried away. Your mother and grandmother were always into genealogy and you caught a bit of the bug. 

Or maybe he thinks you’re over explaining. He was alive. He would know all these things and could guess the rest. You bite into the meatloaf and stare at the painted trim on the plate. 

“Ma’s place was taken down. Lived near the base since dad was there and they flattened it for a firing range. Now the place in New York... drug den now. New York, glamourous, really. You’re missing out,” he tuts dryly. 

You look up at him and give a tight-lipped expression, “sorry to hear that.” 

“It is what it is. The world changes. With or without you,” he reaches for the beer and swigs. His blue eyes dart to the wall and sharpen. He put the can down with a bit of force and pats his chest. He feels around and grimaces. “I’m gonna have a--” there’s a crinkle and he slides out another sucker. “Well...” 

He waves the candy at you and stands. You watch him silently and scrape your fork through the mashed potato. He twirls the stick between his fingers. 

“It’s good,” he points to his plate, “really.” He clears his throat and shifts on his feet, “back soon.” 

He turns and marches out. You look down at your food and slice into the loaf. The grainy scent of the beer wafts over. You take another bite as your forehead creases in thought. Sam’s a funny guy and this feels a bit like a joke. 

[angelart67]

FOR MY POOR SWEET HAIR-DAUGHTER

Bandit Cooper Forsyth, is starting to develop visually detectable cataract (left eye) anyone who will keep her in their prayers, is super appreciated, this post has a lot of info in it for other feline mommies/daddies... Bandit has had noted full dilation of both of her eyes since about age 12 especially (she is gonna be 17 in spring) she has never shown any signs of discomfort, except for her first big trip n fall (2022) when she still had full run of the apt. She went to jump from bed to floor then & did not judge right & hurt her paw (think wrist) she cried out & I almost lost my mind, I'd never seen her hurt... at that point she was given her own safe space within my bedroom & steps were built... her vision has continued to decrease since that time. Her vet is seen at least 2x a year, & she has said, as long as she is not showing signs of pain in eyes (which she hasn't) she is adapting as well as possible to her blindness & cats often do so... she is super loved & cared for & gets around our tiny room to go to her litter box, food & water & back to our bed...

I LOVE MY BEAUTIFUL BABY THAT I BROUGHT HOME FROM COLLEGE IN MY POCKET IN 2008, SHE HAS BEEN MY DAILY JOY, ESP SINCE HER DADDY (my Hubbs) WENT TO HEAVEN IN 2021... TY FATHER GOD FOR SENDING ME THE BEST KITTY WHO EVER LIVED... BANDIT HAS LIVED WITH ME (& FORMERLY DADDY) SINCE SHE WAS BORN & ORPHANED, IN KENTUCKY, MICHIGAN, NEVADA, GEORGIA, INDIANA & NOW OHIO...🩷🐈😇

••• This is about her condition •••

Progressive retinal atrophy (PRA) in cats can cause a variety of symptoms, including:

• Night blindness: Cats with PRA may have trouble seeing in low light or at night.

• Dilated pupils: Pupils may be more dilated than normal and may not respond to changes in light.

• Reflective eyes: Eyes may appear more reflective when light hits them.

• Unsteady behavior: Cats may walk more unsteadily and bump into objects more often.

• Difficulty adjusting to light: Cats may have trouble adjusting to changes in light, such as moving from a dark room to a bright one.

• Loss of peripheral vision: Cats may lose their peripheral vision, which can make it difficult for them to navigate.

• Squinting or rubbing eyes: Cats may squint or rub their eyes as a sign of discomfort.

• Cataracts: Cataracts may appear as white-opaque crystalline deposits in the eyes.

• Reclusive at night: Cats may be more reclusive at night.

• PRA is a genetic disorder that affects both eyes and gradually worsens over time. There is no cure for PRA, but cats can adjust to living with the condition and lead healthy lives.

• PRA can be caused by a variety of factors, including:

• Genetic defects: PRA is most common in Abyssinian and Persian cats, but can affect any breed.

• Toxicity: Exposure to certain antibiotics, such as enrofloxacin and orbifloxacin, has been associated with PRA.

• Taurine deficiency: Cats fed a diet deficient in the amino acid taurine can develop PRA.

• A veterinarian can usually diagnose PRA based on the appearance of a cat's retina.