#lots of helpful information is shared on here

[aziraphales-library]

Hello lovely mods!!! Thank you for all the work you do for the fandom!!

Im looking for longfics where crowley has self esteem issues. Something where its not the main plot, just there. Like how TV!crowley is in The Trouble With Being A Demon. Im good with any rating, au, or general plot.

Thank you so much!! 💛

Hi! I don't know the fic you mention, so I can't necessarily find you Crowleys exactly like that without a little more information. We do have an #insecure crowley tag as well as a #self esteem issues tag with lots of fics you can check out. Here are more to add...

The Invisible Gorilla by AppleSeeds (T)

Environmental science professor Crowley turns into a flustered mess when the object of his secret infatuation, magician Aziraphale Fell, is hired to help coach a group of research students to creatively engage the public with their work. Torn between his desire to interact with Aziraphale and his fear of embarrassing himself, Crowley gradually gains the confidence to spend more time with him, ultimately bringing them together to share one of the most memorable experiences of Crowley's life.

I'll Let You Set the Pace by zerodaryls (E)

“Everything’s changing now, isn’t it?” “Well, not everything.” Aziraphale had smiled, bringing a thumb up to run over Crowley’s bottom lip. “Some things, certainly. Finally. Thank goodness.” He’d tilted his head to bring their lips together again, and, when Crowley’d gasped, took the opportunity to slip a curious tongue between his lips. Crowley had grinned against Aziraphale’s mouth before sliding his tongue over the angel’s, savoring the taste of him.   Yes, things had been going quite well. And then Crowley had started panicking. (Or, "What if Crowley isn't as ready as he thought he'd be once he's finally free to love and be loved by his angel? What if Aziraphale got a taste of what 'you go too fast for me' felt like?")

The Hardest Hue to Hold by oceantears (T)

Crowley doesn't exactly like killing everything he touches.

Let Me In Your Heart Again by AshCommaMan, EmAndFandems (M)

"Could be anything," Crowley explained. Anything at all, say the word, nothing off limits from my end. Stupid. "And the way it works, you'd have the chance to say no. It's not that I force anyone into doing things. Just make it more appealing s'all. So. What do you want, Aziraphale?" "I want—" The apple, the whole damn Garden. He flapped his hands uselessly in the air. "I want..." You. I want to be free. "Well. Perhaps a nap." His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Long Haul by snae_b (E)

First time he sees him he’s barreling down 40 like a bat out of hell. Thirty miles outside of Flagstaff and six hours behind schedule. The desert looming large on all sides. Red sand and sage stretching out for miles and miles in front of him. Juniper and pine and gray crag behind him. The flora might be changing but that's about it. Same bone-dry air that gives him nosebleeds. Same cute little cottontails and scrawny jackrabbits darting under his tires. Same two lanes separated by white lines... He checks his speedometer. He hasn't downshifted since the city limits. Sheer luck, that. He's coming up fast on another rig. Flatbed with Vermont plates. Bright white cab with gold wings painted on the side. Anthony Crowley might have gotten out of Missouri, but he hasn't escaped his past. He wears it like a cloak. When he crosses paths with a guardian angel, he starts to learn how to shed it.

Play for Me the Music of Your Heart by Leviosally468 (E)

Anthony J. Crowley, a talented virtuoso violinist finally makes the move west to Nightingale Bay, Oregon after escaping a simultaneously promising yet toxic life at Elysian Conservatory of Music in New York City. Aziraphale Z. Fell is Eastern Gate University’s friendly and talented piano professor and symphony conductor. Let's see how that goes, shall we?

- Mod D

[merrydock]

Some old art of my Owlk engineer, Eris, designing the Stranger's solar sails! Enjoy a big ramble about him and his job because I love this silly man:

Eris works on the design team for the Owlk space program, specialising in energy and propulsion technologies for the ships, satellites, and probes. Having a design philosophy of functionality and beauty, Eris enjoys going all-out with his work. He has received special recognition for his solar panel designs in particular, which borrowed from the unparalleled efficiency found in photosynthesizing plants.

When designing the Stranger's solar sails, Eris took inspiration from plants, but also the opening of insect elytra; the ballooning behaviours of silk-producing invertebrates, in which they sail from tree to tree using electric fields and air currents; and how flying creatures will use thermal updrafts to soar higher while expending less energy. Already familiar with how solar energy impacts technology from his work on solar panels, he proposed the use of this energy to propel the Stranger through space.

As travelling the distance between stars presented the major roadblock in the plan to reach the Eye (regarded as the Interstellar Propulsion Problem), Eris was lauded for his contributions, promoted to being one of the main engineers overseeing the Stranger's design.

More information about his general design process below!

When designing for a project, Eris uses all of the tools at his disposal. His first weapon of choice is always his pencil, and he will sketch out potential sources of inspiration on paper until the design concept begins to take form. Based on the initial project parameters he's been given, he drafts up a blueprint for his components.

Next, he must further conceptualise his designs. This is where the most valuable tool of the trade comes into play—the Vision Torch! Vision Torches serve many purposes for Owlks, from allowing them to nonverbally communicate to creating photographs from memory alone. Owlk engineers LOVE Vision Torches for how easy they make effectively communicating ideas. They allow concepts to be visualised in 3D, basic functionality to be shown through animations, and are even able to interface with computers. Eris might even 3D print a model using a Vision Torch to help him visualise his concepts as he works.

The space program is extremely collaborative, and Eris works on just a small part of the overall project, so being able to easily share ideas with others and see how all the individual components of a satellite or ship interact is vital. When discussing with more than a single other Owlk, Eris can use a Vision Torch linked to a holographic display to present concepts to a crowd. Concepts can also be tweaked in real time this way!

[Here's an example from the game of Owlks building the simulation with Vision Torches and a holographic display!]

With a Vision Torch, concepts can also be directly uploaded to a computer terminal. This is where a lot of the real work gets done - calculating weight, materials needed, stress testing in simulations, calculating trajectories, making precise tweaks to finalize the design, you name it. This also allows other Owlks working closely with Eris to access the most current design for their own tests.

This is an iterative process - as other Owlks finalize their components, as weight limitations are further restrained and material needs are calculated, Eris often has to go back to an earlier step and rework his concept. Fortunately, he thoroughly enjoys getting to be creative in his work (and doing math) and treats every project as a puzzle that needs to be solved! The only time when he's not excited to go back to the drawing board is when a last-minute adjustment from his peers means he needs to work long hours to get his work done in time for launch.

[enlightenedfeline]

Tips for writing internal dialouge:

1- Don't just get in your character's head, become your character. Getting into a characters head and becoming the character are of course two completely different things, doing the prior is easier than the latter, but they completely change how readers perceive your character.

When you write internal dialouge in your characters head, it's a lot more concise and follows a pacing that's easier to keep up with, the thoughts are clearer, and your character seems to be jumping from one topic to the next.

However, this isn't natural to how everyone thinks, especially when it comes to younger characters, or characters in high stress situations.

This doesn't mean that writing someone who can think clearly in a stressful situation is unrealistic, there are people with that ability, but remember that this is an ability that's gained, not necessarily something that your character will possess naturally.

This is something I can go into deeper detail about in another post, because I don't wanna focus on one point for too long.

Becoming your character essentially means thinking their thoughts, not thinking of their thoughts. Experiencing their feelings, and throwing it down on the page, no matter how incoherent it is.

This technique works in heavily emotional scenes, and if done right can communicate the message you want to your reader without you explicitly stating it, which can make the scene more powerful, and more real.

2- Don't share irrelevant information. While you will sometimes have to share seemingly unnecessary information for realism, this doesn't mean that you should bore your reader just because they're in your characters head.

It will take hard work and a ton of writing to find the inner monologue/dialouge/description balance that suits your writing style, but you will find it.

Just keep in mind that if you feel the information won't help your reader understand/relate to your character any better, then you probably shouldn't include it in the final draft.

3- Have them comment on the world around them. Yes! Little comments and observations may seem unnecessary to you, you made this character, you know all this already, but this can reveal a lot about your character, using show don't tell.

This doesn't mean have them comment on everything, unless of course this is a habit they have.

But if it's not, then have them comment occasionally on small details, just internally, have them notice things your average person wouldn't if they're a particularly smart character, or have them not notice obvious details if they're not intelectually gifted.

4- Show different types of intelligence! Internal monologue can be the most effective method of showing off what ways your character is smart in without making it seem like they're showing off, or needing to have other people bring up their intelligence in conversation.

Show us what they notice and what conclusions they come to. Do they panic under pressure or keep a level head? When there's a disaster do they help or run away, why?

Leave it up to the reader to analyze what things mean so they can feel more engaged!

5- Every character is different. If every person thinks differently, then every character should think differently.

Don't put it entirely upon your shoulders to make your reader understand, your job is to be clear, your reader's job is to care enough to analyze.

Like I said above, make the reader feel engaged, let them figure out the character while you cleverly leave hints here and there of the type of person your character is.

6- How much space does internal dialouge have in your story? You have to decide now how much room you're willing to give internal dialouge in your story, and how many characters you're willing to give the space to talk in your story, this greatly impacts how your readers perceive characters and situations.

Internal dialouge is a big part of any story, and I've still gotta figure it out myself, this is probably the first of many tip posts specifically for internal dialouge.

Maybe some of this advice will help, maybe it won't, either way, I hope this feline has enlightened you!

[emberfrostlovesloki]

National Anthem [Hotch X Reader]

Photo Credits: Left (@adropofacid) Center (@hannahs-quirky-moments) Right (@pedroscowgirl)

Prompt: When the reader goes AWOL, the BAU has to figure out way she is leaking government secrets, and if she’s working with a group of terrorists taking out soldiers seemingly out of the blue.  

Pairing: Aaron x Non!BAU-Reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns. 

Category: Hurt / Angst - No Happy Ending 

Word Count: 6.4K 

Content Warnings: Kidnapping, Drug Overdose [Reader], Death [Reader], Mention of sex, guns, language. If I missed anything, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! Here is a fic that I have been thinking about for a long time. I want to note that I don’t know a lot about the army or its command structure, so if I got something wrong, I’m sorry. I love a good bit of angst, and I hope it delivers for you. The title is based on the Lana Del Rey song of the same name. I hope that you enjoy this fic, and if you do, please like, share, and comment. Love Levi - ❤️ 

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/l/n = your last name 

y/e/c = your eye color 

The DOD building had so much more extra security than the Quantico Office that even Aaron thought it was a bit over the top. As he and Emily got through the fifth and final chcheckpointthey were scanned over one last tmtimend met by a stern-looking general who had the nametag Harrow on. He greeted the two agents and said, “Follow me. I’m happy the BAU is involved in this case, because right now we’re stymied, so having a new set of eyes on this will be helpful.” Hotch nodded and replied, “We’ll do what we can to help, Sir.” As they walked down the long tiled hallways Emily shot Aaron a look that said, “That wasn’t a thanks for being, that was a fix this shit, talk.” Hotch caught the drift and nodded, ing back, “It is, but we don’t say anything about it.” Em nodded back in understanding. The trio got to a secured door, and General Harrow opened and ushered Hotch and Prentiss inside. The room was large with maps and charts on the wall as well as a printout of the city of Chicago on top of the long table. There were three other people in the room who stood when the Agents and the General entered the room. General Harrow made quick introductions by saying, “Agents Hotchner and Prentiss, this is Brigadier General Pabts, Officer Keen, and Lieutenant Blake. I’ll let General Pabts tell you about our current sensitive situation. thereTherealso folders holding the highly classified information as well.  

Pabts motioned Hotch and Emily to sit, which everyone did before he clicked a slideshow, and the face of a young woman in army marine fatigues appeared on the wall. The older man stated, “Officer y/n, y/l/n. She’s been enlisted in the Marines for years and is a dedicated officer. She disappeared two weeks ago, and we believe she’s been kidnapped by a foreign group who is torturing her for information, which is being leaked on sites online.” Aaron gave a nod in understanding as Pabts continued, “Not only are classified documents being leaked, but because of those leaks, a highly skilled sniper seems to be targeting those in the documents. Five decorated army men have been unceremoniously gunned down in the dead of day and I’m sick and tired of seeing my people get hurt and killed for serving this country.” The man’s moment of anger was ignored by everyone in the room as Lieutenant stepped in and said, “I was Offcer yOfficer CO on our mission in Chicago. There had been rumors of the terrorist organization setting down roots in IlliniosIllinoiswere trying to get ahead of the group. We had an elite squad of both Marines and Army on an undercover mission. A week into the mission had names and a location. On our first scouting mission to the location was whe, y/n/n disappeared. Officer Keen was the last to see Officer y/l/n before she disappeared. So either we have an AWOL officer or one that’s being tortured this moment for information - neither of those is are good option for us. Now. Officer Keen, please describe your last encounter with Officer y/l/n.” 

Officer Keen swallowed nervously before saying, “Officer y/l/n and I were scouting an alley. She seemed anxious. More anxious than normal, but we were getting close to where the terrorist cell was, and she was taking point, so I would have been nervous too. We reached an alley that had ladder access to the roof of the building we were scouting. y/n took the ladder route, and I took the street. I expected to meet her again before we got to the building, but she never showed. As it turned out, the building was a ruse. There were signs that the terrorist cell had been there, but they’d left the day before or so. It was only ten minutes before I realized that y/n wasn’t showing up. The unit all started looking, but we couldn’t find y/n anywhere. There weren’t signs of a struggle apart from some blood that was DNA matched to Officer y/n on the top of the roof and down to the street below, but from there the trace went cold.” 

General Harrow looked at Aaron and Emily and said, “Now you understand the circumstances and severity of what we’re dealing with. I’ll leave you both with General Pabts, Officer Keen, and Lieutenant Blake as you read over the information in those folders. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them anything. We’re hoping to have you and your team at Scott Air Force Base in Illinois by the end of the day.” General Harrow didn’t have to say, “Do I make myself clear?” to be understood. This was an order that the BAU would follow. Hotchner stood and shook the General’s hand and said, “My team will be there by the end of the day, Sir.” Harrow nodded once more and then left the room, not even acknowledging Emily’s presence. Aaron sat back down and didn’t even open the file before asking his first question: “Can my team and I see the leaked documents that have been causing the L.D.S.K.?” Lieutenant Blake asked, “L.D.S.K., Sir?” Emily tried not to sigh and said, “Long Distance Serial Killer. There are only two known cases dealing with L.D.S.K.s, but it looks like we might be dealing with three now.” Blake nodded and said, “Understood. Unfortunately, we can’t share those classified documents with you. They’ve been rescrubbed from the web, nd the fewer people who know about that information, he better for the country it will be.” Aaron’s jaw tightened, and he said, “I understand this is a matter of national security, Sir, but how are we supposed to work out the motivation of the sniper, or unsub as the BAU calls them, if we don’t have that information.” Bl? Ke didn’t budge, this was now a power play between the FBI and the DOD, where bad blood was thick. Blake continued, “Your unit is all about looking at trends and finding patterns. We have five dead army men in those folders looking for justice. See if you can link those patterns together.” Hotch chose not to respond to the taunt, instead, he and Emily opened their files and started reading. 

After three hours of reading and asking tense questions, Emily and Hotch got out of the stifling room with their files and more information about the Marines and y/n’s unit than they may have wanted. The duo was about to walk out of the building when Officer Keen found them in the hallway. She approached and in a quiet voice stated, “Please find y/n. She was my friend.” Emily looked at the younger woman in front of her and, with sympathy, said, “We’re going to do our best.” As soon as they had their things back and were in the car, Aaron called Morgan and said, “Get the team ready to fly now. We’re headed to Chicago. Wheel’s up in thirty.” 

On the jet, the team was more together than normal as Hotch and Em briefed them on the case so far. After hearing the details, Rossi stated, “I think we should split up into two teams. Morgan, JJ, and I can take the L.D.S.K. aspect. That will leave Aaron, Emily, and Spencer on the missing soldier.” Hotch nodded in agreement and said, “Sounds good. I’m going to give Penelope a call and see if she can find those files.” Hotch dialed Garcia and said, “Garcia, you’re on speaker. Do you think you could track down some files for me? They’re DOD and they’ve been scrubbed from the net.” There was a long pause before Penelope said, “Are you telling me to break into the DOD firewall, Hotch?” Aaron sighed and said, “I’m saying having these files will make our jobs easier and save more lives.” There was the sound of frantic typing before Pen said, “Got it. This might take longer than usual, but I’ll find your files. Please fax me the relevant data.” Hotch nodded and replied, “And Garcia, don’t get caught,” before he hung up the call and moved to the back of the plane to fax the documents that Penelope would need to do her job. 

Arriving at the Military base was like moving into another world, one that didn’t jive with the BAU. Commander Rambart showed the team the room that was for their use and the bunks that they would be staying in. The younger man looked at Reid and Morgan as he said, “This isn’t the Hilton like you’re used to, but it will have to work for you folks.” After that, the man left the team to their own devices. Morgan looked at Aaron and asked, “Is there some bad blood between the army and the BAU that I don’t understand?” Hotch sighed, setting his duffle bag on his lower bunk before saying, “It’s the army, Morgan, they have bad blood with everyone. And let’s not forget that we’re stepping on their toes, they can’t be too happy about that.” Derek nodded, setting up his stuff above Hotch, and replied, “Noted. Stay away from the army brats.” 

In the evidence room, the team regrouped, and with Rossi’s team working their angle, and Aaron looking for y/n. Hotch turned to Reid and asked, “Assuming that Officer y/l/n was taken, how many routes are there on and off of the roof she was on?” Reid looked at the map and ran some calculations in his head in a millisecond before saying, “There are three viable routes, but if y/n was carried or knocked out on the roof then I’d say there’s only one, and given that she was injured, it’s possible that was the scenario. If not, why wouldn’t she have screamed?” Hotch nodded along and said, “Are we going to go and check out the scene? I can also call Garcia and see if y/n’s phone has pinged anywhere since the day she was supposedly taken.” Hotch nodded and replied, “Sounds like a plan. I think having boots on the ground is the best option for us to start with. We’re looking for any sign that y/l/n is alive, see if she left any clues on how to find her. Anything.” Prentiss and Spencer nodded and headed out the door with Aaron at the front of the pack. 

Rossi turned to Derek and said, “JJ and I will start looking at the profiles of the victims. How about you go down to the evidence and see if the bullet fragments can tell us anything. Morgan nodded and said, “Good luck with those files. Hotch told me they were heavy reading.” Just as Morgan left the room, he overheard Dave say to JJ, “Great, heavy reading and our super iededic reader is off on a team I assigned him to.” Derek chuckled and pushed open the door and moved through the long building, and outside. As he walked through the compound, he passed a group of trainees doing pushups and jumping jacks in the hot evening sun. The drill sergeant's voice calling out numbers and insults to the recruits on the ground. As he passed the people, Morgan was happy he was where he was, and not in their position. It was a bit of a trek to the evidence building on the other side of the base, but Morgan got there in good time. He checked in with the officer at the front desk, showing the young woman with slicked back hair his credentials before he was swiped into the next level of the building. Morgan was directed to go down the hallway, take a left, and right, and it was the door at the end of the hallway. Derek followed the directions and entered a large room that had three tables at the front end and a shooting range on the other side of the room. Morgan stood alone for a second before another person entered the room. It was another young, attractive officer with a name tag of J. Palacios. The woman nodded at Derek and said, “I was told you were here to look at the evidence from the recent shootings. Am I correct?” Morgan smiled and replied, “Yes, Ma’am.” Ms. Palacios looked unamused and replied, “Save your Ma’ams for someone else, I have a job to do here, and your little team is just getting in my way, so put on some gloves. I’ll show you what we have so far, and you can be on your merry way.” Derek soberly nodded before moving to put on some gloves. 

It was golden hour by the time Hotch, Prentiss, and Reid got to the rooftop where y/n had allegedly been taken. Thankfully it h, it hadn’t rained since y/n went missing, and the blood stains were still visible on the roof. Spencer and Aaron quickly started examining the blood splatter pattern to see if it looked like a bullet wound or a knife wound at had been used to inflict the bleeding. Reid followed the blood splatter to the edge of the roof and motioned Hotch and Emily over. Once at the genius’s side, Spence said, “Officer y/n wasn’t unconscious or carried off the roof. She must have been ambushed, injured, but left the roof using her own strength.” Prentiss looked and Reid and asked, “Why do you think that?” Spencer frowned and said, “Well, if I were trying to get someone unconscious off a roof, I’d use the safety ladder, not the option where you have to jump to a different roof and then down to the ground.” Hotch nodded and said, “There’s something about the blood pattern that’s off t, oo. Like the bleeding was controlled, I doubt Officer y/l/n was patched up on the roof by her abductors.” Emily looked at the pair and said, “You think Officer y/l/n went AWOL, don’t you?” Aaron crossed his arms over his chest and said, “I don’t know that, I just think that her abductors would have asked for a ransom already, the facts just seem off. Emily looked at the distance that y/n would have had to jump and couldn’t fault Hotch or Spencer with how they were thinking. No matter what, when she looked at it, the facts weren’t adding up. 

Rossi closed the file he was finished with and opened the next one and said, ‘Well they didn’t redact that all of those who have been killed so far were all on the same base at the same time in Iraq two years ago, the question is, what kind of mission where they running.” JJ looked up from her file and replied, “Well, that’s what we hope Garcia can find. It didn’t seem like anything special was happening at the base during the stint the victims were there, so it must have been a pretty top-secret clearance mission. No wonder the DOD didn’t want that information out in the public. Rossi tapped his foot under the table and said, “These people didn’t seem to have that high of a clearance, unless they were undercover, or had altered military identities? I mean, why kill a random technician, two officers, and one general? I mean, the general makes sense, but how are the other three involved?” JJ gave Rossi the “I have no clue face” and buried herself back in her current reading. 

“You’re saying the gun was 3D printed?” Derek asked Officer Palacios. The woman nodded and said, “You’ve seen the target patterns under the microscope. Bullet patterns from known gun manufacturers would have had a positive ID by now, but there was no known barrel pattern that was recognizable. This is becoming a bigger and bigger problem with 3D printing. You can print anything, and it becomes untraceable.” Morgan nodded along and said, “Well, that makes things more interesting. The bullets were generic too, so there’s nothing to go off of there either,” Officer Palacios nodded and said, “I told you there was nothing here for you. So, are we done here?” Derek put up his hands and replied, “I guess so. Thank you for your time.” Derek was disappointed with his findings because he had hoped to find out some kind of information, like a gun manufacturer or a serial number. 

Without much to go off of t, he team met that night for dinner at the canteen. Halfway through the meal, he got a call from Penelope. He stood and took it in the hallway, saying, “Talk to me, Gacia.” Penelope smiled and said, “Well I’ve got something for you pulled from the depths of the surveillance state.” Aaron looked around the empty hallway and said, “Don’t say stuff like that too loud around here, Garcia, I don’t want to be thrown in jail if I can avoid it.” Penelope laughed and said, “Well I’ve sent you the files that I have, you should be warned, it’s not pretty information. I understand why the DOD wanted this gone.” Hotch nodded and ended the call with, “Thank Garcia, you’re a life lifesaverven that information, Aaron moved back to the canteen and motioned for his team to follow him back to their sleeping bunks. The team piled around Aaron as he pulled open his laptop and opened the encrypted files that Penelope had sent in encrypted files. There were multiple documents, but one video was also attached. Hotch opened the file, nd the BAU watched a video footage from a drone following a flow flying bomber plane making multiple passes over a poor-looking neighborhood and dropping multiple bombs. There was no sound to the video, but the flashes on the screen indicated that the explosives had hit their mark. There were a few seconds where the video cut out, and then the after-effects of the bombs were shown from a high altitude. What had been a neighborhood before was now a smoldering pile of rubble and ash. 

“Shit,” Derek muttered. Hotch shook his head and said, “I’m going to print these documents, I need us to look over them with a fine-tooth comb. If you notice anything about anyone related to this case, tell me. Where did this happen, why, and when?” The team nodded and settled down for a long night of reading. By 3:00 AM, the team had a lot more information. So far, they knew that all of the men and women who had been killed so far had been on the bombing mission in some way. The mission itself was called Operation Bright Burn, and it was supposed to take out a sect of the terrorist cell that had allegedly taken y/n hostage. However, from the documents Garcia has sent, it turned out to all have been a huge mistake. The terrorist cell was nowhere near the neighborhood that had been bombed, and 25 civilians had been killed, including ten women and seven children. There were only two other people who could be targets. How y/n was involved was still unknown.  

As the other team members continued reading and writing down information from the files, Rossi motioned for Aaron to join him by the door. Dave and Hotch huddled, and Rossi said, “That video footage is terrible news for the State Department and DOD. No wonder the government had it buried.” Hotch nodded and replied, “It’s even worse than Desert Storm. That footage could radicalize thousands of people abroad and here nationally. Rossi didn’t mince his words when he said, “I mean it’s fucked. No matter what, we have to keep this under wraps.” Aaron nodded and said, “I’m going to go talk to the staff sergeant about keeping the other possible targets at safe houses, we don’t have time to lose, you go tell the team how iimportan tit is that none of this information leaves this room.” 

The night slowly bled into dawn. The team just had a few hours of sleep when the men were woken up with a harsh knock on their door. Morgan and Hotch were the first to the door, and a nervous-looking officer stated, “Agents, Commander Payne wants to see you at central command immediately.” Hotch nodded and said, “We’ll be there in five minutes.” Everyone else in the room had heard the conversation at the door and quickly changed. Spencer moved next door to knock on the women’s room to let them know to get up as well. Harried and worn, the BAU arrived in central command, where Commander Payne and a few other high-ranking officers were standing stiffly around a large screen. The BAU didn’t need the full breakdown of what was happening, but they got it anyway, as Commander Payne stated, “Officer Crimps has been taken hostage by the terrorist organization and is demanding 500,000 dollars for his return. They will call back in ten minutes for an answer.” Hotch looked at his team, nd they all understood. Officer Crimps was the pilot flying the bomber plane for Operation Bright Burn. The TV seems to show live video footage of the officer tied to a chair in a nondescript room. Aaron took point as usual and said, “Let me speak with the terrorists. I have hostage negotiation experience. Payne didn’t look happy, but after some convincing, he was the one to pick up after the five minutes had elapsed. 

The first thing Aaron asked was, “Who am I speaking with?” to which the voice on the other end of the line replied, “It does not matter. What matters is the innocent blood that was spilled, and how much you are willing to pay to not have more be shed.” Aaron anxiously tapped his finger on the table as the call was trying to be traced by Penelope on a secure line. He needed to keep whoever he was speaking to talking for at least two minutes. Thinking of another option, Hotch asked, “Before we talk about your ransom offer, I’d like confirmation that Officer y/l/n is alive. We won’t talk money until that fact is made clear.” There was a beat of silence before the man on the other end of the line said, “We know of no y/l/n. We only have the man you see on television. Meet us at the West shipping port in twenty-four hours, come alone and with our money, or this man dies. And he will die with the whole world watching.” With that last sentence, the line went dead. Hotch quickly changed to the line with Penelope on it and put her on speaker phone: “Garcia, were you able to trace the call?” After the sounds of frantic typing, Penelope responded, “No. There were at least a dozen layers of encryption and rerouting on that call. Whoever these people are, they have high tech. I’m sorry, Hotch. I’ll keep trying.” Disappointed again, Aaron thanked Garcia and hung up. 

Before Hotch could get a word in, Commander Payne looked at the other men in the BAU and also the BAU and said, “So Officer y/l/n went AWOL. We spent time and money on a target who’s a deserting son of a bitch while another officer’s life if being threatened. Rossi stepped in and said, “There still might be a correlation between the cases. Maybe y/n was leaking the classified documents to the terrorists.” That suggestion made Payne so mad that he slammed the tabletop top saying, “If that’s true, I will rain fire on y/l/n’s head like the plagues in the Bible.” Morgan moved forward and said, “Commander, can you share the live video footage with our team. We might be able to get to Officer Crimp before we have to think about the ransom if we can analyze the footage, but the sooner we can do that, the better chances we have.” Commander Payne looked Morgan up and down before nodding his head and saying, “You can have it, now, if you don’t mind, I need to make a call to the Pentagon hostage negotiation.” When Commander Payne and the other men had stepped out of the room, Aaron let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. He looked at Derek and said, “Good thinking to get them out of the room, now we can really strategize.” Emily added, “And now that they’re gone, we don’t have to pretend that we don’t actually know what’s going on.” 

The team took the next three hours looking at every shot of the video the terrorists had sent, listening to every cadence of the call with no avail. Just as the team was losing hope, Gacia called. Derek picked up and said, “Talk to us, Baby girl.” Penelope's smile was audible through the phone as she said, “I have something for my people.” Rossi leaned forward and asked, “Did you manage to get the track and trace?” There was a pause before Penelope said, “No, but I do have a location on Officer y/l/n. And I know she’s the one who’s been leaking the documents. Hotch seemed to sag with relief, hearing some information, and asked, “Is she working with the terrorists?” Garcia replied, “No, oh actually. The terrorists were willing to pay y/n to join them, and she wholeheartedly refused. In her message to them, she was highly offended that they would even ask. It’s so strange. Here she goes leaking all this sensitive information, which led to the deaths of three men in the military, but she’s offended to be associated with terrorists? Make it make sense.” To Aaron, however, it was starting to make sense. He replied, “She’s acting on a level of extreme moral consciousness. One that almost verges on delusion. To her, sharing the information goes above any law, any order, and religion. The question we have to ask ourselves is what pushed her to this point.” There was a brief pause before Hotch pulled himself together and said, “Thanks for the information, Penelope. We’ll keep you updated on the case,” and then he hung up the phone. 

“We hit the location hard and hot. I plan on blowing Officer y/l/n to hell.” Commander Payne said it with such confidence, and Aaron had to put on his most authoritative voice as he said, “Absolutely not. The DOD sent me and my team to figure out this case, and if you want to see Officer Crimps alive, I need to speak to Officer y/n.” Payne wheeled on Aaron and said, “Now wait a minute. I’m the commanding officer in this situation, and Officer y/n is under my jurisdiction.” Hotch let out a breath through his nose and replied, “Well, the DOD is in charge of the army, and they sent me and my team here to help you and your officers. So, would you like to waste more time while I call someone over at the Department of Defense, or can we get to officer y/l/n’s location?” 

The car ride over was tense; Rossi and Derek talked about the best way to handle the situation on the ground. Commander Payne had ordered snipers to surround the cheap motel where Officer y/n was holed up. It was decided that Aaron would go in with Emily following behind, but not so that she would be seen. The team didn’t want y/n to feel cornered. “So we think this is PTSD from what Officer y/l/n saw while she was stationed abroad? Or just watching the footage that she leaked?” Ask Spencer. Hotch looked into the review mirror to look at Reid before saying, “Something set her off. We can’t know what that means yet, but I intend to find out. And I intend to get y/l/n out of that building alive.” Rossi chipped in, “That’s going to be hard with Commander trigger happy on our ass.” The fact that no one laughed to commented back at Dave meant that he was right. 

The cars were parked a block away from the cheap motel that y/n was hiding in. The SUV and not-so-inconspicuous military HUM-V parked in another motel that might as well have a sign that read, “affairs happen here,” printed on their marquee. Hotch and Commander Payne had a private conversation that the rest of the BAU were not privy to. Finally, Aaron walked back to this group and said, “Payne’s giving Emily and me an hour, but he has his snipers ready to shoot if Officer y/n tries to make a run for it. That’s the best I can do. The clock just started, so, Em, let's get going. While I’m talking to Officer y/n, I want the rest of you to get more information. Scout out possible exits, see when y/n checked into the motel, all of that.” Rossi and Derek nodded that they’d take care of what Aaron had said, so Hotch and Prentiss turned on their heels and quickly jogged in the direction of the motel. 

The motel was old and dilapidated. It reeked of mold, peeling wallpaper, and stains the occupants didn’t want to think too much about. Penelope had forwarded y/n’s room number along with the name of the motel - The Lucky Star - which sounded more like a casino than a place for people to sleep. The outdoor stairs to the second floor looked rusted and ready to crumble, but thankfully, they didn’t make a noise as the agent duo moved up them. Emily stayed at the top of the stairs, while Aaron crouched forward and walked to room 215. He stayed lower than the peephole and knocked on the door before moving back behind the wall. There was a moment before a voice replied, “I didn’t ask for any cleaning services, and if you’re soliciting, I’ll call management. Now go away.” Aaron waited a beat before replying, “This isn’t housekeeping. My name is Agent Aaron Hotchner from the Behavior Analysis Unit. I just want to talk.” Y/n replied through the door, “I’m done talking, and I’m done watching. I’m finally doing something for once in my life, Agent, and you can’t stop me.” Aaron nodded, trying to think of an angle to work as he bought time saying, “I understand why you feel like you have to do this, y/n.” Hotch could hear that sigh through the door as y/n responded, “How could you possibly know why I’m doing this? And even if you did, it doesn’t matter, you can’t undo what I’ve done. The internet is forever. The whole world will see what the U.S. Government is willing to do to innocent people in the name of freedom.” 

Hotch remembered that y/n was driven by moral obligation as he said, “Those terrorists. The ones that offered you a job? They have Officer Crimps. They plan to kill him unless we can find him first. You can help us with that. No one else has to die.” Y/n replied, “Crimps isn’t innocent. He has blood on his hands, too. Not that I want him to die, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make if I can get the last of this information out to the public. My last service to my country.” Just as y/n finished speaking, there was a loud blaring noise and the sound of a megaphone attached to speakers as Commander Payne’s voice echoed through the room and outdoor hallway: “This is Commander Payne of the U.S. Army. Officer y/l/n you have thirty minutes to surrender yourself to court martial. If you don’t come out willingly, we will see that you are taken by force. The second option will not be a fun experience for you. I promise you that.” Aaron cursed under his breath. He had been promised a full hour to talk to y/n. To get her to come willingly, the commander was forcing his hand. 

There were some sounds from inside the room, and Aaron began to panic. Just as he was about to kick open the door, he could he it unlock from the inside. Hotch stopped just in time to not kick in an open door like Derek might have. Sensing something might be off, Aaron pulled out his gun and moved to the door. It only took a light push for the door to swing inward. Aaron didn’t charge in. There was a room with a ghastly green carpet and wallpaper from the eighties. The bed was covered in papers and multiple laptops and monitors. There was a desk with a chair that looked like it was about to fall apart. However, y/n was nowhere to be seen. And if she had moved to the balcony, Commander Payne would have said something already. That left the small closet to the left of the door, or what had to be the bathroom on the right. Aaron crept into the room and opened the shallow closet, and felt inside with his right hand. It was empty. Before Aaron could call out, there was a voice from behind the bathroom door, “In here, Agent Hotchner. I’m unarmed.” Hotch furrowed his brow, It sounded like y/n was having a hard time talking. No matter what Officer y/l/n said, Aaron was still cautious and kept his gun in front of him as he opened the bathroom door. The fluorescent tube was flickering on the yellowing tiled floor. The shade covering the light of the sink was covered in dust with bugs trapped inside. Officer y/n was draped over the toilet. She was breathing fast, and sweat covered her face and arms. It was pooling at the pits of her arms. 

Hotch quickly holstered his weapon, realizing that y/n wasn’t going to be a threat to him. Aaron moved to his knees in the small space next to y/n, who was starting to spasm involuntarily. Leaning above her, Aaron looked into y/n’s y/e/c eyes and asked, “What’d you take, Officer y/l/n?” y/n coughed and turned her head to vomit into the toilet. She didn’t really make it, but that didn’t seem to bother her. Y/n handed an empty pill bottle to Aaron and said, “I’m not really an officer anymore, Agent Hotchner. You don’t need to keep up the formality.” Hotch looked at the title on the bottle, Duloxetine. Y/n was overdosing, and he said, “We need to get you medical attention, fast.” Y/n shook her head and said, “Please, don’t. I… I’m ready. I can’t live the rest of my life in a military prison., Just let me go.” Hotch knew that wasn’t how justice worked. However, he knew that time was precious, and he asked, “Why do it? You swore an oath to your country? What made you a traitor?” Y/n looked at Aaron with thanks in her eyes, which were turning glassy. She knew Agent Hotchner was giving her more time, time to die. So she stated with struggle, “Crimps and I were fucking. It gets boring being at an outpost all the time with nothing to do.” Y/n coughed and said, “One night he seemed more excited than usual. As we were fucking he told me he’d ran a mission early that day. That he’d killed a lot of people, and some of them were civilians. He was gleeful about it. Something in me just snapped that night. Can you imagine going down on a woman and saying you’d killed innocent people while doing that?” 

Aaron nodded no, and moved his hand to brush some spittle from the corner of y/n’s mouth as he said, “No. I can’t. I’m sorry.” Y/n shook her head slightly as the tremors in her body got worse. “I had to let the world know., I’ve done such horrible things in the name of this country, and I’m ashamed. I’m trying not to be scared.” Hotch cupped y/n’s face as tears streamed down her cheek and into his hands. He knew the pain must be horrible as he said, “I know. You’re being very brave. But no one else has to die. Tell me where Crimps is being held. Please.” Y/n closed her eyes, every breath a pain as she whispered, “22 West Westlake Ave. Unit 110.” Y/n took one last breath before saying, “Tell my family I’m sorry.” With that,t y/n gave out a cry and seized until she went rigid and her breathing stopped. Aaron did what he could, but by the time the ambulance and the Army came storming in, y/n had passed to wherever she was destined to go next. 

There was no time to grieve or think, and Aaron, his team, and the Army moved onto the terrorists’ location to save Crimps, who had a few broken bones but was going to be okay with some rest and leave. It was late when Aaron made the call to break the news to y/n’s family. Hotch was tired, emotional. He could feel the anticipation on the other end of the phone as he stated, “Y/n wanted to let you know that… that she loved you.” Just as he heard the tears begin on the other end of the line, he slipped to phone over to JJ to continue the rest of the difficult conversation. Aaron slipped out the back door, the base's head command. Standing in the dark, Aaron leaned against the wall and let out a breath. He was alone for only a few minutes before Rossi also exited the building and asked, “Hard day?” Aaron looked over to his friend with tired eyes, saying, “They’ll bury the victims this weekend with pomp and circumstance. Men who were all involved in the killing of innocents. Officer Crimps will be a hero. And Officer y/l/n? What does she get? Nothing but a dishonorable discharge even in death. She was trying to show people the ugly truth that can never be seen.” Rossi sighed and said, “They don’t pay us to think about things like that, Aaron. Just remember, you did what you could today. And you were there for y/n when she probably needed someone the most.” Hotch gave a slight nod, and Rossi patted his arm before returning inside.

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

Tag list: @potatovoyager @princessjax @geminitapestry @mandarinmoons @alicewonderao3 @beardedhotchner @michasia24

Want to be added to my tag list? Please check out this post (linked) 

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[marithlizard]

Oh geez, people have been trying to correct this misinformation since at least 2022? I only saw a debunking post for the first time a few months ago. Lies really can run around the world before the truth has got its boots on, Pratchett was right.

[ID: a tag reading, “#don’t eat citrus if you have any mental health problems #the vitamin C is so bad for you” end ID]

losing my fucking mind over how people will come on here and say just the easiest to disprove absolutely inane lies. for no reason at all

[hotwaterandmilk]

Hello, I found this floating on pinterest and tried to find the source in your blog but I don't know well how to use Tumblr and couldn't find it. Do you happen to remember where is it from?

Hi, sure thing I scanned these adhesives from my copy of the PSME Memory Book. This furoku item came with the third issue of Hana to Yume from 1990 and includes paper, postcards and stickers.

Hope that helps you track down the original item. ^^

[son-of-avraham]

I absolutely adore how safe I feel in my offline (and, to an extent, online) jewish spaces. What I don't adore is why I only really feel safe in those spaces (jew hatred is so vapid)

[welcometoqueer]

I haven’t really seen any of the more recent U.S. election news hitting tumblr yet so here’s some updates (now edited with sources added):

There’s evidence of Trump cheating and interfering with the election.

Possible Russian interference.

Mail-in ballots are not being counted or “recognized” in multiple (notably swing) states.

30+ bomb threats were called in and shut down polling stations on Election Day.

20+ million votes are still unaccounted for, and that’s just to have the same voter turnout as 2020.

There was record voter turnout and new/first-time voter registration this year. We definitely should be well over the turnout in 2020.

U.S. citizens are using this site to demand, not only a recount, but a complete investigation into election fraud and interference for the reasons stated above:

Here is what I submitted as an example:

An investigation for election interference and fraud is required. We desperately need a recount or even a revote. The American people deserve the right to a free and fair election. There has been evidence unveiled of Trump cheating and committing election fraud which is illegal. There is some evidence of possible Russian interference. At least 30+ bomb threats were called in to polling places. Multiple, notably swing states, have ballots unaccounted for and voting machines not registering votes. Ballots and ballot boxes were tampered with and burned. Over 20 million votes that we know of are unaccounted for. With record turnout and new voter registration this year, there should be no possibility that there are less votes than even in the 2020 election.

Sources (working on finding more links but if anyone wants to add info, it’s appreciated):

FBI addressing Russian interference and bomb threats:

Emails released by Rachael Bellis (private account, can’t share original tweet) confirming Trump committing election fraud:

Pennsylvania's Centre County officials say they are working with their ballot scanner vendor to figure out why the county's mail-in ballot data is "not being recognized when uploaded to the elections software:”

Wisconsin recount:

[ID:

Multiple screenshots and images.

The first is a screenshot with a link and information for contacting the White House directly regarding election fraud. The instructions include choosing to leave a comment to President Joe Biden directly and to select election security as the reason.

The screenshot then instructs people to include any or all of the following information in a paragraph as a comment to the president:

32 fake bomb threats were called into Democratic leaning poll places, rendering polling places closed for at least an hour.

A lot of people reporting their ballots were not counted for various reasons.

This all occurred in swing states.

This is too coincidental that these things happen and swing in his favor after months of hinting at foul play.

Directly state that an investigation for tampering, interference, fraud is required, not just a recount.

The second image is from the FBI Twitter account that reads:

The FBI is aware of bomb threats to polling locations in several states, many of which appear to originate from Russian email domains. None of the threats have been determined to be credible thus far. https://t.co/j3YfajVK1m — FBI (@FBI) November 5, 2024

The next four Gmail screenshots of an email sent to Rachael Bellis from Chris T. Spackman that read together as follows:

Dear BELLIS, RACHAEL E., The Dauphin County Board of Elections received a challenge to your absentee ballot you applied for in the November 5, 2024 General Election. The challenge argues that a provision of the Pennsylvania Election Code takes precedence over the federal Uniformed and Overseas Citizens Absentee Voting Act (UOCAVA), which requires states and counties to permit U.S. citizens who move overseas to vote by absentee ballot for federal offices based on their last U.S. residential address.

The full text of the challenge that was filed appears below this email.

You may respond to the challenge in any of the following ways:

1. Call the Bureau of Registration and Election at (717) 780-6360;

2. Email a statement to the Bureau at Election election@dauphincounty.gov. Any statement you submit regarding the period during which you lived in Dauphin County, any family or connections that you still have here, and why you are now residing abroad would be read into the record.

3. Appear in person at a Board of Elections hearing scheduled for Friday, November 8 at a time to be determined in the Commissioners Public Hearing Room, 4th floor of Dauphin County Administration Building, 2 S 20d St, Harrisburg, PA 17111. The meeting is also likely to be livestreamed on Facebook on the Dauphin County channel.

Sincerely,

Christopher T Spackman

TEXT OF CHALLENGE BEGINS

Dear Dauphin County Board of Elections,

I am submitting this challenge to an absentee ballot application pursuant to 25 Pa. Stat.

3146.8(f).

25 Pa. Stat. 3146.8(f) Any person challenging an application for an absentee ballot, an absentee ballot, an application for a mail-in ballot or a mail-in ballot for any of the reasons provided in this act shall deposit the sum of ten dollars ($10.00) in cash with the county board, which sum shall only be refunded if the challenge is sustained or if the challenge is withdrawn within five (5) days after the primary or election. If the challenge is dismissed by any lawful order then the deposit shall be forfeited. The county board shall deposit all deposit money in the general fund of the…

The rest of the forwarded email is cut off.

The last image is a screenshot of the official statement from the Centre County, Pennsylvania Board of Commissioners released on November 6, 2024 that states:

Centre County Working with Ballot Scanner Vendor to Export Election Results.

(Bellefonte, PA) -Centre County Elections Office is working continuously to provide mail-in ballot data in order to post unofficial results.

To this point, all ballots have been scanned, including all mail-in ballots.

Centre County's Election team and IT team have identified that the data are successfully being exported from the mail-in ballot scanners, but that the data is not being recognized when uploaded to the elections software.

Centre County's Administrator, John Franek, Jr. stated, "We have not stopped working, and we will continue to work until unofficial results are posted and reported to the Pennsylvania Department of State."

As a next step, Centre County has begun working with the equipment vendor to adjust configurations to make the two systems-the mail-in ballot scanner and the elections software where data are uploaded -compatible with one another.

We will provide updates as we make progress.

/end ID]

[laxsland]

Reblogging again because this is VITALLY important!

Just in case

[greenflowerceo]

Here's how you can help Palestine!!

Educate yourself and spread awareness with the help of these sites:

Al Jazeera - This is a news site that gives constant updates and information on Palestine.

Decolonize Palestine - This is a website that informs you about the history of Palestine, debunk myths, and gives out a lot of resources to look into.

Visualizing Palestine - This site creates infographics that can help people visualize the statistics from data collected about Palestine. They are free to download and share around.

US Campaign for Palestinian Rights - This website includes numerous campaigns and resources you can look into and support.

The Palestinian Museum Digital Archive - This site features a collection of many things from Palestine that archives documents, letters, and other items that show the lives and experiences of Palestinians.

Ways you can donate to/support families in Palestine:

Arab.org - Just do your daily clicks and you get to donate for free. Please take the time to donate to all of the causes.

Gaza Funds - Every time you refresh the site, it leads you to a different GoFundMe page for the people who need help.

Care for Gaza - This is an organization that sends aid out to Palestine, you can find more in their Twitter/X account. They also have a PayPal.

eSims for Gaza - You can send an eSim to people in Palestine to help them connect and reach out.

Emergency Relief for Gaza - This is a campaign that gives food, medical supplies, and other humanitarian aid to families from donations.

Medical Aid for Palestinians (MAP) - They also give medical aid to the people in Palestine and you can also support by donating to them as well.

Palestine Children's Relief Fund (PCRF) - Donate here to give funds and support to the children in Palestine as they specialize in pediatric care.

Google Docs/Spreadsheets:

Make sure to look at the other tabs within the spreadsheets as they lead to more options/resources!

Help Gaza - This is a spreadsheet with a list of fundraisers for different families/causes that need support! Look through and donate when you can!

Operation Olive Branch - This is a spreadsheet with many links and ways to help in the project! There are campaigns, fundraisers, volunteer work for other parts of the causes and such! Make sure to check it out!

★RESOURCE LINKS AND INFO★ - A google document made from Twitter/X user: para_docx. This includes links, resources, and information for the other ongoing genocides as well.

Some of these documents intersect and have similar resources and links, but I'm adding them just to make sure as they may also have some that aren't listed in this post either.

Free Palestine.

[thecaptainsbunk]

i'm not beating the dog allegations by wearing my collar to be better ready for Emotional Support Animal Duty, am I?

[opencommunion]

read and reblog please

I want to make sure this information gets through to everyone: the racist genocidal German state could deport Bilal @bilal-salah0 within the next week, after he lost his job and home, heaping cruelty after cruelty onto this young man who has been working nonstop to provide for his family facing genocide in Gaza.

he's supporting 18 people there, including 8 kids under age 16. now Bilal needs to finish fundraising for his family before August 15th when he could be deported. that's one week from today.

Bilal needs to raise €25000 in the next 7 days to make sure his family has enough to survive if he can no longer fundraise. Bilal shared this dire news with us on Tuesday, but in spite of thousands of notes on @malcriada, @appsa, and others' posts about the situation, the campaign received only €3650 in the last two days.

it seems like people are somehow not seeing the urgency and severity of the situation. donations also slowed over the past week because Bilal couldn't be online to promote the campaign, and because of the recent racist attacks against fundraising efforts here. there's a lot of ground to make up and very little time, but we can do it. please donate any amount you can, those €5s add up if enough people help. reblog this as well as the posts linked above, and tell your friends and social media outside tumblr. and most importantly, seriously, please donate whatever you can. we need to come through for Bilal's family now, not later. please take this seriously, please help them.

August 8th: €75,467 / €100,000

plain text and tags under the cut

PT: read and reblog please

I want to make sure this information gets through to everyone: the racist genocidal German state could deport Bilal @/bilal-salah0 within the next week, after he lost his job and home, heaping cruelty after cruelty onto this young man who has been working nonstop to provide for his family facing genocide in Gaza. now Bilal needs to finish fundraising for his family before August 15th when he could be deported. that's one week from today.

Bilal needs to raise €25000 in the next 7 days to make sure his family has enough to survive if he can no longer fundraise. Bilal shared this dire news with us on Tuesday, but in spite of thousands of notes on @/malcriada, @/appsa, and others' posts about the situation, the campaign received only €3650 in the last two days.

it seems like people are somehow not seeing the urgency and severity of the situation. donations also slowed over the past week because Bilal couldn't be online to promote the campaign, and because of the recent racist attacks against fundraising efforts here. there's a lot of ground to make up and very little time, but we can do it. please donate any amount you can, those €5s add up if enough people help. reblog this as well as the posts linked above, and tell your friends and social media outside tumblr. and most importantly, seriously, please donate whatever you can. we need to come through for Bilal's family now, not later. please take this seriously, please help them.

August 8th: €75,467 / €100,000

/end PT

lmk if you don't want to be tagged next time. ty!

@feluka @tortiefrancis @timetravellingkitty @flouryhedgehog @jinnazah

@mazzikah @irhabiya @terroristiraqis @watchnpray @stuckinapril

@soracities @bloglikeanegyptian @handweavers @trans-axolotl @plomegranate

@briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring @schoolhater

@pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @anneemay @bedufairy

@starstrucksnowing @handsworthsongs

@libraryposting @geeseareassholes @wellwaterhysteria @deepspaceboytoy @edwordsmyth

@chilewithcarnage @psychotic-gerard @post-brahminism @bringmemyrocks @arslanjae

@determinate-negation @khanger @kibumkim @qattdraws @brutaliakhoa

@sharingresourcesforpalestine @neechees @mothblossoms @gothhabiba @mangocheesecakes

@reduxskullduggerry @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @kyra45-helping-others @log6 @7bitter

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @palms-upturned @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid

@capricornpropaganda @communist-ojou-sama @xinakwans @heritageposts @velvetys

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat @watermotif @mavigator

@lacecap @littlestpersimmon @socalgal @ghelgheli @northgazaupdates2 @vakarians-babe

[lestis]

At first i thought this was referring to what happened in March 2020, but no. Things haven’t changed! Even as far back as 1918 this was happening! (More on that later.)

The health center in this case was in Seattle, not Canada, but it’s close to the border for a reason. it’s explained further by this article:

When Canada shut its borders to stem the flow of COVID-19 last year, people continued to cross freely into Indigenous communities in Ontario and B.C. by water—mingling with residents who had scarce access to masks or even clean water for hand washing.

Native communities in both the US and Canada are severely neglected and actively endangered.

Indigenous people weren't consulted when lockdowns happened. They don't have a seat at the table. Whether you're talking about the federal, provincial or the local level, they're not asked their opinion. In B.C., the federal government closed borders without their knowledge.

In Ontario, when they opened up the province in July, they didn't talk to First Nations people. They didn't seem to realize people would get in their boats and come to the First Nations, bringing COVID to our communities. People would tie their boats off and walk into the communities like there was no pandemic. To me, that was a huge eye-opening piece. (University of Toronto)

It's expected that epidemics hurt those of lower socioeconomic means in particular, which many tribes are unfortunately within. Other communities of color—specifically Pacific Islander, Latino and Black communities—were hit heavily as well, having a "COVID-19 death rate of double or more that of White and Asian Americans."

Indigenous communities still have the highest percentage of deaths, which the Great Falls Tribune attributes to long-term disinvestment, racist public policies, ongoing settler colonialism. Chronic underfunding (especially in healthcare) with outdated machinery, crowded homes and deficient plumbing also contribute to the issue. Many reservations have little access to clean water, despite tribal water rights legally recognized for over a century. It makes sense that on reservations in particular, there often isn't enough room for people to quarantine the way that most of us are able to.

Native American communities are often the latest to be addressed when it comes to federal resources. This is consistent with what happened in 1918, which Dana Hedgpeth of the Washington Post pointed out in her article "Native American tribes were already being wiped out. Then the 1918 flu hit" (unfortunately the whole article is behind the paywall).

Frustratingly, articles such as this one attribute the high death toll to (as well as underlying health conditions), "lack of institutional resilience, the relationship between the federal governments and tribal governments, and lack of social trust." This may be true, but if so is not unwarranted given the many, many legally-binding treaties that have not been upheld. There is a whole History article on Broken Treaties with indigenous populations, and that's only covering some of the most famous ones!

Not to mention that Indigenous Americans have lower life expectancy and significantly disproportionate rates of diseases and chronic conditions, which as we know makes them all the more vulnerable to death upon contracting disease. In fact, an analysis of disparities conducted by the Federal Health Program for American Indians and Alaska Natives states, "American Indians and Alaska Natives continue to die at higher rates than other Americans in many categories, including chronic liver disease and cirrhosis, diabetes mellitus, unintentional injuries, assault/homicide, intentional self-harm/suicide, and chronic lower respiratory diseases."

Suffice to say, despite the many leaps in indigenous representation and recognition, indigenous tribes are often given the short end of the stick, especially when it comes to healthcare. We have to make it so that the next time something like this happens—and make no mistake, it will happen—things will be different.

[ms-demeanor]

Can you tell me it'll be okay? And mean it?

Yeah. It feels like shit now and there's a lot to worry about, but there was a lot to worry about last month and four years ago and eight years ago and twelve years ago and sixteen and twenty and twenty four and twenty eight and on and on and on.

Continue to work locally, continue to help people, continue to speak up for what is right and protest what is wrong.

We all should be breaking unjust laws and taking care of one another because you don't survive things like this by being isolated and alone, you survive things like this by building networks and creating parallel systems and growing tight bonds with the people in your community (either physically or digitally).

Plan on helping someone get an abortion. Plan on lying to ICE. Plan on helping someone get hormones. Plan on defending an encampment. Plan on sharing information that is being hidden. Plan on potesting a pipeline or supporting forest defense. Plan on not crossing picket lines. Plan on helping your friends get their meds.

The US Federal Government sucks shit and is not here to help. But there are millions of people who want to help each other, and those are the people you should be focusing your energy on.

It's going to be hard, but it was always going to be hard. I believe in my community, I believe in the networks I've built, I believe in the ability of small groups to make change and I believe in you.

Don't panic about what's on the horizon, do something *today* that will make someone else's life better tomorrow and it will feel less like the world is falling down.

[brokenbarnes]

Echos

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky's worst nightmare comes true. You come back to him after taking a turn in Hydra's electric chair.

Warnings: mentions of canon level violence. Memory loss.

A/N: Probably the longest fic I've posted to date. Send me ideas!!

Read part two here: Convergent

There are very few things in his life that Bucky holds near and dear to his heart. His backpack of possessions, including a notebook of scattered memories and pamphlets from the Smithsonian, his dog tags that were returned to him after his pardon, Steve; his best friend in the universe, and you.

The word girlfriend doesn’t even begin to describe what you mean to him. What started out as shy romantic intentions has blossomed into what one would not dare to call codependency; but an unyielding show of love that has kept you both out of the madhouse.

You’re his partner in everything, sparring, ping pong tournaments, missions and most importantly in life. It is rare to find one of you without the other.

So when he watched in horror as you, gagged, handcuffed and unconscious, were stuffed into the trunk of a car and all he could was watch. His body was temporarily paralyzed by electrical cattle prods, the enemy left him laying in the wet gravel and took you instead.

He tried to yell, to call out but all that could come out of his mouth was a weak moan. He watched in horror as the car peeled out of the parking lot, spraying gravel and taking his heart with them.

It wasn’t until Steve found him a few minutes later and through awful gasps in his voice, that he explained what happened. Steve had him sit, pushed his head between his knees until he was breathing evenly again. He promised his best friend that he would find you.

It took a month to even figure out a possible location of where the car could have taken you. A month of sleepless nights, intense meetings and trying to keep his hopes up as search and rescue missions turned up empty. Bucky could barely step foot in the bedroom you shared with him without feeling like he got sucker punched in the gut, doubling over with yearning and guilt.

It didn’t help his hopes that he insisted on going on every search and rescue operation. Clearing warehouses, abandoned Hydra facilities only to go home to an empty bed where the nightmares of his past found him.

The day that he found you will forever be seared in his scarred memory. A Hydra base, his head pounding with what he thought was déjà vu but was probably former memories trying to find the correct keyhole in his mind.

Together, him and Natasha cleared rooms in effective silence. They’ve done this countless times over the course of the month. Both of your best friends wouldn’t stop until they found you.

“Barnes, we got a heat signature in the next room,” she murmured, pressing the small earpiece. Most likely getting the information from Sam and Redwing. “There’s no way to tell who it is.”

He nodded, staring at the heavy duty door in front of him. His mind was already calculating the best way to access whoever was inside. Should he hit it with the arm? Shoot a few bullets into the lock?

Natasha reached over and tried the handle, finding it unlocked with only a shrug of her shoulders; she forged ahead.

Bucky blinked, regaining his senses. He followed Nat into the room only to stop suddenly in his steps.

He had been in this room before, many times in fact. He knew that because of the chair, the electrodes attached, the metal tables and equipment scattered around the room. This is where they wiped his memories.

So when he saw you slumped in the chair, his heart stopped.

“No,” he whispered, surging forward. He dropped his weapon, sinking to his knees in front of you. “Y/N?”

You looked asleep, knees pulled up to your chest, too thin arms wrapped around your shins, head pressed towards your lap.

“Y/N, Doll,” he whispered, reaching out to lay a hand on your arm. As soon as you felt his touch, you jolted as if he was the one who had been administering the electricity. You raised your head quickly, scooting back as far as you could in the chair, arms gripping the arm rest. Fear had blown your eyes wide, staring into the face of your long-term boyfriend.

Bucky’s stomach twisted, from your reaction, from the blood drying in splotches on your face, from the burn marks pressed into your temples.

“Hey, you’re okay,” he tried reaching out again, but you shifted farther away. “It’s okay.”

He turned to look back at Nat, who was radioing to the team that you had been located and to send in a medical team.

“Y/N,” he whispered, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “We’re going to get you home.”

You were shaking, fear still in your eyes as you continued to blanch at him. Bucky watched your whole body tremble violently, a question he didn’t want to ask on the tip of his tongue.

“Y/N, do you know who I am?” His voice was soft, understanding.

You shook your head, pressing yourself as far back in the leather chair as you could. Nat approached slowly, making your eyes flicker over to her, Bucky could see your pulse beating wildly in your neck.

“Nat, let’s give her some space,” Bucky whispered, rising on shaky legs. He turned away from you, pressing his flesh hand over his eyes to hide the tears prickling in his tear ducts.

Nat took a step back, pressing her hand into Bucky’s shoulder but keeping an eye on you. You had shrunk into yourself again, curled up into a ball and shivering against the dark leather.

“This isn’t your fault, Barnes,” Nat murmured to him as he struggled to keep his composure. “She’s going to be alright.”

He took a deep shuddering breath and straightened his shoulders. Nat looked over at him once more before stepping into the hallway to lead the medical team in.

Bucky turned to look at you, you were watching him with wide, careful eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he shook his head. “I’ll never hurt you.”

Your eyes were skeptical, body language extremely closed off. You had never once looked at him like this in your life and it felt like someone had punched through his chest and ripped out his heart.

You screamed when the medical team got close to you, a horrible, blood curdling scream that Bucky had only heard one other time in his life. Sam and Nat had to hold Bucky back as they pressed a needle to your arm full of enough sedatives to knock out a super soldier. You slumped in the chair soon after, eyes closed, lashes brushing against bruised skin.

“Let me carry her,” Bucky said firmly as the medical team prepped to transfer you to a gurney. “Please.”

Reluctantly, they let Bucky scoop you up in his arms and led the way back to the sunlight. He cradled you close to his chest, concern ripping through his chest at how light you felt, bones and joints instead of plush flesh he usually felt.

In the Quinjet, he laid you down on the gurney and took a step back to let the medics work. He didn’t stray very far, hovering over shoulders, trying to stay out of the way as they assessed you for injuries.

Nat eventually grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to a seat, handing him a bottle of water. He dropped his head into his hands and tried to focus on taking deep breaths.

You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember anyone. Hydra wiped your memory like they did his.

When the landing gear touched the tarmac, Nat held him back as the medical team rushed you to the infirmary. Sam squeezed his shoulder before brushing past him, following you into the building.

“Barnes, you gotta listen to me,” Nat spoke in a firm voice. “She’s going to be confused when she wakes up. She’s not going to remember a whole lot. You gotta get her to trust you.”

“Nat, they… they…” he trailed off, eyes faraway.

“I know,” she nodded. “We’re going to get her back, it’s just going to take some time.”

He nodded, bending his head to wipe his eyes. The redhead pulled him in for a hug, patting his back over the layers of Kevlar he wore. She pulled away, he schooled his features into a little emotion as possible before heading down the ramp to find you.

It was some hours later before you finally woke. You had been cleared of any major physical injuries, just some minor cuts and bruises; everyone’s main concern was the mental damage that Hydra had done.

Bucky hadn’t left your side since you had been admitted, still in his tac suit, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair that had been shoved next to your bed. Your hand looked so small in his, knuckles carrying fading bruises that made him smile knowing you didn’t go easily.

Despite the sedation, you weren’t sleeping easily. Shifting and mumbling in your sleep, expression pinched into an unpleasant expression Bucky has only seen once in a blue moon.

He watched your eyes flutter open, hazy and confused; most likely from the amount of drugs being filtered through your IV.

“Hey Doll,” he murmured, setting your hand gently on the sheets covering your legs. “Welcome back.”

Your eyes attempted to concentrate on him, blinking and shaking your head to try and getting the lens of your eye to focus. When they did, panic pumped through your veins and you jerked away from him.

“It’s okay,” he said in a gentle voice. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Your eyes scanned the room in a hazy sweep, taking in the medical equipment and the different environment. You scrambled away, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and pressing yourself into the corner; tripping over the legs of medical equipment and various cords.

“S-stay away,” you stammered, holding out your hands in front of me. “I can’t do it anymore.”

Bucky didn’t move from his spot in the car, despite his heart pounding in his chest. “Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Please,” the whimper broke his heart. “Please, I want to go home.”

“Where’s home, Honey?” He asked, tilting his head at you, trying to hide the hurt in his voice.

You faltered, confused by his question. The wheels started spinning in your mind when you realized what you had said; the uncertainty on how to answer sent your head spinning.

The door opened, a team of medical professionals entered which sent you sideways again. Bucky locked eyes with Dr. Cho as she held a syringe loaded with sedative.

“No,” you sobbed. “No, please!”

“Y/N, this will just help you sleep,” Cho moved forward with the needle, cap still on.

Bucky stood as you started to scream, the same as when you were found. An ear splitting shriek that turned his stomach.

You were extremely combative, taking the entire staff to restrain you as Cho administered another fast acting sedative. They tucked your limp form back into bed, fixed your IV and other external monitors before leaving.

A hand on his shoulder startled him, he turned to find Sam standing behind him. He gave the soldier a sympathetic smile before handing him a backpack full of fresh clothes and toiletries.

“Get changed, she’s not going to remember you smelling like that,” Sam tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

When you slept, Bucky let himself hold your hand. He’d press your knuckles to his lips, fighting back tears as he remembers the confusion and panic that comes with memory loss.

You wake a few more times, less confused each time as your surroundings stay consistent. Including the big bulky man sitting in the chair beside your bed.

“Who are you?” You whispered, staring up at the ceiling.

Bucky blinked his tired eyes open, setting your hand back down on the bed from where he had it pressed against his cheek.

“My name is Bucky.”

“Why do you stay?” Your voice was weak.

He bit his lip, holding back a response that might confuse or overwhelm you. “Because I understand.”

“What do you mean?” You swiped a hand across your damp eyes, trying to focus on his face.

“What they did to you, they did to me too,” he whispered. Without thinking, he reached out to the bandages on your temples, where the electrodes had zapped you without enough voltage to burn your skin; and wipe your memories.

As he leaned close to you, you were able to focus on his face. A headache formed behind your eyes, making you squeeze your eyes shut and press your hand to the bridge of your nose.

“What is it?” He pulled his hand back, cursing internally for forgetting himself.

“My head,” you gasp, sitting up. “It hurts.”

“I know,” the soldier nodded sadly. He still gets that same headache sometimes, when he can feel the memory rattling around inside his brain but it doesn’t know how to file it. “It will pass.”

You let him rub your back as you sit with your head between your knees. He allows himself to enjoy pressing his palm between your shoulder blades, pretending that this is any other day and you remember all the love he has given.

Eventually, you raise your head and look sideways at him, cheek resting on your forearms. “They’ve done this to you?”

He nodded, placing his hand back in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” your eyes water again.

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago.” He murmured, then after a breath twists his fingers together. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

You lay back down, covering yourself up with the thin blankets. “’s not your fault, Bucky.”

He blinks back tears as you drift off to sleep.

Eventually Nat strong-armed Bucky into taking his place for a while, she sat in his chair while he went upstairs with instructions to shower and eat before coming back down.

After throwing together a quick sandwich to eat and downing a bottle of water, he finds himself in the bedroom you share.

It hasn’t looked the same in the month you’ve been gone. He’s tried to keep it neat, but it’s losing it’s touch. The way you fold a knit blanket over the end of the bed, the multiple drink cups that clutter the bedside table, the messy bookcase you continuously arrange and rearrange based on an order inside your mind.

The shower is too hot, but it keeps his mind off you. His skin is bright red and raw by the time he turns the water off, wrapping a towel around his waist.

The closet brings a tidal wave of emotions he wasn’t expecting. He realizes that you might want some clothes of your own, that might help you feel home in the echo that is your mind.

After getting dressed, he picks out a few pairs of clothes for you. Some of your favorite comfortable clothes, a worn t-shirt, a stretchy pair of leggings, slipper socks in case your feet get cold. He packed them up in a tote bag with some local bookstore’s logo printed across the front and slung it over his metal shoulder.

When he returns, Nat is talking to you in a soft voice that trails off when he steps through the door. He tries to smile at you, but you turn to hide your face in the hospital pillow. He feels as if someone has reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart in a vice grip.

“I brought you some clothes,” he set the tote down on the end of your bed.

You waited until he backed away before reaching into the bag. He watched as you tentatively reached into the bag and pulled out the t-shirt out. With a start, he realized that it was once his. A SHIELD-issue grey t-shirt, he had somehow ripped a hole in the sleeve and had retired it to the back of the closet. You picked it up out of the laundry and claimed it as your own.

You closed your eyes, pressing the fabric of the shirt to your sheet, turning your nose into the collar to breathe in the scent. His heart stuttered.

“This is mine,” you murmured, making him crack a smile.

“It is, Sweetheart,” he breathed.

Nat squeezed his shoulder before making her exit. He moved without noise to sit in the chair, resting his forearms on his knees.

You moved carefully off the bed toward the small en-suite bathroom with the bag in your arms. Fearful eyes caught Bucky’s, making him sit up straight.

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He tried to keep his voice calm.

“Can… can you keep watch?” Your voice trembled and his heart broke.

He nodded, standing up to follow you in the direction of the bathroom. You slid the door shut, but kept it open just a crack. Bucky put his back to the door, remembering the feeling all too well.

The vulnerability Hydra forces out of you is something he is still working to break. You never want to turn your back, to undress, to be unguarded in case they made their next move.

When the door opens next, you seem a little less on edge. Dressed in the grey t-shirt and a pair of dark leggings, you almost look like who he once knew.

You tuck yourself back into bed, pulling your knees up to your chest. Bucky settled back into the chair, scrubbing a hand across his eyes.

“Bucky?” You ask so softly, he’s not sure he heard you at first.

He lifted his head, smiling at you. “Yeah, Honey?”

“I told you I wanted to go home,” your voice shook, picking at the seam of the fuzzy socks.

He nodded.

“And… and I didn’t know where home is,” your voice cracked and his heart splinter even further.

He nodded, trying his hardest not to speak in order for you to continue.

“Can you show me where home is?” Tears were in your eyes now, chin wobbling with the effort to contain it.

“Of course, Honey,” he nodded. “You wanna go right now?”

You nodded.

He stood up and held out his hand to you, you took it to help you off the bed. You had been unhooked from all your monitors earlier in the day so there was nothing to worry about with the nurses.

Physically you were fine, but he was still holding out hope that your memory would return. You never lost hope with his recovery, he could only offer you the same curtesy.

He felt already better with your hand in his, leading you out of the infirmary and into the elevator. You don’t let go of his hand in the enclosed space, in fact stepping closer as the floor rises.

Bucky fights the urge to hook his arm over your shoulder, tug you in close against his chest. You’re standing in his space, leaning on his ability to protect you from whatever comes through the door.

You’re quiet as the doors open, eyes quickly taking in your new surroundings. Bucky tugs on your hand, leading you out into the space you’ve shared with him for quite some time now.

“I live here?” You whisper, taking in the foyer and kitchen area. Too many shoes scattered by the door, umbrella leaning against the linen closet door. A whiteboard calendar holding onto the drywall for dear life with two command strips and a thumbtack.

“You do,” Bucky confirms, toeing off his shoes and leaving them by the door. “Are you hungry? I can make you something.”

You shake your head, which concerns him because you haven’t exactly eaten since you returned. You go into the kitchen anyway, leaving Bucky behind in the foyer; he mourns the loss of your hand.

He finds you staring at the mug left by the coffee maker. You had left it there that morning you disappeared, drank half before running out the door. He looked around the messy kitchen and feels a hint of shame that he should have cleaned up before bringing you in.

You press your hand to your eyes, the way you do when your brain is lost. You grip the edge of the counter, he moves quickly to your side.

“It’s all familiar,” you grit your teeth through the pain. “But I can’t… I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” he sooths a hand over your shoulder blades. “Don’t push it. It will come back.”

From the kitchen, you wander into the living room like an echo of your former self. Bucky watches from the doorway, letting you take your time.

A paper back novel placed face down on the coffee table. Slippers, half jammed under the couch from where he had carried you to bed per your pleading request. A half-drunk mug of tea, the contents separated and half evaporated that makes you wrinkle your nose as you peer inside.

Your fingers dance over the knitted throw that is draped over the back of the sofa. Countless hours you’ve spent with it thrown over your lap, pulled up to your chin or pressed under your cheek.

Bucky follows you in silence, never wanting to overstep, to allow you to remember the comfort of your own home at your own pace.

Your eye catches the framed picture beside the tv. You shuffle forward, maneuvering around the furniture with ease despite your eyes being focused ahead.

The picture is one of your favorites. A beach trip sometime last year, the two of you huddled around the bonfire Sam built, a blanket draped over your shoulders. Bucky’s first big smile he allowed others to see, rather than just you. The smile could be contributed to the burnt marshmallow on the end of the roasting stick, how he warned you to just keep it by the coals.

You reached out and rested your fingers on the glass of the thrifted frame, he remembers when you found it in a hidden thrift shop somewhere in the city. He dutifully carried all the bags for you, loaded with hidden treasures.

“You and I…?” You murmured, wrapping your arms around yourself. When he didn’t respond, you glanced over your shoulder at him.

He nodded slowly, avoiding your eye contact by hovering his gaze over your shoulder.

Your expression wavered; taking a hesitant step toward him. “I’m sorry, Bucky. This must be so hard for you.”

He didn’t speak, just swallowed hard and watched your socked feet approach. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Another slow step forward, keeping your arms wrapped around yourself. Chipped nails digging into the bare skin of your under arm.

“Anything look familiar?” He asked, mirroring your posture.

You press your palm between your eyes, unsure if it hurts or maybe thinking it will help you remember. “A little, maybe.”

“C’mere, let’s try this,” he tried to smile, but you watched the sadness return to his eyes. It set an uncomfortable feeling in your chest, you felt like you needed to do something to change that.

You reached out and slipped your hand into his, he stopped in surprise before smiling down at you. Better.

He led you down the hallway, past the spare bedroom, the half bath that you spent Memorial Day weekend completely redecorating.

Pushing open the bedroom door, you’re hit with a tidal wave of emotions. The rumpled duvet cover, squashed pillows, Bucky’s pillow always has half the pillow case on no matter how many times you fix it.

Your soldier pauses in the doorway as you walk the perimeter of the room. Pausing at each framed picture, art you purchased from the little gallery in Brooklyn that you fell in love with, the tiffany lamp you begged Bucky to come with you to pick up that was found on Facebook marketplace.

You picked up a tube of Carmex chapstick that lay on the crowded bedside table, smiling. “I love it in here.”

Bucky smiled sadly, from this angle he couldn’t see the awful healing burn wounds on your head and he could pretend this is any other day.

“You put a lot of time into making this place a home,” he offered, voice gentle.

Your fingertips traced the duvet, moving as you sat down, head hurting again. You winced, squeezing your eyes shut.

Bucky was quick, kneeling in front of you, his hands went to your hips before he could stop himself.

Twisted over in pain, you pressed your forehead to Bucky’s, eyes still shut. “Bucky I want to remember… I… I.”

He shushed you softly, curling his hands around your waist, bringing you closer. “It’s okay, Doll. They’ll come back, I promise.”

You straightened up and wiped your eyes. Bucky took his hands away which brought a feeling to you that you couldn’t categorize. “Can we do something normal? Something I would usually do?”

He smiled, scooting back with a nod. “Sure, Honey. We can do that.”

Bucky told you to get comfortable under the covers while he disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes. You pulled back the duvet and settled back against the pillows, looking around the room while you waited. Although you were alone for a few moments, you still felt at ease in this environment.

He returned with two mugs, both filled to the brim with steaming tea of your favorite brew. Handing one to you, he squatted down in front of the bookshelf and found your favorite book. It took him a moment to locate it, you had some down time the week before you disappeared and rearranged it again.

Climbing into bed next to you, he watched as you flipped open the cover and smiled at your handwriting in the corner of the title page. He took a cautious sip from his mug and set it his bedside table.

He hadn’t pick up his own book since you disappeared from his life for a month. So it took him a moment to reorient himself in the chapter and what was happening.

He watched you start to get absorbed into the book, eventually you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder; curling your knees in toward him. Just how you always do.

He blinked tears out of his eyes, watching the words on the page grow blurry. Despite the missing memories, you were mirroring your own self unconsciously. Every once in a while, he would see echos, proof that you were still there and would come back to him.

Hydra thought they could wipe you away completely, erase the person you once were. They had failed once again, you would come back to him just as the two of you always do.

[readwritealldayallnight]

When Gaz walks into the bases common room, his goal for making his third cup of tea of the day is diverted when he catches sight of Soap’s expression across the room.

The Scot looks absolutely befuddled, eyes wide and sitting slack-jawed across from his Lieutenant. Gaz walks over to the men, catching the very end of Ghost telling his companion to ‘piss off’.

“Alright?” He asks the lads, raising a brow in question.

“Ye oughta hear the shite LT’s tryin’ to convince me of over here!” Soap is all too eager to inform his friend. Ghost grunts, leaning further back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes as far back as he can, as if to tell the Sergeant in front of him ‘this is why I don’t tell you anything’.

Because that’s almost exactly what Ghost is thinking at that moment. He’d just entered the common room when he’d spotted the back of an all too familiar head, fiddling and distracted with the microwave.

When he’d walked up behind the younger man and echoed his call sign out in greeting, his mask hid the smug smirk that appeared at the jump Soap gave, uttering a loud “Shit!” in surprise.

Soap went on to complain about how he was apparently attempting to jumpstart his heart, drawling on about how the Lieutenant was always sneaking up on people like this, moving quiet as a Ghost.

“My missus says the same thing.” The masked man had mentioned casually, as if his chest hadn’t automatically puffed out in pride, standing up a little straighter at the mention of his girl.

“She says you’re too quiet? Aye, LT, think a lot o’ couples have complaints of the sorts in bed ya see-”

“Shut it, you prick.” Ghost quickly shut him down, ending that line of thought. “She says I walk too quietly in the flat. Accidentally scaring her all the time, poor thing.”

At that, Soap’s eyebrows had shot sky high, keen to hear more about the big bad Ghost’s life of apparent domestic bliss, turning him into an absolute sap.

Ghost wouldn’t normally volunteer information about his personal life. But he just loves you so much. And now that he’s not only thinking about you because he is all the time, but also talking about you, his mouth didn’t seem to want to stop talking about you.

“She put her foot down with me recently.” He’d added with a deep chuckle.

“She did what?” Soap had asked bewildered.

“She called it ‘putting her foot down’. I walked up behind her when she was doin’ dishes. Poor bird didn’t hear me and dropped somethin’.”

“Oh, no! Simon! That’s my favourite mug!!” You’d cried out, watching your most treasured ceramic shattering on the tile floor of the kitchen, spreading every which way across the room.

“M’sorry lovie. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He’d sheepishly responded, reaching to turn off the running faucet. He’d grabbed the dish towel and gave it to you to dry your hands, lifted you by the waist and set you on the counter with ease, not wanting you to get hurt with your bare feet. He’d turned, already in search of a broom and dust pan.

“Again. You mean I’m sorry for scaring you again.” You had corrected him, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t take it anymore Simon. You don’t need to be stealthy at home, my love, you can make noise when you walk. In fact I need you to make noise when you walk at home!”

Simon had nodded along, diligently sweeping up every piece of your ruined mug.

“I’ll try harder sweetheart. I promise.” He’d offered, dumping the remnants into the bin before he’d walked up to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as yours slid around his shoulders.

The very next weekend he’d taken you to a local pottery painting class to make up for the lost mug, as well as you telling him off (because yeah, that was what Simon considered you putting your foot down with him, and he never wanted it to happen again if he could help it).

Ghost finds himself grinning further under his mask at the memory however, of how cute you looked as you tried to raise your voice at him, laying down the law in your shared home.

“And so what’d ya tell her?” Soap asked, curious to know how his Lieutenant had reacted, but more so if the man would even reply or rather would tell him to fuck off.

“I didn’t tell her anythin’.” Simon had uttered. “Did as my missus asked me to do, and that was the end of the story. Well, s’pose I did I tell her I’d look into mug making classes or whatever.”

“…”

“You what?!”