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applecrumbledore · 2 years

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Fic: He talked like you (timestamp)

sam/dean, 5k. tw: underage, recreational drugs, recreational f-slur. sam/OMC + wincest pining

This is a timestamp from Human hands, a fic in which Sam mentions that his first time was with a friend of Dean's when Dean was in high school.

I wrote to get it out of my head, then realized I don't want to actually post it, but it seemed like a waste to not post it anywhere, so I'm posting it here, even though it's way too long to be a tumblr fic.

Sam took the joint Eric offered him and Eric gave him an approving look, a wordless 'attaboy.' Sam was not immune to 'attaboy.' He had, in fact, made the worst decisions of his life in the wake of that specific brand of older-boy peer pressure, via Dean.

Read below, also in a gdoc here.

The RV was, in John's defense, close to a national park. In John's not-defense, it wasn't parked in the quiet, verdant paradise of the park, it was parked at the curb across from a self-storage compound and down the street from an industrial laundromat.

The RV had two rooms, three if you counted the bathroom. They found it for sale in the classifieds, and John didn't buy it so much as traded a stolen car for it. It hadn't been a great six months, financially.

Sam was laying on the sagging tweed sofa-seat with a makeshift heat pack, a tube sock filled with rice, tied with an elastic band at one end and microwaved until hot. For the past week, his back had been aching worse than any of his growing pains thus far, it felt like he was going to split in two down his spine and across his shoulders, and it didn't help whether he curled or arched or how he lay. The heat helped a little. The heat was also awful, because it was late August and it had been scorching all week, hot well into the night, and he was sweating into the couch.

It was after ten and Dean was still out. That wasn't too weird, those days; Dean had made friends in this little town the way he hadn't in others, and he was never home. That wasn't the case a few years ago, and Sam felt pathetic about how badly he wanted to go back to how things used to be.

Three years ago, Dean seemed a million years older than him, he was a teenager with all the exciting bells and whistles that came with that. Back then, Dean didn't mind hanging out with him. If he went to the creek with kids from his class, Sam would go with him, and if he didn't, Dean was home by seven and they'd have dinner together and watch a movie or play cards.

Then, overnight it seemed, Dean was sixteen and then seventeen, and all he wanted to do was drink and smoke and chase girls. Those were things it was lame to bring your little brother along for, so he didn't. So, Sam was left alone, now old enough to make his own dinner, and he had an infinite amount of time to think about this weird creature in the place where his big brother used to be.

Now Sam was thirteen-and-a-half, and the whole thing wasn't so much of a mystery. He knew what sex was. He knew that his brother, despite his endless heart, could be kind of an asshole. The confusion melted away into awkwardness and a misplaced sense of betrayal.

It also left something else in its wake, that only came out while he was trying to sleep, or when he was laying on the couch with a heat pack. A horrible, Dean-centric feeling that made it torture to be alone with his thoughts. He didn't know what to call it, only that it was like jealousy but different.

Well. He was pretty sure he knew what to call it, but he didn't want to.

He unstuck his back from the couch again. It was down at the far end of the trailer, boxed in on both ends like a booth. If he stuck his leg out, he could touch the table, and the sticky vinyl booth that surrounded it. If he stuck his leg out the other way, he hit the small, ancient TV they bungee-strapped to the narrow ledge under the window. The floor was covered in dirty clothes (both of theirs) and beer cans (Dean's). Everything stunk in the heat.

He heard voices first, one of which was unmistakably Dean's, talking and guffawing down the street outside. Sam groaned preemptively—he hated when Dean brought people back to whatever shithole they were living in. Dean milked the whole 'our dad's never home, no one tells us what to do' bit to its fullest extent, and Sam always wondered whether he genuinely didn't notice the flicker of pity on his friends' or girls' faces when they looked around and saw the mess and the poverty, or if he was just pretending not to see.

The whole trailer rocked as they climbed in, the screen door squealing protest. Dean, as always, surreptitiously scuffed his sneaker through the salt line at the threshold to scatter it beyond detection.

Sam smelled the beer on him instantly. He regretted not pretending to be asleep in the bedroom.

Dean stopped in the doorway to pry his shoes off as his eyes found Sam on the couch.

"Sup, dork. You're up late."

Dean's omnipresent denim jacket was gone in the summer heat and his arms were sunburnt to a salmony pink past the sleeves of his faded black tee. His nose was also burnt, and freckled beyond belief. His hair had gone nearly blond with the sun over the past few months. His lips were dry.

Before Sam could answer ("It's a free trailer"), a pale hand shoved Dean from behind and he pitched forward, cackling and swinging his fist blindly backwards.

Dean's friend Eric ducked his head to get through the door behind him. "Move your ass."

Eric looked insane. He was half a head taller than Dean and built like a scarecrow, all angles, a sharp nose and hollow cheeks. His hair was a messy stack of black, and Sam had never seen him not wear black, which, along with his twiggy legs, made him look like a crow. But Eric's skinny looked cool and punk, where Sam felt like his own skinny was gawky and childish and weird.

He was nice, as far as Dean's friends went. He acknowledged Sam's existence on several occasions, which was more than he could say about most of them.

Dean swatted at Eric as he pulled his boots off. When Eric straightened up, he looked at him and gave him a big, wolfish grin.

"Hey, Sam."

Not dork or nerd or bitch or Sammy, just Sam. Sam suppressed a little shiver and shuffled up on the couch.

"Hey."

Eric had a grocery store bag swinging from his wrist. As Dean slid into the table-booth, Eric took a six-pack from the bag, twisted a wet PBR out of the plastic rings and tossed it to him. He got out a second one and paused, then looked at Sam, then Dean, then back.

"Absolutely fucking not," Dean said, cracking his beer noisily. "Put 'em in the fridge, they taste like ass warm."

Eric gave Sam an 'oh well' look before putting the remaining beers in the fridge.

Sam was just grateful he didn't laugh at the sheer thought of giving Sam a beer. Dean mothered him and brothered him and managed to be the worst of both worlds: he cared about Sam's health and safety with an oppressive, smothering intensity, while also being kind of a bully. He knew Dean loved him, but whether he liked him was up in the air, because Dean loved him on autopilot. Dean loved his brother and tolerated Sam.

He knew, on some level, that this was a tragic thing for a thirteen-year-old to be aware of. At the start of the school year, two towns ago, a teacher told him, "You're incredibly self-aware for your age." He hadn't taken it as a compliment. His classmates didn't seem particularly self-aware, and they were way happier than him.

Dean had a talent of spreading out to fill all available space—something he did both literally and figuratively, taking up all the air in a room—and managed to sit on one side of the table-booth and also have his thigh on the other side, so Eric headed for the couch.

Sam hurriedly tucked up his feet to make space as Eric flopped down next to him. He was bigger close up. He smelled like beer and sweat and pond and/or river scum; they'd been outside, in the woods they habitually wasted time at. Sam stared at Eric's sharp, witchy profile.

Being in the same eye-line as Dean made him look startlingly masculine, his features being very much the opposite of Dean's long lashes, big doe eyes and lush mouth. Dean, despite his very best efforts to come across as gruff and hardened, was sunny and shiny and pretty even when he was half dead. Eric looked like he hadn't slept in a week, and when he did sleep, he slept in a coffin full of nails.

Maybe because he was so un-Dean, Sam found him kind of attractive. Was desperate to find him kind of attractive.

Eric's eyes flicked to his and caught him looking. Sam wanted to throw himself off a cliff.

Dean pointed at Sam's heat pack laying over his stomach.

"You got cramps, Samantha?"

Sam whipped the heat pack at him. He missed, but it almost hit his beer. The way Dean fumbled to save the can told him it was far from his first.

Sam said, "Fuck you, my back feels like it's splitting in two."

Dean snorted and drank his beer. "Sucks to suck."

Dean didn't see it this way, but he shaped himself to fit situations. He read what people wanted from him and, perfectly fluid, he became that thing. He was a crass, slick cool guy around his friends, the perfect foil to his dorky little brother. He was a drill sergeant around their dad, like his only purpose in life was honing Sam into something faster, stronger, safer. And he was almost sweet when they were alone, when he asked Sam about his day and remembered his teachers' names and talked about movies and comic books like they were actually friends. If they were alone, he might have offered to microwave the heat bag again, or let him have a beer to get his mind off it.

It was annoying, but the many facets of Dean meant that there was a secret, special Dean that was just for him, that nobody else got to know. It was the best Dean, too.

Anyways, Sam didn't blame him for being two-faced. If anything, he was jealous. It was a survival mechanism, and they both did it—you pretended to know about things like daycare and grandparents and soccer practice firsthand and not just from TV. If you only wore plain black or white t-shirts, no one would know you only had two of them and not a closetful. Your scars were from playing around outside. You were 'outdoorsy.' Your dad was outdoorsy, too.

"So you're in Michelle's room," Eric said to Dean, picking up the thread of an earlier conversation. He moved his knees apart in an affected sprawl and his thigh touched Sam's foot. Sam had a hard time thinking about anything else.

"Oh, shit, right, so, okay." Dean finished his slurp of beer. "Okay, so, she invites me up, I forget what she said, something about showing me some picture of her at some gymnastics competition, I dunno."

"And her parents are gone."

"And her parents are gone," Dean confirmed, "and she's all over me, like, we're on the bed instantly, and she's on top of me."

Sam stared at the TV, which he'd forgotten was on. He wished it was something even halfway absorbing, but it was a nature documentary about prairie dogs and they didn't have a remote, and getting up would have drawn attention to himself, which was at odds with his main goal of sinking into the floor and disappearing completely.

"And she's like," Dean went on, pausing for another cartoonishly lewd slurp of beer, "soaking wet, I never felt anything like it, Jesus. Her gray panties were black, I could smell it."

Sam couldn't help it, he made a choked-off, upset-disgusted noise.

"God, shut up, Dean."

"It's a free trailer, prude! Go someplace else! Eric wants to hear it, right, man?"

Eric looked, if not interested, amused. He didn't seem as drunk as Dean. "Sure."

"See? Close your ears, Sammy."

And so Sam watched prairie dogs teach their young how to hunt while his brother described, in excruciating detail, going down on and then fucking some poor girl he wasn't going to call again.

At some point, Sam very carefully put a couch pillow over his lap. He didn't think either of them noticed.

Dean was nearly slurring his words by the end of his story, that final beer pushing him from stinking drunk to nearly blackout, and that was when Eric pulled out a joint. Eric was kind of a bad friend, Sam thought.

Dean said, "Hell yeah," clearly having other ideas about that. "That's what I love about you, man."

Eric smiled. "I'm always holding?"

"You're always holding."

It was none of Sam's business whether Dean got high, and frankly, he preferred it to when Dean was drunk. It made him spacey and laughy and sweet, boneless and moving slow.

Eric lit the joint as Sam watched, prairie dogs forgotten. Eric had a sharp jaw and a nice mouth. He was allowed look, it was the only movement in the room other than Dean trying to shake the last drops of beer out of his can and into his open mouth, and that made it the safer choice.

He watched Eric inhale and hold it and then let smoke pour out of his lips. Sam always liked the smell of weed, earthy and musty and sweet. Maybe it was some Pavlovian knowledge that smelling it meant Dean was in a good mood.

Again, Eric looked at him and hesitated with the joint.

"Dude," Dean barked. "You're so fucking weird, give it."

He made a grabby motion with his hand. Eric leaned over and gave it to him, but not before he rolled his eyes at Sam, like a private joke between them: this fucking guy, right?

Sam's whole body flushed. Not getting the joint was secondary.

Sam watched Dean smoke, too. His chest got tight. Like watching a horror movie and yelling at the TV, Watch out! Don't go in there! Don't stare at your brother's mouth!

He wished he was still ten. He didn't do any of this when he was ten, didn't have to constantly slap himself on the wrist and police his eyes and hands and deal with his stomach rolling over things he wished he didn't understand.

Dean's eyes met his. Sometimes they did, when Sam was watching him, but he never called him out on it. It was the one thing he never made fun of, no 'like what you see' or 'take a picture it'll last longer.' Sam wondered—dangerously, dangerously—what that meant.

Dean passed the joint back to Eric and they did one more rotation. Then Dean put his head down on the table.

"Fuck, man, I'm tanked."

Eric laughed at him, all teeth. "Pussy."

"I gotta— sorry, dude, I'm gonna call it, I'm fucking wiped." He struggled out of the table-booth, looking about as bad as he sounded, stumbling and mealy-mouthed, but Sam had learned to appreciate the way Dean's sheen wore off. It helped. "You good to get home?"

"Always am."

Eric didn't move to get up. Sam noticed this, but Dean didn't seem to. He headed for their dark bedroom door, waving aimlessly back at them.

"We on for Thursday?"

Eric said, "You know it."

"Cool. Later."

Dean all but fell over the threshold into the bedroom, just barely kicking the door shut behind him before he went face down on the bed. The door didn't close all the way. Dean's feet disappeared from view as he scooted up the bed.

"He's a fuckin' character," Eric said, in a completely unreadable tone. Sam stared at the doorway.

"Uh-huh."

Eric laughed. "What, you don't get along? You seem alright."

"I dunno. It's weird."

"'Cause you live in an RV?"

"Kind of."

Sam wished the weirdest thing about his life was that he lived in an ancient RV with his brother and, only occasionally, his dad. He wished it was the weirdest thing about his relationship with Dean. It wasn't either.

"You don't like it when we talk about chicks," Eric said, so matter-of-fact. Sam wanted to fold back into the couch and have it eat him whole.

"I dunno," Sam said again, feeling stupid and young.

Eric just shrugged. He looked at the joint in his hand but didn't light it again.

"Yeah. I mean, I guess it's gross, it's your brother. I wouldn't wanna hear about my brother getting laid. That's nasty."

Sam spent a few luxurious seconds imagining what it would be like to have sex be a thing that was so far disconnected from your brother to the point of being gross. It was a beautiful concept.

"But," Eric started up, and Sam tensed, "not to like, philosophize at you or whatever, but you better learn to talk about girls."

He looked right at him, with his dark eyes. Hawkish features. Sam wanted to shrink away, but there was no couch left to shrink away into. Was he talking about what he thought he was talking about?

"Oh." Not sure what else to say.

Eric rubbed the back of his neck and slurped at his beer.

"I'm just saying, dudes notice if you don't talk about girls. I know it's with your bro, but I noticed, and you're like— you're, what, fifteen?"

Sam recalled a deeply morbid, deeply awkward conversation Dean had with him about a year ago, the thesis of which was 'don't trust a guy who asks how old you are.' Dean was talking about strangers and truckers and hunters when he said it, older guys with a syrupy smile and a glint in their eye, but now, hearing it from Eric, it just made Sam's heart ratchet up. Triple time. He was stupid.

"Yeah," he lied. Stupid.

"Right, yeah, fifteen, so. That's too late to not be talking about pussy, you know? If you liked pussy. Like, if you were into that." Another drink. "And I'm not saying you're not, I'm just. You know."

It was awkward, both waiting for the other to go first. Sam picked a scab on his knee; a sharp rock, sliding down an embankment a week ago. He could be brave.

"Can you tell?" he asked quietly.

It felt like falling out of a plane. Eric sighed like he'd been holding his breath, waiting for it.

"Yeah. Like, big-time."

Sam wiped his palms on his shorts. How could anyone know if he didn't know? Did the kids at school know? Did Dad?

"Shit."

"Sorry. Just giving you a heads up."

"Does Dean know?"

"About… you? Uh. I dunno. He never said anything to me. The guy's not, uh… he doesn't pay attention."

That pause before you, that questioning intonation. Sam's heart was fully gone, taking off for the horizon.

"Does he know about you?" he asked.

He winced, expecting a shout or a fist in his face. You didn't ask a guy that, you didn't suggest it, you didn't even suggest suggesting it.

But, Eric seemed nice. Eric was helping him out. Sam had no idea how to do any of this.

Eric looked at him for a while, moving his jaw back and forth.

"Nah. I'm not stupid." Eric looked down at the joint, rolled it in his fingers, then got out his lighter. "S'not just me, though, your bro's a fag magnet. He doesn't know it, but. Ain't a guy we hang with who doesn't wanna stick it to him at least a little bit. We don't say, but."

That made Sam sick to think of: the lies, the however-many guys that Dean thought were his friends, but they just wanted to— wanted—

Was he one of them? Was he a guy like that? He was lying to Dean the same way. He wanted to throw up.

"Oh," he said again.

Eric squinted at him. "Don't tell him I said that."

"I won't! Jeez."

But he would have, if he thought they were staying for longer than another month. Dean would be furious and grossed out and, worse, he'd know Sam was talking about him behind his back. He'd wonder why him and Eric were talking about liking guys.

Sam realized all of a sudden that this was the first time he'd ever talked about liking guys, maybe even to himself. His head was pounding.

Eric brought the joint to his lips. The sweet, herbsy smell filled the trailer again and Sam just watched. Eric looked blissed out. He looked good.

"But," Eric added, extending a finger in the air like he was making some important point, "for a straight dude, he sure gets handsy when he's drunk."

This was, officially, either the best or worst conversation Sam ever had. His mind was racing, horribly remembering that he already knew that about Dean, his noogies and shoulder squeezes and an arm thrown around his neck when he got home late and loose. He hadn't thought of it as handsy. It made a sick jealousy crawl up the back of his throat to think that anyone else got to be on the receiving end of it.

God, he had to figure out how to tell Eric to go home, it was too much.

Just then, Eric's knuckles bumped against his arm. He jumped. Eric was holding the joint out to him.

Sam froze. A thousand thoughts all at once: stupid, Dean's gonna know, this is weird, you don't know him, he's cute, he's so cute, he's Dean's friend, he's so much like Dean, grow up, it's fine, what good is being smart if you're still so fucking stupid?

He took the joint and Eric gave him an approving look, a wordless attaboy. Sam was not immune to attaboy. He had, in fact, made the worst decisions of his life in the wake of that specific brand of older-boy peer pressure, via Dean.

He took a hit the way he'd seen them do it. It was scratchy and hot in his lungs, musty and grassy. He tried to exhale and instantly started coughing, his eyes streaming, hand blindly groping to give the joint back to Eric, who was laughing.

"This isn't your first time, is it?"

"No," Sam managed quickly, furiously wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Dean and I smoke all the time."

He wished. If Dean denied it, Eric wouldn't know which of them was lying to sound cool.

Eric just shrugged and nodded. He was looking at the TV. The documentary about prairie dogs was over and now it was something about World War II, some monotonous narrator and black and white footage.

Why wasn't Eric leaving? Did he not have somewhere to go? They sure as hell couldn't fit him in the trailer. Was Dean supposed to wake up and rally?

Sam guessed he was starting to feel it. He felt gauzy and weird, hyper aware of the texture of the couch under his hands as he scratched his nails against it. He didn't know what he expected. It didn't feel like on TV, when people laughed at nothing and fell down.

"Does this thing pull out?" Eric asked, looking down at the couch and bouncing a little.

"No."

"Then where do you sleep?"

Beyond humiliating, every time this came up. Dean was better at talking around it than he was, most of his friends were nice enough not to ask.

When he didn't answer, Eric's eyes flicked past his head to the dark bedroom. It was obvious just looking through the wedge of open doorway that it was the size of a closet.

All Eric said, after a beat, was, "Weird."

The older they got, the weirder it would be that they shared a bed, and the more embarrassing it was that they were so poor they didn't have a choice.

The tiny, horrible, secret thought that Sam kept to himself, with such vicious fervor that he wasn't even sure if he really thought it, was that he was glad that his height and constant increase of that height meant it would be inhumane for him to ever sleep on the couch.

(About once a month, he woke up with Dean's hand somewhere on him—on his shoulder or arm or resting on his chest, his fingers loosely curled in sleep—and it gave him something that got him through the following three weeks.)

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

He hoped the primary takeaway was 'man, these guys are poor' and not the other thing. He didn't think many people's minds would go to the other thing.

His thoughts spooled out. He felt heavy and tired, nice, empty. He didn't know how long they sat there, he just stared at the TV without really watching it. They were showing tanks rolling through the European countryside and it was freaking him out a little but getting up to change the channel seemed impossible. The night had finally cooled off, but he still felt sweat roll down the back of his neck.

He realized at some point that Eric's knee was up against his. He didn't know how long it had been there or if he was the one to close the gap. So embarrassing if it was him. Eric's bony knee with his black jeans, his own, smaller and scuffed and bare below the hem of his blue basketball shorts.

He looked up. Eric was leaned back into the couch, the picture of relaxation, except he was looking at him. He didn't know how long he'd been looking at him.

"What?"

Eric smiled. Sam's stomach flipped over again.

"You, uh. You look like him."

Huh? "What?"

"Dean."

Sam scowled. He hunched in and stared at the TV. "I do not."

He wasn't an idiot. He was in second grade the first time a girl asked him to introduce her to Dean. No one ever asked Dean to introduce them to him.

Eric said, "Yeah, you do. Same eyes and shit." A pause. "He a heavy sleeper?"

Eric shifted on the couch and now their whole thighs were pressed together.

Sam forgot to lie. "Only when he's drunk."

Eric nodded. Sam was looking at him now and he couldn't look away, paralyzed. His whole body was thrumming, partially stoned and partially turned on, he'd been half hard since Dean's story about his date and then he started thinking about that, Dean taking off some girl's panties, Dean's face between her legs, Sam hadn't met the girl he was talking about but he'd seen others and they were gorgeous, tall college girls who might as well have been alien for all Sam wasn't even on the same planet at them. It was insane that Eric said he looked anything like Dean because he'd know if he looked like Dean, people would like him the way they liked Dean, they'd let him— Don't think about Dean, think about Eric, think about—

Eric leaned in. He put his knuckles against Sam's thigh.

"You always stare at me. Whenever I'm around."

He smelled his beer and smokes and he had such nice skin close up, pale and unmarred. His eyebrows were brownish, he dyed his hair. Sam swallowed.

"Yeah."

"Yeah. So." Eric was looking at his mouth. "I stare at you, too."

That couldn't be right. This couldn't be real. Weed didn't make you hallucinate, right, could he be making this up? Guys like Eric didn't like him, they smoked cigarettes and drove cars and liked girls or guys like Dean, not stupid little kids.

"Oh," he said, and regretted it. Not cool, not smooth, Eric was gonna change his mind from wherever the hell he'd put it in the first place. "Really?"

"Yeah. You're hot."

It's like he was talking about someone else. He reached out and brushed his hand through Sam's hair and Sam shuddered at the feel of it, he was so weird and sensitive, it was like a bomb going off in his head, warm heat and pleasure just from Eric's fingers in his hair.

Eric asked, "Can I kiss you?" and Sam thought that was pretty polite. No one had ever asked before. He couldn't think of a reason to say no.

He nodded, and Eric put his big hands on his face and kissed him, and kissed him, and kept kissing him until they started doing other stuff instead.

During it, Sam imagined Dean coming out of the bedroom and seeing them. He'd shout and beat the shit out of him but he'd see them, and he'd know that someone he liked, this friend, liked Sam enough to have sex with him. The fantasy tripped out of control; maybe Dean would push Eric aside and take over. Or join them. Whatever. Whatever it was, Dean would see him, and he'd know.

Dean didn't wake up. Eric left afterwards.

Sam crammed into the RV's tiny shower stall to wash under the lukewarm spray. His whole body felt hot and pounding, swollen and weird, sticky. He was still kind of stoned and his hands were clumsy. His heart wouldn't slow down. His only complete thought was: it was good to get it over with.

As the adrenaline dissipated, other thoughts came through. Dean would kill him if he found out. Eric asked him not to tell him, like Sam was that fucking stupid. He saw a future where Eric and Dean had some falling out and Eric threw it in Dean's face. Maybe it would come up that Sam lied about his age: Dean would say he's only thirteen and Eric would say he told me fifteen like that was any better at all, and then Eric would kill him if Dean hadn't already.

The whole thing had been… good. It felt good, anyways. He was so quick he hardly remembered parts of it and he was blisteringly awkward, clumsy and bumpy, but Eric didn't seem like he cared. No one had ever seen him naked before and, importantly, now he wasn't a virgin anymore. He got it over with. It could have been worse. One of his knees had a friction burn on it from the couch and he couldn't think of a good lie to tell Dean if he noticed.

He knew that Dean had been older than thirteen, his first time. Sam had no idea what to do with that information. Being proud of himself felt gross.

He crept into the bedroom, his heart thumping loud in his ears. He could see the shape of Dean on his side of the bed, shirtless in the heat and laying under only the thin top sheet.

Sam went around to his side of the bed and took his shorts off, kept boxers and t-shirt on; he worried he'd have marks from Eric's hands on his back, Dean had great night vision.

As soon as he got into bed, Dean turned his head to the side and mumbled, "Hey, baby," thick with sleep.

It was a term of endearment that only came out when Dean was very drunk, stoned, tired or hurt, usually appended into 'baby brother.' 'Baby brother' was bad enough, but left unattached the way it was then, it made Sam want to put his head in the oven.

Sam didn't respond. If he responded, he was baby. He couldn't let himself be baby.

Dean said, "Back still giving you trouble? I can get in there."

Dean gave him massages when the growing pains were bad, sitting on the couch with Sam's twiggy leg in his lap, absentmindedly working his calf with his strong hands as they watched TV. It was heaven.

"No." Sam's hands itched towards Dean in the dark. They stayed very firmly balled into fists. "Go to sleep."

Dean turned over. "Bossy."

Sam slid into bed next to him and stared up at the ceiling. Once Dean's breathing went slow and even with sleep, Sam turned his head and looked at him. His eyes traced the planes of his back and his big shoulders in the barely-there light from outside and he decided, once and for all, that there was something very, very wrong with him. The important thing was that Dean never found out.

#this was very much a 'wrote it for myself' thing but that always feels like a waste #no one will read 5k words on tumblr and that is fine #just go read the parent fic. I like it #wincest fic #weecest #roncillary

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rollercoasterwords · 9 months

Note

what are your fav albums

SO glad u asked xx

older favorites (ie albums i first listened to years back but that i have consistently returned to + continue to love) include "i love you, honeybear" by father john misty, "trouble will find me" by the national, "be the cowboy" by mitski, "stadium cake" by oh pep!, "how to be a human being" by glass animals, "yours conditionally" by tennis, "it was a religion by blegh," "bury me at makeout creek" by mitski, "any human friend" by marika hackman, "cheap queen" by king princess, "anti" by rihanna, "ctrl" by sza, "touch up" by mother mother, "melodrama" by lorde, "magdalene" by fka twigs, "hospice" by the antlers, "iii" by banks...

newer favorites (ie albums i've just discovered + loved in the past year or two) include "new skin for the old ceremony" by leonard cohen, "little earthquakes" by tori amos, "lush" by mitski, "to bring you my love" by pj harvey, "dilate" by ani difranco, "i'm your man" by leonard cohen, "jorji" by ezra bell, "yoshimi battles the pink robots" by the flaming lips, "pollen" by tennis, "ripley pine" by lady lamb, "born in the u.s.a." by bruce springsteen, "sucker supreme" by rosie tucker, "rufus wainwright" by rufus wainwright, "music for the masses" by depeche mode...

there are probably others that i am forgetting atm but. all of these are my beloved favorite albums <3 <3 <3

#i LOVE a list...love making a list....thank u for giving me an excuse to do so <3 #ask #rae's playlist

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ao3feed-sambucky · 1 year

Text

The First Gentleman

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/43538482

by glittercake

Sam knew what he was signing up for when he married a senator running for Office. He knew what Riley’s job demanded. He knew the hours, the stress, the milling, and the perpetual buzz. Living his life constantly surrounded by everything, by an entire nation.

But he had always dreamed of a quiet life. A place in the country with the man he loves, acres of greenery and trees, and flowers around them. A long winding road they could drive down on a warm Sunday afternoon. A big old farmhouse with a wraparound porch and a French kitchen. Some horses and a stable, and a little creek covered with a blanket of mist in the mornings.

He gets what he wants in the most horrible of ways.

Words: 4290, Chapters: 1/11, Language: English

Fandoms: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Riley (Captain America movies), Monica Rambeau, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Riley/Sam Wilson

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Presidency, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, bodyguard!Bucky, first man!sam, president!riley, Love Triangles, No cheating, Forbidden Love, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Slow Burn, Happy Ending

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/43538482

#Bucky #Captain America #Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #James Barnes #Falcon #SamBucky #BuckySam #IFTTT

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westdallasgang · 7 months

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Bonnie Parker: "Poetry From Life's Other Side"

On April 19, 1932 in Kaufman, TX, Bonnie was arrested for the first and only time after a failed hardware store robbery. The gang (Clyde, Bonnie, and Ralph Fults) were hiding out on the banks of a creek where they found themselves surrounded by a team of Kaufman police officers. A shootout immediately ensued, wounding Ralph in the arm and then surrendering himself during gun battle once caught trying to crawl away into the woods. Clyde wasn't taking any chances and managed to escape on foot, leaving the frightened Bonnie behind. Ralph and Bonnie were detained in a small, one room, dirt floor jail, "The Kemp Calaboose", which still stands today as a roadside attraction in Kemp, TX.

The pair arrived with their clothes covered in mud and Bonnie was reportedly smoking cigarette after cigarette while being questioned. Neither gave out their real names and used aliases. Bonnie's was "Betty Thornton". In the end, Bonnie spent 2 months at the Kaufman County jail after the jury failed to indict her. Therefore, no mugshot of Bonnie exists.

With little to do other than pine for Clyde and chat with her jailer, it's no surprise Bonnie's fertile imagination turned to poetry. Inside her black leatherette first national bank book, or rather what she officially titled as "Poetry From Life's Other Side", are a total of ten handwritten poems. Out of the ten poems, five appear to be original compositions, largely drawn from her adventurous life on the road with The Barrow Gang, taking on gangster girl alter egos, her devotion to Clyde, and marriage to husband Roy Thornton.

The ten poems in the order she chose to write them are:"The Story Of Suicide Sal" (original), "The Prostitute's Convention" (original), "The Fate Of Tiger Rose" (original), "I'll Stay" (original), "From Shadow Sun" (copied), "Bravery" (original), "The Hobo's Last Ride" (copied), "The Girl With The Blue Velvet Band" (copied), "When!!" (copied), and "People Will Talk" (copied).

Bonnie's other famous poems were written while on the run over the years.

#bonnie parker #bonnie and clyde

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tpeakphotos · 2 years

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I’ve been an annual pass holder for Lassen Volcanic National Park for many years. It is such a beautiful place and I’m truly blessed that it’s close enough to visit on a “day trip.” That said, last year’s #dixiefire drove home the fact that most of my historically favorite places/hikes are on the side of Highway 89 that the fire ravaged the worst. Therefore, after admittedly pouting about it for a while, I’ve decided it’s time to make some more favorite places/hikes. Newest on the list is the hike from Hat Lake to Paradise Meadow which I just did for the first time this week. It is a beautiful little hike of 1.8 miles each way that I’d rate moderately strenuous in spots; it would be a “cake walk” for someone young and fit. Most of the trail follows a pretty little creek which, now that I am home and looking at a map, I realize is actually Hat Creek. I must confess I didn’t even realize went in to the park (and apparently years of driving by “Hat Lake” wasn’t enough to give me a clue). Yeah, this apparently seems to be a trend. In the early morning hour I had the whole trail to myself, never seeing another soul with my only real obstacle being the green fir cones that the large population of pine squirrels was trying to drop on my head in the denser wooded areas as they squeaked their displeasure at my presence. I grabbed this image just below the meadow as the creek begins meandering through the woods and the morning sun was just hitting the meadow beyond

#lassenvolcanicnationalpark #lassen national park #naturelovers #creeks and streams #hiking photography #landscape photography #national park #original photographers #photographers on tumblr #buy art fine art photography nature photography

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genealogy-writers-group · 2 years

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The Buccaneer Lodge

Most tourists visiting the St. Augustine Alligator Farm pay little notice to the narrow, tree-lined road they use to get to the attraction’s parking lots. A short drive down that road will introduce you to one of the most interesting neighborhoods on Anastasia Island. Old Quarry Road - as it is called today - was first used by the spanish to drag large blocks of coquina from the quarry located near the present-day amphitheater to Quarry Creek. From there the blocks were loaded on barges and floated across the bay for use in the construction of the Castillo de San Marcos.

Centries later - in May 1917 - Alfred Day bought a parcel described as:

Beginning at Quarry Creek, highwater mark, run thence along old Light House Road, 222 feet, thence northwest to land of Hite, 190 feet, thence west to marsh, thence along marsh, 350 feet to point of beginning.

He built a house looking out over Quarry Creek and the marsh surrounding it. The three-story house was large with wide eaves and wrap-around porches to shade the rooms on the lower floor. The construction used local resources - coquina for the foundation, heart pine and cypress for framing, cedar shingles for siding and palm tree trunks as pillars to support the porch. It had 12-foot ceilings and each room had windows on at least two walls to best catch the sea breezes. The house was built for summer comfort. The only heat consisted to two fireplaces and later a floor furnace located in the living room. The property was bordered on the north and east sides by the Heckscher estate with woods to the south.

In 1940, the estate of Alfred Day’s widow sold the property to Adolph Bittner. Mr. Bittner created the Buccaneer Lodge in the house and managed it until October 1952 when he sold to William and Marjorie Barrett, my parents, and moved back to Germany. I’ve tried to get more information about “the Lodge period” but haven’t found much yet. Although many locals from my parents’ generation remember it for luncheons and private parties, city directories during that period don’t mention it.

At some point during the time Mr. Bittner owned the property, “old Light House Road” became Young Avenue and was extended across the marsh to connect with Coquina Avenue. Quarry Creek was only a trickle of water at our end and was no longer used to define the property line. There were four other homes on Youn Avenue with lots of woods and marsh to keep children occupied. We had plenty of wildlife - raccoons and armadillos, owls, wild pigs and even an occasional alligator.

For several years our only source of water came from an artesian well located on the property behind us. Because this was “sulfa” water, we had the Culligan man visiting frequently to replenish the water softener. There was a cistern under the house and at one time the gutters emptied into it. On the back porch a hand pump was used to draw water from the cistern. I’m sure before there was such a thing as water-softening, the rainwater was put to good use.

The house’s large porches served many purposes. Grandma’s wicker furniture - with a little help from some old sheets - became castles or forts on rainy days. Many a production was staged on the porch including the magic show where my cousin and I were going to saw my sister in half. Fortunately for her, Mom decided to check just what it was we were planning to do with that saw. It was also a great place for birthday parties and other noisy functions.

Many of my memories of that house have to do with sounds. You knew it was getting close to dinner time when the National Guard fired their cannon at retreat. I remember laying in bed in the early morning stillness listening to the shrimp boats. I could hear them motor from their docks on the San Sebastian River, up the bay, through the draw at the Bridge of Lions and on until they passed the old Spanish fort and turned to head out the inlet.

Of course there were lots of animal sounds. From the alligator farm came the rumbles and moans of the alligators during mating season and the screams of the peacocks. The raccoons were always arguing with each other out in the marsh and the marsh hens frequently added their voices to the conversation.

In the background to all of this was the sound of the surf. Once the traffic and other noise of the day settled down, the surf was always there.

At one point, the city dug up the street to install sewer lines supporting new home development. Under the old live oak just outside our driveway gate the construction crew discovered the bones of two Indians. Since Indians had been involved in the quarry operations during the fort construction and signs of an Indian Village were found just behind the Alligator Farm, it wasn’t surprising to find Indian remains in the area. Then someone happened to remember a story about a pirate - I can’t remember which one - who was coming to see the governor of Florida about some kind of amnesty deal. This pirate expected a double-cross so, according to the story, he buried his treasure on the south side of a live oak tree on Anastasia Island then killed and buried his two Indian servants with it. That announcement brought out every metal detector and shovel for a 10-mile radius - keeping the neighborhood in chaos for weeks. Of course, there was no treasure - just a lot of disappointed treasure hunters.

We weathered many storms in that house. Most hurricanes came from the Gulf and had lost much of their punch by the time they got here. Flooding was the biggest concern so our house - built with a high crawl-space - was the logical place for friends and neighbors with houses built on slab foundations. This worked well until Dora came to visit in 1964. Because Dora was coming at us directly from the Atlantic, Mom decided to head inland for this one. Although the house was not damaged, we lost several trees on the property - one just missing the porch.

I left home when I enlisted with the Air Force in 1972, returning for holidays and vacations. One Christmas holiday included my sister’s wedding. The reception was to be held at the house so you can imagine the work that went into getting it ready. I spent most of that vacation polishing brass doorknobs and silver trays along with anything else that could be scrubbed. The wedding was beautiful and the house looked glorious.

Soon after, the city renamed Young Avenue to Old Quarry Road. For years they had tried to pave the road, but to meet code they would have to cut many of the old oaks and cedars that lined it. The residents fought hard to keep the trees. Finally a code exception was granted allowing the road to be paved while leaving the trees. Fortunately most of the character of the old road is still intact.

Mom died in 1983 and we sold the house soon after. Several years later the new owner made a deal to use the house in a movie. The movie - Illegally Yours - never made it to movie theaters but still occasionally shows up on late-night television. The old kindergarten classroom figured prominently as the family kitchen. My husband and I were in Germany when it was finally released and someone sent us a home-made video copy of the movie. Somehow, during its journey to us, the tape lost all its audio. Didn’t matter - it meant less distraction as we looked for local landmarks and friends performing as extras.

The house has been sold several more times and each new owner has worked to restore it. The classroom is gone and the porches returned to their original glory. The yard has been beautifully landscaped. We’ve gone back once - when it was featured in a Christmas tour of homes several years ago. It was a delightful visit.

We enjoyed an enchanted childhood in a glorious old house built for family living in a world that no longer exists. Who in their right mind would allow children to roam the woods, marshes and roads unsupervised day after day? Can you imagine a scenario today where five neighborhood children - all with the measles - are camped out in one house while they recuperate? Cellphones? Our parents got us headed home by ringing the bell outside the back door. Each family’s bell had a distinctive clang.

The house still thrives, but it is no longer the home of our childhood. That world may be gone, but today each of our homes includes the essence that made the big house so special.

It’s called family.

#Anastasia Island #home

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copelandcrews12 · 25 days

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A Self-Help Guide To Finding Your Sydney Accommodation

It's a land of winding lanes and ancient country inns. Just remember, these are living creatures and may be easily damaged. Hidden among dense woods are pretty villages like Peaslake, Friday Street, Abinger and Holmbury St Mary. Our next stop but another 2 hours to Richmond, Virginia. Here you can click on the Haunts of Richmond which will guide you on a tour, or the Cemetery of Hollywood where two presidents are buried as well as tons of confederate soldiers. Also go visit Maggie L. Walker National Historic Site and also Richmond Battlefield Site where you get a proper taste of history.

View More: topbinhdinhaz.com - Top Binh Dinh AZ Reviewed by Team Leader in Top Binh Dinh AZ: Lương Ngọc Nam Khang - Luong Ngoc Nam Khang Plaskett Creek Campground - This campground is located approximately 40 miles north of Cambria and sits on the east side of Highway 1, just south of Sand Dollar Beach. Several 44 spacious campsites located here. All sites have grass and are also in amongst a canopy of mature Monterey Pines and Monterey Cypress plants. This is a very popular area for surfing, swimming, fishing together with other beach exercises. Within a short drive many trails can be accessed for hiking, backpacking, and riding. These trails allow of which you enjoy cascading water falls, majestic groves of Redwoods, and other breathtaking views. Costa Rica is an example of the world's best surfing destinations. The island's warm water, year-round waves and also coasts combine for a veritable surfer's paradise. Nearly all the surfers here are hardcore, as evidenced by the boards may carry originating from a airport. The beaches, may not overcrowded, have lots of room for that not so experienced. Tamarindo, a surfing town on the north coast, is a pretty good place for beginners.

View More: topbinhdinhaz.com - Top Binh Dinh AZ Reviewed by Team Leader in Top Binh Dinh AZ: Lương Ngọc Nam Khang - Luong Ngoc Nam Khang Alaska fishing vacations would be the dream of a lifetime for the dedicated angler. The waters of this state teem with numerous fish varieties. Tin tổng hợp Top Bình Định AZ From sea to inland lakes, anglers can find challenges around every cranny. And when they cast their line it almost certain the player will come up with a specific product. Come take a journey to among the many best fishing spots in North America. This hill rises to just about 1000ft and has also a stone tower at the summit. Constructed in 1766 by local, Richard Hull, the tower belongs to the National Trust and is open to your public. The views on the top menu are superb and get a panorama of farmland and woods which stretches as far as the interest rate can identify. 5) A person cross the Newport Bridge, just with a Northwest side, there is often a state park that offers the original Yaquina Bay lighthouse that was built just before Yaquina Head lighthouse through the north end of town. It was only open handful of years that has great tours of the keepers house to secure a small contribution. Lake George is considered one of the premier bass fishing lakes in central Wisconsin. It is the second largest lake on the inside state (46,000 acres), and is 18 miles northwest of Deland and 29 miles east of Ocala. Andrew Molera State Park - Located 20 miles south of Carmel along Highway 1, this park is still pretty much undeveloped and provides great hiking, fishing and beachcombing opportunities for website traffic. This park has 24 campsites offered on a first-come, first-served basis. Major Sur River runs from the park presently there are miles of trails that wind through beaches, meadows, and hilltops how the whole family will satisfaction Binh Dinh in Viet Nam. This is a modern town with plenty of peaceful open spots surrounding it. Incorporate Gravelly Hill, situated southern. Fine views of the Weald and Pilgrim's Way are that can be had from its summit. One of my favourite locations along the coast is Currumbin Beach and Currumbin Alley. Suitable for the family with a number of still waters or surfing beach, it might be wise to pack a picnic lunch, sunscreen and bring your camera to capture the beauty here. You won't want to leave right away. There are a associated with walks for your more energetic, especially to Currumbin Rock which juts out belonging to the beach waiting to be explored. The views from this point are magnificent, sweeping north and south of the coast. Costa Rica fishing is rumored for second to none. Its bordering waters offer an astounding amount of fish species. For a great experience, Cr sportfishing holiday packages can be located online and through travel agencies and your current many outfitters if make a decision to proceed on a spur-of-the-moment.

youtube

Have you gone to the beach along such terrible weather that you simply had to be able to stay inside and do nothing at all? How about likely to your favorite beach that was so crowded which couldn't even turn roughly around? Right nearby is worth visiting for every Australian and visitor alike, the famous Australian Outback Spectacular. We recently experienced the show and left feeling proud to be living in our amazing own country. The visual experience is indescribable with so much jampacked into a couple of hours. Make sure you get there early while there is a lot to see and do before the show. You'll likely boat through Drake Bay to the deeper waters where marlin and sailfish are caught when the waters are warm (warm is a member of family term over here. This is the tropics, after all). As you boat through Drake Bay, you'll travel some in the waters that Sir Francis Drake sailed five centuries ago. Sikinos lies to the E of Folegandros. Ormos Skala may be the only harbour on maui. Yachts can go alongside the quay or anchor off. Will be the major tavernas ashore and some provisions is ready. The setting is of Binh Dinh in Viet Nam and used often by Greek people. It was late regarding day so i was dismayed to see the "Parking Lot Full" sign out front one. I drove in anyway to have a chat to the ranger at the booth. A lot of there remained parking spots available use was ten dollars for my car. She said I may possibly park on road (Highway 1). Tin Top Binh Dinh AZ 247 Nullabor Bearded Dragon (Pogona nullabor) amongst the of littlest species discovered in a small area in south-central Oz. On the coast, it is called to survive on steep cliffs and in caves. This species has distinctive white bands on its and also three to seven rows of spines along the edges of its body. Adults reach about 6 inches snout to vent length. 2) Experience the Beach. Pack a picnic lunch and take along some folding chairs and get a method to listen towards the roar for this ocean, have the salty air view the wildlife frolic of natural residence. One great beach in Lincoln City is Taft Park off of Hwy 101 and 51st SW. A few obvious methods bathrooms because well whilst the famous Mo's restaurant. Growing beach, in Newport, Oregon is Nye Beach. Might get here by taking Olive . west from Hwy 101 and parking in the end with the street coming from the Newport Performing Arts Dojo. There are also many unique shops here might browse by. This 15,725 acre lake borders the east side of Crescent City upon the Putnam/Flagler county line. Crescent Lake flows into the St. Tin Top Binh Dinh AZ News Johns River via Dunns Creek on its north closing. Past electrofishing samples for striper revealed one among the highest catch-per-unit-efforts recorded for areas on the St. John's River. Top Bình Định AZ 247 Striper up to twenty inches long were well represented in the sample and good amount of larger fish (8 lb +) were collected. 6) You can walk coming from the lighthouse parking lot, or try to find a parking spot in the Old Town Newport. We like to walk as an individual a great view within the channel and bridge of a North. In the bay front there are wide ranging interesting shops, art galleries and restaurants including exciting world of famous Mo's and their clam chowder. This is really a great place to spend a few hours shopping, having lunch and finding souvenirs for those left back. Tin tong hop Top Binh Dinh AZ One thing I love about the bay is the free Sea Lions have got taken residence at the docks right next to the bay front aquarium. It's a little smelly, but worth stopping by and observing their behavior close up. Now at once down to Virginia Beach which will take you a couple of hours and relax by the longest stretch of beach in exciting world of. There can also a okay night life here as it is a popular tourist resort, so test stay here overnight and have some relaxation with some friends perhaps family. You can learn to surf, play some golf, go a minimum of one of many amusements parks, learn to play volleyball or go swimming and diving in the sea. So there's always something good never be bored of anything to do here. View More: topbinhdinhaz.com - Top Binh Dinh AZ Reviewed by Team Leader in Top Binh Dinh AZ: Lương Ngọc Nam Khang - Luong Ngoc Nam Khang Written By Author in topbinhdinhaz.com: Nguyễn Mỹ Dung - Nguyen My Dung Written By Author in topbinhdinhaz.com: Nguyễn Mỹ Trang - Nguyen My Trang

#Top Binh Dinh AZ #Binh Dinh Viet Nam

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daily-diego-ca · 5 months

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Altura in San Diego, CA

The Altura apartment has noteworthy modern 3 bedroom apartments near Del Mar location. It’s perfect for a small family. Basically, you can claim the lifestyle you’ve always desired if you opt to rent at Altura. It has irresistible amenities and upscale features, too. Besides, it has proximity to Qualcomm, Carmel Country Plaza, and Penasquitos Creek Waterfall that are only some of the things you’ll love about Altura. Moreover, their community amenities include pet-friendly community, on-site storage spaces, surrounded by 1,300 acres of preserved natural habitat with trails for hiking and biking, easy access to SR 56, Interstates 5 & 805, minutes from the beautiful beaches of Del Mar, Torrey Pines & Del Mar Racetrack, and more.

San Diego, CA

These days, preparing to travel for vacation is exciting. If you’re looking for pre-scheduled events in San Diego, CA, it is necessary to check out online posts. First, there will be San Diego Anime Convention 2023 this coming Saturday, November 18, 2023, at around 10:00 AM at Handlery Hotel San Diego. Second, the Teddy Ball 2023 is scheduled on Saturday, November 25, 2023, at around 7:00 PM at Hyatt Regency La Jolla at Aventine. Lastly, you can also opt to attend the SoCal Etsy Guild Market San Diego this coming Saturday, December 2, 2023, at around 10:00 AM at Westfield Mission Valley.

Belmont Park in San Diego, CA

We know that the Belmont Park in San Diego, CA is famous among tourists from other parts of the world. If you like sightseeing and relaxation, it is also one of the best places you can visit at present. Basically, it is an oceanfront historic amusement park located in the Mission Beach area of San Diego, California. The park was developed by sugar magnate John D. Spreckels. Then, it was opened on July 4, 1925 as the Mission Beach Amusement Center. Aside from providing recreation and amusement, it was also intended as a way to help Spreckels sell land in Mission Beach.

The Air Force's new nuclear stealth bomber, the B-21 Raider, has taken its first test flight

Nowadays, there are numerous interesting news reports in San Diego, CA area. Recently, there was a topic about a new nuclear stealth bomber of the Air Force. Reportedly, the B-21 Raider took its first test flight on Friday, moving the futuristic warplane closer to becoming the nation's next nuclear weapons stealth bomber. In addition, the Raider flew in Palmdale, California, where it has been under testing and development by Northrop Grumman. Besides, the Air Force is planning to build 100 of the warplanes, which have a flying wing shape much like their predecessor the B-2 Spirit but will incorporate advanced materials, propulsion and stealth technology to make them more survivable in a future conflict.

Link to maps

Belmont Park 3146 Mission Blvd, San Diego, CA 92109, United States Get on I-5 N from W Mission Bay Dr and Sea World Dr. 9 min (3.9 mi) Continue on I-5 N to Carmel Creek Rd. Take the Carmel Creek Rd exit from CA-56 E 11 min (12.6 mi) Follow Carmel Creek Rd to your destination 1 min (0.3 mi) Altura 11921 Carmel Creek Rd, San Diego, CA 92130, United States

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shahananasrin-blog · 7 months

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[ad_1] Four weeks of excavation work at a residential school in Canada reportedly failed to turn up evidence of mass unmarked burial sites, raising questions over the claims of widespread indigenous graves across the country.Minegoziibe Anishinabe, an indigenous group also known as Pine Creek First Nation, has excavated 14 sites in the basement of a Catholic church near the former Pine Creek Residential School in Manitoba over four weeks this summer, but has yet to uncover bodies at the sites that were suspected of being possible burial locations of indigenous children, according to a report from Global News.The work comes after ground-penetrating radar used at the sites detected what were described as "anomalies" at 14 locations in the basement of the church, part of a series of discoveries over the last two years in Canada that were reported to be "mass graves" of children who had attended the country's residential schools.Reports of potential mass graves containing the remains of indigenous children across Canada began circulating in May 2021, when the leaders of the British Columbia First Nation Band Tk’emlúps te Secwépemc announced that a radar survey near the former Kamloops Indian Residential School had discovered "confirmation of the remains of 215 children," according to a report from the National Post. That discovery was one of several throughout the summer of 2021, according to the report, with the announcement of several similar surveys of residential schools across the country turning up evidence of graves of possibly hundreds or thousands of indigenous children.REPORT: OVER 600 BODIES FOUND AT INDIGENOUS SCHOOL IN CANADA A view cemetery in Cranbrook, British Columbia, on June 30, 2021. Another Indigenous community in British Columbia says ground-penetrating radar has found human remains near a former residential school. (Photo by Dave Chidley/Anadolu Agency via Getty Images)The apparent discovery set off a firestorm across Canada, with widespread protests resulting in over 60 Canadian churches being vandalized in major cities.Long a controversial part of Canadian history, the country's residential schools were in operation from the late 19th century until the end of the 20th century. The network of schools was operated by the government and churches, aiming to assimilate indigenous children into Canadian culture. Roughly 150,000 children attended the schools, according to a report from CBS News, many of whom were reportedly subjected to harsh treatment by administrators.But it wasn't until the surveys that began two years ago that the schools were suspected of being the sites of mass killings, with the reports of the mass graves prompting a forceful response by the Canadian government. "I recognize these findings only deepen the pain that families, survivors, and all Indigenous peoples and communities are already feeling, and that they reaffirm a truth that they have long known," Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau said in a June 2021 statement, which came shortly after reports that 751 unmarked graves were found near a former residential school in Saskatchewan, according to a CBC report. Marked graves are seen in the Ermineskin Cemetery. (Photo by Cole Burston/Getty Images)CANADA SITE OF FORMER INDIGENOUS SCHOOL REVEALS MASS GRAVE WITH MORE THAN 200 CHILDREN BURIED"The hurt and the trauma that you feel is Canada's responsibility to bear, and the government will continue to provide Indigenous communities across the country with the funding and resources they need to bring these terrible wrongs to light," Trudeau continued. "While we cannot bring back those who were lost, we can – and we will – tell the truth of these injustices, and we will forever honor their memory."The somber language came despite the Cowessess First Nation, who discovered the site and announced the preliminary finding, cautioning that the possible bodies were discovered at a cemetery and were not part of a "mass grave" but a series of unmarked graves."This is not a mass grave site. These are unmarked graves," Cowessess Chief Cadmus Delorme said in a virtual news conference.Nevertheless, the discoveries helped lead to the creation of a new national holiday in Canada, Truth and Reconciliation Day, according to the National Post Report, while Canadian flags were ordered to be kept at half-mast for a record-breaking five consecutive months. The reported discoveries also prompted an official visit to Canada by Pope Francis, who issued a formal apology on behalf of the Catholic Church. Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. (Christinne Muschi /The Canadian Press via AP)Reached for comment by Fox News Digital, a spokesperson for the Minister of Crown-Indigenous Relations said that Canada is "working in partnership with communities to provide the resources needed as they continue the very important and challenging work of locating, identifying and commemorating the remains of those who were stolen from their families and prevented from coming home.""In some searches, disturbances at the sites of former residential schools may not be identified, but this does not negate the experiences and living memory of horrific abuse experienced by Indigenous children in residential schools," the spokesperson said. "We will continue to support communities as they work towards healing and closure, at their own pace. To the Survivors who are speaking out, we believe you. Canada believes you."Some experts and academics have long urged caution about the reports of mass graves, arguing that more research and evidence is needed."I don’t like to use the word ‘hoax,’ because it’s too strong, but there are also too many falsehoods circulating about this issue with no evidence," Jacques Rouillard, a professor emeritus in the Department of History at the Université de Montréal, told the New York Post in a report about the graves last week.One such effort to search for evidence was undertaken at the Shubenacadie Residential School in Nova Scotia in August 2021. Researchers determined that potential graves found around the school had no connection to the institution and predated the school by about 100 years, according to a CBC report.The research near the former Pine Creek Residential School was the first excavation effort of the alleged burial sites, according to the New York Post report, but so far it has turned up no bodies.CLICK HERE TO GET THE FOX NEWS APPRouillard believes that more such efforts should be undertaken in an effort to uncover the truth, noting that the reports over the last few years have been "very dark for Canada."We need more excavations so we can know the truth," Rouillard told the New York Post. "Too much was said and decided upon before there was any proof." [ad_2]

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xtruss · 8 months

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Cougars are Ambushing and Killing Wolves—and No One Knows Why

These rare kills in Washington State have biologists searching for answers. “Everyone always assumes wolves have the upper hand,” says one scientist. “But that’s not always the case.”

— By Kylie Mohr | August 25, 2023

Fighting like Cats and Dogs? As Washington State Cougars target Wolves, scientists are grappling to understand this unusual behavior. Since their reintroduction to the American West in 1995, wolves have expanded their range. Though some neighboring States have five times as many wolves, Washington is documenting far more of these kills—almost 30 percent of the 21 documented natural wolf mortalities in the state. "That's huge if that trend holds," says Trent Roussin, a Washington biologist. Photograph By Bob Gibbson/Alamy

A female wolf padded down an old logging road in northeastern Washington last summer. The yearling would have barely made a sound as she trotted through brush and dry pine needles on an overgrown path that dropped into a steep canyon. Somewhere in the shadows—possibly tucked away in the bushes or hunkered down behind a boulder—she was watched by amber eyes. They belonged to a cougar, which pounced.

The two tangled in a blur of fur, claws, and teeth, with evidence showing the fight came to an abrupt end, about a hundred yards downhill, when the cougar's sharp bite punctured the wolf's skull. The feline nibbled on the wolf, then hid the carcass for a later meal before slinking off into the forest.

Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife (WDFW) staff have documented cougars killing six collared wolves since 2013—almost 30 percent of the 21 documented natural wolf mortalities in the state. "That's huge if that trend holds and is representative of the entire population [in the state]," says Trent Roussin, a WDFW biologist. The kills involve multiple wolf packs in different areas of Washington.

Such kills are rare elsewhere in the U.S. West, where more wolves are on the landscape since their reintroduction to Yellowstone National Park, which is mostly in Wyoming, and central Idaho in 1995. Today Montana and Idaho have over five times more wolves than Washington.

Yellowstone biologists documented only two cases of cougars killing wolves in the past 28 years (the last in 2003). Idaho also recorded only two kills (the last in 2012).

In Montana, five wolf deaths due to cougars were documented between 2009 and 2012. "We have not seen anything like that since that time to my knowledge," said Brian Wakeling, game management bureau chief, by email.

"It just goes to show how rare it is in those states,” says Roussin. “We have a much smaller population, but we've documented it far more frequently." Wolves had naturally dispersed into Washington by the summer of 2008; recent counts found 216 wolves in 37 packs, mostly in the Cascade Range and the state's wooded northeastern corner.

Roussin points to the cougar's signature on this wolf skull: two punctures where the cat’s teeth pierced it. Photograph Via WDFW

The Lone Wolf Factor

While a wolf pack tends to have an advantage over a single cougar—sometimes running it up into a tree or kicking it off a carcass to scavenge for themselves—a cougar excels in a one-on-one ambush. All but one of Washington's wolf kills involved lone wolves.

"Everyone always assumes wolves have the upper hand," says ecologist Mark Elbroch, the leader of Panthera's Puma Program. "But that's not always the case." (Cougars are interchangeably referred to as pumas and mountain lions.)

Washington’s first known wolf death by cougars, in 2013, was an underweight yearling female traveling on a ridgeline in the Cascade Mountains. A cougar killed another wolf in the same Teanaway pack, a two-year-old male, in March 2014, near a creek. It happened again, a month later: a six-year-old breeding male of the Smackout pack, within sight of the den. Researchers also documented more recent cougar kills: a seven-year-old female wolf in 2019, the yearling female in early September of last year, and then a wolf pup later that month.

A Clue From Tracking Tools

Radio collars tipped off biologists to this trend. "The use of collars certainly brings some of these stories to light," says Dan Stahler, a biologist who leads wolf and cougar research in Yellowstone National Park. When an animal doesn't move for eight hours, its collar sends a signal. Scientists hustle to retrieve the collar and piece together what happened.

Investigators first look for signs of poaching by humans, a common cause of death. They also examine the scene for animal tracks, scat, and the wolf’s body positioning. A neatly hidden carcass suggests a cougar, while a mess of scattered limbs could be another wolf. Biologists then take the wolf carcass, or sometimes just its head, back to the lab for more tests. Necropsies reveal the distinct cougar signature: two punctures in the skull.

When the two species interact, it tends to be over prey, but only one of Washington's documented wolf mortalities by a cougar involved a moose carcass—a messy situation where researchers believe a cougar killed a wolf pup while its pack was feeding on a moose.

All but one of Washington's documented wolf kills by cougars involved lone wolves. The state counts around 216 wolves in 37 packs, mostly in the Cascade Range and its wooded northeastern corner, where this pack is located. Photograph Via WDFW

Could Terrain Be Key?

Interactions between wolves and cougars appear to vary by habitat. Researchers found wolves killing numerous cougar kittens in the Teton Range, and a 2020 study there found wolves affected cougar populations more than recreational hunting or prey availability. Cougars fatally attacking wolves, lead author Elbroch says, is "the rarer of the two potential outcomes."

But biologists haven't documented wolf kills of cougars or their kittens in Washington. And while wolves have killed a few cougars and kittens in neighboring Yellowstone National Park, researchers found wolves didn't have a major effect on cougar populations there. In fact, cougars continued to increase in number following wolf reintroduction.

Data collected in Yellowstone before, during, and after wolf reintroduction provides a window into how the species have found a way to warily coexist by partitioning the landscape. Cougars shrunk their home ranges as wolves expanded in the park, selecting areas that were craggier, steeper, and more densely forested.

"This is what allows them to be more sneaky, to work their way through and still survive in this landscape that's dominated by wolves and bears," says Toni Ruth, a biologist who studied cougars there from 1998 to 2006 for the Hornocker Wildlife Institute. Wolves hunting in packs prefer open country where they can outrun, tire, and surround their prey.

Wolf tracks on a Washington road. Wolves generally prefer open areas such as meadows while cougars inhabit craggy ravines and forests. One theory holds that Washington's landscape may be giving cougars an upper hand, though this hasn't yet been formally studied. Photograph Via WDFW

Without a large enough sample size to draw more definitive conclusions, Roussin suggests habitat differences could help explain Washington's higher wolf mortality from cougars. The state has steep mountains, tight ravines, and fewer open rolling meadows—which might give cougars an upper hand. Experts say other factors could be at play too, like cougar density, wolf pack size, or even wolves' relative newness to an area. Roussin plans a formal analysis if more incidents occur.

Meanwhile wolves and cougars will continue overlapping, as they have for thousands of years. "These two species coexisted a heck of a long time before we began interfering with things," Elbroch says.

As wolves newly repopulate in areas such as Oregon and California, a better understanding of how they interact with other species, including us, is key. "We're in an era of carnivore restoration in the western U.S. that's unprecedented," Stahler says. "The big question that's unanswered is how do we as humans fit into that story."

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