#ravin 26

[rmspeltzfarm]

Mount Turkey Fan Spurs and Beard

Easy NATURAL Way Mount Turkey FAN, SPURS, and Beard

[vanillayoteart]

Cryptid Behavior

Rain, [10/3/2024 9:16 PM] SO. I go to the store and its a real nice night out. The sun just set so its dusk. Stars are showing up, the horizon is getting darker. It's PEAK coyote time. When I get back I park and instead of going straight inside, I decide "fuckit" imma walk to the end of the road and just take in the sights from nature and this lil park here. It was... soul healing Rain, [10/3/2024 9:19 PM] I'm just standing in the gravel at the end of the road, before it dips down into the ravine and just like. yknow. lookin at stuff. (aka standing still) Rain, [10/3/2024 9:20 PM] and right as I'm about to turn away and go to my house a car is coming down the street. Its 8pm. I should've figured folks would be getting home from work soon enough. I hope they will turn down the other street but the headlights persist... kinda harshing the vibes imo Rain, [10/3/2024 9:23 PM] 'cept the headlights don't budge. I expect to hear the car turn or the lights to move away but they don't. Rain, [10/3/2024 9:26 PM] At this point it occurs to me that they want to park in the spots near me, and now see a figure in red and brown earth tones standing in the darkened brush with its back turned, silently staring out at nothing Rain, [10/3/2024 9:32 PM] I turn my head to nod in the direction of their parking spot and turn back. My hair was blocking my face but I'd like to think they saw me for a second.   because as soon as I did this they hurriedly turned to pull into the parking spot.  Rain, [10/3/2024 9:34 PM] and I didn't do it on purpose per se but as soon as their headlights were off of me I walked back up the road. I was on the other side of their vehicle before their headlights even went off. By the time I head their door open I was halfway back to my house. Rain, [10/3/2024 9:36 PM] So, had they parked their car, hopped out and looked for the mystery figure in the dark, they wouldn't have seen a thing.  I hope my neighbors spotted a fucking cryptid today

[ahaura]

(Oct. 26) The White House is deliberately smearing the Gazan Ministry of Health's reports of the death toll in Gaza as means of genocidal denial, saying that the "'so-called' Ministry of Health is [...] not reliable." But the Biden Administration has cited the Ministry of Health as recently as last year.

This is not the first time the United States has engaged in genocide denial on behalf of an ally.

Highlighted on Twitter, from The Representation of the Holocaust in the Soviet Press, 1941–1945 by Corinne Ducey (pub. 2008) [Link] (Sci-Hub)

The American and British press also shared a widespread mistrust of Jewish eye- witnesses. Although the Anglophone press reported on stories released by the Soviets or smuggled reports from Jews trapped in Eastern Europe, these stories were ‘not worthy of complete trust because Jews were “interested parties”’. The press tended to believe non-Jewish sources over Jewish sources and ‘generally during these years, whenever the Pope or other leading Christian religious leaders spoke out on the Jews’ behalf [. . .] their comments garnered more attention than a similar story coming from a Jewish [. . .] source’. As late as January 1945 an official from the Refugee Department of the British Foreign Office wrote, ‘Sources of information are nearly always Jewish whose accounts are only sometimes reliable and not seldom highly coloured. One notable tendency in Jewish reports on this problem is to exaggerate the numbers of deportations and deaths’.

In November 1943, W. H. Lawrence of the New York Times travelled to Kiev for an inspection of Babi Yar after the Soviets had retaken the city, and filed a sceptical story about the massacre. The article includes phrases such as ‘it is the contention of the authorities’ and, when referring to eyewitnesses, ‘who said they participated’ or ‘the story was told by’. Lawrence visited the ravine personally, but still found it difficult to accept the Soviet version of events. He states that he saw only a bone or two, a handbag, some hair and ‘that there is little evidence in the ravine to prove or disprove the story’. He therefore concludes that ‘On the basis of what we saw, it is impossible for this correspondent to judge the truth or falsity of the story told to us’. Alexander Werth notes in his book about his experiences with the Red Army, Russia at War, that the BBC turned down his report on Majdanek because they could not believe that Nazi Germany had taken its racial policies so far. Werth also quotes the response of the New York Herald Tribune to the report on Majdanek: ‘Maybe we should wait for further corroboration of the horror story that comes from Lublin. Even on top of all we have been taught of maniacal Nazi ruthlessness, this example sounds inconceivable.’

The Ministry of Health has published the names of over 7,000 Palestinians, including almost 3,000 children, killed in Gaza. The full report can be found here.

[morbidology]

In 1959, a group of nine students from the Ural Polytechnical Institute set out on an expedition through the Ural Mountains in the Soviet Union. Led by Igor Dyatlov, the group aimed to reach the summit of Otorten, a remote and challenging peak. Unfortunately, their journey would end in one of the most perplexing and eerie mysteries of the 20th century.

The group left in January of that year, fully equipped and with considerable experience in handling cold-weather treks. However, not long after the journey began, one member, Yuri Yudin, became ill and had to return home, a decision that would ultimately spare his life. The remaining hikers continued their trek, moving across the slopes of Kholat Syakhl, a mountain ominously known as "Dead Mountain" among the local Mansi people.

Their last communication was on January 31, when Dyatlov sent a message stating that they were progressing, though delayed by harsh weather conditions. It wasn't until the group failed to return home as scheduled that a search and rescue operation began.

On February 26, searchers made a strange discovery: the group’s tent was found abandoned and slashed open from the inside. Oddly, most of their equipment and warm clothing were left behind, suggesting that they fled in a hurry despite the bitter cold.

Following a trail of footprints leading away from the tent, rescuers eventually found the bodies of five of the hikers. They were in various stages of undress, with two found near a makeshift fire beneath a large cedar tree. The others were scattered between the tree and the tent. It appeared as though they had succumbed to the freezing temperatures as they attempted to return to shelter.

It wasn't until May, two months later, that the remaining four bodies were discovered further into the woods, buried in snow within a ravine. These hikers had suffered far more serious injuries. Two had fatal chest trauma, and another had a severe skull fracture. Disturbingly, one of the women was missing her tongue, eyes, and part of her lips.

What else struck the searchers as peculiar was that some of the victims' clothing was found to be radioactive. Despite extensive investigations, no definitive cause of death was ever determined. The official Soviet report vaguely concluded that the hikers had died due to "an unknown compelling force."

Over the years, various theories have been proposed to explain what happened at Dyatlov Pass. Some suggest that an avalanche may have forced the group to flee the tent in panic, although there is little evidence to support the occurrence of an avalanche in the area.

Another theory suggested that wind-induced infrasound might have triggered extreme fear and irrational behavior among the hikers. However, this theory does not adequately account for the severe physical injuries observed in some of the victims.

More controversial speculations involve secret Soviet military tests or experiments, particularly given the radiation detected on the victims' clothing. Some theories even venture into the realm of the paranormal, suggesting that the hikers may have encountered a yeti or extraterrestrial beings, though these ideas are often dismissed as implausible.

[pampushky]

Creature (Both Haunted & Holy)

Vinsmoke Sanji/Reader - whump, smut, healing

You’re a selkie with a rare talent to guide the very water you swim in, stolen from your village nearly two years ago. After having reached adulthood, you are Arlong’s greatest prize, someone who can give him an heir with the potential to raze the very foundations the world stands upon while being forced to help the fishman you so despise by making note of the currents and fastest ways to travel the Grand Line and Calm Belts, all setting the stage for his reign of terror.

That’s all well and terrible until the Strawhats come to Arlong Park, and you catch a certain cook’s eye. The events unfolding before you push you into a life you had not expected, nor realized was possible for yourself after all you had lost, suddenly presented with not only freedom but a family, as well.

ao3 link | masterlist | ask away

Chapters with depictions of rape/dubcon, trauma, child abuse, etc. will be marked with a 🕊️, while chapters with consensual smut will be marked with a *.

This is a fic that I wrote to work through some of my own past experiences with SA & harassment. Don't read it if you don't want to. All I ask is that you are polite, safe, and don't try to force yourself to read something that has the possibility of upsetting. I understand that everyone deals with their own traumatic happenings differently— this is my own.

There is also, because it is a Sanji story, mentions of child abuse. Because Judge is a dickhead.

Much love, and many good vibes to you all. You are stronger than you know, and are capable of wonders.

1.) look inside of me 🕊️ 2.) and see that I am not afraid 🕊️ 3.) to walk inside the void 🕊️ 4.) like a kid inside a cave 🕊️ 5.) discovering the patterns 🕊️ 6.) of my soul 7.) and where it's placed 8.) I've been mapping 9.) many caverns 10.) but it still feels like a maze 11.) I know I'm made of clay that's worn 🕊️ 12.) blighted by imperfect form 🕊️ 13.) but I will trust 🕊️ 14.) the artist molding me 🕊️ 15.) I am creation 🕊️ 16.) both haunted and holy 17.) made in glory 18.) even the depths 🕊️ 19.) of the night 20.) cannot blind me 🕊️* 21.) when you guide me 🕊️ 22.) creature only 🕊️ 23.) look inside my heart 24.) and find a perilous ravine 🕊️ 25.) carved within the beauty 26.) the darkness in between *🕊️ 27.) standing in the balance 🕊️ 28.) of complete and incomplete 29.) I identify the echo

Official art of the selkie! Art of Tide!

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024

We did this last year, and we're doing it again this year: It's Traintober 2024! The rambles, headcanons and stories are back, and this year I'm using the prompts made by @tornadoyoungiron - thanks for making this year's prompt list!

This is the Master Post, and it'll have the links to every day on it, as well as this link to the Ao3 work which will have the same stuff, only without pictures, same as last year. Without further ado, here are the fics:

Day 1: Dawn (The Flying Kipper, 1936) Day 2: First Light (Lighting Ivo Hugh's fire for the first time) Day 3: Trust (Gordon doesn't like crews that aren't his own...) Day 4: Great Race (Thomas and Bertie's race has consequences...) Day 5: Exhibition (The NRM Stoplight system) Day 6: Harmony (Rheneas and his Night Mail) Day 7: Sleepy (Dennis' Favourite Napping Spots) Day 8: Impact (The impact of Duck leaving Tidmouth...) Day 9: Old Iron (One Old Iron meets another...) Day 10: Flora (Flora the tram and the flower show) Day 11: Fauna (Dilly the Duck goes missing) Day 12: Teamwork (Rusty and Fred work together...) Day 13: Leaves (Hiro and the Leaves) Day 14: Screech (James before Sodor...) Day 15: Star (Duck once had a Friend...) Day 16: Golden (Rebecca loved the sun...) Day 17: Seagull (Edward, 1931...) Day 18: Water (Duke Was Never the Same Again...) Day 19: Admire (Douglas always did admire Oliver) Day 20: Twins (The most Dysfunctional Twins on Sodor...) Day 21: End of the Line (There's something wrong with Proteus...) Day 22: Duck (But who warned them?) Day 23: Beyond (What lies Beyond Peel Godred...) Day 24: Accepting (87546, at the End...) Day 25: The Last One (Thomas never thought of his classmates...) Day 26: Music (The Gramophone) Day 27: Twisted (Twisted Grin) Day 28: Plot Twist (That's not Philip...) Day 29: Misty (I WARNED YOU ABOUT THE RAVINE) Day 30: Oncoming Storm (Thomas and the Coastal Run) Day 31: Dusk (The Tidmouth Train to Hell)

Hope you enjoy!

[daryfromthefuture]

mcflyjuly 2024//🌲🌲//day 26: clara's diphtheria

05/15/85

History class would be way more interesting if we, you know, changed our area of focus every now and them. Hill Valley is a small town in the middle of goddamn nowhere - how much is there to talk about?

At least today, we finally learned about that one joke at our school (is joke even the right word? I’ll go with “historical reference”): That we want to see our teachers go over Clayton Ravine. Clara Clayton was a schoolteacher who fell into the ravine by accident last century and died. They named the ravine after her.

It’s truly fascinating how many ways there were to die in the Old West. Impessive that she didn’t kick the bucket after diphtheria or scarlet fever or anything. The ravine is at least a somewhat badass way to go.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Blood Moon Rising"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: shrinkyclinks, werewolf au, omega Steve, Alpha Bucky, prison au, dub-con, non-con, werewolf sex, knotting, oral (m!rec), hand jobs, held hostage, age gap (40/26), mating, violence, bonding, Dom/sub elements

Summary: Steve grows increasingly desperate to devise an escape plan before his heat hits.

Part 4 - "Wolf's Den"

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter! Fic Masterlist

Steve panted and gasped as he tripped through the darkness, out of breath and still desperately trying to draw air into his lungs, trying to stay alert, to stay sharp, stay moving—not easy to do when he was barefoot and butt-ass naked in the middle of the woods, in heat.

“Fuck!” he hissed, stuttering to a halt when he stepped on something sharp and fresh pain flared in his foot. He braced against a fallen tree, wincing and trying to lift his foot up to see if he’d broken skin. His hand touched wetness and that told him enough. He pulled his fingers back: red. Blood. Shit.

In the far distance, a howl pierced the air. Steve’s heart lurched and he dropped his foot. He held his breath and listened, and soon heard several other howls answering the first. His skin pricked all over with goosebumps. He had to move.

Running on the foot hurt, but there was nothing he could do about that now. Steve was less concerned with the pain than he was with the blood. As if his heat scent hadn’t been enough, this would make it that much easier for them to track him. He’d spent enough time living with the pack by now, to know that they could most definitely smell blood.

Water, he thought suddenly, remembering what Wanda had said. Water made it harder for wolves to track prey. Water could disrupt a scent trail!

He had to find a river or a stream or something, Steve thought desperately. That was the only way he stood a chance of escaping their hunt. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure he’d taken off in the opposite direction of the only water source he knew of. He grit his teeth and pushed past the pain in his foot, shoving off from the tree and continuing to run through the forest.

The terrain was rough, with large swathes of bedrock that jutted out from the forest floor, and gnarled trees that left the ground twisted and bound with roots. These things made it perilous to navigate in the near dark, but the pack wouldn’t let their pursuit be hindered by the terrain, and so neither could Steve. He couldn’t afford to slow down for even a second.

He ran between an outcropping on his left and a dry ravine to his right, dragging his hand along the stone face as he went to keep from toppling down the embankment. He might twist his ankle or worse, and if he couldn’t run, he was done for. He was probably done for either way, but another distant howl had his adrenaline spiking and reminded him that he couldn’t just give up. This was his life on the line!

He found his way to the other side of the rocks and followed the ravine’s downward incline. The gash it carved in the earth was dry and full of leaves, but Steve reasoned that if he followed it, he might find the stream it had once fed into. It was his best bet, anyways.

He could still feel his foot bleeding as he moved, which made him cringe more from the trail he knew he was leaving behind than from the actual pain of it. Even though it made his heartbeat quicken in fear to stop, he forced himself to pause at several spots and pick up rocks and nearby pieces of bark and sticks. He smeared the blood from his foot on them and chucked them as far into the woods as he could manage, hoping that it might slow his pursuers down long enough to aid in his escape.

The distant trickle of water moving over rocks nearly brought tears to Steve’s eyes, he was so relieved. He hurried towards the sound until he found it: a small brook down below, no wider than a few feet at first. He slid down the steep embankment that led to the water, unable to keep from splashing straight in. He hissed at the freezing cold temperature, but kept going. The creek bed was slimy and soft, his toes sinking in as he moved. He kept his feet submerged even though the water and mud was icy cold, knowing that it was his only hope at concealing his scent from the wolves.

At least it’s only ankle-deep, he thought, shivering, though he knew he was going to have to submerge himself to the waist, at the very least, if he wanted any chance at washing away his heat scent. He’d been slick for hours now, the sticky wetness smeared between his cheeks and down his inner thighs, damning and uncomfortable. Steve knew the predators at his back would be able to track him by that just as easily as by the blood.

He tried to move as fast as he could as he followed the flow of the water. But his pace became unavoidably hindered once the creek widened into a larger stream, with knee-deep water and a stronger current that pushed him clumsily along the slippery rocks at the bottom. Steve could feel his legs going numb as he stumbled, and he knew he couldn’t afford to continue moving so slowly. So, taking one deep, bracing breath, he sat down in the stream, breath punched out of him by the cold water as it came up around his chest. He rubbed his thighs and his crotch and backside, washing away the slick that’d gathered. There would be more, but he couldn’t do anything about that. He splashed some water up on his neck, in the vain hope that it might calm his over-excited glands. He stood on shaky legs and exited the stream on the opposite side from which he’d entered, shivering full body and praying that this would be enough to mask his scent from the wolves.

And if they didn’t get him, maybe hypothermia would.

[[ Two months earlier ]]

It came as a surprise, when Steve emerged to explore the camp on that second day and found it full of families. He’d thought the camp was small and unoccupied, that it was just a spot for him and several dozen escaped alpha prisoners to hide out and lay low. But oh, no. There were a bunch of people there, living in an extensive, if rather ramshackle, village tucked away in the mountains. A whole little, bustling werewolf community.

Steve was watched carefully that first week, but nobody chained him up or tried to break out the zip ties again, and for the most part he was allowed to roam freely. He didn’t know where they were, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that they’d moved farther south. The weather was warmer here than it’d been in New York, the forests had fewer evergreen trees, and some of the pack members at the camp spoke with twangs in their vowels. Steve tried to work out in his head how far south those three (... four?) days of driving could’ve taken them, but with no other clues to narrow it down, he drew a blank.

One thing he did know was that everyone seemed to be waiting for something. The media fallout from the prison break didn’t go well, as far as Steve could deduce from what little he was able to eavesdrop. He tried talking about it with Bucky when the two of them were alone, but the topic always made him grumpy—especially when he was already bandaging up Steve’s scraped knees from the Lamest Escape Attempt in the History of Ever.

“Why aren’t you using me to negotiate, huh? I’m just sitting here, useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Bucky grunted, reaching for another antiseptic wipe. “Hold still.” Steve hissed at the sting, but he didn’t move. Bucky was kneeling on the floor in front of him, the first aid kit dragged out from the bathroom and splayed open while he tended to Steve on the couch. “The hell did you do to get this, anyway?”

Steve twisted his lips at the sight of his mangled knees, refusing to answer. (He didn’t want Bucky to know that he’d sustained such a bad injury just from tripping over a damn tree root). He was honestly surprised that the alpha hadn’t yelled at him over it yet. Bucky was acting so calm about it, as though he thought Steve had no real chance of escaping, and thus worrying over it was silly. And that nettled Steve’s pride even worse. “Thought I was supposed to be a hostage,” he grumped. “You’re supposed to get something for that, you know.”

“I told you,” Bucky growled. “Narrative hasn’t gone the way we wanted. The press branded us terrorists straight from the start, spread a bunch’a of lies. There’s not going to be any negotiation, not anymore. And … you’re not a hostage, Steve.”

He said that last part softly, but Steve’s heart was already beating faster from the first part of that sentence. “What are you talking about? ‘Not negotiating’? What the hell else am I good for?!” Bucky’s eyes flicked up, just briefly, but a few seconds of that dark, loaded gaze was all it took to make Steve regret having asked the question. “I mean …”

Bucky looked away again, going back to his task. “What’re you complaining about, kid? Nobody’s hurtin’ you. Just be still for once, will ya?”

“Some Alpha you are,” Steve sneered. “I thought you were actually going to try to change things for your people, change the system. Wasn’t that the whole point of this? To get humans to listen? Get them to treat you fairly?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched in anger and he stood up, glaring. He tossed the antiseptic wipes onto Steve’s lap. “Humans are never gonna treat us fairly. I was just too pig-headed to see it.” He walked away, and that was that. He didn’t let Steve bring it up in conversation again.

There were meetings, though. Secret meetings, where the senior pack alphas gathered and spoke in whispers, and nobody else was allowed within earshot. When Steve got caught trying to eavesdrop and Dum Dum was dragging him away, he told Steve that he should “go ask [his] Alpha,” if he wanted to know those things.

“He’s not my Alpha.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

Weeks passed. Bucky told Steve that they were waiting on the heat from their prison break to die down, and that when it did, they’d formed a plan. The pack would go somewhere else once travel was possible, someplace safe. He wouldn’t tell Steve where that was, but he did try and calm him down when Steve overheard a couple of the alphas talking about chartered jets and Cuba.

Steve came busting into the cabin, incredulous. “Cuba?! You’re leaving the friggin’ country?”

“No! Well, I mean yes, but …” Bucky’s shoulders slumped. “Christ. It’s not Cuba, okay?”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Steve, just trust me. We have an in, okay? A guarantee of safety.”

Steve crossed his arms. “How?”

“This place; there’s people like us there. … Of a sort.”

“‘Of a sort’?” (What the heck did that mean?)

Bucky sighed. “Look, all you need to know is that we’ll be safe. Our kind can roam free there without fear.”

Steve blinked, taken aback. “Your kind,” he corrected, because he wasn’t a werewolf.

Bucky’s lips thinned and he didn’t answer, walking away like he suddenly had important business to attend to.

-

Bucky was busy most days, sometimes conducting the secret, alphas-only meetings; or sometimes building or fixing things in the camp. By a rough headcount, Steve decided that the pack was about two hundred strong. Maybe more, if there really were wolves in other camps like Bucky had claimed. Steve tried asking the ghost girl Ava about it, but she just brushed him off, telling him to “go ask [his] Alpha,” if he wanted to know so bad.

“Jesus Christ. He’s not my Alpha!”

“Don’t go screaming that from the rafters too loud, or you’ll wish he was.”

She phased out through the wall before he could confront her on what the heck that meant.

As far as Steve could tell, supply runs happened once a week. On Tuesdays, a few of the wolves would drive out in the morning and return hours later with their trucks heaped full of stuff. Steve volunteered to help with the unloading and putting-away duties so that he could better clock the specifics of the runs, and thus better consider the feasibility of stowing away on the next drive out.

He was deep in thought about that, helping to stock the community pantry, when he almost dropped a very large tin of canned peaches on his foot. The kid who was working with him—Peter—gave a low whistle. “Careful, man. That probably weighs half what you do.”

Steve scoffed. “Yeah, sure.” Like Peter had room to talk. He was just a kid, and a slight guy at that. He was the only male omega in the pack. Well, unless Steve counted himself (and he very emphatically did not). Sighing, he crouched down to pick up the now-dented can of peaches. He hefted it and a few others like it onto a shelf. And when he turned around from finishing with those, he gasped as a soft package was tossed at him, nearly smacking him in the face. “Hey,” he complained, fumbling to catch it. “What is this, a contact sport?”

Peter grinned and tossed him another one. “Those go over on the right, with all the bathroom stuff.”

Steve went over and started stuffing the packages into place, and only then saw what they were: bulk packages of maxi pads. He stopped moving for a moment, staring at them, thinking.

Fuck.

He swallowed nervously and said, “Um, Peter?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you …” Peter was just a kid, so Steve hesitated, but then he reasoned that a teenager his age would know these things, too. “You’re omega,” he said, rather dumbly.

“Duh.”

Steve licked his lips, eyes scanning the shelves for anything that even vaguely resembled a pack of heat suppressants. “What do you all do about that time of month, out here?”

Peter laughed. “What’re you talking about? You just shelved it!”

Steve turned around from staring at the maxi pads. “No,” he clarified. “I mean, heats. What do you do?”

Peter made a face. “Do? What’s there to do?” He seemed unconcerned, heading back to the garage door where the supply truck had been backed in. “Hey, give me a hand with these, will ya?” He had his hands on a big crate of glass jars. “Last time I dropped a bunch and the ladies who do the canning never let me hear the end of it.”

Steve went over and took the other side of the crate. Together, they hefted it out of the truck bed. “Um—jeez, this thing’s heavy—I mean, like, what do you take? Are there suppressants, or …?” He had a bad feeling when, once they’d set down the jars, Peter didn’t answer him right away. “You know,” Steve prodded, “like the patch or the ring or something? Well you must have something?”

“Naw,” Peter said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I mean people just nest up and suck it up, right? That’s what I do. And if you’ve got an Alpha to see you through it, then they’ll stick close by. That’s supposed to make it way less of a suck-fest. Course I don’t have an Alpha yet, but—”

“You don’t have anything?” Steve squeaked, panicking a little. “Not even … not even emergency ones? Maybe that guy Bruce? Would he have something?”

His hopes were dashed as Peter nodded and said, “Oh yeah, you can get extra strength Ibuprofen from him and stuff. Those scented cool packs you stick in the freezer? Love those.” He didn’t seem to notice how distressed Steve was getting over the matter. He turned back around to go grab more things off the truck.

Steve was left standing rooted to the spot, thinking about what the hell he was going to do when his heat came around. When was he due? He tried to remember where he’d marked the beginning of his next cycle … October? Maybe? It wasn’t like he was the most regular to begin with, and without the app on his phone, he didn’t even have a way to make a guesstimate. “Shit,” he whispered. “What the hell am I gonna do?”

“Do?” Peter walked by with a bale of toilet paper and stuffed it in next to the maxi pads. “What are you worried about? At least you’ve got an Alpha.”

Steve shook his head, thoughts scattered as he kept trying and failing to think of a solution. “No,” he breathed. “Bucky’s not my Alpha.”

“Really? Huh.” Peter went back to the canned goods shelves and began pushing things aside to make more space. “Does he know that? Cause everybody pretty much acts like you’re his. I mean you’re living with him, aren’t ya? You smell like him.”

Steve resisted the urge to crane his neck down to sniff at himself. “I’m just … in his cabin,” he argued weakly, whilst Peter prattled on,

“Yeah, but I mean that’s kind of like, it, though, isn’t it? He’s sharing his den with you.”

“His ‘Den’?” Steve repeated.

“Yeah! That’s a big deal for an Alpha. They don’t like to share. And Alpha Barnes has never been mated and he’s what, like forty? Super old, leastways. So it’s actually kinda weird when you think about it, ‘cause I don’t know if you noticed but all the alphas here are pretty much mated sooner rather than later, ‘cause they get first dibs. Plus he’s the Alpha alpha, ya know? Pack Alpha. So he’s probably planning on you two being mates.”

“I don’t …”

“My friend MJ said she heard her mom talking with my Aunt May about it.”

“What?”

“Eh, just pack gossip. Everybody’s wondering when the heck he’s finally gonna do your mating run. Aunt May says she’s gonna make a cake. Don’t get excited though, she’s not a very good—”

“Cake?” The fuck’s a ‘mating run’? Steve broke out of his stupor, scowling in Peter’s direction. “He’s not my Alpha! I’m … I’m not even in this pack!”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, dude.” Peter held up his hands in surrender and went for another crate. “Just sayin’, that’s what I heard.”

The rest of their unloading was done without further conversation, as Peter brainstormed out loud every single thing he could possibly have for lunch that day, and Steve stewed in his own thoughts.

He was screwed. There were no suppressants here, so sooner or later he was going to have a heat. He’d had one not too far off from his birthday, he remembered. Then he grew even more panicked as he counted up the weeks and realized that he was probably facing a ‘sooner’ situation, rather than a ‘later’ one. Most omegas cycled four times a year, and even with his own poor health, the longest Steve had ever gone was no more than fifteen weeks. A frantic bit of mental math put him getting his heat as early as the middle of October!

What the hell was he going to do then? Having a heat around a bunch of human betas was one thing, but having it around a bunch of alpha werewolves—in the middle of the literal wolves’ den, he thought semi-hysterically—would be another matter entirely. The wolves could all smell better than humans could, Steve knew this by now. They had more animal instincts and less self control, not to mention a totally barbaric culture surrounding these matters, if the term “mating run” was anything to go by. Christ.

And then there was Bucky, who was probably the biggest thing Steve had to worry about anyway. And they were living together, so it wasn’t like Steve could hide it from him. He couldn’t just let Bucky … but Bucky would want to … and Steve might even want to … and then, what if things got out of hand? What if Bucky lost control? What if he—

No. Steve cut himself off from that train of thought, resolution hardening in his guts like setting asphalt. No, no no, he couldn’t let any of that happen. He wouldn’t. He was just gonna have to put a more urgent effort into his escape plans. He had until the middle of October at least. Surely, he’d be able to come up with a plan by then.

Steve tried twice, to just literally make a ‘run’ for it—once in the night, and then once during the day when that didn’t work out so well. Both attempts were miserable failures. The wolves kept patrols at regular intervals, and Steve found that out the hard way.

“Jesus, kid, what’re you thinking?!”

“Thinking I have to get away from here! Lemme go!”

“I’ll let you go when I’ve dumped you on your Alpha’s doorstep. Stop kickin’!”

“He’s not. my fucking. Alpha!”

Dum Dum had little sympathy. “Yeah, well you can take that up with him. But you’re still more likely to die out in that wilderness than you are to get anywhere.”

Steve refused to believe that was true.

It was glaringly obvious from the get-go that the wolves practiced some form of polygamy. A few weeks of curious observation, and Steve had their basic system figured out. Any grown alpha was usually mated with one or more beta spouses waiting for them at home. Betas could be mated to other betas, but only the alphas of the pack had access to omega spouses. This, of course, suggested some degree of arrangement, that mating wasn’t strictly by choice. Which was practically primeval, in Steve’s eyes.

It was also impossible to miss that the households with omega spouses were the only ones to have produced children, and Steve was able to see firsthand how scarce those were. Bucky’s claims about the need for more omegas and the need for more pups haunted Steve, especially once he started getting roped into helping with childcare duties and slowly came to like the things. And from then on out it just started to build on itself, like that children’s book, what was it called? Oh yeah: If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. It all snowballed like that.

The supply run guys fired him from his unloading duties after the second time they sniffed out his hiding spot in the back of the trucks, so then Peter steered him towards the group of omegas who ran a sort of school program for all the kids. It was made up of Wanda, Darcy, and two teenagers named Kate and Cassie.

“Yeah, we could use extra help,” Wanda said when they met. “Are you good with kids?”

“I … guess so?”

Regrettably, Steve fell into an easy friendship with Wanda, and then the others by extension, and before he knew it, he was somehow being tricked into making grilled cheese sandwiches, and then he was helping four year olds to paste things. And somehow it just kept escalating, until one day he found himself in the middle of a phonics workbook with a couple of lispy seven-year-olds and realized that he’d been straight up duped into teaching.

There were babies, too, sometimes. The pack had less than twenty pups under the age of two, and they usually stayed home with their mothers because, according to Wanda, werewolf pups didn’t do so well in daycare situations. So whenever a baby would show up to be watched, Steve knew it was going to be a rough day. That was, until Darcy figured out that the wailing tended to stop sooner once the offending pups were foisted over onto Steve. That led to him becoming the unofficial baby-whisperer.

Steve … didn’t mind helping out, he supposed. It gave him something to do other than spend his days cooped up in Bucky’s house, worrying about when his heat was going to hit. And it wasn’t any of the kids’ fault that he was holed up in their weirdo werewolf village. So Steve kind of started to look forward to the school days, especially when a few of the older kids really took an interest in learning how to draw portraits and paint landscapes and stuff. He became the unofficial art teacher, and that led to him requesting more art supplies.

He should’ve seen it for the red flag that it was, when he started putting orders in for the supply runs, rather than trying to sneak out on them. But he didn’t. And besides, it wasn’t like this was his job, or anything. It was just something to do, something to fill the time until he could plan a better escape.

Steve felt awkward poking around the camp by himself, plus it looked suspicious and always had either Dum Dum or Killmonger or Drax laser-focused on his movements. So Steve would tag along with Wanda and Darcy when they went places. It was a less conspicuous way of familiarizing himself with the landscape, he reasoned. Plus, he learned valuable skills that he knew he might need, when the time came to run.

Wanda and Darcy showed him which plants and trees grew nearer to water. They taught him how to forage safely for what grew wild in the forest—eat that, not this. Together they’d pick mushrooms and greens, sometimes whole basketfuls of wild cherries, the last of that summer’s yield.

“What are these?”

“Ooh, Elderberries! Good find, Steve. Those usually don’t come in ‘til later in the fall!”

Summer was pretty much over, and Steve hated to think about it. The changing seasons only meant that he would be coming into season, and that was the deadline he had looming over him. He was still convinced that he’d still find some hitherto unthought of way to escape.

Meanwhile, Wanda prattled on about life in the pack, gushing to Steve about all the traditions she was fond of, pointing out how they’d soon be able to collect huckleberries for the harvest wine, and chestnuts for roasting after that. She told Steve about how comforting the pack’s autumn bonfires were, how joyful their winter runs through the snow. She spoke so fondly of such things, in fact, that Steve started to suspect she’d been told to do so by Bucky, just to fill Steve’s head with more positive thoughts and tip his opinion towards staying.

But if she was a plant, she was still a friend, and Steve needed one of those more than he cared to admit. So he kept hanging out with her … and Darcy … and sometimes Peter and Cassie and Kate. Steve noticed that Bucky seemed pleased whenever he was going out to do something with them, and that only leant weight towards his theory that Wanda had been given a job to do.

There was a creek-fed swimming hole where they sometimes went. “A good place to get away from the Alphas,” according to Darcy. She was smirking when she said it though, so Steve wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a joke or not.

“But won’t it be too cold?” he asked when they got there and everybody started stripping out of their clothes. Steve hadn’t known they were going in the water. “But–but … we didn’t bring suits!” Not used to such casual nudity, he averted his eyes. “Um, or there could be, like, snapping turtles, maybe.”

Peter and Cassie cannonballed in with running starts, while Wanda and Darcy waded in up to their chins, long hair floating out around them like some kind of seaweed. Darcy scoffed at Steve’s fears, telling him that the water was just fine, and that she hadn’t come across a snapping turtle yet.

“Yet,” Steve grumbled, as he reluctantly stripped down to his underwear.

He hesitated to lose that last bit of modesty, but Peter called him out on it from the water, hollering, “Just get in dude! We’re all omega. And the water’ll turn ‘em brown anyway if you wear ‘em in here.”

So what else was Steve supposed to do? He wound up joining the party, shucking his underpants and putting on a brave face about how stupid-cold the water was. Steve knew that the pack had worked out some way to bring running water into the village, so he asked why the heck they weren't just staying at home, enjoying their respective bathtubs (and water heaters).

“This is way more fun, duh.”

Darcy repeated her spiel about the swimming hole being an Alpha-free space, and Cassie backed her up. “Yeah I’d rather come out here if the weather’s nice enough, especially when it’s that time of the month, ‘cause they know they’re not allowed to come sniffing around.”

“‘Sniffing’?”

Cassie giggled. “Oh yeah, they go stupid for heat scent.”

Steve gulped, not wanting to think about what ‘stupid’ might entail. “Well what stops them from coming here?”

“The water masks the scent,” Wanda explained. “They don’t come sniffing because there’s nothing to sniff.”

“And ‘cause they know Alpha Barnes would rip ‘em a new one if they tried!” Peter laughed.

Steve looked away, thoughts veering back to the heat he was dreading and to Bucky … and how Bucky was going to react when it happened. “So he looks out for you guys, then?” Steve said, trying not to seem too interested in their answers either way. “You’re allowed to cycle alone?”

“Sure! If you’re not mated.”

Steve twisted his lips in frustration. “Oh. Right.” He’d had a glimmer of hope there, but Peter’s chirpy response only reinforced what he feared would happen when he went into season: that Bucky would abandon the restraint he’d been showing, that he’d sniff Steve out and pin him down and fuck him, maybe even bite him.

Steve brought a hand up to his neck, fingers pressing against the spot that he could feel as a vague shape beneath the skin. It would swell when he hit heat, swell and pulse and throb with need. Other things would throb, too, things that no human alpha could possibly miss, let alone a werewolf one.

So far, Bucky had been respectful(-ish) in that department, but Steve was intimately aware that the alpha was far from a saint. He was half wolf, a predator, one who had instincts and … urges, that he didn’t always contain. He was dangerous.

And, even though Bucky’d never said so, Steve also knew the man wanted him, and intended to keep him. That was perhaps the most dangerous thing of all.

Well anyways it didn’t matter, Steve kept telling himself each day—and each night, when he’d lie in bed with Bucky and not-exactly-stop the other man from touching him. It didn’t matter because he was going to leave before any of that could happen. He was going to run away,successfully this time

He kept an eye out for any possible opportunities, but didn’t act impulsively. He’d learned the hard way that there were always pack members patrolling somewhere within a hundred yard radius, whether he saw them or not. Any attempt had to be meticulously planned and precisely executed, otherwise he’d just have Dum Dum or Killmonger or Drax dragging him back all over again.

Steve would still falter occasionally, he wasn’t a machine. Sometimes he’d get distracted by the little things that’d built up around him over the weeks and months. He’d find himself enjoying his day rather than fretting over his future; chatting with Wanda or stringing macaroni necklaces together with the pups. But then Bucky would pass by, catching sight of him helping a toddler or with bouncing a baby on his hip, and Steve froze up awkwardly every time. The look on Bucky’s face when he saw him with the babies was … not heated, per se, but certainly desirous, in an equally as concerning way. Steve knew what Bucky wanted of him, and he didn’t know how long he had left before the alpha werewolf decided to do something about it.

Because Steve might spend his days surrounded by other omegas, but his nights were spent in an alpha’s cabin, in his bed, and Bucky acted like they were already official mates with how he drew Steve into his arms to hold each night. The nights got colder as fall drew in, and they would sometimes sit together on the couch in the evenings while the embers in the cabin’s fireplace burned low. Somewhere in there, the sitting morphed into snuggling. Sometimes Bucky would scent Steve. Sometimes he would kiss him, or jerk him off. But he never explicitly asked for anything in return.

No, Steve’s hands (and mouth) eventually wound up on the other man’s dick through his own, sheer weakness of character.

He did try to resist. He kept the boundaries up for—what he liked to think was—an admirable length of time, put sincere effort into trying to make Bucky think he didn’t want him that way. But Bucky’s body would spoon up behind Steve’s and his hand would slip over his hip with increasing frequency, until it was happening every night, and Steve reasoned that he wasn’t weak for falling for it.

What guy was gonna turn down a quickie handjob if it was just being offered like that, after all? And Bucky had such nice, big hands; strong and deft and covered in tattoos. It was totally normal that Steve couldn’t take his eyes away and just laid there and looked down and let it happen. It didn’t have to mean anything, didn’t have to mean that he ever wanted it, or that he wanted Bucky back. It was just sex. Not even real sex, just a little mechanical relief, no better or worse than if Steve had been touching himself.

That charade went out the window when he woke up one night to the sound of Bucky’s soft grunts. He peeked from the edge of the bed and saw the alpha over on the couch, quietly jerking off. He was naked, and he was beautiful, all the angles of his strong, masculine body highlighted in the fire’s waning glow.

God, he was painfully, perfectly thick.

“C’mere,” he said quietly, when he caught Steve looking. Not even in his Voice, though it sure did feel like it, by how compelled Steve was to get out of the bed and go over there. Bucky spread his legs and raised an eyebrow, and what did Steve do? God help him, he sank right to his knees and put his hands up on Bucky’s big hairy thighs. He gulped as he felt the muscles flex beneath his touch. Bucky smiled, pleased, and cupped Steve’s face as he continued to jerk himself off slowly. “I hated it, y’know. In front of ‘em all like that. I hated hurting you.”

Steve blinked in surprise, instantly knowing what Bucky was referring to. But he realized he hadn’t thought about that day in a while. “You didn’t hurt me,” he said dumbly, eyes fixed on where Bucky was touching himself. His cock was a much more reasonable size in this form, his knot more like the ones Steve had seen in human porn. Beneath Bucky’s hand, his heavy balls sat propped against the couch, and Steve was hit hard by the desire to touch. He bit his lip, trying to talk himself out of it, because it was most definitely a bad idea.

But Bucky swiped his thumb over Steve’s cheekbone and murmured, “I can smell you’re wet, kid. It’s okay. Go ahead. S’nobody here but me n’ you.”

Steve closed his eyes and turned into Bucky’s touch, nuzzling the scent-rich spot of his inner wrist, using it as an excuse to hide from the scrutiny. “I shouldn’t,” he whispered, his core throbbing more and more the longer he stayed there between the alpha’s legs.

“Why shouldn’t you?” Bucky guided Steve to rest his cheek against his inner thigh. It should’ve been reminiscent of that day in the prison, but it wasn’t. Steve hadn’t felt safe then, he hadn’t felt aroused.

He felt both, now.

He hadn’t wanted to touch someone this badly in a long time, longer than he could remember. Back home, before all this mess, his suppressants had done the job of keeping feelings like that tamped down. But he hadn’t had those pills in months, now, and Bucky was so goddamn tempting, with his tattoos and his thick body, his gruff persona and deadly ruthlessness, the hair that grazed his chest and made a trail down his belly … that little bit of grey in his beard. He brought out the baser desires in Steve, and Steve was mortified to realize that he probably did want Bucky just as much as Bucky wanted him, at this point.

Dammit.

Slowly, Steve’s hand came up and touched Bucky’s, stilling his movements. Bucky’s abs rose and fell with his breathing. He let go of his cock, staring at Steve. “You don’t have to,” he murmured.

Steve nodded, feeling lightheaded. “I know.”

The alpha slumped back a little more, legs widening, watching Steve with heavy eyes. “Steve,” he said softly, and it sounded like a lot of things, but not like an order. And that had a lot to do with why Steve still took him in hand. “Fuck,” Bucky whispered, head tipping back against the cushion.

Steve curled his fingers and gave an experimental stroke, watching Bucky’s face, riveted by the way his throat bobbed and his lips parted, listening to the quiet little groan he let out. It was barely audible, but Steve couldn’t have missed it, not with how close they were, with nothing but the cabin’s crackling fire and the distant chirp of crickets outside. Bucky’s eyes slipped closed and a little pinch appeared between his eyebrows. Seeing it made heat curl thick in Steve’s belly, his thighs clenching and pressing together without thought.

He squeezed his hand hard as he dragged it up and down, jerking Bucky off tight and slow, each agonized pull of his fist drawing more grunts and stifled moans from Bucky’s throat. Steve wanted so much more of it, he didn’t want it to end. He wanted to spend hours mapping out the parts of Bucky’s body that would bring more noises out of him, wanted to learn the spots where he was sensitive, where he’d lose his composure if Steve touched. Most of this exploring, Steve imagined doing with his mouth, and he began inching even closer between Bucky’s legs without realizing he was doing it.

Bucky’s cock was heavy and blood-hot in his hand, jerking and leaking against his fingers as the alpha’s pleasure mounted. Steve realized his face was inches away from Bucky’s cock when he felt the heat of his own breath hit his stroking fingers. Fuck, he wanted to put his mouth on it. He wanted to taste the shining precum, feel that velvety skin against his lips. He wanted to suck at the swell of his knot and nuzzle against the soft weight of his balls …

“Steve,” Bucky croaked. Steve’s eyes shot up to his face and Bucky shuddered and gripped the couch harder. He looked pained, thighs flexing and muscles tensing as he tried not to thrust towards Steve’s face. “Oh god, Steve,” he breathed.

Steve knew what Bucky wanted. He could see it perfectly clear, floating there in the swirling depths of his eyes: two molten-hot gazing pools that reflected Steve’s own desires back at him. Confronted with that, how could Steve ever have held out? The edge of his mouth ticked up wryly. “Just … promise to keep it human this time, will ya?”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and then he nodded, cursing as Steve’s other hand found its way to his knot and squeezed harshly. “Shhit, oh…”

“And this.” Steve raised a stern eyebrow, his mouth hovering just above Bucky’s cockhead. “Give a guy a warning first.”

Bucky was already wincing and nodding and groaning, by the time Steve took him in his mouth.

Steve never saw any of the pack shift into their other forms, but they clearly did, because he’d sometimes see wolves plodding around camp. The first few times it happened, it was shocking, Steve’s heart leaping in his chest at the sight of a huge wild predator just standing there. But like everything else, he got used to it after a while. Werewolves looked almost identical to real wolves, only they had freakishly intelligent eyes, and of course they didn’t act right, plus their coats came in a great variety of colors, tending to match the hair they sported in human form.

Even with that knowledge, it still took Steve an embarrassingly long time to figure out who the russet-colored wolf hanging around the kids was.

One day he showed up to school and Wanda wasn’t there. Darcy was acting as the main teacher and seemed to have a handle on things. She didn’t act like anything was amiss, and neither did Kate or Cassie, so Steve just assumed that Wanda was out sick or something. Not until a second, and then a third day had passed, did Steve start to suspect that the wolf loitering nearby was more than just a random pack member.

Steve sat hunched over on a rock, chin propped on his hands. All the kids were nearby, collecting pine cones and acorns for an art project. And in front of Steve, not five feet away, sat the russet-colored wolf. Steve squinted at it. “... Wanda?”

It blinked its moss-colored eyes in a way that strongly suggested an answer of ‘Duh’.

“Huh.”

“What?” Darcy walked by, basket of pinecones in hand. She looked between Steve and the wolf. “Oh, you just figuring that out?”

“Why is she …?” Steve looked between Darcy and the wolf. “I thought you guys could control it?”

“Oh we can.” Darcy grinned, looking sly. She looked at the wolf and addressed Wanda just as she would any other day. “Can I tell him?”

Wanda sort of chuffed, then turned and trotted off after the children. Steve raised an eyebrow as he watched her go. “So ... was that a no?”

“No.” Darcy laid her basket aside and sat down. “She’s pregnant.”

“Oh. Um …” Steve wasn’t exactly sure what that had to do with Wanda suddenly walking around in her wolf form, but Darcy had a fast explanation for that.

“When you’re pregnant, the shift isn’t good after a certain point. You can lose the baby if you keep going back and forth.”

Steve blinked, taken aback. “Oh. That’s … that sucks.” Was that why there weren’t many pups in the pack?

“Well, you just choose which form you want to carry in,” Darcy explained matter of factly. “There’s pros and cons to each way. I personally don’t think I’d do it as a wolf. I couldn’t go that long without talking.”

“Pros and Cons?” Steve asked, baffled. He couldn’t think of a pro to being stuck in a wolf’s body for nine whole months. He looked back over to where Wanda was trailing after two of the youngest pups as they collected their acorns. “So she’s just gonna stay that way? For nine months?”

“Well I mean, she’s probably a few months along already. But yeah, until the baby comes.”

Steve gaped. “Why?”

“The delivery,” Darcy said. “Childbirth is way easier in fur. Like, almost painless. Or at least that’s what they say.” She shrugged and made a face. “I mean, trust me, I get it. If I got pregnant here, I’d go fur, too. Can’t depend on a hospital all the way out here. And Doc Banner doesn’t exactly have epidurals lying around in his med kit.”

Off to the side, a snarl sounded, and both Steve and Darcy whipped their heads in the direction of where Wanda was hunched in between a couple of the younger kids and a dense thicket. Darcy inhaled and hurried to stand. “Dammit. That's a pokeweed bush. ‘Scuse me, Steve—Hey! Nonono, Jimmy. You drop that right now, mister!”

Steve’s shoulders slumped as he watched Wanda and Darcy successfully prevent the pups from eating things they shouldn’t. He turned back around to stare vacantly at Darcy’s abandoned basket, thinking about how weird it was that Wanda was going to just be a wolf for the next however many months. How would that work? Would she still be around all the time? Would she sleep in her house, or would she like, go out and live in the woods and eat rabbits and stuff? Steve wrinkled his nose at the thought. “Wild,” he muttered.

A lot about these people really was.

Just like all the stereotypes of his designation said, Steve wasn’t the best at separating sex from intimacy. So once he started participating, and he and Bucky were rolling around the sheets together on the regular, he started to fall for the guy.

The hastily-traded handjobs and suckjobs and thigh-jobs became increasingly more intense, sometimes with an alarming amount of eye contact involved. And eventually, Steve somehow fell into the trap of responding to Bucky’s gasped, ‘Mega ’s, with whines of his own, ‘Alpha ’s. And that was a big mistake, because soon after that started happening, Bucky started expressing an interest in actual, penetrative sex, and that was where Steve drew the line.

“Why not, Stevie?” Bucky coaxed, rocking his erection lazily against Steve’s belly while he attacked his neck with kisses. “Don’t you want to? It’ll feel so good.”

Steve grunted, trying to get his hands back between their bodies so that he could push the alpha off. But Bucky was lying fully on top of him, and he was a heavy-ass werewolf, and Steve’s hands only flapped uselessly along his broad back. “Oof, Bucky, no, w-wait. Just—nnnh, oh!—just h-hang on a sec.” Fuck, he was already feeling so good. Goddamn Bucky for trying to spring this on him now. Bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

Said bastard pulled back from kissing his neck and looked down at him, lips parted, cheeks flushed beneath the scruff of his beard. He was unfairly handsome, and Steve was never able to hide his attraction to him very well. Bucky could see it, cocky bastard. He gave Steve a rakish grin and tossed his hair out of the way. “Come on,” he purred, hips rolling down again, dragging their cocks together between their bellies. “It’s okay. Let me make you feel good.”

Steve glared up at him, his own cheeks burning hot from how hard this was. “No,” he gritted out. “We–we can’t.”

“Why can’t we?” Bucky dipped down to lick at the seam of his lips. “Hm? I’ll eat you out first.”

Steve ground his teeth together in his effort not to keen. “That’s not—ugh, you don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think, Honey.” Bucky’s mouth pressed against his, soft at first and then harder, coaxing him to open up. And when he did, Bucky slipped inside with a hot roll of tongue that made Steve’s toes curl. He ended the kiss and spoke. “You’re not in heat. Nothing’s gonna happen, okay? Steve … open your eyes, baby.”

Steve hadn’t realized he’d closed them. He looked up, and shivered at the look in Bucky’s eyes. It wasn’t just arousal, was the thing. It was deeper, or at least more complex. Steve swallowed, not wanting to tease out what made it so. “D-do you have a condom?” he asked instead, trying to be practical. Bucky was leagues stronger than him, and he could take what he wanted if it came down to it. Steve wasn’t interested in protecting his virtue so much as he was in preventing an accident. He licked his lips and asked again.

Bucky smiled and stroked his face. “You’re cute. But condoms don’t really work on us, Sweetheart.”

Well that was a bullshit excuse if ever Steve heard one. He gave a little growl—which apparently Bucky also found “cute”—and squirmed underneath the other man’s bulk. “Then the answer’s no,” he huffed, unable to budge and glaring up at Bucky’s amused face. “Hey, don’t laugh! This is serious, Bucky.”

Bucky laughed and dropped his head, resting his forehead against Steve’s shoulder. He ground it back and forth and sighed. “No, I’m telling you, kid. They don’t work. My knot’s too big. I cum too much. They break.”

“They make ‘em for alphas.”

“Human alphas,” Bucky corrected, pulling back to look Steve in the eye with the sort of smugness only a man who knew he was well-endowed could manage. “Not werewolf.” He smirked as he watched Steve falter and trip over his words. “Shhh,” he hushed, kissing him again. “S’nothin’ to worry about anyway, Stevie. You’re not in heat. You won’t get pregnant, I promise.”

Steve whimpered, something deep and private stirring in him just at hearing Bucky say the word. “You can’t make that promise,” he whispered.

“Sure I can.” Bucky nuzzled their noses together. “‘Cause I can smell it on you when you are, and you’re not. Not today.”

“I … what?” Steve peered up at him, confused. “I’m not what?”

Bucky smiled tenderly at him. “Fertile. I can tell the difference. You’re not ovulating right now.”

“Bullshit,” Steve whispered, shocked, and Bucky snorted.

He started rolling his hips down again, grinding their cocks between their bellies. “You’re leaking, Honey,” he teased.

Steve didn’t know if he was talking about his dick or his asshole; both would’ve been correct. “You’re just making that up,” he growled. “You can’t smell it.”

Bucky kissed him, smiling and humming against his mouth. “Mm, no. It’s true, I swear. I wouldn’t lie.”

Steve wasn’t so sure about that. He knew Bucky wanted him to stay in the pack, and trapping him with a pregnancy would be the perfect way to do it. “No,” he breathed, closing his eyes again when Bucky groaned loudly and face planted into his neck in complaint. “I mean it, Bucky. No.” An omega’s greatest chance of getting pregnant was, by far, during heat, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen other times. Steve wasn’t willing to take that risk, certainly not when it was based on nothing but the claimed olfactory senses of a man who clearly had ulterior motives. “Bucky,” he warned lowly, trying to keep his voice from wavering when Bucky rolled their hips together again. “Christ, stoppit. I said no. I mean it.”

Bucky pulled back and looked down at him, lips pressing into a thin line. “You’re frustrating.”

“Bite me.”

Bucky snorted, his face collapsing back to Steve’s shoulder as his body shook with something between a laugh and a groan. “Ugh, Steeve. You’re the stubbornest little shit I’ve ever met.” He turned his head and dragged his teeth playfully against Steve’s neck, snickering when it made him tense up in fear. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You could just let me go,” Steve ground out, knowing there was a fat chance of that any time of day, but most especially not when Bucky’s dick was hard against his belly.

Those suspicions were confirmed when Bucky grabbed onto his hips and rolled them, putting Steve on top, then manhandling him around to face the other way. “Stubborn brat,” he growled, already dragging one hand through Steve’s wet crack.

Steve squawked in surprise at the sudden movement and fell forward to brace against Bucky’s legs. “Hey!”

Bucky laughed. “Here.” He grabbed Steve’s one wrist and clapped their hands together, smearing the slick he’d gathered all over Steve’s palm and shoving it towards his own dick with little patience. “Jerk me off, you little prude.”

Steve gasped and frowned. He grabbed Bucky’s dick vindictively. “I’m not a prude,” he hissed.

Behind him, Bucky scoffed and gave his ass a smack. He curled one hand over his hip, holding him still with a harsh grip. “You are, and I’ll make you regret it.”

Steve didn’t have to wonder for long what that meant, because then Bucky’s other hand appeared at his backside, deft fingers wetting up in his slick and teasing at his rim. “Nnh!” Steve’s bracing hand slipped further down to Bucky’s knee, which only wound up pushing his ass back more.

Bucky rumbled possessively behind him. “Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it?” He circled his thumb on Steve’s hole, lightly at first but then pressing a little more with each pass. The muscle gave easily and let him in, and Steve was unable to hold in his gasp when Bucky tugged wetly at his rim. Bucky hummed knowingly. “Almost like it wants something inside it, huh?”

“Christ,” Steve scoffed, but a second later he was moaning again as Bucky readjusted his angle. On Bucky’s knee and on his cock, Steve’s hands squeezed harder on impulse. “Shit.”

“Mmhm.”

His pulse throbbed hot in his veins at the pressure, at the feeling of Bucky touching him like that. He was getting wet, wetter than before, and before he knew it his eyes were slammed shut and he was grinding on Bucky’s abs without meaning to. “Oh, Bucky …”

“That’s it, say my name.” Bucky smacked his ass again, pulling his thumb out only to replace it with two, thick fingers. He curled them inside, over and over, knowing just where to stroke to get at Steve’s prostate. “Jeez, Honey,” he goaded. “You must really need it, huh? I can feel how swollen you are in here. How long’s it been since you had an alpha help you cream yourself right?”

Steve sobbed, cheeks burning at Bucky’s filthy insinuations. “Sh-shuddup,” he panted, rocking on Bucky’s abs, trying to squeeze the alpha’s dick hard enough to make him shut up. “I–I don’t.”

“Oh, but you do,” Bucky purred, pushing in hard again and again, forcing lewd, wet sounds out of Steve’s body. “This’ll feel really good, Sweetheart. But I promise you it won’t feel half as nice as my cock would.”

Steve keened in protest, but his defenses were down, every brain cell he had currently dedicated to processing the pleasure of Bucky’s fingers in his ass. “Don’t be—ugh—don’t be so full of yourself!” he gasped, hips rocking a little harder when Bucky curled his fingers more pointedly. “Ognshit,”

Bucky rumbled low in his chest. “Theere you go. Almost there. Almost.” He worked Steve up to the precipice, groaning along with him when he started to come. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”

Steve’s breath hitched on a sob, overcome by the white flash of his orgasm, too gone to care about keeping his own dignity, or even about keeping his hand on Bucky’s dick. He just slumped forward, face smooshing in the blankets between Bucky’s knees, a miserable little whimper leaving his lips when Bucky’s fingers slowed and eventually stopped. “Shit,” he whispered.

Bucky laughed and pulled his hand out, slapping Steve on the ass and smearing him with his own slick. “Damn. Could feel you cumming on my hand.”

Steve growled and punched him in the calf. “The fuck is wrong with you, huh?” He rolled off of him and struggled to get his limp body to obey his brain’s commands. Standing was a start, but he braced a hand on the wall after his first step towards the bathroom led to a near-stumble. “Jesus,” he muttered, not used to being so wobbly-legged.

“Where’re you going?”

“Where’s it look like?” Steve stopped in the bathroom doorway and shot Bucky a stern look from over his shoulder. “Don’t come in here. I want privacy.”

Bucky chuckled and stretched out on the bed like a big, lazy cat, nudity carelessly displayed in the way his arms tucked behind his head and his still-hard cock rolled against his belly. He shot Steve a playful wink, which only made Steve fluster more. “Wouldn’t dream of it, kid.”

“Ugh!” Steve shut the door and leaned against it, closing his eyes, feeling drained. When he opened them again and looked down at himself, the insides of his thighs were smeared shiny from his own slick and cum. Steve sighed and let his skull clunk back against the door.

What the hell was he doing?

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@stuckyversebingo

card: sarahyellow / sarah-writes-stucky

Square D4: Creature:canine

[weebsinstash]

Im not gonna say puerto ricans don't say tio to mean guy bc maybe they do (I've personally never heard it. Honestly even meaning uncle it's rare in PR usually I hear titi/tito for aunt/uncle) but tio (meaning guy) is specifically such a spaniard thing to say, honestly when we mock the spanish we do it saying tio.

Honestly the fact I even know that is because I read it secondhand on tumblr somewhere💀 or I mean, I've heard tio meaning uncle before (unless i was earblind lmao), but I had no idea it also meant dude until, you know. Recently.

bruh I bet Miles learned that in Spanish class at school, I think I remember seeing a post somewhere where they said "maybe miles wouldn't have a b in Spanish if he wasn't doing Spain Spanish in school and Puerto Rican Spanish at home" or something to that effect, idk, unless they're teaching Mexican Spanish at his school and Miles is just genuinely struggling so hard he pulled from a third form of Spanish he ain't even formally learning 😂

Gotta admit, Miles teaching Reader horrible Spanish/Spanglish would be a cute sorta thing to get under Miguel's skin, and I actually did, uh, write this a while back for funsies lol (although I keep forgetting to use those recommended translator sites so, using Google translate I know will set me on the wrong path lmao)

Reader be like "oh Miguel hates Spanglish? Let me tease the fuck out of this man 👏" but like this is one of those drafts that goes absolutely nowhere lmao, it's some dialogue and then Reader saying something to Jess that he actually wasn't supposed to hear and then done haha

I just. I like didn't even finish one Spanish class ok, I had a part of a Spanish class in middle school and obviously im, 26 now, aging 😩 Miguel could be speaking Spanish talking about leaving me in the bottom of a ravine to die of starvation and as long as he's saying it A Tone I'd be like "o-ok then, whatever you say 😳 i dont know what youre saying but you sound sexy saying it"

I'm just kind of. I'm weird because I can be extremely shy but once I'm comfortable or at least drunk or high or something I can be a huge teasing agitating shit disturber and I keep thinking of Reader just being INAPPROPRIATE with this man

Reader, after 3 glasses down at Spidey Margherita night, looking at Miguel from across the room: look at Miguel over there, just, being gorgeous. Fuck him. His tits are bigger than mine, his ass is fatter than mine, and his waist is smaller than mine. What the fuck. Who let him get away with that. He's lucky this isn't one of the universes where I can get HIM pregnant

Jess, the unfortunate soul who gets to make sure you get home: Girl, you know he can hear you right? Super hearing, genetically spliced, remember?

Reader: bulllllshit, it isn't THAT good, we're so far away, and it's loud in here. Look, I'll prove it. Hey Miguel, you want me to suck that dick?

VIOLENT CHOKING FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM, GLASS SHATTERING, DRINK DROPPED ON FLOOR. Miguel O'Hara found dead in Miami as he looks immediately at you with the most.... girl he doesn't even know how to react right now! He's embarrassed, he's shocked, he's... aroused??? Jess is giving you the most "oh my god you did not just say that" look as you're chugging the rest of your drink and exiting stage right because ohhhhhh my god you can never look him in the eyes ever again (but he'll remember this and seek you out later, don't worry 😉)

[dangraccoon]

Oyuba’din - Chapter 26: Gravity

Summary: The squad emerges from the cave, only to be met with another emergency.

Warnings: falling from a high height, panic, major character death, grief

Author’s Note: Everyt̶h̴i̸n̷̢̾g̸̼͌ ẅ̶̱̱́͐i̶̧̺͗ļ̵̺̀l̶͇͒̓ b̴̛̪̖͖̆̇̏e̵̡͋́ f̶̨̩̞͉̝͚̋̽̏͐̈͊̆̓͝ĩ̸̝͈̺̭̪̺͈͔͓͂̓̍̅͂́̒̽n̷̠͓̝͉̂̽̄̾̑ẻ̴͇̬̑͛͠,̸̡̭͇̝͕̬̪͔͍͎̱̺̖͉̆̐̂̋̏̀̽̒̔̌̀̕ͅ ̶̧̱̪̥͉̦̺͔̺̩̥̩̠͉̳̼̮͈̀̿̔̅͊̅͒̉̈͝w̵̨̧͔͉̩͚̯̤͚̲͕͕̤̦͙̺̼̮̲̯͗̑̓͆̐͗͗̌͂̓̊̂̑͛̾̚͝ǫ̶̢̗̦̘͇̮͚̯͎̯̦̹̜̫̮̘̭̭̪͓͋̈́͐͝͠n̴̨̧̥͍̩̱̺̭͍̬̠͍͉̮͌̿͊'̷̡̢̧̣͕̗̲͉͕̝̪̖͕͓̍͑̌̓͒̓̄̊̍̓͊͗͘͜͝͝ţ̷̨̡̡̙̹͚̖̞̱̅̑͜ ̴͍̼̬̜̥͎͓̭͉̦̬͙̠̥̪͒̇̈́̑́̊͋̉̌͊̐̈́̇̓͘ͅi̷̜̗̮̻͕͔̞͖̱̟̓̂̆̆́͗́̀́̂͑t̸̗̻̭̙̮͔̠͎̖͒̆͐̾̈́͗̑͒̐͋̎̎̉̀͋͘̚̚̚͝?̵̨̧̨͖̯̱̜͓̪̼̖̘̲̱̺̦̺̳̒͗̊̎̐̾̐̑̀̽̏͛͂̀͊̅̚̚͘͝͝ (the above zalgo text reads: "Everything will be fine, won't it?")

4 chapters remain

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Jaine had huffed and shaken her head a little before slipping on her helmet, Echo noticed. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, before remembering that he also donned his bucket. Idiot, he thought to himself. 

“Don’t worry, Jainey,” Wrecker laughed boisterously. “Won’t let that thing eat ya.”

Jaine’s comms mic picked up a hint of her scoff. “Sure, Wreck. Just keep your eyes on the prize, yeah?”

The group emerged from the cave in a tight formation, catching the attention of the bigger creature. It tilted its head curiously at the group. 

“Fascinating,” Tech breathed, his eyes never leaving the creature while his fingers danced away across the keyboard of his data pad. 

“They’re not attacking?” Echo noted. 

Hunter grunted. “Not yet, anyway.”

Weapons drawn, the squad slowly exited the cave, eyes on the pair of predators.

“I can’t believe they're just watching us,” Jaine whispered.

“It seems as though they might not be hostile,” Tech replied, voice low. “Perhaps we are not similar enough to-”

“Watch your step,” Hunter interrupted. “We’re coming up on a ledge over a ravine, real narrow.”

Everything seemed to happen at once. Hunter finished his warning, and one of the creatures let out an ear splitting cry, starling Jaine, as a large rock embedded in the dirt of the ledge caught her foot, twisting her ankle and sending her falling to the ground. 

Jaine cried out in pain and panic as she skidded towards the edge of the path, the rest of the squad attempting to catch her. She felt the path disappear from under her, yet she was not in free fall. Glancing up, she saw that her savior was a gnarled root emerging from the side of the cliff.

The squad- her squad - was in a frenzy nearly 20 feet above her.

“Jaine!” Crosshair called, panic creeping into his voice. “Just hold on!”

The boys’ voices were overlapping through the comms in her helmet and mixing with the strain in her arm and the height she knew she was moments away from falling, it all made her head spin.

The tail end of a rope slid down, falling not far from the root. She struggled to get her other arm up, but finally gripped the rope, hands and arms becoming sore. 

“We’re gonna pull you up now,” Crosshair promised. “Just keep holding on. We’ve got you.”

“Cross,” she rasped. “I- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. Please, just hold on, Jaine.”

Her hand slipped a little as the others began to pull her up.

“Cross,” she whimpered. 

“Jaine-”

“I love you, Crosshair,” she whispered, gazing into the dark abyss of his visor as the rope slipped from her hand.

The shouts of her squad blared, mixing all together. It felt like eons that she fell into the ravine, time slowing to a crawl. She closed her eyes, eventually, trying to make peace. What if this was it? What if she was out of second chances? What if something she did along the way broke Mistress Rastee’s curse? What if… what if she never saw her squad again?

“I love you all,” she sobbed into the comms. 

Her body caught on several tree branches, snapping and crashing beneath her weight. The back of head caught on a particularly thick one, draining consciousness from her.

—

The squad was running, Hunter calling off directions now and again as they raced down hills and into the crevice.

Crosshair made it to the bottom of the ravine first, despite Tech and Echo usually being  faster than him. He looked up, barely able to see the point from which she’d fallen from the ground, but traced the line she would’ve fallen. At the same time as Hunter, he noticed the trail of broken branches, running ahead of the rest of the group, only to come to a river rushing to the south.

Five sets of eyes scanned the river, searching for any sign of their fallen medic.

“There!” Hunter shouts, pointing down stream. Washed up on the bank of the river, helmet knocked away, wild red hair matted to her head.

Crosshair gets to her first, repeating her name over and over as he starts to pull her from the water.

“Don’t!” Tech yells, catching up. “She likely has a spinal injury, we need-”

“She’s face down in the water; we can’t just leave her like this,” argued Crosshair.

“We need to keep her neck steady.”

Tech positioned his hands at her neck while the others helped turn her over and bring her further onto the shore.

“Her medpack. Hunter-”

“We’ll look downstream. Echo, Wrecker, with me.”

“I’ll need-” Tech stopped abruptly, removing one glove and placing it back at the side of her neck. 

“What?” Crosshair urged. “Tech, what do you need?”

Tech’s eyes fell to Jaine’s face, flipping his visor down.

It was unmistakable. The HUD confirmed what he’d already discovered, even if he so desperately wanted to ignore the facts, logic, and all reason.

“Tech?” his brother called again, but it sounded almost distant despite being right next to him.

He lifted his visor and looked into the panicked eyes of his twin. He hoped that Crosshair would understand, that he wouldn’t have to say the words aloud.

Hunter stopped, causing Echo and Wrecker to nearly bump into him.

“No,” Crosshair whispered, Tech’s unspoken statement sinking in. 

“Cross,” Hunter murmured, his heart dropping into his boots as he stepped towards him.

“No, no, no! Jaine, wake up,” he cried, shaking Jaine’s body just a little. “You’ve gotta wake up!”

“Crosshair,” Hunter repeated, placing his hand on Crosshair’s shoulder. 

“Nayc!” Crosshair shouted, pulling his shoulder from Hunter’s grasp, turning back to Jaine, cupping the side of her face gently. “Gedet'ye, cyare. Gar enteyor hoyir.” [No! Please, beloved. You must wake up.]

“Ara’vod,” Tech whispered. “Ni ceta. Val cuyir dar. [Twin, I’m sorry. She is gone.]

“Nu kyr'adyc,” Wrecker sniffled, barely holding his tears back. “Shi taab'echaaj'la.” [Not gone, merely marching away.”

Crosshair’s attempt at fighting back the tidal wave threatening to spill from his eyes began to fail. Looking at her, so still- it was unnerving. It didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be real.

He brushed the hair away from her eyes before leaning down to press his forehead to hers. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, balyc.” Sobs began to wrack his body, quiet as they were. [I love you, too.]

“I’ll make camp,” Wrecker murmured just loud enough for Hunter to hear, getting a small nod in response.

Echo tapped Hunter’s shoulder, tilting his head away from the rest.

“We’ll have to report in. I’ll comm in,” Hunter’s voice was quiet, but steady. “We need to get her back to Kamino.”

“Hunter,” Echo whispered.

“We’ll track down Sinya, try to get in contact with Cody and General Kenobi. They- they’ll want to know.”

“Hunter, stop,” he pleaded, lifting his helmet and setting it on the ground.

“Echo, I-” Hunter’s voice cracked. “I’ve never-”

“I know, brother,” he said, pulling Hunter to him in a tight hug.

Crosshair’s sobs began to subside. “The- the curse,” he whispered, his eyes meeting Tech’s.

“Cuir’ika,” Tech uttered, the long unused nickname falling from his lips with ease. 

“You record everything,” Crosshair pleaded. “You have to have everything Sinya told us.”

“I am not sure if-”

“Please, Tad’ika,” his voice broke again. “Please look.”

Tech stared at him for a moment, but nodded, standing and stepping away to search his records.

Thanks for reading! - River

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[ilovesjamesbb]

Please Don't Leave Me (Pt. 26)

Bucky x Reader

“This is nice, Steve. Thank you.” Steve took me to a spot near the Brooklyn bridge to watch the sun rise. 

“I come here sometimes when I feel hopeless. It helps me.” 

“You mean when you and Tony are in a lover's squabble.” He laughed. I smiled. This felt nice. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. I sighed. 

“Jamie is going to die and he has the chance to fix it and he won’t.” The water was so beautiful and serene. Bucky had talked about coming here a thousand times.  

“I know you care about him but it’s his choice. Imagine what he’s going through. How would you be feeling?” Steve was always the voice of reason. 

“Scared.” 

“This isn’t about you. It may be tough right now but you need to be there for him. Till the end of the line right?” He bumped my shoulder with his. 

“It’s all my fault, Steve. He never would have been there if I didn’t ask him to-”

“He chose to go. He cares about you. We all do. We all would have done the same thing,”  The thought of any of my friends going through this made my chest tighten. 

“God. I hate when you are always right.” I groaned. 

“Let’s go. You will regret not being there for him.” He stood up and offered me his hand. 

We got back to the tower and Jarvis told me Jamie was in my old room. I walked to my door and took a deep breath. The curtains were shut. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon.

“Y/n.” He said surprised. 

“I’m sorry. For all of it. I know this is your decision and I will support you no matter what,” I sat on the bed near him and I could see the sweat that was forming on his brow. I moved up so that I was resting on the headboard and he hugged my me. 

“I’m glad you’re here. I’m sorry too.” He rested his head on the pillow below my shoulder. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do. I should have told you about Christian. Maybe you wouldn’t have been in this situation. You wouldn’t be haunted by the memories and plagued with the future.” His words were slow and he closed his eyes. 

“Enough with the what if’s. Let's talk about something else.” I dabbled his forehead with the cloth on the nightstand. 

“I bought a new car. I want you to have it. The boarding house too” 

“ I can’t-”

“Come on. Give a man his dying wish. I want you to have a place of your own. Somewhere you can be free of all of this.” He rasped out. 

“Thank you.” I tried to hold back the tears but I could feel I was losing him. His breathing slowed down and his body was limp. 

“Tell me about Barnes. That jackass makes you happy but he’s still a jackass.” I laughed. 

“He makes me feel alive. He saved me. So many times I can’t count.” I said and he mumbled so that I would go on. 

“He’s everything to me. It scares me sometimes how much I depend on him. How much I love him. He makes the weight of my world lighter. I’m so in love with him it hurts.” I went on. 

“You are always there for everyone else. Let him be there for you” He mumbled. Even in death he was comforting me. I nodded. 

“Promise me you will let yourself be happy.” He drawled. 

“I promise.” A tear rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t feel him anymore. His chest stopped rising and I knew he was gone. 

“I promise. I won’t let you down.” The tears wouldn’t stop until I was full blown sobbing. The door opened and Bucky appeared. He looked heartbroken. 

“He’s gone Bucky.” I cried. He approached the bed slowly. 

“I want to bury him.” He nodded. 

“I want it to be nice. There is a family plot by the boarding house overlooking the ravine.” He nodded again until he was next to the bed. He put his hand on mine. I moved to hug him and he picked me up. He walked to the door and I knew this was the last time I would ever step foot in this room. 

[rmspeltzfarm]

She Scored a Big One

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

BETTER TO RULE IN OMAHA THAN TO SERVE UNDER SANRIO -- WELCOME TO HELL, KIDDIES.

PIC INFO: Spotlight on a "Spooky Season" poster design for Midwest post-punk/indie rock/math rock band RAVINE, performing live at Cog Monkeys in Omaha, NE, with supporting acts RASPUTIN, BLENNY, REVILO, SPY VS. SPY, & JIVE MONKEYS, on Saturday June 26, 1996. Poster art by the late great Frank Kozik.

Source: www.ilpost.it/2015/09/01/poster-rock-mostra/poster-rock-11.

[simptasia]

ages of LOST characters when we first meet them vs the ages of the actors when they first started playing them. reminder that the starting point of LOST is september 22nd 2004. if a character’s age seems one less than sounds right to you its because their birthday is coming up. if a character is missing from this it’s because we don’t know their age in canon (looking at you, desmond)

jack shephard: 34 matthew fox: 38

kate austen: 27 evangeline lilly: 25

hugo “hurley” reyes: 25 jorge garcia: 31

james “sawyer” ford: 35 josh holloway: 35

sawyer says he’s 35. but lostpedia only has sawyer’s birthyear, 1968, making him 36. however an easy explanation for this is that sawyer has a birthday coming up in the post september to december range (like many other characters here) thus making the birthyear and what sawyer said still right

john locke: 48 terry o’quinn: 52

sayid jarrah: 36 naveen andrews: 35

jin-soo kwon: 29 daniel dae kim: 36

sun-hwa kwon: 24 yunjin kim: 31

claire littleton: 21 emilie de ravin: 23

charlie pace: 27 dominic monaghan: 27

okay so an odd thing happened here. we don’t actually know charlie’s age in canon, except that based on a statement from liam that he’s absolutely less than 30. and basically what happened is there was big debate on lostpedia, the general gist being he’s 25 to 28, until everybody just gave up and they slapped dom’s birthday on charlie’s page. and it’s still there to this day

walt lloyd: 10 malcolm david kelley: 12

walt’s actor was gonna age outta the role anyways due to the nature of lost’s timeline but their first mistake was casting a 12 year old. like, hello, puberty?

shannon rutherford: 20 maggie grace: 21

boone carlyle: 23 ian somerhalder: 26

danielle rousseau: 44 mira furlan: 49

ethan rom: 27 william mapother: 39

the consequences of season 5 are starting to hit

bernard nadler: 56 or 57 sam anderson: 58

ana lucia cortez: 29 michelle rodriguez: 27

eko tunde: 35 adewale akinnuoye-agbaje: 38

alexandra “alex” rousseau/linus: 16 tania raymonde: 17

benjamin “ben” linus: 39 michael emerson: 51

this isn’t even due to later timeline decisions, they just decided to do this

miles straume: 27 ken leung: 38

daniel faraday: 26 jeremy davies: 39

charlotte lewis: 33 rebecca mader: 31

and theeere’s the season 5 whammy. for those who don’t know (you must be new to my blog) dan and miles ages differ so much from their actors because when our guys are in 1977, it suited the story and characters better for miles to be a baby and dan to be an embryo (and char to be 6) at the same time. the writers were set on 1977 being the year everybody got stuck in and that’s how we get daniel faraday being an oxford professor at fucking 18

it’s something that gets funnier and sadder the longer you think about it

anyways. thank you for your time!

[eikonoklast]

Day 26 (Zip): Compression//Repetition

   Minimas hovered around the dam as Thancred ran his hand over its smooth black surface. The rain hammered down on the rocks, running in small streams down to the ravine below and further soaking the three as it trickled onto the stone bed. Alphinaud was providing a soft blue light with his nouliths as the two examined the structure for a possible entrance. Minimas stared into the depths at the strange lights below, fretting they'd have to enter the water. He'd never learned how to swim. 

   “Aha!” Thancred exclaimed with a grin, his fingers finding a nearly perfectly-concealed button on the surface. He nodded to his companions as they stood back and away from him while he pressed it. The metal cracked open with a whoosh of air as it slid upward into the roof, bearing a darkened doorway. Thancred motioned quietly, stepping inside. Alphinaud soon followed, with Minimas bringing up the rear a few yalms back; the solid surface sliding closed behind them.

   

Silver ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He'd taken his regulator from the station's module as fast as he could, immediately transforming and breaking down the door. The capsule was forgotten as a wave of emotions roiled inside him like a dark sea: thoughts and feelings not his own started to assault him in a jumbled, incoherent mess. He couldn't make sense of their contents but he immediately understood something was wrong.

   This was a trap.

   Origen's request rang in his ears like the beating of his heart; the words almost drumming against the inside of his skull. A ceaseless command echoed over and over in time with his steps as he ran out of the facility, leaping over terrified members of the crowd. He wheezed as he landed with a heavy thud at the bottom of the stairs, immediately bolting for the nearby conveyor. A cough strangled its way out of his chest and he could taste the copper tang of blood. He clenched his teeth and pushed it down. 

   “I'd like you to die for me.”

   Like Hells I will.

   He ran on, dashing over rooftops alongside the high streetlights, panting and pushing as hard as he could. As he landed on the rooftop of Neon Stein he hopped down to the entryway. As soon as the sliding door began to open he forced it the rest of the way, his large frame bending the metal as he tore his way into the building. Melancholy was behind the bar, her eyes huge and terrified. The bouncer immediately came over and stood in front of her, pulling out an electrope gun and leveling it at the beast that had just broken in.

   Silver quickly changed back, his heart racing and his lungs burning. “Have they left yet? Where are they!?” he shouted, coughing. Blood speckled the floor in front of him. He gasped, falling to a knee as the pain caught up with him. His head spun. “Where…? Are they outside? I have to…” he collapsed to the floor, wheezing. “I was supposed to…” he reached for his regulator as it whined. He pointed to it as best he could. “In here,” he whispered.

   Geode burst from the command room to see what was going on. Silver's eyes flicked up to him and he kept tapping his regulator as he wordlessly blacked out.

   

Minimas’ eyes glowed red in the dark space as he crept behind Alphinaud. It was incredibly dark, the only illumination coming from snakes of violet light climbing the walls. Pipes filled with water rumbed as they descended a dark staircase past closets of maintenance equipment. Thancred seemed suspicious of the back wall as he felt around, his deft fingers reaching through the darkness towards a lever. He pulled and white light flooded the room, nearly blinding the three. Minimas’ eyes widened.

   “By the Twelve,” Alphinaud breathed. 

   The sound of water bubbled around them as heart monitors beeped gently in a steady rhythm. The hallway was bathed in white and blue light, the walls lined with large cylindrical tanks; a dozen on each side. At the end of the space was a massive holding tank all on its own, teeming with souls. The device was so full the little lights continuously bumped into one another, lazily drifting about. Along the walls in the smaller cylinders were bodies. Beasts on the right hand side of the hallway - all suspended in liquid. On the left were…people.

   They floated peacefully in their tanks, their regulators glowing soft white as they faded in and out, their lights slowly pulsing. They appeared to be almost trapped in sleep, oxygen masks covered their faces and nodes attached to their chests to monitor breathing. Minimas looked over them, not recognizing anyone. A few tanks were empty of their supposed occupants, their water drained and nearby manifests blank.

   At the far end of the room Alphinaud froze, his eyes wide. Thancred was checking the beasts’ tanks to ensure none of them were actively going to attack, his fingers leafing through their screens to read the biometrics. Minimas approached his friend, careful not to trip over any of the cables or wires strewn about the space. 

   Alphinaud was looking at the screen of the far tank, his fingers tapping away. Inside was…Silver. His unmistakable grayish skin and violet hair drifted gently in the water as he slept. Minimas stared, confused. “What?”

   “I wouldn't touch that,” a voice chided from the corner of the room. Minimas nearly jumped out of his skin. A young hyuran man in a flowing white lab coat stood leaning against a doorframe that led further into the facility. “My boss is quite fond of that little pup. It wouldn't do to wake him early.” He had long blonde hair and glasses, his eyes the color of amber. 

   “He's not yours to do with as you please!” Alphinaud whirled around, his blue eyes smoldering with a fire Minimas had never seen before. 

   Thancred appeared next to the young man, holding a blade to his throat. “You're going to tell me who is in charge, here,” he insisted, pressing the tip to the man's neck. A drop of blood gently trickled down and he smiled. 

   “I won't stop you. I've been given orders to let you take this one once he's ready.” He pointed to the tank. “But he's running out of time. This is his last chance to show us something for our efforts.”

   All of a sudden the facility's lights switched off, plunging them into darkness. Red backup lights pulsed and an alarm droned. The sudden silence brought into contrast the sound of a scuffle outside, electrope weapons firing and a monster snarling. The hyuran man seemed to vanish like mist as Thancred looked around, clearly furious. Alphinaud was still frantically trying to understand the pad next to the tank as it shone brightly in the dark, illuminated in reds and shifting whites from the light of the souls.

   The sounds of fighting slowly abated, plunging the facility into silence as the rain continued to drone outside. There was a soft clattering sound as something came down the steps - the noise from its passage uneven and labored. Minimas bristled and Thancred stopped looking for his quarry in the dark as he stood next to him, weapon drawn.

   Silver came hobbling down the stairs clumsily. Blood soaked his muzzle and chest, his lavender eyes tired. His fur was scorched and burned off in places and one of his electrope guns had been destroyed where it would normally rest on his shoulder. One of his ears had been blown clean off and he wheezed, collapsing onto the floor. His breathing was labored and he choked, blood gurgling out from his jaws. Thancred dashed up the stairs behind him, disappearing out into the rainy night.

   Minimas ran to Silver, his eyes wide with panic. “What? Where were you!? How are you here!?” He hovered, frantically looking him over, unsure what to do. “Alphinaud! Please help him!”

   Silver's leg twitched as he weakly tried to gesture something. Minimas remembered immediately he couldn't reply and tapped his regulator, watching in horror as his friend lay there on the ground, painfully changing back to normal with a shudder. 

   He lay still for a moment. Too long. He looked small and disheveled in the dark. Finally he gasped, his body twitching as he breathed. “...ok?” he murmured.

   Minimas nodded furiously. “Yes! We're fine! We didn't even know there was an ambush…” he trailed off as Silver's eyes glazed over, his regulator beeping once and then going dark.

   “Silver?” Minimas pushed him gently with a shaky arm. He didn't move.

   “Give me his regulator, Minimas!” Alphinaud's voice snapped from across the room. “I think they wanted us to find this place!”

   Minimas sat where he was, stricken. He stared at his friend's lifeless body on the floor, his mind devoid of any call to action. He had never seen true death before. He nudged him again wordlessly, disturbed by those sightless lavender eyes.

   Alphinaud walked over to Minimas, placing a hand on his shoulder. “His memories and soul are in his regulator,” he reminded the young fighter calmly, his voice cutting through like a splash of cold water. “They're stored there after death. In that small space.” He spoke slowly, his tone even and soothing. He reached down towards Silver's regulator as Minimas simply stared, unsure what he meant. He grabbed the device gently, carrying it to the tank on the far wall. Minimas numbly watched him from where he sat on the floor as Alphinaud opened the panel and placed the regulator inside. It slid down into the housing with a beep.

   The young elezen stood awash in the bright blue light from the tank of souls as they drifted gently; illuminating the room with soft moving shadows in the dark. Minimas noticed his hand tremble slightly as it was balled into a fist at his side, yet his countenance was otherwise confident and assured. “This will work,” he said quietly. His eyes met Minimas’ own from across the room where the transfigured fighter knelt by his friend's body. 

   The regulator in the tank slowly began to beep in response. The heart monitor began to trill faster, and the tank's occupant opened their eyes slowly. Minimas stared dumbly as Silver placed a palm on the glass, looking around. He seemed a bit dazed but completely fine otherwise. 

   Alphinaud's expression was unreadable as Minimas walked over, putting his hand up against his friend's. “He's…he's fine,” he breathed, staring. “How…? How is he in two places at once?” he looked at Alphinaud, perplexed.

  The young elezen's lips were pursed tightly as he stared ahead at nothing. “He's a clone,” he murmured.

Author's Note: I still have a few cards left to play, so I hope you like this one! I know I've already told some people Silver's little secret but tbh I hope it isn't too far-fetched for anyone to have simply just guessed ages ago. Still, a proper explanation is in order and…we'll get there. I'm just glad this time he got to die on his own terms. Definitely. Chiteni is incredibly protective just…as a person in general and Silver actively feels that same urge. So he simply had to be there. Even if it cost more than he had. But maybe someone was expecting that too, no?

[heroesofenvellfan]

Hello ^^ I'm new to this show and I wanted to watch it in the original Russian dub with English sub but YouTube translation isn't that good so I have to lean to the English dub, is there anymore resources to watch it in the Russian sub but an ok translation of the English sub?

Hello there! I'm glad you're interested in watching the show! I hope you enjoy it! ^_^

I agree, I like to watch stuff in the original dub too, most often than not it's better than whatever dub there is. As a matter of fact, I actually did make english subtitles for most of the season 1. I didn't post links to it only because I didn't think there would be a demand for it, since people usually prefer dubs.

I can give you links here, and I'll put them in the [LINKS] page of this blog as well. But since I started making these when there were already 7 episodes in the english dub, I started from the 8th. Let me know if you would like to see episodes 1-7 subbed too! I'll be happy to do it!

(To be honest, I think I should change the names to the original names wherever I can...)

Links under the cut!

Ep. 8 - Forest Glade

Ep. 9 - The Ravine

Ep. 10 - Unknown Location

Ep. 11 - The Hidden Village

Ep. 12 - Level Editor

Ep. 13 - Throne Room (fun fact, I made this one first because I was hyped for this episode in particular afdkjfjv)

Ep. 14 - Mourgarth's Lair

Ep. 15 - Communication Tower

Ep. 16 - Fuel Mine

Ep. 17 - The Edge of the Map

Ep. 18 - Continue the game

Ep. 19 - Beyond the Edge

Ep. 20 - Mothership

Ep. 21 - 4K-Phildor

Ep. 22 - The Ruins

Ep. 23 - Salamandra's Palace

Ep. 24 - The Outer Wall

Ep. 25 - Finale (part 1)

Ep. 26 - Finale (part 2)